Better AI, Bigger Disappointment?

While your new AI assistant excels at scheduling a meeting, it fundamentally cannot mend the deeper fractures within our world.

This week, my colleagues David Pierce and Jay Peters shared their hands-on experiences with Google’s new Gemini AI agent, Spark. Their consensus was clear: its effectiveness is astonishingly potent. Spark demonstrated an uncanny ability to recall details like David’s dog's name, Frida, and the first name of Jay’s wife, information neither had explicitly provided to Google. However, what I find truly unsettling is how these advancements appear to be singularly focused on a future defined by "productivity," largely overlooking the more critical issues our society faces.

The concept of "productivity" is frequently presented as a universal remedy for personal challenges, often even linking an individual's moral worth to their output. This notion resides at the intersection of hustle culture and age-old proverbs, such as "idle hands are the devil’s workshop." My intention is not to advocate for idleness, but rather to urge a critical examination of the narratives we are being sold.

Modern computer-based tasks frequently instill a constant sense of both urgency and importance, regardless of their actual significance. This phenomenon stems from an unfortunate combination of the "busy" trap and "software brain," which in turn makes AI assistance appear incredibly valuable. Yet, this perceived value often arises because the very companies developing these solutions are addressing problems they themselves helped create. Over decades, giants like Google, Microsoft, and Apple have blurred the boundaries between professional and personal life. This relentless pursuit of ubiquitous productivity even prompted the French government to establish a "right to disconnect" from work after office hours—a concept my American sensibilities still struggle to fully embrace.

As I absorbed accounts of Gemini Spark empowering my colleagues to effortlessly color-code calendars and execute other intricate commands, my mind drifted back to my childhood. I vividly recalled the countless hours my mother dedicated to meticulously cutting coupons so our family could afford groceries. Our living room would sometimes transform into a sprawling collage of clipped paper. All that time was essentially taken from her and our family—but for what purpose? While an AI assistant in the 1990s might have streamlined the process of finding and organizing deals, it could never rectify the economic system that necessitated such efforts in the first place.

Where does this relentless drive for productivity ultimately lead? Today's tech magnates envision a post-work future where robots handle all labor, freeing humanity to enjoy life without manual toil—though perhaps not without "content mines." However, as evidenced by ventures like Elon Musk’s robotic endeavors, this reality seems less akin to a utopian "Battlestar Galactica" and more aligned with John Adams's pragmatic letter to Abigail: "I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy," a progression that ideally culminates in grandchildren enjoying painting and poetry. So, after our current "pre-transcendence" slog, AI might, in theory, transform us all into "theater kids."

Meanwhile, Mark Zuckerberg flaunts his 387-foot yacht in a city where he recently laid off a significant portion of his workforce to fund AI investments. Can we truly assert that AI has "freed up" the time of these displaced individuals? One might wish them luck in Hollywood, though ironically, that industry is now seeing AI-generated actors poised to replace even the newly minted "theater kids."

A more sinister undercurrent runs through some of these productivity advancements, as increased productivity has arguably been one of the past century's most significant deceptions. Long before consumer AI became prevalent, productivity soared, yet wages failed to keep pace. The reality is that people are not working less; they are simply earning less. And as AI-related companies amass trillions in valuation, the current U.S. administration is simultaneously eroding the social safety net—a system that is absolutely vital if we are all to become unemployed "theater kids." These factors cannot be viewed in isolation. If the ultimate outcome of private companies optimizing the workforce means widespread joblessness, then society must ensure everyone has access to basic necessities like housing and food. Can anyone confidently predict this will happen when leaders are cutting SNAP benefits while simultaneously funding opulent, taxpayer-funded ballrooms?

Indeed, what is the true utility of an AI assistant that can help plan a delightful day if you lack the financial means or free time to actually enjoy it?

Resistance to technological progress is not new; the term "Luddite" remains resonant two centuries after English textile workers revolted against industrial automation. Today’s AI backlash is genuine, well-informed, and articulately argued. Nevertheless, some of AI’s novel functionalities are undoubtedly entertaining and can even be quite useful in our personal lives. Yet, I find it difficult to envision a future, or even a sound return on investment, in paying $99 a month for AI to send emails, manage calendars, and create spreadsheets. Especially if the broader societal cost involves squandering our natural resources and subjecting us to pervasive corporate oversight.