
Edo Segal’s The Orange Pill opens a space for Veblen that most economics frameworks close: the space of the worker’s inner life. The senior software architect who felt like “a master calligrapher watching the printing press arrive” is describing not an economic calculation but a psychological condition—the condition of a person whose drive toward engaged production has been rendered economically optional while remaining psychologically essential. Veblen provides the vocabulary that the architect himself lacked: what is being lost is not the livelihood (which may survive) and not the status (which is diminishing but not eliminated) but the outlet—the daily exercise of a biological drive that has shaped human behavior for millennia and that is satisfied not by the existence of good output but by the experience of producing it through one’s own engaged skill.
The cycle’s recurring figure of the “silent middle”—the people who feel both exhilaration and loss simultaneously and do not know what to do with the contradiction—is, in Veblen’s framework, the predictable response of organisms whose instinct of workmanship is being simultaneously amplified and denied by the same instrument. The tool expands capability. The tool removes the exercise of competence in production. The instinct is fed by the power of the tool and starved by its efficiency. The silence is the inarticulate form of this double condition in an organism that has not yet found the vocabulary to name what has happened to it.
Veblen also illuminates the metrics culture that surrounds AI adoption. The quantification of AI-augmented output—lines generated, commits shipped, products launched—serves, in his framework, the function that the price tag serves in conspicuous consumption. The metric is not primarily a measure of value. It is a medium of display. The developer who posts about shipping a product in a weekend is establishing a benchmark—a standard of conspicuous capability—against which other developers’ timelines will be measured. The cultural environment that results rewards the behaviors that frustrate the instinct of workmanship (speed, volume, display) and penalizes the behaviors that satisfy it (care, refinement, the slow accumulation of understanding through engaged production).
His class analysis maps the AI economy with precision. The platform owners occupy the position of absentee owners—deriving income from the ownership of computational infrastructure rather than productive contribution. The creative directors occupy the intermediate position of the managerial class—exercising genuine skill through direction rather than production, progressively disconnected from the productive process their direction governs. The displaced cognitive workers occupy the position of the artisan class—possessing skill the market no longer rewards at its previous rate, experiencing the frustration of a drive that persists without an adequate outlet, watching their competence exercised with apparent adequacy by a machine that cannot be satisfied by its own output.
Born in 1857 on the Wisconsin frontier to Norwegian immigrant parents, Veblen carried the outsider’s perspective through a career at universities that consistently found him too strange to retain. He earned his doctorate at Yale in 1884, spent years in enforced idleness that deepened his analysis of leisure, and eventually found an academic home at the University of Chicago, where he produced the remarkable sequence of works that established his singular position in American intellectual life: The Theory of the Leisure Class (1899), The Theory of Business Enterprise (1904), The Instinct of Workmanship (1914), and The Engineers and the Price System (1921).
His method was evolutionary anthropology applied to economics. He rejected the neoclassical assumption that humans are rational utility-maximizers and replaced it with the proposition that human behavior is shaped by instincts and habits accumulated over evolutionary time. The instinct of workmanship—the drive toward efficient, purposeful, quality-conscious production—is, in his analysis, the fundamental driver of technological progress across the entire span of human history. The predatory habits—the orientation toward taking rather than making, toward extraction rather than production—are equally ancient, equally biological, and systematically in tension with workmanship wherever social institutions amplify them at workmanship’s expense.
His outsider status was both burden and analytic resource. The Norwegian immigrant farmer’s son who watched Gilded Age Chicago from the margin saw the leisure class not as the natural order of things but as a specific institutional arrangement with specific costs that its beneficiaries had every incentive to render invisible. His prose—deadpan, ironic, technically precise, and devastating in its use of clinical understatement—was the stylistic expression of the outsider’s perspective: a person who describes what he sees without the distorting filter of identification with the class whose behavior he is describing. He died in 1929, months before the crash that might have confirmed his most pessimistic analyses.
The Instinct of Workmanship. Veblen’s foundational claim is that the disposition toward skilled, purposeful production is a biological drive—as fundamental to the human organism as hunger or the parental instinct. The instinct is satisfied not by the existence of good output but by the experience of producing good output through engaged exercise of competence. It is distinct from pride (which requires an audience), perfectionism (which is a pathology of the instinct), and ambition (which is directed outward). Applied to AI: the cognitive worker who directs AI output exercises genuine judgment, but the instinct of workmanship is not satisfied by direction. It is satisfied by production. The tool removes the outlet without removing the drive.
The Cognitive Loom. Veblen’s analysis of the power loom’s effect on the weaver—the transfer of skilled manual production from human hands to mechanical operations, leaving the worker as machine-tender rather than craftsman—finds its precise structural analogue in the language model’s effect on the knowledge worker. The cognitive loom automates the cognitive operations in which the developer’s, analyst’s, or designer’s workmanship was most fully engaged. The worker is repositioned from producer to director. The instinct is simultaneously amplified by the tool’s power and denied by its efficiency. The derangement—the inarticulate unease of a drive that persists without its proper object—is the predictable behavioral consequence.
Conspicuous Consumption and Capability. The display mechanism that Veblen analyzed for physical goods—pecuniary emulation, the cascade of competitive display that extends from the top to the bottom of the social hierarchy—operates in the AI economy as conspicuous capability: the quantified demonstration of AI-augmented output, posted publicly, measured against peers, and cycling rapidly as each new model release resets the baseline. The metrics that govern this display reward speed and volume—the behaviors that frustrate the instinct of workmanship—and penalize care and refinement—the behaviors that satisfy it.
The Leisure Class of AI. The class structure that the AI transition is producing replicates the essential features of Veblen’s leisure class while disguising the replication beneath a vocabulary of democratization and empowerment. The platform owners are the modern absentee owners: deriving income from control of the means of cognitive production. The creative directors are the new managerial class: exercising direction rather than production, progressively disconnected from the productive process they govern. The productive workers bear the costs. The vocabulary of the transition—democratization, elevated capability, the elevation of human judgment—describes genuine phenomena while rendering invisible the distributional question that determines who captures the gains.
Idle Curiosity and Genuine Innovation. Against the predatory habits that organize production for profit rather than use, Veblen placed idle curiosity—the disinterested inquiry driven by wonder rather than utility, which he identified as the wellspring of genuine scientific and technological progress. The AI transition, to the extent it enriches the conditions for idle curiosity—freeing practitioners from mechanical production to explore what is genuinely interesting—could serve the instinct of workmanship at a higher level. To the extent it subordinates that curiosity to the demands of conspicuous capability and invidious comparison, it subverts workmanship’s deepest expression.