Technology and Artificial Intelligence Should Only Fill Jobs When No Humans Are Available

The rise of artificial intelligence offers a stark and accessible example of how technology can be misused—driven by profit and control at the expense of people, communities, and the environment.

A difficult truth we must confront is that new technologies—whether in the form of methods, machines, or information—have often been adopted with little regard for the consequences they bring to those displaced by their implementation.

The prioritisation of technology over humanity has not only led to the loss of jobs, businesses, and local economies. It has also ushered in more exploitative and dehumanising working conditions for both adults and children. In many cases, human lives have been treated as expendable, so long as the final product appears perfect and profitable—concealing the harsh realities of its creation.

Technology and innovation themselves are not the enemy. The real threat lies in the motives of those who pursue profit and power, seeking to build a world tailored to their own interests while disregarding the value of others. What could have been a golden age for humanity is instead becoming a moment where humanity’s very existence is at risk.

If we continue to allow technology to be controlled by narrow interests—those who manipulate governance systems to serve themselves—we risk a future where human life is increasingly devalued.

Even the few who currently hold power may find that the very technologies they’ve harnessed will ultimately destroy them, or the environment they’ve shaped for their own survival.

The evidence of technological misuse is already clear. We must not allow systems that enable such manipulation to persist.

Future frameworks for governance must quietly but firmly embed safeguards that protect people.

These systems should make it clear that jobs and community contributions are more valuable than any technology designed to eliminate them.

The worth of human work and its role in society must always outweigh the perceived convenience or efficiency of technological replacements.

No matter how advanced technology becomes, the importance of meaningful work—for every individual and for the health of our communities—must always surpass the allure of automation.

Choosing Outcomes Over Comfort: A Path to a Better Future

If we truly want a better life, we must prioritise needs and outcomes over wants and the desire to control how things look along the way.

Most of us no longer believe that what we’re living through is “normal.” Yet many still cling to two opposing desires: either to return to a time when life felt better, or to reshape everything so that the world functions perfectly for us alone.

Strangely, there’s little space between these extremes. Nostalgia for a past we cannot reclaim, and fantasies of a future moulded entirely to individual preferences, are both unrealistic and harmful. No system can work for everyone if it’s built solely on the desires of a few.

What we often fail to grasp is that life demands a choice: we can either commit to a meaningful outcome—accepting the discomfort and change required to reach it—or we can try to dictate every step of the journey and hope we arrive comfortably. But these two paths are mutually exclusive. Just as wants and needs differ, so do outcomes and the conditions we try to impose.

Every outcome is a choice. Every condition we set is also a choice. And every choice carries consequences—some powerful enough to reshape lives.

Today, the world feels increasingly chaotic. The systems we’ve long relied on—money, politics, business, hierarchies, globalisation—are nearing collapse. Yet again, we find ourselves split: some want to restore the old ways, while others want to control the terms of change.

A fitting analogy is this: we’re all passengers on a bus speeding toward a cliff we quietly acknowledge but refuse to confront. Instead of working together to stop the bus or take control, we focus on our own comfort—tightening seatbelts, adjusting seats—ignoring the looming drop that threatens everything we hold dear.

It’s uncomfortable to accept, but whether driven by nostalgia, selfishness, or idealism, the system—the bus—is heading off that cliff. Unless we take a leap of faith and jump, the outcome is sealed. The chance to forge a new path, one that could lead to a better future, will vanish.

After the Collapse: Who Gets the Blame?

The Crime We Enabled, The Reckoning We Face

The era and system we are leaving behind have inflicted profound harm on countless individuals, communities, and the environment—driven by nothing more than the pursuit of profit.

Exploitation intensified at every available opportunity. Once all legal avenues had been exhausted to enrich and empower those in control, laws, leadership, and even the cultural values of entire nations were reshaped—through corruption, manipulation, or acts of war—to ensure that nothing could obstruct their dominance. This power was sustained by the flow and accumulation of money and material wealth.

There is no crime without consequence. When wrongdoing is legitimised through the manipulation of moral and legislative frameworks, its impact extends far beyond those directly involved. The consequences ripple outward, affecting society at large.

To restrict, obstruct, manipulate, disenfranchise, impoverish, exclude, or punish individuals through a system of governance deliberately designed to criminalise or disadvantage them is among the gravest of injustices. Especially when such a system is constructed to appear not only legal but morally justified—implying that the victims are wrong simply for being victims, while the perpetrators and their enablers remain shielded by the very structure they created.

Few will ever fully grasp the complexity, depth, and reach of this crime against humanity. And while many of its architects and agents may claim ignorance—saying, “we didn’t understand what was happening”—the truth is that their contributions required active consent. At some point, each person involved had to suppress or ignore the moral questions that would have inevitably surfaced in their conscience.

These reflections may seem to call for punishment of every official, politician, or influential figure involved. But before we demand retribution, we must confront a difficult truth: nearly all of us have, in some way, contributed to the perpetuation of this system. Many of us have benefited from its processes and outcomes, even if unknowingly.

Though we may not be innocent, our participation has not always been conscious. The system’s reach and success have made it nearly impossible to function in the world without engaging with it. We must consider that many who enabled its continuation may have genuinely believed they were simply “going along with it” or doing things “the way they’ve always been done.”

In some cases—particularly in junior roles involving routine tasks rather than decision-making—this may warrant forgiveness. But for those who actively sought positions of influence, whose decisions directly affected the lives of others, there is a deeper question: were they truly suited to those roles if they failed to act in the best interests of all?

Seeking power or public office for self-serving reasons, especially in roles meant to serve others, may not be a crime in itself. Yet it reveals a troubling lack of awareness or concern for the consequences of failing to meet the responsibilities those roles demand.

We must recognise that the system has evolved to favour individuals who are malleable—less likely to question their role in perpetuating harm. Their selfishness and moral indifference complicate the question of punishment, especially when victims have also participated, and some perpetrators may themselves be unwitting victims.

Ultimately, the true blame lies with the architects, designers, and strategists who built the mechanisms of exploitation and manipulated others into fulfilling their roles within it. Even then, their actions stem not from empathy or understanding, but from the darker impulses of human nature.

Anger toward those who knowingly or unknowingly participated is understandable. But it cannot justify retaliation.

True accountability lies not in vengeance, but in removing these individuals from positions of influence—ensuring they can never again exploit others, communities, or the environment through their decisions or actions.

Breaking The Money Myth: Rethinking Value, Exchange, and Equality

An Economy That Cannot Function Without Money Will Not Work for Anything Else

Coming to terms with the role money plays in our lives is challenging for most people. But the difficulty doesn’t end there.

We have come to value money not just as a tool, but as the benchmark by which we measure everything in life.

This leads us to a deeper truth—one that must be faced, rejected, and overcome: an economy that functions for money, with money, or through money cannot, will not, and does not work for anything else.

An economy should always serve People, Community, and the Environment. These are the only foundations that truly support a good life and foster genuine equality for all.

Most people instinctively reject the idea that any form of economy or trade could operate without money. This reaction stems not from truth, but from habit. We’ve grown so accustomed to money being present in every transaction that we take it for granted—not because it’s inherently necessary for exchange.

The reality is this: an economy designed for the people must be capable of operating without money, currency, or any medium whose value can be universally—or nationally—controlled or manipulated by external parties.

Instead, value must be determined solely by those directly involved: the buyer, the seller, and the facilitator (or a community body that sets local trade rules for the exchange of essential goods and services).

This doesn’t mean money or currency must be eliminated entirely. Rather, it means that their value must remain free from inflationary or deflationary forces.

Any variation in exchange value must reflect only the true worth of the goods, services, or contributions involved.

The Moneyless Economic System

The essential shift—both in action and mindset—is from a system where money is required in every transaction, to one where the exchange of life’s necessities does not inherently depend on money at all.

One of the fundamental truths of our world is that not all things are equal. However, the way we treat people and the planet should be equal and fair for all.

It follows, then, that money—or any form of currency used as a medium of exchange—should not be governed by a universal benchmark, especially when that benchmark can be manipulated by a powerful few to serve their own interests.

It is normal that we all contribute work to meet our needs. Therefore, the things we need should be accessible to everyone, based on the value of what they can offer through their work.

The imbalance in this equation today arises not from scarcity, but from the greed of those who control access to what others need.

This imbalance is reinforced by systems of privilege, power, and the illusion of ownership that steps beyond the requirements of genuine personal need.

Money IS The Greatest Crime of Our Time

Money Is the Only Bubble

The money used to acquire assets, fund lavish lifestyles, and build business empires—ultimately shaping the marketplace and its problems—was never real.

It was a construct, a fiction sustained by systems designed to benefit a few at the expense of many.

From the manipulation of legal frameworks to the invention of financial instruments, the expansion of credit, and the unchecked printing of currency, this entire process amounts to a crime against humanity.

What makes it even more tragic is that many of its architects believed their actions were morally justified simply because they were legal.

This illusion of legitimacy has allowed the system to flourish, while millions suffer consequences so distant and abstract, they’re barely recognised as harm.

Excess is only possible when a system enables it. But the existence of such a system does not make its outcomes just. Those who have gained from it are not necessarily right—only advantaged by a structure built to serve their interests.

Money Isn’t Real—and It Can’t Be Permanent If Life Is to Be Fair

Money lies at the root of nearly every problem society faces today.

The relentless pursuit of more—more wealth, more control—has become a corrosive force, infiltrating every corner of life.

So deeply embedded is this obsession that many no longer recognize how money has replaced meaning as the dominant value system.

But money is not natural. It never was. It’s a human invention—an abstraction—designed to facilitate exchange, not to define worth. And yet, it has been deliberately shaped and deployed in ways that make it appear inevitable, even sacred.

To treat money as permanent is to elevate illusion over reality. It distracts us from what truly matters: relationships, community, creativity, and the tangible richness of life.

Money is a symbol, not a substance. Mistaking it for something real is like confusing the map for the terrain—an error that leads us away from what is essential and toward a world ruled by shadows.

Redefining What Things Are Worth

Many political groups, movements, and activists advocate for wealth redistribution as a path to restoring fairness in society. But there’s a flaw in what may seem to socialists like an unshakable argument: the money we use today is only worth what people believe it to be.

The deeper issue lies in how we assign monetary value to everything outside ourselves—objects, experiences, even property.

These values are rarely based solely on the intrinsic worth of the item. Instead, they’re shaped by layers of influence: creators, suppliers, marketers, and increasingly, intermediaries who add nothing of substance but inflate the price through financial manipulation.

This simplification—that everything has a financial value—makes it easy for anyone involved in a transaction to feel they’ve suffered a loss simply by paying too much or receiving too little.

Our relationship with money encourages a constant craving for more: more income, more for what we sell, more for the work we do. More becomes a measure of superiority.

Somewhere along the way, the line between reality and illusion blurred. We moved beyond what we need into what we want and were actively encouraged to do so by a system that insists it’s not just acceptable—but admirable—to want more.

Money has become the default value system, replacing ethical and moral principles. Even laws—once meant to reflect justice—are now shaped to serve the interests of lawmakers and their benefactors and are deemed moral simply because they are legal. These laws underpin the financial mechanisms that justify explosive inflation and guarantee profit, even when the cost to consumers exceeds what they can reasonably afford.

The truth that’s long been overlooked is this: money has no inherent value. Its worth exists only in relation to what it can be exchanged for. The things we truly need have been repurposed—not as tools for living, but as instruments for generating profit.

To build a fair and equal society, we must reject the illusion that our current relationship with money is real or necessary. We must erase the financial values imposed on every tangible thing and release ourselves from the grip money holds over our lives.