After leaving the University of Chicago without receiving a degree, Kurt Vonnegut was hired by General Electric Company as a technical writer. His first novel, Player Piano, published in 1952, is said to be partly influenced by his experiences while working at GE.
I've been interested in automation, especially insofar as it results in technological unemployment, since my senior year of college when I wrote an article on LinkedIn titled "The 'end of work' is our opportunity to be human."
For related reading on this topic, I would recommend "Economic Possibilities for Our Grandchildren" by John Maynard Keynes and “The Future of Employment: How Susceptible Are Jobs to Computerization" by Carl Benedikt Frey and Michael A. Osborne.
While essays and academic papers investigate the topic via generalized labor statistics and theories about the economy, a novel such as Player Piano allows the reader to explore the topic through a more intimate lens—to see and understand, on an individual level, the thoughts and feelings of people who are affected by technological unemployment.
This review of Player Piano is split into two parts. First, a short summary of the plot. Second, a longer section of excerpts interspersed with commentary.
Plot summary
The novel is set in a dystopian future after a third world war when almost all human laborers have been replaced by machines. The main character is Paul Proteus, manager of the Ilium Works. Paul is the highest-paid man in Ilium, New York. His father, George Proteus, was the first "National, Industrial, Commercial Communications, Foodstuffs, and Resources Director," a position that granted him more power than the U.S. President. Due to his father's reputation, Paul has an almost guaranteed promotion path all the way up the corporate ladder. But despite all this, Paul is experiencing "periods of depression," seemingly because he has doubts "that mankind really [has] come a long way" (p. 6). Further, " ... his job, the system, and organizational politics had left him variously annoyed, bored, or queasy" ( p. 7).
The conflict in Paul is made manifest by two other characters in the story. On the anti-system side, Edward Finnerty is an engineer with whom Paul started at Ilium. Finnerty was promoted to a higher position in Washington, but then he quits. On the pro-system side, Kroner is the manager of the entire Eastern Division, of which the Ilium Works (where Paul is the manager) is one small part. Kroner knew Paul's father and is very supportive of Paul's career.
Finnerty returns to Ilium and inspires Paul to consider the idea of quitting himself. At the same time, there is a promotion opportunity opening up for Paul in the Pittsburg office. Anita, Paul's wife, is status-obsessed and wants Paul to pursue the Pittsburgh promotion. Kroner also encourages Paul to pursue the promotion.
After Paul and Finnerty meet Lasher, a Protestant minister, at a bar in "Homestead" (the side of town where all the people who are not managers or engineers live), Finnerty "moves in" with Lasher, and Paul purchases a farmhouse on the outskirts of town, in order to live "outside of society ... to live heartily and blamelessly, naturally, by hands and wits" (p. 146). It is later revealed that Lasher is the leader of a rebel group called the "Ghost Shirt Society" and Finnerty has joined the group.
The conflict comes to a head when Paul's bosses invent a scheme to pretend to fire Paul so that he can infiltrate the "Ghost Shirt Society" as a spy. What Paul's bosses don't know is that Paul was already planning to quit and that he is genuinely sympathetic with the rebel movement.
After he is "fired," the Ghost Shirts kidnap Paul and make him their figurehead. In the end, there is a great rebellion in cities across the U.S. The people rise up and destroy all the machines. Once the machines are destroyed, some of the rebels start to rebuild one of the machines almost right away. Seeing that "the people ... [are] already eager to recreate the same old nightmare," the Ghost Shirt leaders seem to realize that their vision for "a better world" (p. 340) was hopeless.
Excerpts with line-by-line commentary
Chapter 9
In Chapter 9, Finnerty shows up at Paul's office and invites him to have a couple of drinks. They drive over the bridge to a bar in Homestead, where they meet Lasher, who speaks to them about how people have lost their dignity since being replaced by machines.
" ... you people have engineered them out of their part in the economy, in the market place, and they're finding out—most of them—that what's left is just about zero" (p. 90).
People believe that their worth comes from their work, that their ability to participate in the economy is what determines their value.
"For generations they've been built up to worship competition in the market, productivity and economic usefulness, and the envy of their fellow men—and boom! it's all yanked out from under them. They can't participate, can't be useful anymore. Their whole culture has been shot to hell ... These displaced people need something, and the clergy can't give it to them ..." (p. 90-91).
Economic productivity became the focus of societal efforts, to such a degree that it became like a religion. One can imagine how values would become aligned with this. What is good is what supports economic productivity. What is bad is what hinders it. And these values are applied to people. You are a good person if you are a hard worker or wealthy. You are a bad person if you are a bum or a freeloader.
People strive to do what is seen as good. In a society that is hyper-focused on economic productivity, they strive to get good jobs, work hard, and make a lot of money. People strive to do what is seen as good because they want to belong in their community, to feel needed and appreciated, to feel esteem for themselves, to be loved. These are basic human needs.
What is happening now is that society is still holding onto the same old values, still valuing people based on their contributions to economic productivity, even though the fundamentals of labor economics have changed. Most jobs that require manual labor have been automated by machines. On the other hand, those with jobs that require mental skills ("know-how") are the highest paid.
In the spirit of competitiveness, we would say: the manual laborers should go back to school and develop mental skills. But what about those who don't have enough natural mental ability to learn these skills? If the machines have made the economy efficient enough that people are provided for, do the manual laborers need to go back to work? If the values of the society changed, such that economic participation were no longer the only way to feel a sense of belonging, would the manual laborers still want to go back to work?
"Oh, this business we've got now—it's been going on for a long time now, not just since the last war. Maybe the actual jobs weren't being taken from the people, but the sense of participation, the sense of importance was ... there was a lot of talk about know-how winning the war of production—know-how, not people, not the mediocre people running most of the machines ... half the people or more didn't understand much about the machines they worked at or the things they were making. They were participating in the economy all right, but not in a way that was very satisfying to the ego" (p. 91).
In an economic society, an employed person is more highly valued than an unemployed person. This much is black and white. But among the employed, there is a range of value that depends on their particular position.
In the context of the quoted text above, jobs that require "know-how" are more highly valued than jobs that involve "running most of the machines." The "sense of participation" is less for the machine operators, I argue, because the perceived value assigned to their work is less. Their work is replaceable and cheap. Those with know-how, on the other hand, are rare and expensive.
Where does the perceived value come from? In a monetary sense, this seems clear and obvious. It comes from wages. People who hold positions that are more highly valued are paid more. Employees with know-how are paid more than machine operators.
But I don't think the monetary measure of value in terms of wages translates directly to the sense of participation one gets from performing their job. In other words, it's possible that someone could have low wages and a high sense of participation, or vice versa. On one level, this is because employees are paid wages that are higher or lower than their actual economic productivity. An upper-level manager might receive high wages, despite doing nothing but conducting pointless meetings. A factory foreman might receive low wages, despite being the one that all the other factory workers rely on to keep the machines running. On a second level, it depends whether society is imbuing a sense of participation to individuals based on their wages or their actual economic productivity. If based on wages, the foreman would have a low sense of participation. If based on actual productivity, the foreman would have a high sense of participation. It seems that the average society member does not have the necessary evaluative skill to determine actual productivity, so wages are often used as a proxy.
"This crusading spirit of the managers and engineers, the idea of designing and manufacturing and distributing being sort of a holy war: all that folklore was cooked up by public relations and advertising men hired by managers and engineers to make big business popular in the old days, which it certainly wasn't in the beginning. Now, the engineers and managers believe with all their hearts the glorious things their forebears hired people to say about them. Yesterday's snow job becomes today's sermon" (p. 91-92).
And the people must believe in it too. They believe in the captains of industry like the laity believes in the clergy. It would be more difficult for the industrialists to believe that what they are doing is so glorious and righteous without people applauding them and cheering them on.
John Maynard Keynes wrote about a similar idea to this in his 1930 essay, "Economic Possibilities for our Grandchildren." He wrote, "I see us free, therefore, to return to some of the most sure and certain principles of religion and traditional virtue-that avarice is a vice, that the exaction of usury is a misdemeanour, and the love of money is detestable ... We shall once more value ends above means and prefer the good to the useful." Keynes thought that certain vices were being regarded as virtues due to economic necessity.
"Things ... are ripe for a phony Messiah ... Sooner or later someone's going to catch the imagination of these people with some new magic. At the bottom of it will be a promise of regaining the feeling of participation, the feeling of being needed on earth—hell, dignity" (p. 92).
If people can't find a sense of dignity in the economy, they'll look for it elsewhere. This makes society ripe for, at worst, revolution and upheaval, and at best, a smoother transition to a system of values not so myopically focused on economic productivity.
Chapter 10
At the end of Chapter 10, influenced by Finnerty quitting and Lasher's monologue at the bar, Paul is starting to realize that he wants to quit.
"He knew with all his heart that the human situation was a frightful botch, but it was such a logical, intelligently arrived-at botch that he couldn't see how history could have possibly led anywhere else" (p. 115).
The current human situation is more than "intelligently arrived-at." I would even say that it's a miracle: that we've developed such advanced systems of international trade and cooperation, which provide for almost eight billion people on Earth and maintain relative peace among nations.
Perhaps "botch" is not a charitable descriptor of the current human situation. It may seem to be a slightly less than perfect system when the specific problems illuminated by this book are considered. When compared to possibilities of war, famine, and mass extinction, however, the current human situation seems to be "intelligently arrived-at" indeed.
Then again, there are those who say that our current ways of life are not sustainable. Specifically, environmentalists talk of global warming and pollution. If any of these environmental doomsday scenarios were to come true, then our situation might seem less intelligent.
History might not have "led anywhere else," but now that we are here, it is a valid question to ask: where will we go next? Are the social and environmental problems with our current economic society serious enough that we would consider making a drastic change? Or are the associated risks too great for us to consider potentially sacrificing the abundant and peaceful situation we already have?
"Paul did a complicated sum in his mind—his savings account plus his securities plus his house plus his cars—and wondered if he didn't have enough to enable him simply to quit, to stop being the instrument of any set of beliefs or any whim of history that might raise hell with somebody's life. To live in a house by the side of the road ... " (p. 115).
Having enough money "simply to quit" is a modern phenomenon. For a hunter-gatherer that lived millions of years ago, this was not an option. Perhaps food could be saved for a short amount of time or a shelter could stand without need for reconstruction. Otherwise, our ancient ancestors needed to work to provide for their basic needs. To "quit" would mean to die.
Today, division of labor and the financial system make it possible for an individual to earn enough money that, for the rest of their lives, they can pay others for the goods and services that they need to survive, without having to do any of the work themselves to acquire the goods or render the services. A "retired" individual need only open their billfold or swipe their credit card, so long as there is enough money in their accounts.
But not everyone can retire. A balance must be kept so that there are still enough workers left to run the economy. The number of workers that must remain in the labor force will be less and less as machines automate more and more tasks.
Chapter 14
In Chapter 14, Paul has now apparently made up his mind that he is going to quit his job. While in his office during the workday, he has started reading "novels wherein the hero lived vigorously and out-of-doors, dealing directly with nature ... woodsmen, sailors, cattlemen" (p. 137). And his attitude toward his work can be summarized by this quote: "At the beginning and close of each item of business he thought, 'To hell with you.' It was to hell with them, to hell with everything" (p. 137). At the end of the chapter, Paul even calls the real estate office to inquire about buying a farmhouse on the edge of town.
" ... a primitive ideal to which he could aspire. He wanted to deal, not with society, but only with Earth as God had given it to man" (p. 137).
Since I've started to have my doubts about whether unhindered progress, especially in the technological age, is actually a good thing for our species, I've wondered about how we could possibly pause our forward progress and even go in reverse, in order to return to a more natural stage, a more primitive stage of our evolution. Unfortunately, I don't think it's possible for us to go in reverse. Viktor Frankl doesn't either. In his book Man's Search for Meaning, Frankl writes, "At the beginning of human history, man lost some of the basic animal instincts in which an animal's behavior is imbedded and by which it is secured. Such security, like Paradise, is closed to man forever ... "
"Paul studied his long, soft hands. Their only callous was on the large finger of his right hand. There, stained a dirty orange by cigarette tars, a tough hump had grown over the years, protecting his finger against the attrition of pen and pencil shafts. Skills—that was what the hands of the heroes in the novels had, skills. Today, Paul's hands had learned to do little save grip a pen, pencil, toothbrush, hair brush, razor, knife, fork, spoon, cup, glass, faucet, doorknob, switch, handkerchief, towel, zipper, button, snap, bar of soap, book, comb, wife, or steering wheel" (p. 146).
We are not using our bodies for their evolved purposes. We sit at desks, sit at dining tables, sit in cars, even though we are evolved to stand up and run, or at least walk. We use our fingers to type and our hands to hold fine tools, neglecting the rest of our muscular system.
"Exercise" has become a separate part of our lifestyles that is necessary to keep our bodies healthy because we don't have enough natural movement in our modern daily schedules.
Then again, even the callouses on the hands of the heroes in Paul's novels—e.g., woodsmen, sailors, and cattlemen—are not necessarily natural either. Hammers, oars, and rope are all relatively modern tools.
"Again uneasiness crept up on him—the fear that there was far too little of him to get along anywhere outside the system, to get along at all contentedly" (p. 147).
For one who has been brought up and educated in the system, who has become accustomed to the system, it's not easy to simply exit the system—for at least two reasons: systematic abilities and systematic preferences.
One develops the abilities needed to survive in their environment. In the modern system, these abilities include more social and mental skills, less physical and survival skills. One who thrives in the system would likely die quickly if suddenly cast back into a more primitive state in the wild. They would not have the survival skills to find food and protect themselves from the elements. Not to mention, they would lack community.
By "systematic preferences," I mean the preferences that a person grows accustomed to while living in the system—e.g., shopping at a grocery store, traveling by plane, sleeping in an air-conditioned home. In simple terms, life is easy in the system. For one who is accustomed to such a life, it would be difficult at least, traumatizing at worst, to be cast back into the wild.
"He might go into some small business ... But he would still be caught in the mesh of the economy and its concomitant hierarchy ... there would be no less nonsense and posturing" (p. 147).
I have thought about this personally in terms of employment options. I have thought, "Maybe I can find a job that is less demanding, a job that will provide for my bare minimum financial need while allowing me more freedom with my time." But I reached a similar conclusion as Paul. Most jobs are still caught "in the mesh of the economy." But the "gig economy" may be changing this.
"The only thing worse would be complete idleness, which Paul could afford, but which, he was sure, was as amoral as what he was quitting" (p. 147).
Idleness is not an option. It is even considered bad, in a moral sense. Here is where I think there may be an opportunity for our society to approach the economic problem from a different angle. We are work-obsessed. We can't conceive of doing anything other than working. But what if work weren't an option? What if work was no longer necessary for our survival? What if work were even counter-productive to the longevity and health of our species? Then how would we spend our time? Is any activity other than work considered idleness? I have some thoughts which are too elaborate to expound upon here, but this quote from Blaise Pascal is a good start: “All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”
"Farming—now there was a magic word. Like so many words with little magic from the past still clinging to them, the word "farming" was a reminder of what rugged stock the present generation had come from, of how tough a thing a human being could be if he had to. The word had little meaning in the present. There were no longer farmers, but only agricultural engineers" (p. 147).
Farming is a good example of a more primitive human activity, especially because the Fertile Crescent is likely where began the progress that has now led to the problems portrayed in this book. Food is perhaps the most basic human need. Agriculture changed how humans acquired food, it turned food production into an industry that enabled further division of labor and the development of broader systems of trade.
It is impossible for us to go back as far as before the Stone Age, but perhaps we can reach a nearer primitive stage of our development. It would not be the same, of course. Our physiological evolutions cannot be reversed. We cannot unlearn what we have learned. But we may be able to arrive at a medium: the best parts of our modern society (advances in medicine, certain technologies) combined with the best parts of the past (simpler living, more human lifestyles).
Chapter 17
Other than the plot that centers around Paul Proteus, there is also a subplot in the book that centers around the Shah of Bratpuhr, a spiritual leader of six million people in a foreign, underdeveloped nation. The Shah is touring America, for some unknown reason. Perhaps, in order to bring the greatness of American development to his own nation. The genius of this subplot is that it permits the reader a "zoomed out" view of the United States as it exists in this dystopian future world that Vonnegut has built.
In Chapter 17, at the request of the Shah, the touring party goes to visit the home of an "average man" living in Chicago. That man ends up being Edgar R. B. Hagstrohm, who lives with his wife Wanda and their two children. The excerpts below come from a conversation between Edgar and Wanda about Edgar having an affair with another woman named Marion.
"'Listen,' he said passionately, 'it's the world, Wan—me and the world. I'm no good to anybody, not in this world. Nothing but a Reek and Wreck, and that's all my kids'll be, and a guy's got to have kicks or he doesn't want to live—and the only kicks left for a dumb bastard like me are the bad ones. I'm no good, Wan, no good!'" (p. 167).
This short story within the larger novel is brilliant because it shows a middle-class domestic situation, whereas the only other married couples portrayed in the book are upper-class: Paul and Anita, and Kroner and his wife. Paul and Kroner are managers, but Ed is an employee of the Reconstruction and Reclamation Corps, so we get to see how his life is affected by the job he would otherwise have being automated and his present job being essentially pointless.
Ed feels like he's "no good ... in this world." Ed is an example of what Lasher talked about earlier. Ed doesn't have a sense of importance or a sense of participation because he lives in a world that only values economic productivity but doesn't give him an opportunity to be economically productive.
Ed says, " ... a guy's got to have his kicks ... the only kicks left ... are the bad ones." What are these kicks? They seem to be what motivates a man to live, but what does this? Are the "kicks" a sense of participation? Perhaps if Ed felt more appreciated for his work as a Reek and Wreck, then he would have his kicks. As it is, Ed gets his kicks by having an extramarital affair.
"'It's me that's no good to anybody,' said Wanda wearily. Nobody needs me. You or even little old Delores could run the house and all, it's so easy. And now I'm too fat for anybody but the kids to love me. My mother got fat, and my grandmother got fat, and guess it's in the blood; but somebody needed them, they were still some good. But you don't need me, Ed, and you can't help it if you don't love me any more. Just the way men are, and you can't help it if you're the way God made you'" (p. 167).
For most of the book, the focus is on the jobs traditionally performed by men in factories. But this excerpt of dialogue from Wanda gives us a view into how even the job of a housewife has been automated. There are machines for doing laundry, washing dishes, and even cooking dinner. Wanda feels unneeded and this seems to be connected to her feeling unloved.
Ed and Wanda's relationship seems to be strained by each of them individually feeling unappreciated. Not only has their lack of participation in the system affected their self-esteem in their own eyes, but it has also affected their feelings of attraction and love toward one another.
Chapter 20
In Chapter 20, the Shah goes to a barbershop to get a haircut and the barber delivers a monologue.
"These kids in the army now, that's just a place to keep 'em off the streets and out of trouble, because there isn't anything else to do with them. And the only chance they'll ever get to be anybody is if there's a war. That's the only chance in the world they got of showing anybody they lived and died, and for something, by God" (p. 207).
In 1952, just after World War II (Vonnegut himself fought in the Battle of the Bulge and was captured by the Germans), the military was probably a more obvious place to employ otherwise unoccupied young people. Now, in a time of relative peace, U.S. military forces are smaller. But there are still "place[s] to keep 'em." David Graeber might suggest that these places are "bullshit jobs."
"Used to be there was a lot of damn fool things a dumb bastard could do to be great, but the machines fixed that. You know, used to be you could go to sea on a big clipper ship or a fishing ship and be a big hero in a storm. Or maybe you could be a pioneer and go out west and lead the people and make trails and chase away Indians and all that. Or you could be a cowboy, or all kinds of dangerous things, and still be a dumb bastard" (p. 207).
The barber seems to be suggesting that there are still things that intelligent people can do "to be great," like becoming an engineer or a manager. But "dumb" people aren't eligible to become engineers or managers. And they also no longer have the opportunities that were available in the past, which required physical strength, toughness, fortitude, or bravery.
There is a continuing theme about the types of skills that are valued and appreciated in the economy. For the most part, it seems that mental skills are the most highly valued. Specifically, the mental skills that are required to operate the machines and to keep "the system" running. And most other human skills, especially physical skills, and even value-based "skills" like toughness and bravery, have become useless relics of past times.
"Now the machines take all the dangerous jobs, and the dumb bastards just get tucked away in big bunches of prefabs that look like the end of a game of Monopoly, or in barracks, and there's nothing for them to do but set there and kind of hope for a big fire where maybe they can run into a burning building in front of everybody and run out with a baby in their arms. Or maybe hope—though they don't say so out loud because the last one was so terrible—for another war" (p. 207).
The barber seems to have a fancy for danger and brave heroes. This is a narrow perspective on the broader issue of people not feeling a sense of participation in an automated economy. Surely there are ways to participate that are simpler and safe than being a great hero that must face danger.
But it does illuminate a true motivation that people seem to have: to strive to be somebody extraordinary, more than just average. So strong is this motivation that a man even wishes for something terrible to happen—for a war, for a villain to come along to put up a fight—so that the man might have an opportunity to fight back, to win, and to be seen and appreciated as the winner.
"And, oh, I guess machines have made things a lot better. I'd be a fool to say they haven't, though there's plenty who say they haven't, and I can see what they mean, all right. It does seem like the machines took all the good jobs, where a man could be true to hisself and false to nobody else, and left all the silly ones" (p. 207).
This is why those displaced from the automated economy are at least partially subdued from bucking the system and revolting, because it does seem like things are a lot better. The machines make life easier. They solve some of the fundamental problems that man has faced since the beginning of his existence. But is it worth it? If given a choice, how many would rather just do the work themselves?
Chapter 28
In Chapter 28, there is another short story within the larger novel that is only barely tangentially related to the subplot with the Shah. A football coach at Cornell is trying to recruit a young student, Buck, to play for the team instead of continuing his studies to become an engineer. They are having a conversation in a booth at a bar on or near campus when a drunk Edmond Harrison of the Ithaca Works sits down at their booth and interrupts their conversation to give Buck some unsolicited advice.
"'And do what?' said Buck, baffled. 'Do?' said Harrison. 'Do? That’s just it, my boy. All of the doors have been closed. There’s nothing to do but to find a womb suitable for an adult, and crawl into it. One without machines would suit me particularly'" (p. 280).
"There's nothing to do ... " This is the attitude that prevails throughout this book amongst the workers who have been replaced by machines. But I disagree. There is plenty else to do. But first, we must break free of this mentality that the only things worth doing are work-related or otherwise purposed for economic productivity.
“'What have you got against machines?' said Buck. 'They’re slaves.' 'Well, what the heck,' said Buck. 'I mean, they aren’t people. They don’t suffer. They don’t mind working.' 'No. But they compete with people.' 'That’s a pretty good thing, isn’t it—considering what a sloppy job most people do of anything?' 'Anybody that competes with slaves becomes a slave,' said Harrison thickly, and he left" (p. 280-81).
In the real world, our response to automation has largely been to figure out how humans can better compete with machines in order to stay employed. But why must we compete with machines if they are doing our jobs for us? As a species, we are on the cusp of designing and implementing a self-sufficient robot economy that provides for our needs, yet our current response to this is to compete with the machines in order to keep our jobs. Due to the way that our society is structured, this makes sense because the way to feel a sense of importance and belonging is to have a job. But once we reorganize society for a future in which we don't need to work, then we can stop competing with machines that are inevitably better than us at doing certain jobs, simply because they are designed better than us.
Chapter 29
In Chapter 29, Paul has been captured by the Ghost Shirt Society. Lasher explains to Paul the meaning behind the name of the society.
"'What's a ghost shirt?' murmured Paul between pickling lips. 'Toward the end of the nineteenth century,' said Lasher, 'a new religious movement swept the Indians in this country, Doctor.' 'The Ghost Dance, Paul,' said Finnerty. 'The white man had broken promise after promise to the Indians, killed off most of the game, taken most of the Indians' land, and handed the Indians bad beatings every time they'd offered any resistance,' said Lasher ... 'With the game and land and ability to defend themselves gone,' said Lasher, 'the Indians found out that all the things they used to take pride in doing, all the things that had made them feel important, all the things that used to gain them prestige, all the ways in which they used to justify their existence—they found that all those things were going or gone. Great hunters had nothing to hide. Great fighters did not come back from charging into repeating-arms fire. Great leaders could lead the people nowhere but into death in hopeless attack, or deeper into wastelands. Great religious leaders could no longer show that the old religious beliefs were the way to victory and plenty'" (p. 288).
Vonnegut wrote his master's thesis on the Ghost Dance religious movement while attending the University of Chicago, but it was rejected by the department. This makes me wonder if the seedling ideas for this novel were already planted in Vonnegut's mind while he was attending the University, or if he repurposed a social movement that he had already studied to fit the plot of this book that was mainly inspired by his experiences at General Electric, which transpired after he attended the University.
" ... all the things that made them feel important ... that used to gain them prestige ... all the ways in which they used to justify their existence ... all those things were going or gone." These are the same things that men are losing as they are displaced from the economy.
But what choice did the Indians have? The white man was going to colonize their lands and oppress their people regardless of their wishes. Whereas this situation between man and machine is still very much in man's control. Men are making the machines! Men have a choice! The reason that they continue to design, build, and implement automatic machines is that it still seems to be in the best interest of the majority to do so. Those in control of the machines make more money and everyone else benefits from the machines, for the most part. What has to happen for the tide to turn? For the majority of people to become anti-machine?
"'The world had changed radically for the Indian,' said Lasher. 'It had become a white man's world, and Indian ways in a white man's world were irrelevant. It was impossible to hold the old Indian values in the changed world. The only thing they could do in the changed world was to become second-rate white men or wards of the white men.' 'Or they could make one last fight for the old values,' said Finnerty with relish" (p. 288).
People are competing with machines for jobs. Instead, can people let the machines have the jobs and find something else to do?
"'And the Ghost Dance religion,' said Lasher, 'was that last, desperate defense of the old values. Messiahs appeared, the way they're always ready to appear, to preach magic that would restore the game, the old values, the old reasons for being. There were new rituals and new songs that were supposed to get rid of the white men by magic. And some of the more warlike tribes that still had a little physical fight left in them added a flourish of their own—the Ghost Shirt ... 'They were going to ride into battle one last time,' said Lasher, 'in magic shirts that white men's bullets couldn't go through'" (p. 288-289).
Here is the meaning of the name for the Ghost Shirt Society.
In the book, the revolution's ultimate achievement is a violent uprising, in which they destroy the machines. They do so in an effort to revert back to a world with no machines, or at least fewer of them, in order for people to take back their jobs.
To me, this doesn't seem like the right response. Generations have worked to achieve technological and industrial progress. We now sit at the frontier of all that achievement. Why destroy it?
Instead, can we hand the reins over to the robots and put the economy on auto-pilot? This cannot be an instantaneous transition. A percentage of the labor force will still need to be human. This is convenient because plenty of people apparently still want to work. For those who do not, however, they can make a quiet exit from economic society. In order to do this, they need only make enough money to support themselves. Then, they can live lives of complete economic freedom, while the robots and those who choose to work will remain behind to keep the economy running.
"'Don't you see, Doctor?' said Lasher. 'The machines are to practically everybody what the white men were to the Indians. People are finding that, because of the way the machines are changing the world, more and more of their old values don't apply any more. People have no choice but to become second-rate machines themselves, or wards of the machines'" (p. 289-290).
This is similar to the point made by Edmond Harrison earlier: "Anybody that competes with slaves becomes a slave."
I disagree that people have no choice. People can make enough money to exit the economy and still survive. Or, people can simply exit the economy even without money, but then they would have to learn the skills necessary to "live off the land." In either case, these people will still need community. Would there be enough people to go along with them that their communal needs would be satisfied by a smaller counter-culture population within the larger population?
Source: Vonnegut, Kurt. Player Piano. Dell Publishing, 1999.
Wow, you made it all the way to the end? Nice job! 🎉 That was a long one 😬
I’m working on a series of essays about why we work, how we define “work,” and what a future without work might be like, so I’d love to hear any thoughts you might’ve had while reading this. Please click the button below to leave a comment! 👇