Dr John Crossan, University of Strathclyde, International Public Policy Institute (IPPI)
The
bogeyman of automation thesis is once again the topic of conversation in dinner
parties, cafes and bars across the developed world. In part, this latest wave
of concern about the power of machines stems from numerous newspaper articles,
blogs and discussion papers on the emerging 4th Industrial
Revolution. This builds on the previous Digital Revolution. It represents
new ways in which technology becomes more embedded within societies.
The 4th
Industrial Revolution is marked by breakthroughs in a number of fields,
including robotics, artificial intelligence and autonomous vehicles. It is
essentially a coming together of operation technologies (i.e. hardware and software
that detects or causes a change through the direct monitoring and/or control of
physical devices) and information technologies. The scale of this integration
is captured in the term ‘internet of things’.
A key concern about the
application of these technologies centres upon their impact on the labour
force. The argument here is that technological advances of this kind will result
in higher unemployment,
workforce deskilling and subsequent social upheaval. Adding weight to the
machine-human substitution position The Boston Consulting Group in a recent report estimates
(p8) that, for Germany, by 2025, “A greater use of robotics and computerization
will reduce the number of jobs in assembly and production by approximately 610,000”
-. In addition, the report predicts that routine cognitive work will also be
affected, with more than 20,000 jobs in production planning to be lost (ibid).
Another concern about
the application of these technologies relates to the exponential growth of the
security industry post 9/11. Using the term ‘securitization’ Minas Samatas (2011: 3348) in this
journal refers to a “bourgeoning industrial complex, encompassing security, surveillance
[and] military technology [that] develops and promotes a global security market
of new militarized monitoring technologies for civilian applications”. Again,
in this journal Volker Eick (2011: 3330) in his
study of policing tactics used in the 2006 FIFA World Cup, writes about the
deployment of surveillance technologies that includes “airborne warning and
control system planes (AWACS), security robots, [and] closed circuit television
surveillance (CCTV)”. Such technologies are in the main developed by the
military and their ever-increasing use in cities points towards a worrying
blurring of the boundaries between war and police (Wall 2013), civilian and enemy,
city and battleground.
A recent paper by Ian Shaw (2017) makes explicit a
connection between the dual concerns of machine-human substitution and a
technologically advanced security industry. With an emphasis on the use of
drones to police disenfranchised urbanites Shaw’s argument is a compelling and frightening
one: “As more and more jobs are replaced by nonhuman capital, the expelled
workers find themselves policed, occupied, and watched by an equally robotic
security armada” (Shaw 2017: 22). In support of the first stage of this
dystopian narrative (i.e. machine-human substitution) Shaw quotes David Harvey[1]: “Robots do not . . .
complain, answer back, sue, get sick, go slow, lose concentration, go on
strike, demand more wages, worry about conditions, want tea breaks or simply
refuse to show up” (Harvey 2014:103). Harvey’s argument while also compelling is
flawed, although this flaw does not detract from a core message in Shaw’s work
that warns of a type of terror only the state-capitalist nexus could produce
and sustain.
Why human labour
prevails despite technological disruption
Harvey is mistaken.
Robots metaphorically do get sick and go slow. This is because with increased
complexity comes increased system vulnerability (Pfieffer
2016).
In other words, “the more we depend on technology and push
it to its limits, the more we need highly-skilled, well-trained, well-practiced people […] acting as the
last line of defense against the failures that will inevitably occur” (Baxter
et al 2012: 65). Furthermore, as David
H Autor (2015) argues, humans will always
have a comparative advantage over computers when it comes to cognitive tasks,
which require creative thinking, good judgement and, increasingly, social
intelligence. Such tasks, according to Sara
de la Rica
(in Dolphin (ed), 2017: 91) can be
complementary to computers “and hence [she argues] computerization is likely to
increase the demand for people with these skills”. In the short term, there is
evidence that computerization and automation will see routine jobs lost (Coyle
in Dolphin (ed) 2017). In the medium to long term,
predictions about those ‘damn robots coming here and stealing our jobs’ will
continue to prove inaccurate.
Human labour prevails, despite
technological disruption, because of our ability to adopt and develop new
skills via education (Goldin and Katz, 2008[2]) – although during periods
of technological disruption, without the political will to push for equality of
opportunity in education, there will always be winners and losers. I witnessed a
quality example of skills education recently during a visit to a factory that
produced high-tech goods. There I met young people at various stages of a
modern apprenticeship programme. De la Rica’s comments about humans and
machines complimenting one another was evidenced when one apprentice showed me a
series of electronic chips he had handmade. When expensive high-tech products
breakdown, customers send them back to the manufacturer. Predicting faults in
complex machinery is not easy. As such, a bespoke hands-on approach is needed
to fix the problem when it occurs, hence the apprentice learning to make
computer chips by hand.
I was struck by the
level of craft that went into the production of these small high-tech products.
I was also struck by the professionalism of the young apprentice whose
knowledge of the technology was mirrored by his excellent interactional skills.
This apprenticeship programme was obviously of a very high standard. Adding
further accolade to the programme, the young apprentices I met came to their
jobs through a relationship between the company and the local high school. This
model of a demand-driven apprenticeship that emerges out of collaboration
between local businesses and high schools is regarded by many skills policy commentators
as critical to ensuring we have a future digital-ready workforce. The company
has operations in cities across the UK including Edinburgh, London, Southampton
and Luton. Its educational outreach programme engages several thousand school
children and college students from communities within these cities and others,
“to ensure the skills and knowledge which are vital to the UK are retained”
(Company Website). The company’s commitment to the local urban communities
within which it operates is commendable – a good example of corporate
citizenship at work.
The company’s name is Leonardo in the UK, part of Leonardo-Finmeccancia which, according
to Campaign Against Arms Trade (CAAT) is the worlds 9th
largest arms company. In addition to military helicopters, fighter aircrafts, missiles,
artillery and armed combat vehicles the company makes the FALCO EVO UAV – a
drone. Leonardo-Finmeccancia has sold its products to, amongst others, Algeria,
Libya and Turkey. The international press reported in December 2011 that 35 villagers had been
misidentified by Turkish drones and bombed, killing at least 30, 17 of whom
were children. Of the same incident, the Guardian (29/12/2011) reported that those killed were not Kurdish
separatist fighters but smugglers of diesel and cigarettes across the Iraqi
border. This is one of an increasing number of examples of what has been termed
‘collateral damage’.
Shaw, describing the
ascendance of dronified policing, quotes Neocleous[3] (2014: 162) who writes “This is nothing less
than a permanent police presence of the
reproduction of order – air power as the everywhere police – in which the exercise of violence is
an ever-present possibility”. I would like to forward a less spectacular narrative,
which grounds the ever-present
exercise of violence in a softer but no less effective form of everywhere
police that hides terror behind the common aspirations of people looking for a good
job so that they might pay the bills, go on holiday somewhere warm each year
and live a decent life.
The factory I visited
was in Edinburgh. The high school in this case is within twenty minutes walking
distance. The locations and the relationship between the school and factory
present a banal everyday urban form to the exercise of violence. The young apprentices wake up each working
morning. I imagine they may stop by the
local café for a coffee as they make their way down Pennywell Road to their
place of work where they will apply their talents and learn new skills. These
young people are the lucky ones. They do not live in Libya, Algeria or the Turkish-Iraqi
border lands. Unlike others who went to the same school in this working class
neighbourhood, their training at the factory will increase the probability of
them never being part of the surplus population “policed, occupied, and watched”
[by a] “robotic security armada” (Shaw 2017: 22). Notwithstanding a few minor
issues with forgotten passwords or low mobile phone batteries, technology will enhance
their lives.
I am not a
pacifist. Violent engagement can be a legitimate response to oppression and,
while I have issues on both counts, there is nothing new about the military
complex operating in the public sphere as a major employer or a symbol of
national pride. But the military complex nowadays seems more pervasive coupled as
it is with a new security economy that has its eyes firmly fixed on the urban
world. War, security and violence now proliferate our everyday lives. Giorgio
Agamben argued the imperative of ‘security’ now ‘imposes
itself on the basic principle of state activity’ including skills development. This
discourse of military urbanism tells us that parts of the city need to be
protected – e.g. strategic financial districts, respectable neighbourhoods,
tourist spaces. Equally, parts of the city must be subject to pre-emptive
action – e.g. BME neighbourhoods and political protests. The bogeyman of
automation thesis takes on a different more sinister hue here. We are
developing the technologies and the skilled people necessary to ensure that
those of us in the right parts of the city need not fear the disenfranchised
others.
[2] Goldin C. and Katz L.F (2008). The Race between education
and technology. Harvard University Press: Cambridge.
[3] Neocleous,
M.(2014) War Power, Police Power, Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh.
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