The Obsolescence of the Elevator Operator
- Broken Keys Publishing
- 22 minutes ago
- 9 min read
Riding the Wave: Why AI Adaptation Matters More Than AI Fear
From elevator operators to digital publishing, history shows that technology rarely eliminates human creativity — it changes how we use it.
We all know that humans can be resistant to change for myriad reasons. A case in point: When the idea of an automated elevator was introduced, people were concerned about safety, job losses, and whether technology could be trusted.
Historically, humans have often responded to major technological change with uncertainty and concern. Technophobia — and our tendency to resist technological disruption — is not unusual. Similar anxieties accompanied the introduction of mechanical looms, automobiles, computers and ATMs. Today, history is repeating itself with respect to the rise of artificial intelligence. Some past fears proved exaggerated, while others led to real disruptions that required workers and societies to adapt.
When skyscrapers with passenger elevators came into vogue in the late 1800s, Elevator operators provided a personal touch, valued by people in much the same way as teachers, writers, artists, or customer service representatives. Later, when automatic elevators became widespread in the early to mid-20th century, many people were initially uneasy about riding in a machine without an operator. Elevator operators were perceived as trusted figures who reassured passengers, controlled the elevator manually, and provided assistance.
New technologies often eliminate some occupations while creating others. The spread of automated elevators may have eliminated the need for operators, however, it also created jobs in manufacturing, maintenance, and engineering.
The apprehension people felt about automatic elevators and the obsolescence of elevator operators wasn't really about technology itself, but more about how technological change affects trust, identity, employment, and human roles in society.
I am well aware of Data Harvesting, especially as manifested in Shadow Libraries, The Books3 Dataset (with over 191,000 pirated books), The Pile, Google Books Scanning Project, Gemini Training, etc. Writers and industry watchdogs frequently label this entire phenomenon as the "Great AI Book Heist" or the "biggest act of copyright theft in history," but let's be clear on this particular point: This is not solely a question of AI itself, but of how AI systems were developed, what data was used, and whether proper consent and compensation were obtained. Let's not conveniently confuse the two issues. These concerns are not imaginary. Artists, writers, and creators have legitimate questions about consent, compensation, attribution, and the impact of automation on creative professions. The answer, however, should not necessarily be rejection of the technology itself, but the development of ethical standards and responsible practices.
Those that cling to the adage,
"If it's not broken, don't fix it,"
at the expense of,
"but don't improve it either,"
do so at their own peril.
This is the path to obsolescence.
If you're not riding the wave of change, you're under it.
Lamplighters, milkmen, video store clerks, switchboard operators, movie projectionists, bowling pin setters, elevator operators – where are they today? The discovery and harnessing of electricity, the advent of electronic refrigeration, the arrival of streaming services, and the invention of new technology and automation made them all obsolete.
I've been told throughout my entire 40-year career in printing that it was a dying industry. No, it isn't – it's a changing industry; it is a technology-driven industry. I have seen technology advance and watched the effects on those who embrace it, and those who don't.
The Deregulation of Printing
From the late 1980s through the 2000s, advances in digital technology and automated printing transformed the Canadian printing industry, reducing reliance on traditional apprenticeship-based trades. Provinces responded by reclassifying printing occupations from compulsory to voluntary trades, making certification optional rather than mandatory. By the early 2000s, most provinces, including Ontario, had removed printing trades from their active designated trade lists, reflecting the industry's transition from craft-based production to technology-driven manufacturing.
I have the experience of navigating through, and out the other side of, this transition, and I can see the patterns.
The steam engine, mechanization, and later agricultural machinery transformed farming between the 19th and 20th centuries, reducing the need for agricultural labourers and changing rural life. It is perfectly encapsulated in the finale of the four-season long, British drama series, Lark Rise to Candleford and parallels what happened in printing: technology did not eliminate an occupation overnight; it gradually changed the skills required until the traditional role became much smaller, more specialized, or disappeared.
Although it could be said to have eliminated some jobs, it also created new professions, new opportunities, and new forms of work that were previously unimaginable, and potentially helped raise some from a cycle of perpetual poverty. This career obsolescence heralded new, and much improved services and advancement for society.
Manorialism, with its landowners (lords and nobles) and peasants, was a system that involved the hoarding of land, opportunities, and resources, restricting who could amass wealth and preventing others from advancing. It was defined primarily by unequal access to land, obligatory labour, and strict hierarchical control. In a word: gatekeeping. Gatekeeping served valuable purposes, but technology has challenged the assumption that access to publishing must remain concentrated among a small number of decision-makers.
We have seen this exact same thing recently in publishing. Up until the late 20th and very early 21st-centuries, the publishers ruled the literary world. It was they who decided what the public saw and read, or didn't see or read. They were the gatekeepers. And they wanted to keep it that way - even if it meant holding back advancement and technologies. The rise and eventual closure of Pronoun (a self-publishing company and website that allowed free e-book creation and distribution and gave authors 100% royalties) illustrates both the opportunities technology created and the ongoing tension between established publishing structures and emerging platforms. Macmillan Publishers (one of the Big Five) bought it in 2016 and made the decision to close it in late 2017.
With the advancement of technology, including the arrival of print-on-demand services in the late 90s, plus web platforms, e-books, and e-readers in the early 2000s, came a levelling of the playing field.
And I believe we are seeing this pattern yet again. Some resistance to AI appears less focused on establishing responsible guidelines and more focused on exclusion, prohibition, or preserving existing structures of control. While legitimate concerns around copyright, ethics, and transparency must be addressed, blanket rejection risks preventing many creators from accessing tools that could enhance their work. AI, used properly, opens up a level of access and professionalism previously unattainable. The advent of AI once again levels the playing field.
Competition, Technology, and Progress
Affordability and competition drive our markets and economy. If you can't or won't provide a service that's better or more efficient, or more affordable, someone else will. A few examples:
Telephones and communications: Why would you ever pay for long-distance calls today? I can communicate with a friend literally on the other side of the planet—or better yet, live video-call—for free (thanks to apps like Zoom and Facetime). Yet, do people argue on behalf of the impact on phone companies’ revenue? The loss of employment of switchboard operators, most of whom were women?
Entertainment, cable, television and video streaming: Do you still subscribe to traditional cable for somewhere around $120 a month (if you're lucky), when you can stream Netflix, Amazon Prime, Disney+, Paramount+, and Crave—all for under $75/month, taxes included? Why would you pay double for significantly substandard entertainment?
The current debate and division on the topic of artificial intelligence is reminiscent of the previous technophobia in the printing industry of the late 20th-century and the automation of elevators in the mid-20th century.
Using the same logic previously mentioned, in regards to design and layout, two fundamental components of the publishing world, why would I subscribe to extremely expensive software (i.e., Adobe Illustrator, for $29.99 + tax per month (over $400 a year) and dedicate the time and resources to learn the necessary skillset), or hire someone at a more expensive rate, when I could use an automated service, potentially, for free?
The simple act of creating an image or logo as a PNG graphic file with a transparent background, can, depending on the software used and image involved, take a human between 10 to 60 minutes; AI can do it in seconds. Eliminating these mundane tasks will allow focus, time, and energy to be directed towards more creative and productive work.
AI is a hot topic in the world of writing and publishing today. Everyone is talking about adopting AI or blacklisting those that do.
The discussions surrounding artificial intelligence often focus on whether or not it should be integrated into various creative and professional fields. However, this perspective misses a critical and crucial point.
We should stop debating whether AI belongs in writing – from the creative process, through to editing, publishing and design – and really start accepting the reality that it is already here. AI has woven itself into the fabric of our creative industries, influencing how we think, create, and communicate. The integration of AI is no longer a hypothetical scenario; it is an ongoing transformation that is reshaping our workflows and creative outputs. The tools that harness AI capabilities are already in use, and their impact is being felt across the board by creatives and consumers alike.
Today’s illustrators, editors, designers, and writers, are not sitting around waiting for permission, policies, committees, or laws – they're already using AI tools to draft, edit, learn, problem-solve, and so much more. These professionals are embracing the power of AI to enhance their creativity and efficiency. They are leveraging AI to automate mundane tasks and refine their artistic visions. The real question shouldn't be, “should we allow it?” but rather, “are we leading and teaching how to use it well, ethically, intelligently, and to support our growth and creativity?”
As a poet, author, publisher, artist, and creative professional, I've seen firsthand those who are all too willing to live in and market fear. I have also seen, and worked with, those who are willing to move from fearful prohibition to integration – those are the individuals who are building real momentum in their respective fields. My belief, and my position, is that we need to shift away from reactive policies and a potential cancel-culture that stifles innovation and creativity. Instead of focusing on what AI might take away from us, we should be exploring how it can augment and expand our creative horizons. The conversation should centre around constructive engagement, rather than avoidance or fear of its implications.
It is my belief we shouldn't be focused on resistance when it comes to the use of AI in the publishing world but rather, deliberate direction. The landscape of creativity and productivity is evolving, and we must evolve with it. We must reject a new age of technophobia.
We need AI integration that supports higher order creativity, but doesn't replace it – that requires judgment, synthesis, and application to our tools and trades. But what does this all mean when the rubber hits the road?
I have seen authors make social media posts stating their position and outright rejection on all things AI, citing what amounts to unverified or false facts, or hypocritical positions. (i.e. Many people who reject generative AI already use algorithm-driven tools every day, including grammar correction, translation software, automated design features, and search technologies. That's AI. Environmental effects during a climate crisis, yet still happily publishing e-books and promoting lithium batteries, etc.)
I have interacted with some local authors who will unconditionally not work with illustrators if they use AI, even as an editing tool. I know of some editors who will blackball those who have any level of AI use. I even know some bookstores who will immediately reject an author's book if their cover-art involved AI, whether generative or AI-assisted-editing – they make no distinction.
The point of this article isn't to present my or Broken Keys Publishing's practices. (But we are honest and transparent about them).* The point is to make people revisit and rethink some of these more extreme, fear-based, and uneducated positions.
Change is upon us.
Change is always turbulent.
The question we should be asking is whether this is
just another technological wave of change or not?
And if so, would you rather be riding it, or caught in the undertow?
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* Technology should empower authors—not replace the people behind the story. We embrace AI as a tool where it improves efficiency, while preserving the human creativity, editorial judgment, and authenticity every book deserves. Like all things, we believe the truth lies somewhere in the middle. We use AI as a tool in the editing-capacity, but never unsupervised by a human, and we still use human editors. (We currently have 3 on contract). We use AI to take care of trivial mundane tasks (i.e. the example above making a background transparent PNG). We use AI to modify and edit artwork and cover art. We never use nor allow AI to freely write or generate stories in any sort of creative writing capacity nor would we publish authors who do.