The recent unveiling of Tesla’s humanoid Optimus robot, with its promise to soon perform most human tasks—from domestic chores to childcare and companionship—prompts deep existential reflections on the future of work and what it will mean to be human in the coming decades.
The Rise of Artificial Intelligence and Robotics
As artificial intelligence and robotics advance, steadily encroaching on domains once solely reserved for human intelligence and labor, I find myself grappling with a disquieting question: What space will remain for humans in the future? What form will “being human” take when we no longer need to do very much at all?
This predicament, while it feels unprecedented, echoes certain patterns in history. Aristocratic elites in slave and serf societies enjoyed lives of leisure while the subjugated masses toiled. Even in modern times, the wealthy have long outsourced much of life’s drudgery to the underpaid. But the question arises: what happens when robots and artificial intelligence systems become the new laboring class, potentially elevating everyone to a life of leisure once reserved for the few?
Lessons from the Past
In seeking to calm my existential unease, I turned to ChatGPT, an oracle of our time. It pointed me to the 20th-century philosopher Bertrand Russell, who, in his 1932 essay In Praise of Idleness, argued against the notion of work as virtuous and necessary for social stability, particularly for the working poor. “The morality of work,” he wrote, “is the morality of slaves, and the modern world has no need of slavery.”
If this was true in Russell’s time, how much truer might it be after decades of exponential progress in artificial intelligence and robotics? It is difficult to fathom how radically different the world may be for the next generation. Robots could cultivate our food, maintain our homes, operate our vehicles, and perform tasks that have occupied human energy for millennia. What will we do with our time, and how will we find meaning when the age-old imperatives of labor no longer dictate our lives?
Inequality in a World of Automation
History offers insights. The treatment of slaves in ancient Rome provides a rough model for how we might regard our non-human servants. Some robots will likely be treated as close companions, integrated into our families. Others may be viewed as disposable tools, worked to destruction in harsh industrial conditions. And just as slaves fought for the amusement of Roman crowds, it is not far-fetched to imagine robots being weaponised or used in warfare, serving the bidding of whoever holds the reins of power. The thought of autonomous killing machines obeying the highest bidder is chilling. Robots, like slaves, would lack the agency to refuse orders or extract themselves from servitude. Unlike slaves, they would never have an opportunity for freedom.
On a societal level, these disruptions to paid and unpaid work will demand that we reimagine our entire socioeconomic order. We must find ways to avoid a despondent underclass while the robot-owning elite accumulates wealth at unprecedented rates. Some argue that universal basic income (UBI) will become inevitable to ensure social stability. Countries like Finland, Canada, and the U.S. have already experimented with UBI schemes, and advocates like Andrew Yang have made it central to their political platforms. In Canada’s Mincome experiment, for instance, recipients did not stop working entirely but shifted toward more meaningful pursuits. UBI could thus help buffer against the economic upheaval caused by automation without depriving people of purpose.
Finding Meaning in an Era of Leisure
These are all important issues, but for me, the more pressing question lies at the individual level: How will we, as human beings, structure our time and craft a sense of purpose in an era of endless leisure? What pursuits will we choose when survival is no longer the driving force?
These technological advances—the artificial intelligences, the robotic companions, the automated systems that promise to shoulder our burdens—present us with an incredible gift: the gift of time. For the first time in history, we could be free from the daily toil that has consumed humanity for millennia. We would be free to pursue our passions, deepen our relationships, and explore the vast realms of our creativity and curiosity.
But what of the structure and discipline that work provides? The modern system of education and employment has long offered a framework for our existence, giving us goals, a sense of achievement, and a reason to rise each day. Without such a structure, how do we prevent ourselves from sliding into a haze of shapeless living, devoid of purpose or intention? Will we drift into passivity, or will we create new models of living that cultivate fulfillment and meaning?
These questions are not new. Dystopian science fiction has long explored the dangers of a technologically advanced future devoid of purpose. Films like The Matrix and Blade Runner reflect a world where humans have become subservient to, or even dependent on, the very technologies they created. The common thread in these stories is the fear that, in our quest for ease and liberation from toil, we may lose something essential to our humanity—the raw experience of living, striving, and overcoming.
Drawing Inspiration from the Ancient World
Despite the contemporary nature of these dilemmas, there are answers in ancient sources. Many spiritual traditions emphasise daily rituals, disciplines, and duties as paths to fulfillment, independent of external circumstances. The Stoic philosophers of ancient Greece and Rome, whose ideas are seeing renewed popularity today, also provide a template for crafting a meaningful life through the cultivation of wisdom and virtue.
In imagining the coming age of leisure, thinkers like Russell, John Stuart Mill, and Aristotle point to the opportunities for individuals to develop intellectually, creatively, and morally—to pursue knowledge for its own sake, to create art, and to engage more fully in family and civic life. The goal should not be idle amusement or shallow distractions, but rather a life rich in beauty, curiosity, and human connection.
AI and Human Creativity
However, the tsunami of AI developments suggests that it will not be long before even higher levels of human endeavor—creativity, research, problem-solving, and analysis—are performed better by non-breathing entities. AI is composing music, writing poetry, and painting. And it is doing it better than most of us already.
But if we do not rely on being creatively competitive to survive, does it matter if a machine could do our watercolor painting, garden arrangement, or poem better? And what does “better” really mean? If we are no longer in a race with technology, but simply recipients of its services, then our perspective on creation, thought, innovation, and action can change altogether. Increased leisure time allows us to transition from outcome-based living to process exploration, much like elites have always been able. We will have the luxury of discovering the value of slow creation, a deliberate approach to learning, a brave form of experimentation, and a striving for perfection—the very things that a busy life may never have allowed.
Human traits like empathy, humor, and individual expression seem likely to become more precious in a world filled with hyper-capable artificial intelligences and automation. And what of play, laughter, dancing, and joy? What if a machine-assisted leisurely life allowed us to be more fun, free, and experimental?
What Happens with more Free Time
Yet, as Russell warned, more free time is not automatically ennobling. He observed that the idle hereditary rich of his day frequently “never thought of anything more intelligent than fox-hunting and punishing poachers.” History shows us that a world of leisure need not be a world of enlightenment. The leisured classes of the past often spent their time in political rivalries and violent power struggles. If we are not thoughtful about how we use it, increased leisure time could easily lead to civil conflict, destructive hedonism, or increased alienation. Furthermore, our robot-enabled future may come with the hidden cost of increased surveillance and diminished freedoms, as Shoshana Zuboff warns in her work on surveillance capitalism.
And while the prospect of liberation from mundane tasks (goodbye vacuuming) seems in principle to be an automatic win, many traditions reinforce the value of acts of service. Performing services for loved ones or society, from childrearing and housekeeping to public service and volunteering, is considered by some spiritual disciplines to be virtuous or even holy. But outside of this framework, the performance of burdensome and uninspiring tasks can provide people with a sense of purpose, a feeling of accomplishment, and a means of connecting with others. So, while humanoid robots may soon free us from mundane responsibilities, we may choose to perform these duties for any number of distinctly human reasons.
Choice becomes a key element in this new world. Unless we move into a reality that includes sentient AI—in which case, all bets are off—choice will be one of the lines separating us from the machine. Choosing to do something—whether it be to learn, laugh, dance, connect, question, argue, practice, make mistakes, love, or vacuum—will be an expression of our humanity. And this freedom to choose will be the crucial distinction between us and our non-human companions. May these choices be good and meaningful.
The Future of Humanity in a Technological Age
Coming to terms with our changing reality will be no small task. We will need to be mindful in a world that encourages mindlessness and purposeful in a world that promotes passivity. These are concerns now and will be unavoidable challenges in the face of a deluge of disruption. In the end, the measure of our lives will not be in the conveniences we enjoy or the distractions we consume, but in the quality of our presence, the depth of our love, and the courage of our curiosity and convictions. These things make us human—and they are the very things we must fight to preserve as our world reshapes itself around us.