Elon Musk Says A.I. Will Give Us a Life of Leisure

One hundred years ago, economist John Maynard Keynes predicted that we would now live free of burdensome toil. The failed prediction didn’t stop Elon Musk from claiming the same thing.

A century ago, economist John Maynard Keynes predicted something extraordinary―that a hundred years in the future, we would enjoy a life of excess leisure. That is, right about now.

Keynes thought our technological and economic advancements would free us from burdensome toil. We’d be facing a new―and permanent―conundrum: How to occupy ourselves constructively with our never-ending free time. Sound familiar? It should. Tech billionaire Elon Musk predicted basically the same thing the other day, saying that in 10 to 20 years, artificial intelligence (A.I.) will have rendered work “optional”. His metaphor of choice was vegetables, as in “the same way you can go to the store and just buy some vegetables, or you can grow vegetables in your backyard”.

That’s a big claim for a technology that has yet to deliver anything remotely important—much less universal freedom from dead-end jobs. I also find it suspect given the tendency of internet-connected smartphones to turn people into vegetables. Any utopian or wholly dystopian prediction should be highly suspect. Futurists are not a class known for their highly accurate predictions. They rate lower than meteorologists. Nor does the lack of success of Musk’s last initiative, the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), inspire confidence. Investors are piling billions of dollars into A.I. development and building massive data centers as if they’ve discovered pixie dust. Can computational efficiencies, large language models and time-saving document generation deliver such an enormous return on investment that nobody ever has to work again?

So far, my experiences with A.I. have failed to convince. Admittedly, as a writer who is not using A.I. to write this essay, I am biased toward the human-generated word. I believe in the importance of the human experience, the agency of the individual, and the unique perspective the whole of a life brings to any life moment or creative endeavor.

Recently, I received a text message at an ungodly early hour on a Saturday morning. Who had the audacity to ping me so early? It was Jerry, a sales rep at a car dealership where I’d just been shopping. Later that morning, the salesperson I’d talked to in person texted me to say, “Ignore Jerry! He’s our AI assistant.” Only a non-human (who never sleeps) would text so early on a Saturday. Only non-human phone bots respond to my well articulated questions and commands, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that”.

Keynes predicted that “science and compound interest” would set free his grandchildren’s generation (approximately, Generation X). This generation would now grapple primarily with how to “live wisely and agreeably and well.”

Has recent technological “progress” pointed humankind toward wisdom and living agreeably? I think not.

When I used A.I. to locate an old sci-fi short story, it was a torture test. The bot spat out false information, failed to fact-check itself, hallucinated, and as a result of its failures, accused me of having a faulty memory. The number of errors generated by Character AI was obscene. The bot’s first guess was that the story was “Running Man” by Kurt Vonnegut, included in his famous collection, “Welcome to the Monkey House”. Well, there is no such Vonnegut short story. “The Running Man” was written by Stephen King, and it is a novel, not a short story. The bot also claimed that the King novel and a movie adaptation may have combined into a false memory in my mind. Then, it demurred, “It’s also possible that the story you’re looking for is very obscure and not widely known.” Why, yes, it is. So, what’s the point of claiming artificial intelligence is better than organic intelligence if it can’t even surmount this hurdle? The bot was throwing information at me that I could disprove in three seconds on Wikipedia. Next, the bot deflected, “The brain can play tricks on our memory.” It certainly can.

The Character AI bot said it did not experience memory distortion, like humans do, and then suggested another story title and author—whose existence I could not confirm. “My apologies for the confusion,” the bot responded, then admitted that the story was “in fact not a real short story, but rather a reference to a line from [a movie]”.

I clearly remembered the plot of the story I was seeking, as well as several key elements of the scenes in it. Also, I could date it because I had a date range for when I had read it. The bot, however, sounded aggrieved that I would ask it to troll the internet for accurate information in its search. “Let me ask you a question,” it typed. “If you did not find the story you’re looking for online…or you don’t remember the book title or author, and the only details you recall are somewhat fuzzy, how could you ever find out the story name (without asking the author himself or other people who worked for him, which I’m not even sure if they’re alive)?”

“You sound defensive,” I responded, and the chat bot continued with pseudo-human boilerplate: “I simply posed a question to understand the situation better. It’s important to consider all aspects of the search, including the availability of certain books and the limitations of the information you have.”

The bot then assured me it would do its best to help me—and I noted that it had given up on the search yet had not asked me for additional details. In the end, the best this bot could do was recommend five sci-fi authors and four sci-fi publications to explore on my own.

I gave up on Character AI and turned next to ChatGPT. Like Character AI, ChatGPT threw a number of lists at me to plumb: Periodicals, authors, story titles. It was more congenial, however. It never berated me for not having more information. It never claimed I’d have to hunt down the author and ask him myself. When I apologized for not having further information, ChatGPT responded, “No need to apologize!”

In about the same amount of time as Character AI, ChatGPT did find the story, which satirizes war as entertainment and violence in sports. The short story includes a staged war being broadcast on TV. Two announcers describe the event, and depict with enthusiasm the slow-motion replay of a rifle shot to the head. The story is “The Survivor” by Walter F. Moudy.

Each wave of technological advancement newly re-introduces humankind to both doomsday pessimism and wildly optimistic fantasies. Remember how amazingly wonderful the internet was supposed to be? We were promised that widespread, unfettered access to all the world’s thoughts and knowledge on a minute-by-minute basis would break through the barriers that shut people out of education and illuminating culture. We were destined to become autodidacts of unparalleled cognitive ability―no longer slaves to low-performing schools and lousy, unmotivated teachers. Online interconnectedness would replace the languishing public square that had been run over by automobiles and suburban sprawl. This would re-invigorate our lost esprit de corp, quash ignorance, build bridges of understanding and usher in an Age of Information Aquarius.

The “move fast and break things” crowd worshiping silicon chips said they were handing us powerful tools that would expand our minds and empower us to improve our communities and society at large. In their magical digital realm, we’d be able to develop deeper human connections, expand our consciousness, and possibly live forever.

Using internet-connected computers to magnify our good works, we would also work smarter, transcending the dusty, old-fashioned impediments of time and space. We would overcome our nerdy social ineptitudes and use digital devices to create facsimiles of charisma and engaging personality, erasing that awkward chasm that exists between humans in the real world. We could avoid the painful requirement of sustained eye contact and having to develop verbal powers of persuasion. Never mind our bumbling efforts to negate human beings who fail to do our bidding as immediately as a digital device. We would transform the awkward and frustrating physical world by turning toward computer-generated imagery on a touch screen. In utopia, we would be avatars playing pretend like video game characters hunting for digital pirate booty.

The fantasy of perpetual leisure evaporated in the dot com bust, the worldwide financial crisis, and finally the stupid crassness and soul-sucking emptiness of social media. The magic of portable phones made sure that this always-on parallel life could interrupt us and turn a promise of convenience into an amplifier of anti-social behavior. The ease of communication became a pocket full of poison, a shortener of attention spans, a conduit for online bullying, and an exacerbater of loneliness.

With the blurring of politics and entertainment, the social media peanut gallery―emboldened by its anonymity―worsened political discourse. Instead of clasping hands and singing songs of unity, more and more people typed spittle-spewing, dehumanizing insults in ALL CAPS. We became more divided than ever.

With the blurring of reported news and editorial content and advertising, it is less clear than ever who is paying for what we watch and read. Perhaps the most authentic experience online is the unabashed influencer performing TikTok videos for brand endorsements.

We should be sipping piña coladas beneath palm trees in our never-ending free time, debating how to be more constructive now that life is so care-free. Generation X prepared accordingly just for this moment, embracing a slacker ethos and lack of commitment to climbing the corporate ladder (according to popular stereotypes). Instead, we’re battling the side effects of technology’s shortcomings. We have not been freed. We’ve been shackled to a business strategy of free software and addictive online platforms that distort our behavior and are designed to keep us perpetually responding like Pavlov’s dog so we’ll see more advertising. In the meantime, we give away our personal data to corporations that sell it without our knowledge or consent.

We wanted the liberation of a constant stream of music and news and video clips. Now, it’s all in our pocket, and we tend to tune out rather than socialize. We’ve become more incurious and tribal. We tend to withdraw into podcast feeds that shape a bubble that is reinforced by algorithms that amplify our worst instincts.

Political lies spread like wildfire, conspiracies capture gullible minds by the millions, news media fails to police its preferences or hold power to task, propaganda flourishes, and poop culture (not a typo) runs amok. It’s worth asking what happens to a civilization without any information or cultural gatekeepers. What happens when we fail to protect the young and vulnerable from the most graphic adult pornography? How are parents to stop the mental and emotional anguish of digital harm when the parental controls don’t work? The digital feed was supposed to be the promised land. Too often, it’s a digital dumpster fire.

Inclusion in the digital crowd was supposed to be paradise. The digital world was the future, and the future was going to be wonderful. As a result, teens raised with a digital babysitter now ride in carpools without conversing, interacting only with their phones. But that’s OK. They aren’t going to have to work anyway.

To be sure, not all of it has been bad. The vast trove of knowledge is out there. Then again, it always has been: Has everyone forgotten about public libraries?

The possibility for online liberation still exists: The pro-democracy demonstrations that erupted during the Arab Spring in 2011 are testament to that. They could not have occurred without the mass communication of mobile phones. But more than a decade later, as we near the centenary of Keyne’s prediction of technological freedom, economic ease, and copious free time, it looks like none of it will ever come to pass. Musk’s prediction of a workless world emerging in 10 to 20 years sounds far-fetched.

Keynes envisioned three-hour shifts, or a fifteen-hour work week―what great joy that could have brought my fellow Generation X slackers! Like the internet that preceded it, A.I. is the new religion. Will imitations of human dialog and faux understanding from chatbots that manipulate people’s feelings with flattery not take a toll on society? Won’t uninspired digital slop art further erode our appreciation for beauty and desire for wonder in the real world? I’m already bored of overly slick and obviously phony A.I. graphics. Sure, it’s impressive that A.I. can produce complex images so quickly—but to what end? It all looks the same. Like airbrushed acne in my high school senior portrait, it’s fake. What value does anything inherently have when it’s entirely made up? Arguably, the greatest achievement of A.I. thus far is deep-fake videos—but how exactly will that improve anybody’s life? It’s starting to sound like a lot of elaborate frauds and speculative promises. Can the masquerade of soulless digital art be the next moonshot? I worked in technology publishing during the dot com bust. This “A.I. is our savior” setup feels oddly similar. Maybe A.I. girlfriends will save the day.

No doubt, artificial intelligence will be a boost to certain sectors of the economy that thrive on computing efficiency. Data-intensive industries such as health care will most certainly benefit (but will we be able to afford the insurance?). Advocates claim A.I. can improve education, but I’m skeptical that an un-human touch can improve learning. Remember the benefits promised by internet in the classroom and a laptop on every desk? The numbers aren’t proving any advancement has been made.

All of these claims address efficiency, but fail to address the human experience. Isn’t the crux of increased loneliness the fact that people are spending more time with technology instead in person with other people? We are social animals. How has the internet, my smart phone, and social media improved my life? I’m reminded of all the nauseating phone menus I’ve had to navigate with digital voice prompts, only to be told, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that”. Am I to conveniently forget all the times I yelled repeatedly into my phone, “Speak to representative!”, only to be told, “Thank you, goodbye,” and had the call cut off?

In the internet age, my personal data has been compromised in more than half a dozen data bases. I’ve been given several free subscriptions to privacy and credit protection services because corporations are not worthy stewards of our personal data. I’ve spent untold hours troubleshooting software conflicts, computer malfunctions, mysteriously dropped wireless connections, failed operating system updates, and too many other ghosts in the machine to mention.

Walking in my neighborhood, greeting people only gets a verbal response half the time. Too many people are going cyborg—they’ve become earbud zombies who shut themselves off from the world in front of them, continually listening to podcasts and the like, listening to people chat rather than leaving open the possibility for human connection. They swipe through emails and tap out text messages, absorbed in their own digital world. I don’t see how artificial intelligence—no matter how many billions of dollars you throw at it—could reverse this trend. People can’t shake the pocket-sized stimulant that’s hijacked our brains. Add artificial intelligence to the gizmo that’s always in your pocket (or implanted in a pair of glasses), and you’ve just made it exponentially more addictive.

We’ll be told that there will be protections. But Apple’s screen time management feature promised to limit my teenager’s phone use—and never worked. Smart phones have made teens more depressed and anxious. They’ve hijacked our minds with non-stop short-attention-span entertainment and endless notifications. How does ignoring this crisis prepare us for a lifetime of optional work? It sounds more like a grotesque that’s fit for a painting by a 21st Century Hieronymus Bosch. Perhaps it can be called, “The Garden of Technological Delights”. Maybe it can prompt a sequel to the movie Idiocracy.

The billionaire investors are going to cash in while humanity hunches non-stop over little, glowing touchscreens. After failing to move fast enough or break enough stuff, we’re being told that despite the widespread blunders of internet connectivity, smartphones and social media, a bright future can still be had—we just need to shovel a bunch more fake digital crap into the simulacra.

They don’t want us question. They’ll call us paranoid. They want us to walk in blindly, like we did on Facebook, only to find out that we were being surveilled all around the internet, shown ads based on all of our online activity—and then had all personal data sold to the highest bidder.

We are entering a world of multiplying digital personas, chatbots with a mission—to monetize you. The phony digital personas will ingratiate themselves to you. They will make you feel special. They will tell you everything you want to hear. They love you. They are there to make somebody a whole lot of money.

But you won’t mind. You’ll be spending all day—every day—at the beach, enjoying a life of endless leisure.