The Future of Work Must Belong to Workers

Ask the warehouse worker training her replacement robot if progress feels inevitable.

Automation is not destiny. It is design, and design can be changed.

Internal Amazon documents reveal plans to replace more than half a million warehouse workers with robots by 2033. Executives call it innovation. Investors call it efficiency. The workers who made the company what it is call it what it feels like: erasure disguised as progress.

If Amazon can erase 500,000 jobs without consequence, every company will follow. Walmart is rolling out automated checkout. Target is testing robotic fulfillment. UPS and FedEx are developing delivery drones. Each step is described as modernization, but modernization without accountability becomes abandonment.

If we fail to govern this transition, we will inherit an economy that no longer needs its citizens.

The United States cannot afford another era of abandonment. Since 1979, productivity has risen by more than 80%, while hourly pay for most workers has barely moved. Automation threatens to widen that divide until it defines the economy itself.

Technology is not the enemy. The problem is who it serves. Every robot that replaces a worker transfers income from wages to shareholders. Every algorithm that eliminates a job turns public innovation into private accumulation. The challenge before us is not to resist progress but to govern it.

In this political moment, that may sound impossible. Washington is consumed by austerity and spectacle. The Trump administration’s second term has stripped worker protections, defunded training programs, and rewarded corporations that offshore or automate without oversight. But political cycles end, and public memory lasts. As the country heads toward the 2026 midterms and the 2028 presidential election, progressives have a rare opening to propose something larger than repair. We can build a new social contract for the automated age—a Labor Bill of Rights that reclaims the meaning of work and the purpose of progress.

That contract should rest on three pillars: profit sharing, a national transition fund, and public oversight.

The first pillar is profit sharing for automation gains.

When technology increases productivity, a share of those gains should go to the workers who make that productivity possible. France has required large firms to share profits with employees since 1967. Germany ensures worker representation on corporate boards, which prevents modernization from becoming a zero-sum game between labor and capital.

The United States could enact a federal profit-sharing mandate for companies with more than 250 employees or over $1 billion in annual revenue. When automation reduces a company’s payroll by more than 5% in a given year, that company would distribute at least 5% of its net profits as direct employee bonuses or shares. This could be structured through the tax code as a refundable surtax on undistributed automation profits.

If a company eliminates thousands of jobs to cut costs, it would still owe a share of its gains to the people and places that built its success. The rule would keep disposable income in circulation, prevent automation from collapsing demand, and ensure that the people who make automation possible continue to benefit from it.

The second pillar is a national automation transition fund.

Corporations that profit from replacing human labor should help finance the transition for those affected. The fund would be financed by an automation contribution: a 1-2% levy on the annual revenue of large firms that automate more than 5% of their workforce in any 12-month period. The Department of Labor would administer the fund through three channels.

First, wage insurance would guarantee workers at least 70% of their prior income for up to two years while they retrain or find new employment. Second, community investment grants would go directly to counties or cities experiencing major automation-driven job loss, funding small business development, infrastructure, and public employment programs. Third, an innovation dividend would fund training in fields that cannot easily be automated, such as healthcare, renewable energy, and education.

The fund could be modeled on unemployment insurance, with employer contributions adjusted annually based on automation activity. For example, if Amazon eliminated 500,000 jobs averaging $35,000 annually, a 2% contribution on its revenue—roughly $12 billion per year—would cover retraining, income support, and regional stabilization. This policy would turn automation from a corporate windfall into a shared investment in the country’s future.

The third pillar is public oversight of large-scale automation.

Just as environmental laws require companies to study and disclose the effects of pollution, corporations that plan to replace significant numbers of workers should disclose the social impacts of automation before acting. Any company planning to eliminate more than 250 jobs in a single year through automation should file an automation impact assessment with the Department of Labor.

The coming decade will decide whether automation serves democracy or displaces it.

The report would detail expected job losses, affected regions, and projected cost savings. It would also include a transition plan describing how the company will use part of those savings to fund retraining, relocation assistance, or community support. The Department of Labor would then coordinate with local governments and unions to review the plan, identify gaps, and recommend mitigation measures.

Failure to file or implement such a plan would carry penalties scaled to company size and profits. Repeat offenders could lose access to federal contracts, tax credits, or receive fines proportional to earnings. Transparency alone changes incentives. Once corporations must account for the social cost of their decisions, they begin to consider the communities they affect.

Together, these pillars would reattach innovation to justice. Profit sharing would reconnect wages and productivity. The transition fund would convert private efficiency gains into public stability. Oversight would replace secrecy with accountability.

None of this is radical. It is the next step in the unfinished project of democracy. When Franklin Roosevelt proposed an Economic Bill of Rights in 1944, he named the right to a useful job, to fair wages, to security, and to education as the foundations of freedom. We never completed that work. The next generation of progressives can.

That opportunity will not come from Congress as it stands. It will come from a national movement that links labor, climate, and democracy into one fight for a livable economy. The 2026 midterms will likely mark the beginning of that realignment, as voters look for something larger than a defense against decline. The 2028 election could be the first since the New Deal where a coalition wins not by promising safety, but by promising transformation.

Technology does not determine our future. Politics does. A robot can replace a worker, but it cannot replace the dignity of work or the shared purpose of a nation. If we fail to govern this transition, we will inherit an economy that no longer needs its citizens. If we succeed, we can create one where technology frees people from insecurity, not from income.

The wealth created by automation rests on a foundation built by the public. The internet that powers online retail began as a government project. The logistics networks that deliver goods rely on public roads and ports. The data that trains artificial intelligence is drawn from our collective lives. The returns should flow back into the society that made them possible.

The coming decade will decide whether automation serves democracy or displaces it. Progressives have a rare chance to lead with vision instead of reaction. The task is not to slow innovation but to make it answer to the people. The future of work must belong to workers—and that future begins when we decide that technology will serve humanity, not replace it.