[Gangnam Perspective] After Atlas

Many people probably think of the Luddite movement that broke out in the early 19th century in the central English region of Nottingham as a mindless riot in which ignorant workers smashed machines. For more than a century, it was widely viewed as an impulsive outburst by workers who believed that if they simply destroyed the machines in front of them, nothing else would happen. However, modern historians have been re-evaluating the movement, arguing that the actions of its leaders at the time show it cannot be dismissed so simplistically.
It began one day in March 1811 in the marketplace square in Nottingham. Hundreds of framework knitters gathered there, and a list of demands for jobs and better wages was read out. As evening fell, the demonstrators slowly marched north to the village of Arnold and, by dawn, had destroyed around 60 stocking frames. Testimony later given in court stated that local residents helped or cheered on the destroyers. The ringleaders were proud, highly skilled workers. In an era without trade union rights, they damaged machines as a bargaining tool, protesting the poor quality of products made on the new, low‐skill machines and the wage dumping that accompanied them. This is the context behind today’s reassessment.
Contrary to expectations that the conflict would end in some sort of compromise, it escalated into an irreversible mass movement, in no small part because of the British cabinet’s unprecedentedly hard-line response. Machine-breaking was designated a serious felony punishable by death. In the middle of Britain’s war against Napoleon’s France, British troops were abruptly redirected to the country’s factory districts. Industrial sites across the nation were effectively placed under a quasi-martial-law regime. Many protesters were executed or transported. The weavers’ guerrilla-style resistance in response was also fierce, and it took a full six years for the unrest to subside. In the end, the Luddite movement did nothing to halt machinery or technology; if anything, it accelerated their adoption. What it did sow, however, were the seeds of trade union formation and strikes.
The automation of factories in the 20th century also unfolded through a series of dramatic moments, with General Motors (GM), the symbol of American manufacturing, at the center. GM’s plant in New Jersey was the first place in the world to deploy Unimate, the first industrial robot, in 1961. On the shop floor, there was a peculiar tension as a two‐ton robotic arm effortlessly hoisted 150‐kilogram metal parts. People began to realize that this was not just another piece of equipment or a special-purpose machine, but a worker of sorts—one that did not sleep, tire, or go on strike. Yet there was no immediate, large-scale backlash. Jobs were plentiful in an era of industrial expansion, and early robots were expensive, prone to breakdowns, and limited in what they could do.
Over time, however, GM’s robots turned the shop floor into a place of fear. They took over the work of grabbing molten metal at searing temperatures and welding it amid showers of sparks. By the mid-1970s, GM’s welding lines were fully automated. In response to these high-speed automated lines, the GM union launched fierce strikes. Together with the militant United Auto Workers (UAW), it focused on battles over wages and benefits, a stance that was closely tied to the wave of automation. Although GM stood at the technological forefront, it stumbled in its product strategy and, above all, failed in labor relations. That is how it began its long decline.
In the age of the artificial intelligence (AI) revolution, the confrontation between machines and workers will enter a new phase. Today’s humanoid robots are on a completely different level from the spinning frames of the 19th century or the industrial robots of the 20th. They may become capable not only of physical dexterity but also of instant judgment and interactive communication. Atlas, a humanoid robot developed by Hyundai Motor’s Boston Dynamics, seems to evolve every time we see it. Most recently, it pulled off a series of side flips and backflips like a gymnast. The Hyundai Motor Company labor union’s declaration that "not a single unit will be allowed in without our consent" likely reflects very mixed feelings. Under today’s stringent labor regulations, it may not be easy to deploy Atlas on the line. If that happens, factories will move to countries where Atlas is allowed to work.
No union has ever defeated technology. But technology alone cannot protect a market either. The job anxiety triggered by AI must be addressed through sophisticated policy. We need to spur the creation of entirely new kinds of jobs in AI-driven industries—positions we have never seen before. To do that, we must first make bold moves to remove obstacles that hold back new industries. Job retraining, redeployment of workers, and talent development suited to the AI era cannot be mere box-ticking exercises. We need to start preparing now for what comes after Atlas.


jins@fnnews.com Choi Jin-suk Reporter