What Ought to Be Done? Work, Meaning, and Digital Transformation
By Artur Toikka
- 4 minutes read - 724 wordsLast October, I read Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done? and, as often happens with books that require time to settle, I let it drift into the background of my mind. It resurfaced unexpectedly a few weeks ago when I was asked to give a lecture to master’s students on the meaning of work and the effects of digital transformation. Preparing for the lecture led me down a familiar path: back to my own master’s thesis, where I had explored the worth of platform-based gig work from the perspectives of employees and society.
That research had already taken me deep into the conceptual roots of work, gig work, and the underlying values that people derive from labor. But as I updated my materials, I encountered additional layers to the discussion—ones that made my original thesis feel even more relevant today.
The New (Old) Struggles: Bullshit Jobs and Digital Taylorism
Among the readings that caught my attention were David Graeber’s Bullshit Jobs theory and Liu’s work on digital Taylorism in China’s e-commerce sector. Graeber’s argument—that a significant portion of modern jobs serve no real purpose other than to justify a paycheck—adds to the growing discontent with contemporary work structures. These are roles that provide neither fulfillment nor a meaningful contribution to society, yet are sustained by bureaucratic inertia and corporate self-preservation.
Liu’s digital Taylorism concept struck another nerve. He describes how white-collar professionals in China are subjected to AI-driven micromanagement, where every click, task, and performance metric is monitored. This relentless surveillance mirrors early 20th-century Taylorist factory models, but with a modern twist: instead of foremen scrutinizing physical labor, algorithms track cognitive and digital output. The result? Intensified competition, a dehumanizing workplace, and a work-life balance that increasingly tilts toward work.
Despite being deeply familiar with these critiques, revisiting them in this context still evoked a sense of dystopian unease. What does it mean for workers when technology, rather than empowering them, reduces their autonomy? What kind of future of work are we building if efficiency is prioritized at the expense of well-being?
What Ought to Be Done? A Model from 1863
This is where Chernyshevsky re-entered my thoughts. What Is to Be Done? is often discussed in terms of its political impact, but what stood out to me was Vera Pavlovna’s business model—a vision for a sustainable, people-orientedway of organizing work. In her cooperative, workers are not just cogs in a profit-driven machine but active participants in an enterprise that balances economic needs with personal fulfillment. The cooperative is efficient yet humane, profitable yet ethical—a stark contrast to both Graeber’s bullshit jobs and Liu’s digital Taylorism.
In many ways, Chernyshevsky’s 19th-century vision aligns with contemporary debates on ethical entrepreneurship, cooperative work models, and alternative economies that prioritize meaning alongside profit. The fact that these discussions are still necessary today suggests that, despite technological advancements, our fundamental struggles with the meaning of work remain unresolved.
Literature and the Future of Work
This brings me to another layer of my reflections: Rita Felski’s critique of how scholars use literature. Felski argues that literary analysis has often been reduced to a purely critical exercise—analyzing structures of power, oppression, and ideology—while neglecting the way literature inspires, offers solutions, or reconfigures our understanding of the world.
This is precisely why Chernyshevsky’s novel felt so relevant. It’s not just a historical artifact or a utopian dream; it’s a blueprint for thinking differently about work. Similarly, literature can serve as a catalyst for reimagining labor—not just critiquing what’s wrong, but envisioning what could be right.
Closing Thoughts: A Call for Imagination
So, where does this leave us? We know that many modern jobs are meaningless (Graeber). We see how AI and digital monitoring are eroding autonomy (Liu). We recognize that alternatives exist, even if they’re often dismissed as idealistic (Chernyshevsky). And we see the role of literature not just in critiquing work, but in offering new ways of thinking about it (Felski).
The real challenge is moving from critique to creation—from diagnosing problems to actively shaping better models for work and business. What ought to be done? Maybe we start by looking beyond dominant narratives of efficiency and profit. Maybe we seek business models that center human dignity. And maybe we use literature not just as a mirror to reflect reality, but as a map to guide us toward better possibilities.