Who owns your job?

It’s hard to say whether technology is devouring jobs more rapidly today than in the past. The proliferation of news to that effect might be an artifact of more rapid forms of communication. It might also reflect that, to a greater degree than during the industrial revolution, for example, another period of rapid turnover, the jobs most at risk today are those of the intelligentsia, the class of people best able to communicate their fear and anxiety.

In 2023 a strike of actors and writers shut down Hollywood out of concern they would be replaced by artificial intelligence. Healthcare workers have gone out on strike to protest their replacement by AI in triage and other work. Journalists have taken similar action for similar reasons. Following recent strides by AI in mathematics, hundreds of mathematicians signed the Leiden Declaration insisting that humans remain the guiding force in mathematics.

It’s a tale as old as the employment of one set of humans by another set. And every time the tale is repeated, a central question is relitigated: Who owns the jobs at risk?

The answer has varied from time to time and place to place. For centuries in Europe before the modern era, bound laborers were of two kinds: serfs and slaves. Both were beholden to their masters and overlords. But the serfs had a kind of ownership in their jobs, in that they were legally attached to the land they worked. When an estate was sold, the serfs were part of the deal. Slaves, by contrast, had no ownership in jobs of any kind. They could be bought and sold at will.

Both serfdom and slavery vanished in the face of industrialization. Factories and mechanized farms required flexible labor forces of workers who could be laid off when demand slowed. Bound labor was a fixed cost. Paid labor was a variable cost, better suited to the ups and downs of the business cycle.

Workers didn’t like being laid off. Their incomes were typically all that stood between their families and destitution. Some made a moral claim on their jobs, contending that without job security they’d be worse off than slaves, who at least had a roof over their heads.

Employers, typically the owners of the factories, rejected the workers’ claims to the jobs. The employers said the jobs were theirs. They provided the workplaces and the tools, without which the workers would be useless. In addition, they were the ones who put their capital at risk in the enterprise. The ability to fire workers at will was necessary to protect this capital.

In some places workers defended their claims by organizing into labor unions. The unions would walk off the jobs en masse if they weren’t offered job protection and fair pay. If the employers responded by hiring replacements, the striking workers resisted. They treated the replacements as thieves who had come to steal the jobs that belonged to the union workers. Violence wasn’t uncommon.

In America, employers never acknowledged workers’ moral claim to jobs. But as the unions gained strength, the employers felt obliged to sign contracts with the unions, and these provided job guarantees amounting to much the same thing. If workers failed to distinguish between a moral claim and a collective bargaining agreement, the failure was understandable.

Non-union workers had no such security. They worked at the will of the employers, who didn’t have to give cause for layoffs or outright termination. Eventually civil rights law kept workers from being fired for racial reasons. Disability law protected workers with disabilities. But broadly speaking, the jobs clearly and legally belonged to the employers.

The ranks of non-union workers increased as unions declined during the final decades of the 20th century. Industry moved factories to right-to-work states of the American South, where laws hindered organizing by unions. Manufacturing declined relative to services as the American economy continued to mature, and service jobs, often dispersed and unskilled, lent themselves to unionizing less than factory jobs did.

Many workers thought their jobs should belong to them. They still do. Employers might put capital into an enterprise, but workers put heart and soul. The language of ownership is common. Capital is fungible, but time and effort devoted to a job are unrecoverable. When workers are laid off, they speak of losing their jobs.

The American way isn’t the only method of administering the workplace. In Europe workers typically enjoy greater protection from dismissal. While American employers can terminate workers at will, European employers typically have to show just cause. Strict guidelines establish what causes count as just.

Some jobs in America approach the European model. Government workers frequently have the protection of civil service laws. These were written to diminish the effect of politics on the government workforce, but the effect is to shift the balance from at-will to just-cause in termination decisions. College faculty often have tenure, which similarly makes firing more difficult.

Which system is better: the American or the European?

Your answer depends on what you want the system to do.

The American system is built for flexibility and the creative destruction that accompanies innovation and rapid growth. The European system favors stability, especially for workers. American employers are quick to hire, because they know it’s easy to fire. European employers hire cautiously, because they know firing is a headache.

Both do what they’re designed for. America’s economy has long been more innovative and expansive than Europe’s. As a result, Americans collectively are richer than Europeans.

Europe’s economy has delivered a more stable life for workers. On average, Europeans are poorer than Americans, but their working lives are less subject to disruption.

What does this mean for our current moment?

Expect more Americans than Europeans to lose their jobs to AI. Expect America to outpace Europe in AI-led growth.