In societies dominated by modern modes of production, life is governed by an ethic of productivity. Productivism, as a social imperative, aims to maximise economic output. Productvism has been the ideological backbone of various stages of industrial and economic evolution. This essay explores the transformation and impact of the productivist ethic through the lens of three critical texts: The Human Motor by Anson Rabinbach (1992), 24/7 by Jonathan Crary (2013), and Wait Then Give Up: Lethargy and the Reticence of Modern Art by Tung Hui Hu (2017). Through these works, we will examine the origins, evolution, and societal implications of productivism in different epochs of capitalism.

The Genesis of Productivism

Anson Rabinbach’s The Human Motor delves into the scientific underpinnings of productivism, which are deeply entrenched in the physical laws of nature. The concept of energy, essential in the early 19th century, seamlessly integrated into the ethos of productivism, defining energy as the capacity to perform work, quantified in joules or calories (the energy needed to heat one litre of water by one degree centigrade is 4.2kJ). As work is simply the capacity to do work, the industrial bourgeois understood all work as homogenous, independent of craft or skill, but only as the capacity to channel energy. With this rhetoric the human labour and mechanical labour were seen to be identical, relegating the humans to mere ‘human motors’[^1].

When the bourgeoisie saw their workers begin to be afflicted by the disease of fatigue, they understood it in using a philosophical perspective as a weakness in the spirit or the soul. However This optimism of energy conservation was negated by the coining of entropy, or the “irreversible decline or diffusion of energy that occurred in tandem with conservation”[^2]. Entropy was equated to the disease of fatigue, meaning no longer “resistance to work was no longer located in the soul’s impurities”[^3] but a manifestation of thermodynamics. This scientific shift prompted the bourgeoisie to rethink their approach to labour, recognizing fatigue as a natural limit to productivism. Fatigue came to be seen as an inevitable degeneration of the human condition, a factor that needed management rather than disdain in order to abide by the ethic of productivity. Consequently, productivism began to acknowledge labourer wellbeing, striving not only to maximise but also to optimise human labour power for greater productivity.

Productivism in Neoliberal Capitalism

As the world turned to the “non-stop living world of 21st century capitalism”[^4] the advent of technology and globalisation caused identity to “be reorganised to conform to the uninterrupted operation of the markets’ information networks and other systems”^5. The productivist ethic extended beyond the factory to all domains of life.

The pervasive attention economy coerces us into a perpetual state of labour, as modern capitalism merges “all the spheres of work and of leisure, of public and the personal”[^6], it takes the “irreducible necessities of human life - hunger, thirst, sexual desire and recently the need for friendship”^7-into commodified entities ripe for profit. This shift redefines the pursuit of a good life, no longer driven by individual choice or goodwill, but shaped and regulated by global media and capitalist institutions.

The data-driven economy exemplifies this shift by transforming every individual into a 24/7 labourer. Each aspect of human activity - from social media, sleep patterns, dietary habits, locations and physical movement -, is converted into data points that enhance advertising and product development, effectively commodifying all human activity.

This scenario reveals “the brutal discrepancies between the temporal operation of deregulated markets and the intrinsic physical limitations of the human required to conform to these demands”[^8]. Jonathan Crary discusses how the productivity ethic compels individuals to sacrifice sleep for productivity, highlighting how the commodification of activity challenges the natural inactivity of sleep. As markets and media demand constant engagement, sleep becomes undervalued, and its erosion is even seen as a virtue, contrasting with the perceived stagnancy of stability as Crary states “to always be doing something, to move, it changes - this is what enjoys prestige, as against stability, which is often synonyms with inaction”^9. This expression of productivism demonstrates how productivism works in direct contradiction to humanity.

In this neoliberal context, where individuals bear the full responsibility for their lives, the lack of societal protection becomes evident. Echoing Hobbes, who stated that “a rudimentary obligation of the commonwealth is to provide security for the sleeper”[^10], we find ourselves missing the protective figures of lore, such as Don Quixote guarding Sancho Panza or a vigilant Atticus Finch defending Tom Robinson. Instead, the state has surrendered to capitalist forces, transforming all individuals into labourers bound to endlessly serve the dictates of capital.

The Aesthetic of Lethargy in Semiocapitalism

A 24/7 neoliberal society driven by the productivist ethic crests as Hu describes a prevailing “whatever political culture”[^11] as reflected in the art of the time. This overwhelming dominance of productivism has engendered a pervasive culture of fatigue, or what Hu terms lethargy, defined as “an affective form characterised by one or more qualities: first by a subject’s effort to forget the self (lethe), and second by an idleness or non-productiveness”[^12]. Hu describes lethargy not as a “symptom of depression but rather a symptom of the shift to entrepreneurial or neoliberal models of personhood”[^13]. This lethargic culture represents a subdued form of revolution, where individuals attempt to disengage from capitalism yet find themselves without “the means to resist or refuse”[^14]. The relentless demands of productivism erodes individual willpower and diminishes the soul, leading to a state of passive conformity.

Hu illustrates lethargy through analysing digital art, notably in the piece titled Self Playing Nitendo 64 NBA Coutside 2 in which a virtualShaquile O’Neal is shown on loop missing a free throw. This artwork uses a virtual Shaquille O’Neal, a spectacular figure who like all celebrities is representative of a culture of distraction necessary to placate the lethargic masses, identifying the lethargic desire to consume pacifying media. The Sisyphean action of missing on loop is indicative of a romanticization and acceptance of failure. The context of this action placed within a video game represents the modern workers lack of autonomy, being controlled by an outside controller, an unknowable and immovable force. The artwork itself is not captivating and is in fact indifferent to the eyes that graze it, it is simply unproductive, a visual manifestation of lethargy.

Further exemplifying this lethargic revolt, Hu analyses the unfitbit, a website mimicking corporate aesthetics while subverting its intent by attaching Fitbits to inanimate objects in motion, like metronomes and bike wheels. This artwork was produced in response to insurance companies offering discounts to their clients to buy a Fitbit if they reported their data back to them. This would allow insurance companies to tune their pricing option in relation to their tracked exercise, saving money while maintaining their current unhealthy habits. This work, Hu argues, critiques the neoliberal mandate that “as an economic free agent, one is solely responsible for one’s own health”[^15], highlight that the ‘healthy lifestyle’ is an economic privilege that is unattainable by those who lack the time or resources to maintain one. This project mocks the commodification of health, while reinforcing the 24/7 workers’ need for rest. It fights the productivist ethic by galvanising its viewers to lie, fighting back in a system without taking any direct action.

Lethargy itself is the modern manifestation of fatigue in late stage capitalism, capturing “the feeling of not having any options”[^16]. It is neither active resistance or refusal; it represents a third option that complies with the system through “a performance of a social requirement without conviction”^17, an apathy or indifference akin to affirmation such as ‘um’ or ‘uh-huh’[^18]. This third option battles not capitalism itself but the productivist demand to be perpetually active. Lethargy is not only in service of the capitalist agenda, as all activity -even inactivity- has been commodification, but also fosters an ethical nihilism. Seemingly the only way to combat the productivist law that one ought to be productive is to throw away virtue ethic, the categorical imperative and the will in itself. It erodes ethics to a liberal (individualistic) utilitarianism, relishing and embracing their own lethargy and depression with no consciousness of the impact of their actions as long as it supports their own ends. Lying to your insurance company could cause an honest individual to pay more, the valorisation of the sisyphean modern labourer is destined to create a depressed society, while passivity and inaction only drive to support the capitalist system which daily commits uncountable crimes against humanity. This is the paradox of the productivist ethic: its counterforce is too enfeebled to challenge the very system that engenders it, making conformity to productivity in the end inevitable.

Conclusion

This essay has traced the development of the productivist ethic from its scientific origins in the 19th century through its evolution in neoliberal and semiocapitalist contexts. Each stage of capitalism has adapted productivism to its needs, intensifying its reach into every aspect of life. The response, particularly in contemporary culture, has been one of lethargy and passive conformity, an illusion of resistance to an overwhelming system. We find ourselves in a paradox where the only apparent escape from the demands of productivity is through conforming to its dictates in superficial ways.

Citations

Crary, Jonathan. 24/7: Late capitalism and the ends of sleep. New York: Verso, 2014.

Rabinbach, Anson. The Human Motor: Energy, fatige, and the origins of modernity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992.

Hu, Tung-Hui. “Wait, Then Give up: Lethargy and the Reticence of Digital Art.” Journal of Visual Culture 16, no. 3 (December 2017): 337–54. https://doi.org/10.1177/1470412917742566.

Notes

[^1]: Anson Rabinbach, The Human Motor: Energy, Fatige, and the Origins of Modernity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992). p46

[^2]: ibid p47

[^3]: ibid 48

[^4]: Jonathan Crary, 24/7: Late Capitalism and the Ends of Sleep (New York: Verso, 2014). p8

[^6]: ibid 75

[^8]: ibid 15

[^10]: ibid 25

[^11]: Tung-Hui Hu, “Wait, Then Give up: Lethargy and the Reticence of Digital Art,” Journal of Visual Culture 16, no. 3 (December 2017): 337–54, https://doi.org/10.1177/1470412917742566, p338

[^12]: ibid 345

[^13]: ibid 343

[^14]: ibid 345

[^15]: ibid p349

[^16]: ibid p350