The Advanced Technology of Ancient Rome: Automatic Doors, Water Clocks, Vending Machines & More

Ancient Rome nev­er had an indus­tri­al rev­o­lu­tion. Grant­ed, cer­tain his­to­ri­ans have object­ed now and again to that once-set­tled claim, ges­tur­ing toward large heaps of pot­tery dis­cov­ered in garbage dumps and oth­er such arti­facts clear­ly pro­duced in large num­bers. Still, the fact remains that Ancient Rome nev­er had an indus­tri­al rev­o­lu­tion of the kind that fired up toward the end of the eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry, but not due to a com­plete absence of the rel­e­vant tech­nol­o­gy. As explained in the new Lost in Time video above, Romans had wit­nessed the pow­er of steam har­nessed back in the first cen­tu­ry — but they dis­missed it as a nov­el­ty, evi­dent­ly unable to see its pow­er to trans­form civ­i­liza­tion.

That’s just one of a vari­ety of exam­ples of gen­uine high Roman tech­nol­o­gy fea­tured in the video, many or all of which would seem implau­si­ble to the aver­age view­er if insert­ed into a sto­ry set in ancient Rome.

Take the set of auto­mat­ic doors installed in a tem­ple, trig­gered by a fire that heats an under­ground water tank, which in turn fills up a pot attached to a cable that — through a sys­tem of pul­leys — throws them open. (When the fire cools down, the doors then shut again.) This was the work of the Greek-born inven­tor Hero of Alexan­dria, who would bear com­par­i­son in one sense or anoth­er with every­one from Rube Gold­berg to Leonar­do da Vin­ci.

It was also Hero who came up with that ear­ly steam tur­bine, called the aeolip­ile. He came along too late, how­ev­er, to take cred­it for the “self-heal­ing” Roman con­crete pre­vi­ous­ly much-fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture, the mate­r­i­al of build­ings like the Pan­theon, “still the largest unre­in­forced con­crete dome in the world.” Anoth­er inven­tion high­light­ed in the video comes from Alexan­dria, but well before Hero’s time, and even before that of the Roman Empire itself: the accu­rate water clock engi­neered by Cte­si­bius, whose under­ly­ing design remained influ­en­tial in the Roman era. Hydraulic pow­er was also used in Roman mills, which made pos­si­ble com­plex fac­to­ry sys­tems, even in a civ­i­liza­tion that nev­er reached an indus­tri­al rev­o­lu­tion prop­er. And if a Roman fac­to­ry work­er got thirsty at break time, maybe he could drop a coin into one of Hero’s wine vend­ing machines.

Relat­ed con­tent:

How the Ancient Romans Built Their Roads, the Life­lines of Their Vast Empire

The Amaz­ing Engi­neer­ing of Roman Baths

The Roman Colos­se­um Decon­struct­ed: 3D Ani­ma­tion Reveals the Hid­den Tech­nol­o­gy That Pow­ered Rome’s Great Are­na

How Did Roman Aque­ducts Work?: The Most Impres­sive Achieve­ment of Ancient Rome’s Infra­struc­ture, Explained

The Ancient Roman Dodec­a­he­dron: The Mys­te­ri­ous Object That Has Baf­fled Archae­ol­o­gists for Cen­turies

Archae­ol­o­gists Dis­cov­er an Ancient Roman Snack Bar in the Ruins of Pom­peii

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The 1830s Device That Created the First Animations: The Phenakistiscope

The image just above is an ani­mat­ed GIF, a for­mat by now old­er than most peo­ple on the inter­net. Those of us who were surf­ing the World Wide Web in its ear­li­est years will remem­ber all those lit­tle dig­ging, jack­ham­mer­ing road­work­ers who flanked the per­ma­nent announce­ments that var­i­ous sites — includ­ing, quite pos­si­bly, our own — were “under con­struc­tion.” Charm­ing though they could be at the time, they now look impos­si­bly prim­i­tive com­pared to what we can see on today’s inter­net, where high-res­o­lu­tion fea­ture films stream instan­ta­neous­ly. But tech­no­log­i­cal­ly speak­ing, we can trace it all back to what this par­tic­u­lar ani­mat­ed GIF depicts: the phenakistis­cope.

Invent­ed simul­ta­ne­ous­ly and inde­pen­dent­ly in late 1832 by Bel­gian physi­cist Joseph Plateau and Aus­tri­an geom­e­try pro­fes­sor Simon Stampfer, the phenakistis­cope was a sim­ple wheel-shaped device that could, for the first time in the his­to­ry of tech­nol­o­gy, cre­ate the illu­sion of a smooth­ly mov­ing pic­ture when spun and viewed in a mir­ror: hence the deriva­tion of its name from the Greek phenakisti­cos, “to deceive,” and ops, “eye.”

When it caught on as a com­mer­cial nov­el­ty, it was also mar­ket­ed under names like Phan­tas­mas­cope and Fan­tas­cope, which promised buy­ers a glimpse of horse-rid­ers, twirling dancers, bow­ing aris­to­crats, hop­ping frogs, fly­ing ghouls, and even pro­to-psy­che­del­ic abstract pat­terns, many of which you can see re-ani­mat­ed as GIFs in this Wikipedia gallery.

Even­tu­al­ly, accord­ing to the Pub­lic Domain Review, the phenakistis­cope was “sup­plant­ed in the pop­u­lar imag­i­na­tion: first­ly by the sim­i­lar Zoetrope, and then — via Ead­weard Muy­bridge’s Zooprax­is­cope (which pro­ject­ed the ani­ma­tion) — by film itself.” Muy­bridge, pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture, did pio­neer­ing motion-pho­tog­ra­phy work in the eigh­teen-sev­en­ties that’s now con­sid­ered a pre­cur­sor to cin­e­ma. Under­stand­ing what he was up to is an impor­tant part of under­stand­ing the emer­gence of movies as we know them. But the most instruc­tive expe­ri­ence to start with is mak­ing a phenakistis­cope of your own, instruc­tions for which are avail­able from the George East­man Muse­um and artist Megan Scott on YouTube. The fin­ished prod­uct may not hold any­one’s atten­tion long here in the age of Net­flix, but then, the age of Net­flix would nev­er have arrived had the phenakistis­cope not come first.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Ead­weard Muybridge’s Motion Pho­tog­ra­phy Exper­i­ments from the 1870s Pre­sent­ed in 93 Ani­mat­ed Gifs

How Ani­mat­ed Car­toons Are Made: A Vin­tage Primer Filmed Way Back in 1919

The Trick That Made Ani­ma­tion Real­is­tic: Watch a Short His­to­ry of Roto­scop­ing

Was a 32,000-Year-Old Cave Paint­ing the Ear­li­est Form of Cin­e­ma?

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Yuval Noah Harari Explains How to Protect Your Mind in the Age of AI

You could say that we live in the age of arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence, although it feels truer about no aspect of our lives than it does of adver­tis­ing. “If you want to sell some­thing to peo­ple today, you call it AI,” says Yuval Noah Harari in the new Big Think video above, even if the prod­uct has only the vaguest tech­no­log­i­cal asso­ci­a­tion with that label. To deter­mine whether some­thing should actu­al­ly be called arti­fi­cial­ly intel­li­gent, ask whether it can “learn and change by itself and come up with deci­sions and ideas that we don’t antic­i­pate,” indeed can’t antic­i­pate. That AI-enabled waf­fle iron being pitched to you prob­a­bly does­n’t make the cut, but you may already be inter­act­ing with numer­ous sys­tems that do.

As the author of the glob­al best­seller Sapi­ens and oth­er books con­cerned with the long arc of human civ­i­liza­tion, Harari has giv­en a good deal of thought to how tech­nol­o­gy and soci­ety inter­act. “In the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, the rise of mass media and mass infor­ma­tion tech­nol­o­gy, like the tele­graph and radio and tele­vi­sion” formed “the basis for large-scale demo­c­ra­t­ic sys­tems,” but also for “large-scale total­i­tar­i­an sys­tems.”

Unlike in the ancient world, gov­ern­ments could at least begin to “micro­man­age the social and eco­nom­ic and cul­tur­al lives of every indi­vid­ual in the coun­try.” Even the vast sur­veil­lance appa­ra­tus and bureau­cra­cy of the Sovi­et Union “could not sur­veil every­body all the time.” Alas, Harari antic­i­pates, things will be dif­fer­ent in the AI age.

Human-oper­at­ed organ­ic net­works are being dis­placed by AI-oper­at­ed inor­gan­ic ones, which “are always on, and there­fore they might force us to be always on, always being watched, always being mon­i­tored.” As they gain dom­i­nance, “the whole of life is becom­ing like one long job inter­view.” At the same time, even if you were already feel­ing inun­dat­ed by infor­ma­tion before, you’ve more than like­ly felt the waters rise around you due to the infi­nite pro­duc­tion capac­i­ties of AI. One indi­vid­ual-lev­el strat­e­gy Harari rec­om­mends to coun­ter­act the flood is going on an “infor­ma­tion diet,” restrict­ing the flow of that “food of the mind,” which only some­times has any­thing to do with the truth. If we binge on “all this junk infor­ma­tion, full of greed and hate and fear, we will have sick minds; per­haps a peri­od of absti­nence can restore a cer­tain degree of men­tal health. You might con­sid­er spend­ing the rest of the day tak­ing in as lit­tle new infor­ma­tion as pos­si­ble — just as soon as you fin­ish catch­ing up on Open Cul­ture, of course.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Sci-Fi Writer Arthur C. Clarke Pre­dict­ed the Rise of Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence & the Exis­ten­tial Ques­tions We Would Need to Answer (1978)

Will Machines Ever Tru­ly Think? Richard Feyn­man Con­tem­plates the Future of Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence (1985)

Isaac Asi­mov Describes How Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence Will Lib­er­ate Humans & Their Cre­ativ­i­ty: Watch His Last Major Inter­view (1992)

How Will AI Change the World?: A Cap­ti­vat­ing Ani­ma­tion Explores the Promise & Per­ils of Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence

Stephen Fry Explains Why Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence Has a “70% Risk of Killing Us All”

Yuval Noah Harari and Fareed Zakaria Break Down What’s Hap­pen­ing in the Mid­dle East

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

How Ancient Greek Technology Was Used to Sculpt Mount Rushmore

Design­ing their new repub­lic, the Found­ing Fathers of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca looked back to ref­er­ence points in clas­si­cal antiq­ui­ty. That instinct con­tin­ued to shape Amer­i­can endeav­ors long there­after, and not just polit­i­cal ones. Take the exam­ple of Mount Rush­more, one of the coun­try’s most pop­u­lar tourist attrac­tions. Orig­i­nal­ly con­ceived in the ear­ly nine­teen-twen­ties as a moun­tain sculp­ture of Amer­i­ca’s wild-west heroes, a means of rais­ing the sta­tus of the fledg­ling state of South Dako­ta, it was soon changed into a stone trib­ute to four pres­i­dents: Found­ing Fathers George Wash­ing­ton and Thomas Jef­fer­son as well as Abra­ham Lin­coln and Theodore Roo­sevelt.

Mount Rush­more’s sculp­tor Gut­zon Bor­glum sug­gest­ed the switch from region­al fig­ures to nation­al ones, and it would­n’t be the last good idea he would bring to the table. As explained in the Pri­mal Space video above, he also fig­ured out how to repli­cate his ini­tial sculp­ture of the four pres­i­dents, made at one-twelfth-scale, on a 500-foot-tall cliff edge.

Build­ing all the nec­es­sary infra­struc­ture on and around the moun­tain con­sti­tut­ed a major project in and of itself. But when the work­ers got into their har­ness­es, how would they know where to direct their jack­ham­mers into the rock? To guide them, Bor­glum adapt­ed a mechan­i­cal tech­nique used by ancient Greeks to copy stat­ues, a “point­ing machine” that could “mea­sure spe­cif­ic points on a sculp­ture rel­a­tive to a ref­er­ence point,” mak­ing a three-dimen­sion­al shape trans­fer­able from one sculp­ture to anoth­er.

Bor­glum designed a large-scale point­ing machine that could be installed atop the moun­tain and posi­tioned to show work­ers where and how deep to drill. Though the sys­tem worked well, the team could only make progress so fast: after four­teen years, Mount Rush­more remained incom­plete when Bor­glum’s death and World War II put a stop to it alto­geth­er. Yet enough had been fin­ished to give it the icon­ic appear­ance that has made it rec­og­niz­able the world over, if not always by name. When I recent­ly gave a talk about Amer­i­can his­to­ry to some young stu­dents in South Korea, where I live, one of them iden­ti­fied a pho­to of Mount Rush­more as Mount Olym­pus — and, in a civ­i­liza­tion­al sense, maybe she was on to some­thing.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Behold Ancient Egypt­ian, Greek & Roman Sculp­tures in Their Orig­i­nal Col­or

The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art Restores the Orig­i­nal Col­ors to Ancient Stat­ues

How Ancient Greek Stat­ues Real­ly Looked: Research Reveals Their Bold, Bright Col­ors and Pat­terns

3D Scans of 7,500 Famous Sculp­tures, Stat­ues & Art­works: Down­load & 3D Print Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David & More

How Mon­u­ment Val­ley Became the Most Icon­ic Land­scape of the Amer­i­can West

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Tomorrow Never Knows: How The Beatles Invented the Future With Studio Magic, Tape Loops & LSD

Tomor­row Nev­er Knows” could­n’t be made today, and not just because the Bea­t­les already made it in 1966. Mark­ing per­haps the sin­gle biggest step in the group’s artis­tic evo­lu­tion, that song is in every sense a prod­uct of its time. The use of psy­che­del­ic drugs like LSD was on the rise in the coun­ter­cul­ture, as was the aware­ness of the reli­gion and music of far­away lands such as India. At the same moment, devel­op­ments in record­ing-stu­dio tech­nol­o­gy were mak­ing new approach­es pos­si­ble, involv­ing sounds that musi­cians nev­er would have imag­ined try­ing before — and, when brought togeth­er, pro­duced a result that many lis­ten­ers of just a few years ear­li­er would hard­ly have rec­og­nized as music at all.

In the new You Can’t Unhear This video above, host Ray­mond Schillinger explains all that went into the record­ing of “Tomor­row Nev­er Knows,” which he calls “arguably the most piv­otal song of the Bea­t­les’ career.” It seems that John had under­gone some con­sid­er­able expe­ri­ences dur­ing the group’s five-month-long break after Rub­ber Soul, giv­en that he turned up to EMI Stu­dios after­ward with a song that “defied pret­ty much every con­ven­tion of pop music at the time: the lyrics did­n’t rhyme, the chord pro­gres­sion did­n’t real­ly progress, and instead of roman­tic love, the sub­ject mat­ter was expand­ing one’s psy­chic con­scious­ness through ego death.” A young Geoff Emer­ick, who’d just been pro­mot­ed to the role of the Bea­t­les’ record­ing engi­neer, rose to the chal­lenge of facil­i­tat­ing an equal­ly non-stan­dard stu­dio process.

The whol­ly new son­ic tex­ture that result­ed owes in large part to the use of mul­ti­ple tape loops, lit­er­al sec­tions of audio tape con­nect­ed at the begin­ning and end to allow the­o­ret­i­cal­ly infi­nite rep­e­ti­tion of their con­tent. This was a fair­ly new musi­cal tech­nol­o­gy at the time, and the Bea­t­les made use of it with gus­to, cre­at­ing loops of all man­ner of sped-up sounds — an orches­tra play­ing, a Mel­lotron, a reversed Indi­an sitar, Paul sound­ing like a seag­ull — and orches­trat­ing them “live” dur­ing record­ing. (Ringo’s drum track, despite what sounds like a super­hu­man reg­u­lar­i­ty in this con­text, was not, in fact a loop.) Oth­er tech­no­log­i­cal­ly nov­el ele­ments includ­ed John’s dou­ble-tracked vocals run through a revolv­ing Leslie speak­er and a back­wards gui­tar solo about whose author­ship Bea­t­les enthu­si­asts still argue.

What John had called “The Void,” was reti­tled after one of Ringo’s sig­na­ture askew expres­sions (“a hard day’s night” being anoth­er) in order to avoid draw­ing too much atten­tion as a “drug song.” But lis­ten­ers tapped into the LSD scene would have rec­og­nized lyri­cal inspi­ra­tion drawn from The Tibetan Book of the Dead, the ancient work that also informed The Psy­che­del­ic Expe­ri­ence, the guide­book by Tim­o­thy Leary and Richard Alpert (lat­er Baba Ram Dass) with which John direct­ed his own first trip. But even for the least turned-on Bea­t­le fan, “Tomor­row Nev­er Knows” was “like step­ping from a black-and-white world into full col­or,” as Schillinger puts it. The Bea­t­les might have gone the way of the Rolling Stones and cho­sen to record in an Amer­i­can stu­dio rather than their home-away-from-home on Abbey Road, the uncon­ven­tion­al use of its less-than-cut­ting-edge gear result­ed in what remains a vivid­ly pow­er­ful dis­patch from the ana­log era — even here in the twen­ty-twen­ties, when con­scious­ness expan­sion itself has gone dig­i­tal.

Relat­ed con­tent:

How John Lennon Wrote the Bea­t­les’ Best Song, “A Day in the Life”

The Amaz­ing Record­ing His­to­ry of The Bea­t­les’ “Here Comes the Sun”

The Exper­i­men­tal Move­ment That Cre­at­ed The Bea­t­les’ Weird­est Song, “Rev­o­lu­tion 9”

How “Straw­ber­ry Fields For­ev­er” Con­tains “the Cra­zi­est Edit” in Bea­t­les His­to­ry

Hear Bri­an Eno Sing The Bea­t­les’ “Tomor­row Nev­er Knows” as Part of The Best Live Album of the Glam/Prog Era (1976)

The Bea­t­les’ 8 Pio­neer­ing Inno­va­tions: A Video Essay Explor­ing How the Fab Four Changed Pop Music

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

A Visualization of the History of Technology: 1,889 Innovations Across Three Million Years

“Any suf­fi­cient­ly advanced tech­nol­o­gy is indis­tin­guish­able from mag­ic.” So holds the third and most famous of the “three laws” orig­i­nal­ly artic­u­lat­ed by sci­ence fic­tion writer Arthur C. Clarke. Even when it was first pub­lished in the late nine­teen-six­ties, Clarke’s third law would have felt true to any res­i­dent of the devel­oped world, sur­round­ed by and whol­ly depen­dent on advanced tech­nolo­gies whose work­ings they could scarce­ly hope to explain. Nat­u­ral­ly, it feels even truer now, a quar­ter of the way into our dig­i­tal twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry. Indeed, for all we know about how they real­ly work, our cred­it cards, our smart­phones, our com­put­ers, and indeed the inter­net itself might as well be mag­ic.

To best under­stand the tech­nol­o­gy that increas­ing­ly makes up our world, we should attempt to under­stand the evo­lu­tion of that tech­nol­o­gy. Those smart­phones, for exam­ple, could­n’t have been invent­ed in the form we know them with­out the pre­vi­ous devel­op­ments of chem­i­cal­ly strength­ened glass, the mul­ti-touch screen inter­face, and the cam­era phone. Each of those indi­vid­ual tech­nolo­gies also has its pre­de­ces­sors: fol­low the chain back far enough, and even­tu­al­ly you get to the likes of the mobile radio tele­phone, invent­ed in 1946; the phased array anten­na, invent­ed in 1905; and glass, invent­ed around 1500 BC. These and count­less oth­er paths can be traced at the His­tor­i­cal Tech Tree, an ambi­tious project of writer and pro­gram­mer Éti­enne Forti­er-Dubois.

Forti­er-Dubois cred­its among his inspi­ra­tions Sid Meier’s Civ­i­liza­tion games, with their all-impor­tant “tech trees,” and James Burke’s tele­vi­sion series Con­nec­tions, which high­light­ed the unpre­dictable process­es by which one inno­va­tion could lead to oth­ers across the cen­turies or mil­len­nia. Even in the sev­en­ties, Forti­er-Dubois writes, “Burke was already con­cerned that our lives depend on tech­no­log­i­cal sys­tems that very few peo­ple deeply under­stand. It is, of course, pos­si­ble to live with­out com­pre­hend­ing how com­put­ers, mon­ey, or air­planes work. But when every­thing around us feels vague­ly mag­i­cal, reliant on experts whose actions we have no way of ver­i­fy­ing, it’s easy to lose trust in tech­no­log­i­cal solu­tions to our cur­rent prob­lems.” He offers the His­tor­i­cal Tech Tree as a poten­tial cor­rec­tive to that loss of under­stand­ing and the ener­vat­ing atti­tudes it pro­duces.

Forti­er-Dubois him­self admits that the project “made me real­ize how lit­tle I knew about the objects around me. I didn’t real­ly know that ‘elec­tron­ics’ meant con­trol­ling the flow of elec­trons with vac­u­um tubes or semi­con­duc­tors, or that refin­ing petro­le­um into kerosene uses frac­tion­al dis­til­la­tion, or that WiFi and blue­tooth are just the use of cer­tain radio fre­quen­cies that can be detect­ed by a spe­cif­ic kind of chip.” Any­one who explores even this ear­ly ver­sion of the His­tor­i­cal Tech Tree (which, as of this writ­ing, con­tains 1886 tech­nolo­gies and 2180 con­nec­tions between them) will find it an edu­ca­tion­al expe­ri­ence in the same way, pro­vid­ing as it does not just knowl­edge about tech­nol­o­gybut a sense of how much of that knowl­edge we lack. Our civ­i­liza­tion has made its way from stone tools to rob­o­t­axis, mRNA vac­cines, and LLM chat­bots; we’d all be bet­ter able to inhab­it it with even a slight­ly clear­er idea of how it did so. Vis­it the His­tor­i­cal Tech Tree here.

Relat­ed con­tent:

An Inter­ac­tive Time­line Cov­er­ing 14 Bil­lion Years of His­to­ry: From The Big Bang to 2015

The Tree of Lan­guages Illus­trat­ed in a Big, Beau­ti­ful Info­graph­ic

The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy Visu­al­ized

The Tree of Mod­ern Art: Ele­gant Draw­ing Visu­al­izes the Devel­op­ment of Mod­ern Art from Delacroix to Dalí (1940)

The His­to­ry of Mod­ern Art Visu­al­ized in a Mas­sive 130-Foot Time­line

The Map of Com­put­er Sci­ence: New Ani­ma­tion Presents a Sur­vey of Com­put­er Sci­ence, from Alan Tur­ing to “Aug­ment­ed Real­i­ty”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Hear Alan Watts’s 1960s Prediction That Automation Will Necessitate a Universal Basic Income

One of the most propul­sive forces in our social and eco­nom­ic lives is the rate at which emerg­ing tech­nol­o­gy trans­forms every sphere of human labor. Despite the polit­i­cal lever­age obtained by fear­mon­ger­ing about immi­grants and for­eign­ers, it’s the robots who are actu­al­ly tak­ing our jobs. It is hap­pen­ing, as for­mer SEIU pres­i­dent Andy Stern warns in his book Rais­ing the Floor, not in a gen­er­a­tion or so, but right now, and expo­nen­tial­ly in the next 10–15 years.

Self-dri­ving cars and trucks will elim­i­nate mil­lions of jobs, not only for truck­ers and taxi (and Uber and Lyft) dri­vers, but for all of the peo­ple who pro­vide goods and ser­vices for those dri­vers. AI will take over for thou­sands of coders and may even soon write arti­cles like this one (warn­ing us of its impend­ing con­quest). What to do? The cur­rent buzzword—or buzz-acronym—is UBI, which stands for “Uni­ver­sal Basic Income,” a scheme in which every­one would receive a basic wage from the gov­ern­ment for doing noth­ing at all. UBI, its pro­po­nents argue, is the most effec­tive way to mit­i­gate the inevitably mas­sive job loss­es ahead.

Those pro­po­nents include not only labor lead­ers like Stern, but entre­pre­neurs like Peter Barnes and Elon Musk (lis­ten to him dis­cuss it below), and polit­i­cal philoso­phers like George­town University’s Karl Widerquist. The idea is an old one; its mod­ern artic­u­la­tion orig­i­nat­ed with Thomas Paine in his 1795 tract Agrar­i­an Jus­tice. But Thomas Paine did not fore­see the robot angle. Alan Watts, on the oth­er hand, knew pre­cise­ly what lay ahead for post-indus­tri­al soci­ety back in the 1960s, as did many of his con­tem­po­raries.

The Eng­lish Epis­co­pal priest, lec­tur­er, writer, and pop­u­lar­iz­er of East­ern reli­gion and phi­los­o­phy in Eng­land and the U.S. gave a talk in which he described “what hap­pens when you intro­duce tech­nol­o­gy into pro­duc­tion.” Tech­no­log­i­cal inno­va­tion enables us to “pro­duce enor­mous quan­ti­ties of goods… but at the same time, you put peo­ple out of work.”

You can say, but it always cre­ates more jobs, there’ll always be more jobs. Yes, but lots of them will be futile jobs. They will be jobs mak­ing every kind of frip­pery and unnec­es­sary con­trap­tion, and one will also at the same time beguile the pub­lic into feel­ing that they need and want these com­plete­ly unnec­es­sary things that aren’t even beau­ti­ful.

Watts goes on to say that this “enor­mous amount of non­sense employ­ment and busy­work, bureau­crat­ic and oth­er­wise, has to be cre­at­ed in order to keep peo­ple work­ing, because we believe as good Protes­tants that the dev­il finds work for idle hands to do.” Peo­ple who aren’t forced into wage labor for the prof­it of oth­ers, or who don’t them­selves seek to become prof­i­teers, will be trou­ble for the state, or the church, or their fam­i­ly, friends, and neigh­bors. In such an ethos, the word “leisure” is a pejo­ra­tive one.

So far, Watts’ insights are right in line with those of Bertrand Rus­sell and Buck­min­ster Fuller, whose cri­tiques of mean­ing­less work we cov­ered in an ear­li­er post. Rus­sell, writes philoso­pher Gary Gut­ting, argued “that immense harm is caused by the belief that work is vir­tu­ous.” Harm to our intel­lects, bod­ies, cre­ativ­i­ty, sci­en­tif­ic curios­i­ty, envi­ron­ment. Watts also sug­gests that our fix­a­tion on jobs is a rel­ic of a pre-tech­no­log­i­cal age. The whole pur­pose of machin­ery, after all, he says, is to make drudgery unnec­es­sary.

Those who lose their jobs—or who are forced to take low-pay­ing ser­vice work to survive—now must live in great­ly dimin­ished cir­cum­stances and can­not afford the sur­plus of cheap­ly-pro­duced con­sumer goods churned out by auto­mat­ed fac­to­ries. This Neolib­er­al sta­tus quo is thor­ough­ly, eco­nom­i­cal­ly unten­able. “The pub­lic has to be pro­vid­ed,” says Watts, “with the means of pur­chas­ing what the machines pro­duce.” That is, if we insist on per­pet­u­at­ing economies of scaled-up pro­duc­tion. The per­pet­u­a­tion of work, how­ev­er, sim­ply becomes a means of social con­trol.

Watts has his own the­o­ries about how we would pay for a UBI, and every advo­cate since has var­ied the terms, depend­ing on their lev­el of pol­i­cy exper­tise, the­o­ret­i­cal bent, or polit­i­cal per­sua­sion. It’s impor­tant to point out, how­ev­er, that UBI has nev­er been a par­ti­san idea. It has been favored by civ­il rights lead­ers like Mar­tin Luther King and con­tro­ver­sial con­ser­v­a­tive writ­ers like Charles Mur­ray; by Key­ne­sians and sup­ply-siders alike. A ver­sion of UBI at one time found a pro­po­nent in Mil­ton Fried­man, as well as Richard Nixon, whose UBI pro­pos­al, Stern notes, “was passed twice by the House of Rep­re­sen­ta­tives.” (See Stern below dis­cuss UBI and this his­to­ry.)

Dur­ing the six­ties, a live­ly debate over UBI took place among econ­o­mists who fore­saw the sit­u­a­tion Watts describes and also sought to sim­pli­fy the Byzan­tine means-test­ed wel­fare sys­tem. The usu­al con­gres­sion­al bick­er­ing even­tu­al­ly killed Uni­ver­sal Basic Income in 1972, but most Amer­i­cans would be sur­prised to dis­cov­er how close the coun­try actu­al­ly came to imple­ment­ing it, under a Repub­li­can pres­i­dent. (There are now exist­ing ver­sions of UBI, or rev­enue shar­ing schemes in lim­it­ed form, in Alas­ka, and sev­er­al coun­tries around the world, includ­ing the largest exper­i­ment in his­to­ry hap­pen­ing in Kenya.)

To learn more about the long his­to­ry of basic income ideas, see this chronol­o­gy at the Basic Income Earth Net­work. Watts men­tions his own source for many of his ideas on the sub­ject, Robert Theobald, whose 1963 Free Men and Free Mar­kets defied left and right ortho­dox­ies, and was con­sis­tent­ly mis­tak­en for one or the oth­er. (Theobald intro­duced the term guar­an­teed basic income.) Watts, who would be 101 today, had oth­er thoughts on eco­nom­ics in his essay “Wealth Ver­sus Mon­ey.” Some of these now seem, writes Maria Popo­va at Brain Pick­ings, “bit­ter­sweet­ly naïve” in ret­ro­spect. But when it came to tech­no­log­i­cal “dis­rup­tions” of cap­i­tal­ism and the effect on work, Watts was can­ni­ly per­cep­tive. Per­haps his ideas about basic income were as well.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

When John May­nard Keynes Pre­dict­ed a 15-Hour Work­week “in a Hun­dred Year’s Time” (1930)

Bertrand Rus­sell & Buck­min­ster Fuller on Why We Should Work Less, and Live and Learn More

Charles Bukows­ki Rails Against 9‑to‑5 Jobs in a Bru­tal­ly Hon­est Let­ter (1986)

The Employ­ment: A Prize-Win­ning Ani­ma­tion About Why We’re So Dis­en­chant­ed with Work Today

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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How the BIC Cristal Ballpoint Pen Became the Most Successful Product in History

If you want to see a tour de force of mod­ern tech­nol­o­gy and design, there’s no need to vis­it a Sil­i­con Val­ley show­room. Just feel around your desk for a few moments, and soon­er or lat­er you’ll lay a hand on it: the BIC Cristal ball­point pen, which is described in the Pri­mal Space video above as “pos­si­bly the most suc­cess­ful prod­uct ever made.” Not long after its intro­duc­tion in 1950, the Cristal became ubiq­ui­tous around the world, so ide­al­ly did it suit human needs at a price that would have seemed impos­si­bly cheap not so very long ago — to say noth­ing of the sev­en­teenth cen­tu­ry, when the art of writ­ing demand­ed mas­tery of the quill and inkpot.

Of course, writ­ing itself was of lit­tle use in those days to human­i­ty’s illit­er­ate major­i­ty. That began to change with the inven­tion of the foun­tain pen, which was cer­tain­ly more con­ve­nient than the quill, but still pro­hib­i­tive­ly expen­sive even to most of those who could read. It was only at the end of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, a heady age of Amer­i­can inge­nu­ity, that an inven­tor called John Loud came up with the first ball­point pen.

Though crude and imprac­ti­cal, Loud’s design plant­ed the tech­no­log­i­cal seed that would be cul­ti­vat­ed there­after by oth­ers, like Las­z­lo Biro, who under­stood the advan­tage of using oil-based rather than tra­di­tion­al water-based ink, and French man­u­fac­tur­er Mar­cel Bich, who had access to the tech­nol­o­gy that could bring the ball­point pen to its final form.

Bich (the for­eign pro­nun­ci­a­tion of whose sur­name inspired the brand name BIC) fig­ured out how to use Swiss watch­mak­ing machines to mass-pro­duce tiny stain­less steel balls to pre­cise spec­i­fi­ca­tions. He chose to man­u­fac­ture the rest of the pen out of mold­ed plas­tic, a then-new tech­nol­o­gy. The Cristal’s clear body allowed the ink lev­el to be seen at all times, and its hexag­o­nal shape stopped it from rolling off desks. Its polypropy­lene lid would­n’t break when dropped, and it dou­bled as a clip to boot. What did this “game chang­er” avant la let­tre cost when it came to mar­ket? The equiv­a­lent of two dol­lars. As an indus­tri­al prod­uct, the BIC Cristal has in many respects nev­er been sur­passed (over 100 bil­lion have been sold to date), even by the ultra-high-tech cell­phones or tablets on which you may be read­ing this post. Bear that in mind the next time you’re strug­gling with one, patchi­ly zigzag­ging back and forth on a page in an attempt to get the ink out that you’re sure must be in there some­where.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Wes Ander­son Directs & Stars in an Ad Cel­e­brat­ing the 100th Anniver­sary of Montblanc’s Sig­na­ture Pen

Mont­blanc Unveils a New Line of Miles Davis Pens … and (Kind of) Blue Ink

Ver­meer with a BiC

Neil Gaiman Talks Dream­i­ly About Foun­tain Pens, Note­books & His Writ­ing Process in His Long Inter­view with Tim Fer­riss

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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