Looking at the debate surrounding modern technology today, aka artificial intelligence, the 19th-century debate over the use of machines in the textile industry looks very similar.
History, if it doesn’t repeat itself, does certainly echo, and right now the 21st century is echoing 19th-century England vibes. Today’s technological quandary, artificial intelligence, feels awfully similar to the quandary of . . . wait for it…stocking frames, shearing frames and power looms. Allow me to introduce you to the Luddites.
The Luddites were members of a 19th-century labor movement of English textile workers who protested the usage of certain types of automated machinery, namely those pesky stocking frames and power looms. But contrary to popular belief, the Luddites weren’t afraid of technology or even totally anti-technology (yes, knitting frames were considered technology). Then why are they known for breaking all the machines (illegal, by the way)? What were they so mad about? Technology and progress are good, right?
Picture it. It’s the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. Around 1764 or so, this guy, James Hargreaves, invents the spinning jenny, which allowed one worker to spin multiple threads at the same time. It truly was industrially revolutionary, hence the name. Then, 5 years later, Richard Arkwright invents the water frame, which uses water power to produce stronger threads. And if that weren’t enough, Samuel Crompton said hold my beverage and created the spinning mule, which combined the spinning jenny AND the water frame, producing a stronger yet finer yarn.
The Luddites didn’t attack every business; they were quite selective about the businesses and owners they targeted. If the owner paid their workers fairly, abiding by apprenticeship rules (kinda like a union; there were guilds that made sure apprenticeships were limited and there were minimum terms of service), and produced quality products (they still had standards, you know), they were less likely to be targeted. The Luddites were like OSHA and the Labor Department combined.
Meanwhile, the Luddites said, “wait, what did we do to you?” The Luddites saw themselves as skilled artisans and craftsmen, not just unskilled labor. Some worked from home (the original Etsy?), owned or rented their looms, and made high-quality stuff like stockings, lace, coats, even toys! They weren’t just weaving thread together willy-nilly to make a bunch of blankets and scarves (although they made those too); they were creating textiles, investing time and craft, sometimes generationally. And clearly, they saw the mechanization of their work as not just demeaning, but a threat to their very livelihoods, also known as their jobs. Why the piling on?
See, the Luddites weren’t anti-technology; they were anti-what the mean old business owners were going to do with this newfangled technology – eliminate jobs, lower wages, cause chaos and wreak havoc among the working class, keeping all the profits to themselves. Sound familiar? These were dire predictions. So, what was a Luddite to do? Their solution was to eliminate the competition by destroying the machinery. But here’s where the story gets a little interesting – the Luddites didn’t destroy any ‘ol machinery, they were more selective than that.
The Luddites didn’t attack every business; they were quite selective about the businesses and owners they targeted. If the owner paid their workers fairly, abiding by apprenticeship rules (kinda like a union; there were guilds that made sure apprenticeships were limited and there were minimum terms of service), and produced quality products (they still had standards, you know), they were less likely to be targeted. The Luddites were like OSHA and the Labor Department combined.
Next step – a letter. How nice – those 19th-century manners kick in. They would send a letter to the offending factory owner, basically saying, hey, we hope this letter finds you well (I made that part up). We see what you’re doing with those new machines – cutting wages and replacing skilled workers, and we are not cool with that. So, stop it right now, or you may receive a visit from the followers of Ned Ludd. No machines, no problems.
If the business owner didn’t comply, their business received visitors, along with the Great Enoch. No, the Great Enoch was not a person; it was a hammer and a rather large hammer at that. But what’s a good story without irony? Enoch Taylor was a blacksmith, but he was also the ACME Corporation of the town – he made frames for shearing machines and sold them to businesses and made large sledgehammers that were sold and used to destroy those same machines. As Bugs Bunny would say, “I – ro – ny!”
Those businesses received the full Luddite treatment – machines destroyed, fires set; it was a dangerous time. Historian Eric Hobsbawm called the strategy “collective bargaining by riot.” That’s fair because back then, labor unions were illegal, so this was kind of an undercover, underground labor movement. And it worked for a while.
However, eventually, in 1812, business owners were fed up. And so, Parliament passed the Frame Breaking Act (well, that says it all). The penalty for breaking this act – death. Yes, death. Soldiers were sent out to find these weavers, these Luddites. They meant business – trials, public executions, penal colonies in Australia, mate. The industry bosses won, and the Luddites lost…mostly but not totally.
Which brings us (helloooo, helloooo, helloooo) to the echoes we now hear in the 21st century.
You’ve probably come across someone being called a Luddite, and it’s rarely a compliment. It usually refers to someone who doesn’t like or doesn’t use technology. If nothing else, today’s Luddites are seen as slow to adopt the newest technology, maybe holding on to their landline phone, desktop computer or writing their shopping list on paper. And yet, they live in a world that’s screaming at them to ‘chat’ with artificial intelligence about anything and everything.
But when you look at the debate surrounding modern technology today, aka artificial intelligence, that 19th-century ledger looks very similar.
The Luddites might argue that the true cost is a negative on the books. Factory owners were hoarders of high tech while not considering the loss of artisanal craft and pride in workmanship, not to mention the loss of the value of human dignity and wisdom – treating people as only being as valuable as their skills, not their value as humans.
The factory owners would say they are pioneers of the future (visionaries) and Luddites were just whiny babies throwing temper tantrums (illegal ones at that) and ignoring the benefits (and inevitability) of progress. Mass production lowers costs so everyone benefits. Increased access is a good thing. Definitely a net positive on the ledger.
The Luddites may have been a labor movement but their protest raises a question much bigger than job security. For them, technology was entering the sacred space of human skill and craft: years of apprenticeship, knowledge residing in hands, recognizing quality because you’ve spent years learning what quality looks like and feels like. And just as important, cooperation and collaboration, working side by side with another human being and all that goes with it. We learn from each other, teach each other and sometimes even irritate each other. The result is a vocational community.
Today, artificial intelligence is entering that same sacred space we have long associated with being human: the acts of writing, reasoning, creating, remembering and learning. Sure, from the 19th-century business owner’s perspective, efficiency, productivity, speed, automation and cost are all necessary considerations. But what else belongs on the ledger? What about the expertise that disappears because no one practices it anymore? Or the satisfaction that comes from making, learning, teaching and doing?
Yes, the Luddites lost. Great Britain survived. The machines the Luddites resisted didn’t bring about the end of the world. But maybe they understood a truth that confronts us today: the process of making produces two things, the work and the worker. The real human cost isn’t just a lost paycheck, it’s the loss of the parts of us that find meaning in the doing and the pride of having figured it out.
So, were the Luddites ahead of their time? No, they were right where they needed to be. But the questions they raised still echo. As AI begins to automate our writing, our thinking and even our creativity, we find ourselves asking some of the same questions those weavers asked over 200 years ago. Not whether technology is good or bad or whether we should resist every new machine that comes along, but whether we remember that there is value in the doing as much as in what gets done, and whether we have considered what we value about being human in the first place.
Image Credit: Tamingtheaibeast.org/ Wikimedia Commons (CC BY 4.0)
