There is a biblical passage that says: “The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and keep it.” The line is not merely a theological anecdote; it reflects a deeper philosophical assumption about the human condition. Work was not introduced as punishment but as purpose. Humanity was placed in the garden not simply to exist, but to cultivate, maintain, and contribute.
Embedded in that idea is a principle modern policymakers often overlook: dignity in labour.
Work provides more than wages. It confers identity, usefulness, and participation in the broader project of society. A person who works is not merely earning; they are belonging. This is why economic debates that treat labour purely as a cost to be eliminated miss something fundamentally human.
Today technological advancement is rapidly transforming the labour market. Automation in manufacturing, algorithmic decision-making, and artificial intelligence systems promise efficiency and profits on a scale unimaginable even a few decades ago. Machines do not tire, do not unionise, and do not request annual leave. For boardrooms and balance sheets, the attraction is obvious.
Yet an uncomfortable question lurks beneath the excitement: what happens to the humans?
One proposed answer is universal basic income. The argument runs that if machines generate sufficient productivity, governments can simply redistribute the gains to citizens whose labour is no longer required. People would receive an income regardless of employment status, theoretically solving the problem of technological displacement.
On paper, it sounds elegant.
In practice, it misunderstands something essential about human beings.
Most people do not simply want money; they want to be useful. Employment is not merely an economic transaction but a social role. A society that quietly tells millions of people that their contribution is no longer required risks creating not prosperity but alienation. The cheque may arrive every month, but the sense of purpose does not.
The real challenge therefore is not how to compensate displaced workers, but how to redefine work itself.
Society has an almost endless supply of tasks that remain undone. Communities need care for the elderly, support for vulnerable children, environmental restoration, neighbourhood services, education assistance, and cultural preservation. Charities and civic organisations are perpetually understaffed not because the work lacks value, but because the market does not price it highly.
If technological change removes people from certain sectors, the rational response is not to discard them economically but to redirect human energy toward areas where society genuinely needs it.
In other words, work should be defined by the needs of society, not solely by the profit calculations of corporations.
The current economic unrest across many countries may well have roots in precisely this displacement. When people feel economically redundant, political frustration follows. The upheavals seen across parts of Europe, North America, and beyond are not simply ideological disputes; they are also symptoms of populations that sense their place in the economic order is eroding.
Technological innovation is not the enemy. Throughout history machines have improved productivity and living standards. The printing press did not destroy knowledge; it spread it. Industrial machinery did not eliminate labour; it transformed it.
But there is a critical difference between technology that augments human capability and technology that replaces it entirely.
Just because something can be automated does not mean it must be.
Replacing thousands of workers with robots in a factory might produce immediate profits and pleasing quarterly results. But the long-term social costs—lost skills, hollowed-out communities, and diminished human dignity—are far harder to calculate on a spreadsheet.
The objective of technological progress should therefore be enabling human beings, not sidelining them.
Robots should assist workers, not render them obsolete. Artificial intelligence should amplify human creativity and judgement, not quietly remove humans from the equation altogether.
After all, if the Garden of Eden itself required a caretaker, it would be a curious civilisation indeed that concluded humanity had nothing left to do.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 