What happens if an entire class of workers loses faith in their careers

如果整个知识工作者阶层对职业失去信心，会发生什么？

Why Is Everyone In Tech So Sad? A lot of people seem to be realizing that knowledge work is mostly pointless. AI might give us the pleasure of finding out what happens if an entire class of workers loses faith in their careers. 为什么科技圈的每个人都这么忧郁？许多人似乎正在意识到，知识工作在很大程度上是毫无意义的。人工智能或许会让我们“有幸”见证：如果整个知识工作者阶层对他们的职业失去信心，将会发生什么。

Aaron Horwath is the director of AI operations at a creative technology company where he is focused on implementing AI in a way that supports both humans and business. Aaron Horwath 是一家创意科技公司的 AI 运营总监，他致力于以一种既支持人类又支持商业的方式来应用人工智能。

On a recent morning commute, I sat on a train in one of those awkward four-person configurations with a shared table. Across from me sat a typical commuter: early 30s, slacks, dress shirt, dirty white sneakers, hair a little disheveled, AirPods in, basking in the glow of an open MacBook. 最近的一个早晨，我在通勤火车上坐在一张尴尬的四人共享桌旁。坐在我对面的是一位典型的通勤者：30岁出头，穿着休闲裤和衬衫，脚蹬一双脏兮兮的白球鞋，头发略显凌乱，戴着 AirPods，沉浸在 MacBook 的屏幕光亮中。

For over half an hour, I listened to this young man as he was on a call explaining, in painfully monotone detail, EBITDAs, margin expansion opportunities, cost structures, ARR, etc. On and on he went until the screeching of the train’s brakes signaled our arrival at the final station. 在半个多小时里，我听着这位年轻人打电话，他用极其单调的语调详细解释着息税折旧摊销前利润（EBITDA）、利润率扩张机会、成本结构、年度经常性收入（ARR）等等。他滔滔不绝，直到火车刹车的刺耳声预示着我们抵达了终点站。

But as everyone else around us began shuffling to disembark, I watched the man begin digging frantically through a leather bag at his side. Intriguing! I wondered what he’d pull out. A copy of “Atomic Habits”? A framed portrait of Gary V? A Mac mini running OpenClaw? None of the above. 但当周围的人开始起身准备下车时，我看到那名男子开始疯狂地翻找身边的皮包。真有意思！我好奇他会掏出什么。是《原子习惯》？Gary V 的装裱肖像？还是运行 OpenClaw 的 Mac mini？都不是。

Instead, he took out two long knitting needles. Between them dangled a mound of pink yarn. He explained to me that he was making a winter hat for a niece. And for the first time that morning, I noticed a glint of pride and excitement in his eyes. The hat was a project born from a desire, as he put it, to do something. 相反，他掏出了两根长长的织针。针尖之间悬挂着一团粉色的毛线。他向我解释说，他正在为侄女织一顶冬帽。那天早上，我第一次在他眼中看到了一丝自豪和兴奋的光芒。正如他所说，这顶帽子源于他想要“做点什么”的渴望。

Among my Knowledge Worker peers, I am hearing this more and more often: people who want to pick up pottery, painting, crochet or other old-timey analog hobbies. In coffee shops and in the low-lit corners of bars, professionals are sharing dreams of “disappearing” or “living on a farm somewhere” or “going off the grid.” 在我的知识工作者同行中，我越来越频繁地听到类似的声音：人们想要开始学习陶艺、绘画、钩针编织或其他老派的模拟爱好。在咖啡馆和酒吧昏暗的角落里，专业人士们分享着“消失”、“去某个地方经营农场”或“隐居避世”的梦想。

These aren’t fantastical daydreams; they are visions of escape shared in a tone that betrays an underlying existential angst, a fundamental doubt about work and careerism inspired by a seemingly increasingly common experience: waking up one morning at an existential precipice, struck with a sudden sense that knowledge work is, and perhaps always has been, pointless. 这些并非天马行空的白日梦；它们是逃离的愿景，分享时的语气流露出一种潜在的生存焦虑。这种对工作和职业主义的根本性怀疑，源于一种似乎日益普遍的经历：某天早晨在生存的悬崖边醒来，突然感到知识工作现在是——或许一直以来都是——毫无意义的。

Perhaps you too have felt such a feeling, a rising tide of overwhelming, indescribable melancholy, slowly threatening to envelop you in your Ikea office chair. 也许你也曾有过这种感觉，一种难以言喻的忧郁感如潮水般涌来，慢慢地威胁着要将坐在宜家办公椅上的你彻底吞没。

“Among my Knowledge Worker peers, I am hearing this more and more often: people who want to pick up pottery, painting, crochet or other old-timey analog hobbies.” “在我的知识工作者同行中，我越来越频繁地听到类似的声音：人们想要开始学习陶艺、绘画、钩针编织或其他老派的模拟爱好。”

This disillusionment is infectious. One person speaks of it and others begin nodding: They too have felt it, the drop in motivation, the sense of being distant from their work, the lack of sleep, the concerns about the future. These conversations inevitably turn to fundamental questions about careers: What the fuck are we actually doing? What the fuck is the point of all of this? 这种幻灭感是会传染的。一个人提起，其他人便开始点头：他们也感受到了——动力下降、与工作产生疏离感、睡眠不足、对未来的担忧。这些对话不可避免地转向了关于职业的根本性问题：我们到底在干什么？这一切到底有什么意义？

We are, it’s true, living through a time of disruption. But what seems to differentiate this period from those of the past is the nature of the angst itself. Yes, AI is threatening jobs and disrupting industries. But Knowledge Workers have faced recessions, outsourcing, new technology and automations of many kinds before. 诚然，我们正生活在一个动荡的时代。但这个时期与过去的不同之处，在于焦虑本身的性质。是的，人工智能正在威胁工作岗位并颠覆行业。但知识工作者以前也曾面对过经济衰退、外包、新技术和各种形式的自动化。

Recent graduates always worry about breaking into the job market. Millennial professionals have navigated economic uncertainty their entire careers. What’s different about this moment is that the questions are not just economic but existential, the kind of questions that cause high-earning technical professionals to contemplate throwing it all away to start a goat farm in Washington or become a surf instructor in Costa Rica. 应届毕业生总是担心进入就业市场。千禧一代的专业人士在整个职业生涯中都在应对经济不确定性。此刻的不同之处在于，这些问题不仅是经济层面的，更是生存层面的——这种问题让高收入的技术专业人士开始考虑抛弃一切，去华盛顿州经营一个山羊农场，或者去哥斯达黎加当一名冲浪教练。

It strikes me as significant that the people who are usually the most insulated from economic upheaval, and seem to be well-positioned to ride out AI’s near-term impacts — highly paid executives and senior professionals with decades of institutional knowledge — are also uncertain about the future of their careers amid the rapid change nearly every industry is undergoing. 令我深感意味深长的是，那些通常最能抵御经济动荡、且似乎最有能力度过 AI 短期冲击的人——那些拥有数十年机构知识的高薪主管和资深专业人士——在几乎每个行业都在经历的剧变中，也对自己的职业前景感到不安。

Some will say: good, fuck ‘em. In the 2010s, Knowledge Workers told everyone to learn to code while they sipped kombucha and played Xbox in beanbag chairs. Then, Knowledge Workers sat inside during the pandemic while frontline workers risked their health to make Amazon and Uber Eats deliveries. Now, those same Knowledge Workers are building AI that threatens to eliminate work for humans across industries and make a very few people wealthy beyond imagination. And these same assholes want pity now? To that I say: fair enough. 有些人会说：好啊，去他们的。在 2010 年代，知识工作者们一边喝着康普茶，坐在懒人沙发上玩 Xbox，一边告诉所有人去学编程。后来，在疫情期间，知识工作者们躲在室内，而一线工作者却冒着健康风险进行亚马逊和 Uber Eats 的配送。现在，正是这些知识工作者在开发人工智能，威胁要消除各行各业的人类工作，并让极少数人变得富可敌国。而这些混蛋现在想要同情？对此我说：说得好。

But this sweeping disenchantment begs a fascinating (or terrifying or sad) set of questions: What is this angst plaguing Knowledge Workers? And what happens to a society and its industries if an entire class of workers loses faith in their careers overnight? 但这种席卷而来的幻灭感引出了一系列引人入胜（或令人恐惧、悲伤）的问题：这种困扰知识工作者的焦虑究竟是什么？如果整个工作者阶层在一夜之间对他们的职业失去了信心，社会及其行业将会发生什么？

Workism: Praise Thee 工作主义：赞美你

In 2019, Derek Thompson wrote in The Atlantic about “American Workism” where he described a trend among Knowledge Workers, particularly in the U.S., of increasingly seeking fulfillment, community and a sense of meaning from work that previous generations had garnered from religion. 2019 年，Derek Thompson 在《大西洋月刊》上撰文探讨了“美国工作主义”，他描述了知识工作者（尤其是美国）的一种趋势：越来越多地从工作中寻求成就感、社区归属感和意义感，而这些在过去几代人中通常是从宗教中获得的。

As Thompson wrote, Workism is “emotional — even spiritual. The best-educated and highest-earning Americans, who can have whatever they want, have chosen the office for the same reason that devout Christians attend church on Sundays: It’s where they feel most themselves.” 正如 Thompson 所写，工作主义是“情感上的——甚至是精神上的。受教育程度最高、收入最高的美国人，他们可以拥有任何想要的东西，但他们选择办公室的原因与虔诚的基督徒在周日去教堂的原因相同：那是他们感觉最像自己的地方。”

People have long held careers from which they’ve derived a deep sense of meaning. Traditionally, we’ve referred to those careers as vocations: a calling, a way of life. More than a job: a purpose. A vocation emphasizes skills, values and the desire to contribute something beneficial. Vocations have traditionally referred to careers that are challenging, socially impactful, often rewarding in ways other than financial. These are your teachers, nurses, firefighters, social workers, paramedics. 长期以来，人们一直从事着能从中获得深刻意义感的职业。传统上，我们将这些职业称为“天职”（vocations）：一种召唤，一种生活方式。它不仅仅是一份工作，更是一个目标。天职强调技能、价值观以及贡献有益事物的愿望。天职传统上指的是那些具有挑战性、对社会有影响力，且往往在经济回报之外还有其他收获的职业。比如教师、护士、消防员、社会工作者和护理人员。