What I Tell Students About the Future of Work

I've been reading A World Without Work, by Daniel Susskind (2020).

Not as a "technology is coming, we're all doomed" sort of read. More as a serious attempt to name the uncomfortable question that sits under a lot of the chatter about new tools:

What happens if we end up needing far less human work to produce the things we want?

And the odd thing is: once you've read it, you start hearing the same question, in a much less polished form, from students.

When I'm teaching Economics and we hit anything related to employment (unemployment, wages, productivity, labour markets, inequality), you can see the worry sitting there. Sometimes they ask it directly:

• "Sir, is it just going to take all the jobs?"
• "Is university still worth it if an algorithm can do the graduate jobs?"
• "What's the point picking a career if it'll change every five minutes?"

And sometimes it comes out sideways. I was teaching underemployment recently, the idea that people end up in jobs below their skill level, and the word that kept coming up was "cooked". The future labour market is cooked.

They talk about university debt more than any cohort I've taught, and underneath that is a harder question: what if I take on £50k of debt for a degree that doesn't lead anywhere?

They're not being dramatic. They're doing the maths.

Susskind's argument isn't that the future is fixed. It's that the concern itself is rational. Technology can raise productivity so much that societies become richer overall, while the link between "having a job" and "having a decent life" gets more fragile.

If that happens, the hard problems aren't only economic. They're political and human ones too: who gets what, who has power, and where people find meaning if work stops being the centre of adult life.

So this post isn't a prediction. I'm not trying to tell anyone what the labour market will look like in 2040.

It's something more practical: what I actually say to students when they're worried, in a way that's honest, doesn't patronise them, and still leaves them with a plan for what to do next.

The most helpful distinction I've found: tasks vs jobs

When students say "it'll take my job", they're usually imagining something very binary. A job either exists or it doesn't.

But that's not how most technological change works.

A job is a bundle of tasks: some routine and predictable, some messy and social, some that require judgement, creativity, or taking responsibility for outcomes.

When new technology arrives, it usually doesn't delete the whole job overnight. It chips away at the tasks that are easiest to standardise, then the job reshapes around what's left, and what becomes newly valuable.

That sounds like a small distinction, but it changes the emotional temperature of the conversation straight away.

Instead of: "Will you be replaced?"

We can ask: "Which tasks might be automated, and what happens to the job when those tasks get cheaper or quicker?"

That question is more honest, more useful, and usually more reassuring. It lets students see where they still matter.

What I actually say to students

Here's the script I tend to come back to.

• "You're not silly for worrying." If you're noticing this, you're paying attention. Sensible adults are thinking about it too.
• "Most jobs won't vanish. They'll be reorganised." When a tool makes some tasks faster, employers don't usually respond by doing nothing. They redesign the role. That's why you can have two truths at once: productivity can rise, and job security can still feel uncertain for individuals and whole sectors.
• "So don't aim for a 'safe job'. Aim for a 'safe skill set'." This is the hopeful bit, because it's actionable.

If routine tasks become cheaper, your edge shifts towards what's hard to standardise:

• judgement and responsibility
• dealing with real people
• explaining decisions clearly
• building trust

And one that students often underrate: empathy and emotional intelligence. Not as a buzzword. As a real workplace advantage.

Reading the room. Handling conflict. Making other people feel taken seriously.

Even in very technical careers, these are the skills that turn "capable" into "valuable".

The myth worth tackling directly

Students sometimes think that if tools can produce an answer instantly, learning is pointless.

But when answers are cheap, value shifts to:

• knowing what "good" looks like
• spotting weak reasoning
• applying ideas in messy real situations
• taking responsibility for outcomes

You still need a brain. You just use it differently.

A quick classroom activity that makes this stick

This takes 10–15 minutes:

1. Pick a job you're interested in.
2. List 10 tasks the job involves (include the boring ones).
3. Sort them: Routine / predictable vs Human / relational vs Judgement / responsibility.
4. Now ask: if the routine bucket becomes 50% quicker, what changes? Do we need fewer people, or do we do more, faster? Who gains bargaining power?

Students usually discover, for themselves, that most jobs are more than "a set of automatable steps".

The professions get unbundled too

A second book that sharpens the picture is The Future of the Professions, by Richard Susskind and Daniel Susskind (2015).

The core idea is that "professional" work often looks protected because it's high-status and specialised. But it still contains tasks that can be standardised, systematised, or delivered differently.

That doesn't mean doctors and lawyers disappear. It means the shape of expertise changes: some parts become more automated, and the remaining human parts become more about judgement, trust, and communication.

Useful for students, because it stops them thinking this is only about factories and warehouses.

The curriculum problem

Once you take "tasks vs jobs" seriously, you end up with an awkward conclusion: we can't design a curriculum only around the world as it was.

We still need knowledge, exam practice, discipline, hard work. But in a more uncertain labour market, those things are less like a destination and more like a foundation.

Students will increasingly be judged on how they communicate, adapt, exercise judgement, and work with people.

That's uncomfortable for schools, because exams are measurable and these skills are messier. But we don't really get to opt out.

On grades specifically: I don't tell students they don't matter. They still do.

What I say is: "Grades open doors, especially early on. But over time, what separates people is how they show up."

Why I make students do presentations (even though they hate it)

Students would often rather write something privately and hand it in.

But presentations force practice in exactly the skills that travel well:

• structuring an argument
• explaining complex ideas simply
• handling nerves
• reading the room
• answering questions in real time

They don't enjoy it at first. But I've yet to meet an adult who said being able to speak clearly and confidently was a waste of time.

The bottom line

I don't try to "fix" the worry with a pep talk. I try to name it accurately, then give them a handle.

• Don't obsess over predicting the perfect job at 16.
• Build skills that travel well across changing jobs.
• Keep learning. Not just content, but confidence and judgement.

If I want a one-line close:

Don't bet everything on a single "safe" job. Build a safe skill set: clear thinking, clear communication, good judgement, and real empathy.