Miners organize for what would become a long, bloody strike.

Ninety-six years ago, 13,000 miners joined an armed rebellion against their employer over mistreatment, lacking pay, and child labor. The largest rebellion of its kind in our nation’s history, this was the peak of a decades-long battle against corporate oppression. After the federal government joined forces with mercenaries hired by the company, the uprising came to an end. These miners had endured bombings from private planes, betrayal from a corporatized government, and accusations of treason from their communities, all for the belief that a better future was possible.

Nearly a century later, the great grandchildren of these revolutionaries vote almost exclusively for candidates who promise to roll back the very regulations that their ancestors fought and died for. Desperation, brought on by the shadow of progress, has drained them of their pride and their sense of justice.

Our world is filled with stories like this. Over the last twenty years, as workers have become more productive, and automation has become ubiquitous, wages have stagnated and communities have decayed. One glimpse at the once-opulent Detroit tells this story. And it is fear of collapse, seemingly caused by progress, that drives workers to demand lower wages and quicker deaths.

An abandoned Cathedral in Detroit

But it is not automation, nor higher productivity which is at fault for our decline. Rather, it is greed and a disturbing lack of empathy which has allowed for this dystopia.

Automation should not be a boogieman to be avoided at all costs. Freeing humanity from menial labor, be it in agriculture or fast food, should be a revolution in quality of life. Without the need for humans to waste their skills on such tasks, we could see a renaissance, where every day is spent on education, art, and enjoyment. Where the purpose of life is not labor, but living. Where mankind is finally free.

Even now, I can hear the arguments of those who find this future appalling. They would insist that full automation is impossible, and that it would be unfair for some to work while others have no obligations. They hold the capacity for labor as the source of life’s value, and cannot even imagine a world where the end is happiness, rather than “progress.” So afraid are we of a reality without universal labor that we create useless jobs — forcing people to put pictures on diapers, or manufacture beads which will be discarded after one use — and threatening those who refuse them with starvation, hatred, and suffering. In our fear of inequity in labor, we have created inequity in all.

Our adoration of industry is so pervasive that employment has become a means to its own end. We force billions to work not because there is no other option, nor because what they produce is essential. We force them to work because labor is life. Our very self worth is tied to what we produce, causing unemployment to be a leading cause for depression. We’ve been so indoctrinated to the religion of employment that we hate ourselves when left without work, no matter how menial.

It is this false idol, this blasphemy against the humane, that causes us to fear automation. Because, in our inescapable dystopia, automation will not free humanity from the chains of labor; it will condemn us to starvation, exploitation, and death.

If we are to do the impossible, and build a world where happiness and knowledge are the goals of our existence, we must cast aside our infatuation with labor in favor of a dedication to humanity. We must build a civilization which embraces automation and distributes its fruits equally. We must dedicate ourselves fully to the belief that all of humanity deserves happiness.

Ninety-seven years ago, 300 miners died for the dream of less work and better lives. In memory of their sacrifice, and out of an unrelenting love for humanity, it is my sincerest hope that we dare to dream again.