For centuries, money has been the lifeblood of human civilization, a force that has shaped societies, economies and individual lives. But what is money, truly? At its essence, money is not gold, paper or digital code. It is a symbolic vessel for human energy—a representation of the time, skill and effort invested in creating goods or delivering services. Every transaction is an exchange of this energy; the economy functions as humanity’s grand accounting system, tracking its flow across the globe.

This material understanding of economics, rooted in Marxist theory, posits that wealth is born from labor, resources and tangible goods. For much of history, this was self-evident: economies were built on fields tilled by farmers, goods forged by artisans, and services rendered by laborers.

Yet, in the modern era, this perspective has been profoundly disrupted. Financial systems have transcended the physical world, allowing immense wealth to be generated not by producing goods or services, but by speculating on their value. Instruments like derivatives and other financial abstractions have untethered wealth creation from the constraints of labour. Consider this: by 2024, the notional value of global derivatives markets is estimated by some experts to exceed $1 quadrillion—vastly overshadowing the world’s total GDP of $105 trillion.

And yet, the International Labour Organization (ILO) reports that over 58% of global income still derives directly from wages. Human labour, despite these financial abstractions, remains the backbone of most economies.

This growing divide between tangible resources and the intangible mechanisms of finance raises profound questions about fairness and sustainability. But what happens when labour itself is no longer the backbone of the economy? When artificial intelligence, robotics and automation render human effort unnecessary for producing goods and services, the very nature of money will be called into question. No longer tied to human energy, money ceases to represent the efforts of individuals. And if the economy no longer measures human work, what does it measure?

Parts of our economy are already not tied to labour. Now, the real economy will also become completely detached from human involvement, and wealth creation will utterly cease to be the result of human effort. The loop will be completed. The urgent question is: What will societies become?

These are not questions for a distant, speculative future. They are the challenges that must be confronted today, as the relationship between money, labor, and value is fundamentally redefined.

End of human-centric production

Many observers liken our current technological transformation to the great revolutions of the past—the advent of agriculture, the printing press, or the Industrial Revolution. While these comparisons are useful, they miss a crucial distinction. Every previous revolution in human history came with tools that amplified human productivity. The plough made farming more efficient; the printing press democratized knowledge; factories and machinery increased the scale and speed of production. But in all these cases, humans remained at the centre of the process. These tools depended on human energy to function.

Now, however, we are on the brink of a revolution that does not merely enhance human productivity but threatens to replace human energy altogether. Advanced artificial intelligence (AI) systems can already write essays, compose music, diagnose diseases, and design products—tasks requiring years of human training and effort. Robots and automated systems are increasingly capable of performing complex physical tasks without human oversight. This is not just an evolution of tools; it is a seismic shift in the relationship between humans and production.

The implications of this shift are profound. Work has been more than a means of survival; it has been a source of identity, purpose and meaning. A farmer takes pride in cultivating crops. An artist finds fulfillment in creating beauty. A doctor derives purpose from healing patients. When human energy is no longer needed to sustain the economy, what does work mean? And if work loses its meaning, how do individuals find purpose?

We are entering an era where millions, perhaps billions, of people may find themselves without traditional work. While this could lead to unprecedented leisure and creative freedom, it could just as easily precipitate a crisis of meaning. Without the structure and validation that work provides, people may feel unmoored, struggling to define their place in a world that no longer requires their labour.

Tradeoffs of progress

It is tempting to view these changes with optimism. Technologies on the horizon hold extraordinary promise. Advances in biotechnology might enable us to cure diseases, extend human lifespans, and perhaps even eliminate aging altogether. The first human who will not die of old age might already be alive today. AI could solve problems that have long eluded human understanding, from climate change to food scarcity. Automation could liberate humanity from drudgery, allowing us to focus on creativity, exploration and connection.

Yet history warns us that progress comes with tradeoffs. The Industrial Revolution, for all its advancements, also made possible the most devastating wars in human history. The tools that improve our lives can also be weaponized to destroy them. The same technologies that promise abundance could exacerbate inequality, create new forms of oppression, and fuel conflicts.

Extraordinary leaps often come with great sorrow. The question is not whether we will face tradeoffs but what those tradeoffs will look like. Will automation widen the gap between rich and poor, as the owners of AI systems reap vast profits while others are left behind? Will nations compete for dominance in AI and biotechnology, triggering new arms races? Are nations themselves, as institutions, that have been the substrate of our geopolitical system, going to survive this profound reshuffling of Human societies?

Predicting the future is a perilous endeavor. Indeed, predictions often tell us more about the time in which they were made than about the future itself. Yet one thing is certain: we are entering an age of profound uncertainty. And few things are more unsettling to humans than uncertainty.

Threat to survival

Throughout history, humans have sought to impose order on the chaos of existence. We have built religions, governments and economic systems to provide structure and predictability. But the pace and scope of technological change today are overwhelming these systems, leaving us with more questions than answers. What will society look like when traditional work disappears? How will we redefine concepts like success, fulfillment, and value? What new social contracts will emerge to address these challenges?

Humanity is standing on the threshold of its greatest transformation—a change that will redefine both our species and the planet itself. And it’s not some distant future; the shift is expected to unfold within the next decade, with some experts forecasting an even shorter timeline. Yet, as a species, we are woefully unprepared. The question is no longer if this change will come, but whether we can adapt in time to survive it.

Instead of succumbing to despair, we should view this moment as a chance to reimagine our systems and priorities. If money no longer reflects human effort, perhaps it can be redefined—as a measure of shared prosperity or social advancement. If conventional work ceases to anchor our lives, we might construct a society that prizes intangibles: creativity, education and the richness of human connection.

The transition will not be easy, and the risks are immense. History demonstrates, with its usual brutal clarity, that decline often precedes progress. The critical task is to prevent the descent from reaching a point where recovery becomes impossible—a tipping point of no return.