Fully Automated Luxury Communism A Manifesto

Introduction Six Characters in Search of a Future

Life is full of strange absurdities, which, strangely enough, do not even need to appear plausible, since they are true.

Luigi Pirandello

Yang

Yang is a factory worker in Zhengzhou, a city in the Chinese province of Henan. Born in a village in western China, her working life has corresponded with her country becoming the workshop of the world. She arrived in the city a decade ago, and since then has created a decent life for herself. While her job is exhausting – shifts often run from eleven to thirteen hours a day – Yang considers herself lucky. She is financially independent and earns enough to send money home to her parents.

Like many of her friends and co-workers, Yang is an only child. This means that while she feels fortunate on the factory floor, she is increasingly worried about the health of her ageing parents – the care of whom will soon be her responsibility.

Between that and the transience of city life, Yang views her own chances of starting a family as remote. Her duties lie elsewhere and, eventually, she will have to return home.

But alongside that hopefully distant prospect, another anxiety has recently troubled her. It was something unthinkable when she received her first pay packet as a teenager fresh from the provinces all those years ago. Work is drying up.

While Yang’s earnings have been rising every year since she arrived in the city, something few people her age in Europe or North America can say, the foreman continually makes jokes about robots taking her job. Although Yang usually ignores him, the illicit trade unionists in her workplace say similar things. According to them, wages are no longer competitive because foreigners overseas have become accustomed to earning less than before. While the trade unionists see little chance of China losing its industrial eminence, that inevitably means some jobs will go abroad while others are automated. Of course many jobs will stay in China – there will always be work – but conditions won’t stay as they are. Yang even read on the internet how the company she works for, Foxconn, has started to build factories in America.

Chris

When President Obama ratified the SPACE Act in 2015 it was a historic moment, at least for Chris Blumenthal. That legislation, while attracting little coverage in the press, recognised the right of private companies to make profits in space. American capitalism had a new frontier.

Today marks the anniversary of that event, and Blumenthal couldn’t be happier. Alone in his condo, he watches a Falcon Heavy booster rocket alight somewhere in the mid-Atlantic. Its successful landing not only makes a manned mission to

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Mars highly likely, but also continues an unblemished threeyear safety record for SpaceX, the company which built it. The private space industry, for so long reliant on government contracts and the deep pockets of a few industrialists, is no longer science fiction. Soon rockets, just like this one, will be as familiar as a Boeing 737.

After watching the landing streamed on Twitter, Blumenthal – an early stage investor in an asteroid mining company – shares it with a WhatsApp group of like-minded individuals. Among them are a highly paid NBA coach and a Hollywood director. To the link Blumenthal adds – only half-ironically – ‘SHOW ME THE MONEY’.

A response pops up straight away. Blumenthal doesn’t know the person intimately but presumes they watched the same stream, ‘There ain’t enough \$ in the world where this is going.’ Blumenthal doesn’t know it, but every other member of the group will watch the landing just like he did, although not all in real time. Some will be at home, others eating dinner with clients, friends and family. One will be lying in bed with her lover. Wherever they are, all of them will watch history unfold on the same OLED display in the palm of their hand. The technological trend allowing them to do so, ever-cheaper cameras with constantly improving resolution, ensured the rocket’s pilotless landing was entirely automated.

As Blumenthal goes to check the basketball scores, Sandra – an old friend and Manhattan lawyer – chimes in: ‘Our problem is there is too much of the stuf, it’s going to be so easy everyone will be putting a rocket up their ass to get there next.’

Nobody responds, although the others are all aware that a sudden oversupply of minerals will mean plummeting prices. For now, that doesn’t matter, and it won’t for another decade at least. That’s because this small group of people will be at the front of the queue when asteroid mining becomes the fastest-growing industry in history. It won’t last, of course, but not much does these days.

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Leia

Leia keys in the code and opens the door to start her morning shift. She walks straight over to the sound system, plugging the audio jack into her phone and presses the Spotify icon. She chooses the ‘Discover Weekly’ playlist – a series of songs curated by a predictive algorithm – before switching on the bar’s various gadgets: glass washer, cofee machine, lights, air conditioning.

Even though the sun has only been visible in the sky for a few hours, the energy needs of the building – from its WiFi router to the CCTV on the bar and the kitchen’s fridges – are met by solar power. Some is generated by photovoltaic panels fixed on the bar’s roof, but most comes from a thirteenmegawatt solar farm several miles away. On the Hawaiian island of Kaua’i, where Leia was born, this is how electricity is generated.

As she begins to wipe down tables, the second track on the playlist fades out. Leia’s sister, Kai – presently studying in California – is messaging her.

In what has become a customary feature of Leia’s weekend shifts, Kai sends pictures of herself partying to the Facebook group they both share with innumerable family members across multiple time zones. At the foot of the picture, taken on the US–Mexico border a few moments earlier, are the words ‘I miss you.’

Meanwhile, the solar farm – with its 55,000 silicon panels, three technicians and two security guards – is, like Leia, beginning its day’s work. Solar City, which built and now leases the site to the island’s energy cooperative, are confident that the maintenance of similar projects will soon be entirely automated. Leia doesn’t know it yet, but a similar fate awaits her father, a software developer, a decade from now.

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Instant global communication, just like the local transition from fossil fuels, has gone unnoticed by the teenager. For her both are simply mundane features of a world that is taken for granted. The slow elimination of her father’s profession will feel no diferent.

Peter

Addressing a large industry event in San Antonio, Peter is in ebullient mood. Sixty this year, he has the energy of a much younger man – primarily as a result of regular injections of human growth hormone. These days he takes great pride in two things: the baseball team he owns and making ever more bullish statements about the future of technology.

His expertise and legitimacy in the field comes from having founded a company acquired by one of the digital giants at the turn of the century, and today he is delivering a speech as a favour for a friend. He quickly shifts the conversation to his preferred topic: artificial intelligence and the future of jobs:

‘The first two trillion-dollar company will be Amazon, no question. Bezos won’t be the first trillionaire, but he ’ll do fine. Who comes after? SpaceX? I don’t think so, we ’ve had that technology for seventy years, and soon everyone will be doing it – but good luck to Elon. No, the first trillionaire will come from creating AI. Imagine … it is going to be as if you were doing accountancy in Victorian England and suddenly a rival has a laptop with a quad-core processor – they wipe you out. And jobs? Once that technology is rolled out most people – and this doesn’t make me happy to say it – will be superfluous … unnecessary.’

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Peter shares the stage with Anya, a younger CEO from Sweden: ‘Can I say, Peter, that I agree – AI changes a lot,’ Anya adds. ‘It challenges how we understand value, work, and even capitalism. In fact I imagine that in the future, lower classes of citizen won’t have inferior or less marketable skills, they’ll just lack access to personal AI. How do you have a fair labour market when that happens? I don’t think you can.’

‘I’m telling you’, Peter butts in, his tone almost oblivious to the large audience, ‘the first asshole who builds an AI is a trillionaire.’ He relaxes back into his chair before wistfully adding what sounds like an internal monologue, ‘He is either a trillionaire or a jackass.’

Federica

Federica knew she had forgotten an errand – she ’d promised her nephew a football jersey for his birthday but didn’t order it. Now she was doing something she didn’t miss: buying a gift on Oxford Circus in London’s West End.

As she walks into the store Federica swipes her hand in front of her face. The gesture activates a retinal display and summons her digital personal assistant, Alex, whose voice replaces her favourite podcast in her Bluetooth earpiece. ‘Hello Fede. What can I help you with?’

‘Hey Alex’, she responds. ‘Where can I find an Arsenal shirt for Tom in here?’

Alex, a moderately powerful artificial intelligence developed by one of the major tech giants, answers almost immediately. ‘Tom’s size is in stock, so you won’t need to wait while it’s printed. First floor, on the right towards the back – I’ll show you.’ A map flashes in front of Federica’s left eye, not that she can tell which one it is anymore. Alex continues, ‘Tom has talked several times about preferring the black and gold away strip. Shall we get it?’

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‘Great, yes Alex, you’re a lifesaver.’ Looking at the lines of adult men’s tracksuits, Federica remembers something. ‘Alex, how is George ’s diet going?’ George is her partner.

‘Not so well,’ Alex responds, ‘but I think he ’d rather that was discussed between the two of you.’ Federica couldn’t help but smile. Digital personal assistants hadn’t always been so ‘emotionally intelligent ’.

On finding the shirt Federica places it into her bag and immediately begins to leave the store. As she does, another figure walks onto the screen – or rather in front of her. ‘Do you have everything you need today Ms Antonietta? How was the tracksuit you bought in February? We have something similar for winter – would you like me to send it to Alex for you to look at?’

‘Please, that would be wonderful,’ Federica says. ‘I don’t want to be late.’ She leaves the store, and the RFID tag on the shirt automatically debits her account. In the production, warehousing, distribution and sale of the item, not one human was employed. Indeed, the store she visited could have delivered it by drone to her nephew later that day, but she preferred giving it to him herself – the old-fashioned way. After all, it’s a birthday present from his favourite aunt.

Doug

Doug had both known this would happen and prayed that it wouldn’t. He just wanted to take his dog for a walk and now it was going to be put down.

‘Sir, I’m going to have to take the animal.’

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‘Why?’ asks Doug. ‘I have a licence for it – what did I do wrong?’

‘It’s a counterfeit item, sir. If you do have a licence it will be a forgery – you are either handling illegally edited goods or … you’ve done this yourself.

Doug had bought the dog, a Dachshund he ’d named Noodle, from a breeder who had a reputation for dealing with upgraded animals. He had taken the risk because he didn’t want something that might lose the use of its back legs after a few years – he ’d had a pug in the past and as much as he loved it, it could barely breathe at night. If he had to have another animal that screwed up again – his apartment was too small for even a moderately sized dog – he wouldn’t have bothered at all. ‘Give me a break. These animals have been bred to fuck by us, we made them like this, and now you are saying it’s illegal to put that right?’

‘So you are aware of the edits, sir?’ asks the policeman, putting away his gene tracker and beginning to tap on his tablet.

‘No I wasn’t, and you won’t be able to prove something that hasn’t happened … it’s just I find all this nonsense of scanning for “Frankenstein” animals and crops and people … it’s fucking ridiculous.

‘It’s the law, sir. If we didn’t have these rules in place, then where would the incentive be for people to create new solutions? People could just do anything they wanted.

‘Or heal anything they wanted,’ Doug muttered.

The police oficer remained completely indiferent. ‘Now sir, may I take your name, address and a shot of your retina … stand still, this won’t take a moment.’

All of the accounts above are fiction, and yet they are based in fact – reasonable guesses about our prospective future. In

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2015 Barack Obama, then US president, signed the SPACE Act into law. Less than two years later, Kaua’i, the fourth largest of the Hawai’ian Islands, finalised a deal with Solar City allowing the island to meet its entire electricity needs from solar power. Around the same time, technology entrepreneur Mark Cuban declared that the world’s first trillionaire would emerge in the space of artificial intelligence.

In Seattle, meanwhile, Amazon trialled its first checkout-free store using ‘just walk out technology’. Almost simultaneously, Foxconn’s CEO, Terry Gou, announced the construction of a major facility by the company in Wisconsin. Eight hundred miles south in the state of Mississippi, David Ishee, a dog breeder and biohacker, was refused permission by the FDA to edit the genome of dogs he bred in order to eliminate a specific but common condition. His response? That he might do it anyway as an act of civil disobedience. A year after that FDA ruling, in February 2018, SpaceX oversaw the successful launch, re-entry and landing of its Falcon Heavy rocket – the predecessor to the BFR booster the company intends to deploy in its manned missions to Mars in the 2020s.

All of these events share a certain sense of the future. Renewable energy, asteroid mining, rockets which can be used multiple times and even fly to Mars, industry leaders openly discussing the implications of AI, DIY enthusiasts immersing themselves in low-cost genetic engineering. And yet, that future is already here. It turns out it isn’t tomorrow’s world which is too complex to craft a meaningful politics for, it ’s today’s.

In attempting to create a progressive politics that fits to present realities this poses a problem because, while these events feel like something from science fiction, they can also feel inevitable. In one sense it’s like the future is already written, and that for all the talk of an impending technological revolution, such dizzying transformation is attached to a static view of the world where nothing really changes.

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But what if everything could change? What if, more than simply meeting the great challenges of our time – from climate change to inequality and ageing – we went far beyond them, putting today’s problems behind us like we did before with large predators and, for the most part, illness. What if, rather than having no sense of a diferent future, we decided history hadn’t actually begun?

We have faced changes as momentous as those which now confront us twice before. The first was around twelve thousand years ago as Homo sapiens, our ancestors, began to engage in agriculture for the first time. This consisted in the domestication of animals and crops, practically grasping how biological features can be bred both in and out of species. It wasn’t long before we had farming, animals performing labour and a relative abundance of food. This in turn created the social surplus necessary for the transition to sedentary society and with it cities, writing and culture. In short, life would never be the same again. This was both the end of something – hundreds of millennia of human ‘prehistory’ – and the start of something else.

It was the First Disruption.

After that not much would change for thousands of years. Yes, there was progress, as civilisations emerged and empires conquered, but fundamentally, the same sources of light, energy and warmth were available five thousand years ago as five hundred years ago. Life expectancy depended more on geography, social status and war than on technology and, until the last few centuries, most people ’s ‘work’ involved subsistence agriculture.

Then, around the middle of the eighteenth century, a new transformation began. The steam engine – along with coal – became the backbone of the Industrial Revolution and the first machine age. While it had taken all of recorded history for the world’s human population to reach 1 billion, it would take little more than a century to double once more. Now, new vistas of abundance opened up, with extended life expectancy, near-universal literacy, and increased production of just about everything. By the middle of the nineteenth century it was once again clear that something so seismic had taken place that, for better or worse, there was no going back.

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