|
Key insights from
Shopclass as Soulcraft
By
Matthew B. Crawford
|
|
|
What you'll learn
Matthew B. Crawford (1965-) is an American writer, author,
and mechanic. He has a doctorate in political philosophy, and currently
serves as a fellow at the Institute for Advanced Studies in Culture at the
University of Virginia. Alongside his work in academia, Crawford is a small
business owner, operating a motorcycle repair shop called Shockoe Moto.
When he is not at the institute or in his shop, he is also a contributing
editor for The New Atlantis. One particular essay he wrote gave
rise to this work, Shop Class as Soulcraft, wherein Crawford
embarks on a philosophical reflection into the nature and value of work.
Read on for key insights from Shopclass as Soulcraft.
|
|
1. The bifurcation
between mental and manual work is unrealistic and inapplicable to the
trades.
Oftentimes we hear the terms “white collar” and “blue
collar” in conversations about the economy, work, and politics. The terms
encapsulate a simple dichotomy by which mental work, often done in an
office, is separated from manual work, often done in a factory or shop.
This separation was intensified further with the advent of computer
technology in the 1970s, which ushered in what is commonly referred to as
the Information or Digital Age. By the 1990s computers were steadily
revolutionizing the functions and values of industries, households, and
social groupings. In light of this new technology, schools began to
prioritize computer literacy in their curricula, with adverse effects on
shop class, which was the sole bastion of manual labor in the schools.
Since that time, an overemphasis on information technology
and its uses has led to the cultural inclination that our autonomy,
success, and fulfillment lies in work that is done on the computer. Though
this is by no means universally accepted in American society, it has served
to harden the distinction between white and blue collar work, as well as
significantly diminish our appreciation of the “useful arts” that make up
the latter. Seeped into our values is the notion that manual labor is a
form of work that is low, unfulfilling, and non-cognitive.
Such a cultural myth is pernicious and unstable,
particularly if one actually attends to these kinds of labor. To call
manual labor “low” usually implies some kind of economic assumption, namely
that to be a plumber, electrician, or mechanic means scraping by
financially and struggling to make ends meet. A couple general observations
should nourish our skepticism of such a claim. First, the stability of
trades provide both clarity and job security that is often overlooked.
Though non-manual jobs may be higher paying, they seem more susceptible to
automation. Insofar as they depend on increasingly complex computers,
certain tasks in these occupations may be automated as computers
increasingly carry out complex functions. Second, entering into a trade
takes less time in school, and costs a fraction of traditional four-year
programs for higher paying “mental” jobs. In light of these facts, a
reexamination of the connection between work, success, and well-being is
important.
|
|
2. Manual labor
engages the whole person—mind and body.
Because of the numerous charges against our bifurcation of
mental and manual work, seriously attending to the trades—often for the
first time—can reintegrate our disparate concepts of work and enrich our
understanding of what good work looks like. Unlike various mental jobs that
can often rely solely on a person’s internal theorizing, manual jobs
encompass a person’s thinking and subsequent doing. The trades anchor us in
the world outside our heads. When a device breaks down—be it a car,
computer, or washing machine—speculative thinking about what is wrong and
how to fix it doesn’t really go far. Rather than beginning in our heads, we
have to pop the hood, casing, or panel and attend to what is there, in the
machine.
It is easy to imbibe the cultural myth that we are free,
independent, and masters of our world, both natural and artefactual. But
something as simple as a power outage breaks the illusion that we are free
and always in control. Such circumstances are unpleasant because we are
untethered from the objects and systems outside of us that sustain our
homes. Those who have tinkered, studied, or worked through the devices and
systems around us every day recognize the shared dependence that exists between
us and our devices. The manual worker must engage the world with his hands
and his head to provide solutions for practical issues.
Trade work involves approaching a situation as it is, and
theorizing various solutions to solve the problem. Oftentimes, however,
part of the job is diagnosis, figuring out where the problem is and how it
came about in the first place. Assessing the object or system in question
is a matter of judgment, based upon experience in the trade as well as
accumulated knowledge in the materials themselves. Making these
distinctions about what matters reflects the personal knowledge of a
tradesman who has totally engaged with his work.
|
|
3. Manual labor is
mindful labor, which requires attentiveness and commitment.
Because manual labor involves maintenance or creation in the
material world outside of our heads, it often resists or challenges our
control over it. Training takes time, experience must be built, and skills
do not manifest after one encounter or task is completed. Entering a trade
is not an overnight endeavor. Rather, it takes an earnest commitment rooted
in passion and being deeply attentive to the material in question.
Because this work is both material and mental, continual
challenges will crop up and there will be considerable frustration some
days when what is outside of our heads doesn’t bend to what is inside. We
assume that our ideas can easily map onto our reality, but the opposite is
often the case. Oftentimes we need to step aside and renew our ideas by a
deeper attentiveness to the object in question.
Consider mechanical work—fixing a broken down car, for
instance. Having an idea of a car’s internal systems is not enough.
Memorizing the blueprints and owner’s manual to have the best idea about
the vehicle can only go so far. These things enable us to have some clarity
on what to do, but they do not touch on the particular car in question.
This car has layers of wear and customization which individuate it as its
own specific object. The repair of this vehicle must take in mind the
particular problems, the potential causes of those problems, and the warp
and wear of the constituent materials.
Moreover, in trades where fixing, not creating, is the
primary task, the challenges material objects present may not be resolved
seamlessly. Mistakes, however minor, are a distinct possibility either in
diagnosis or execution. Rather than getting frustrated at the continued
obstacle to our success, trades of this type reinforce the virtue of
humility. Consistently recognizing our own lack of control over the work we
do instills a continual recognition that the world is bigger than the size
of our heads.
|
|
|
|
4. Learning a
trade enhances our perception.
Sometimes our attention to something can be adequate, but
still insufficient and in need of improvement. The tasks we do continually
bring new and unforeseen details to our focus. The more we use a particular
tool, the more capable and efficient we become in doing so. But in
attending to physical objects, we see how they move, are moved, warp, wear,
break, and are mended. One familiar example is a well used stove in a
kitchen. Even for those of us who aren’t in the trades, we gain practical
knowledge of our stove over consistent use. We learn the way different
ingredients or dishes cook on each burner. We see just how hot each setting
is, and we often prioritize a specific burner for certain dishes, knowing
that it heats more evenly, or heats up more quickly. We may not know how to
repair the stove if it breaks, but we still have a thorough knowledge of
the appliance because of our consistent attention to it.
Even outside of using a particular appliance in the home,
trade work can reveal the way our capacity for attention has and still
needs improvement. A master woodworker will note more than the type of wood
being used. He can distinguish knots, striations, and other marks of growth
or decay in the lumber he uses. He will see potential problems long before they
arise, and circumvent them. Both a master and a novice can receive the same
sensory data from an object, but have utterly distinct ways of seeing the
object in question. Eventually, through direct instruction or repeated
observation, the novice will begin to perceive the same object anew, noting
in greater depth the details of its makeup.
|
|
5. Entering into
trade work demands a passion for the trade in question.
Continual involvement in a trade demands a responsibility to
the objects of that trade. This responsibility is linked to a kinship that
is deeper than simply getting a paycheck. The trades, because they are
bound to direct care and maintenance of various material objects and
systems, have the capacity to engage and enmesh tradesmen in more satisfying
careers.
Passion, an intense desire and satisfaction concerning the
work done, is a characteristic element of trade work. Though this is not
automatic, because anyone can be burned out or dislike his or her job, the
deep attentiveness to one’s work that is required in trade work nurtures
this passion. When one is wholly engaged, mind and body, in a task, there’s
a personal investment in getting the job done right. A deep involvement
that reflects a care for the work of one’s hands is part and parcel of
manual work.
Though the challenges that emerge are frustrating and
stifling at times, they require the use of all our skills, mental and
physical. Information jobs often distance and alienate a worker from most
of their skills for the sake of repetitious, efficient performance. Working
for maximum efficiency implies minimum attentiveness. Under these
conditions, the time and energy a particular job requires cannot be given.
It is a common experience to hear or see an employee at a business who
clearly doesn’t know how the company works. Often this means they cannot
figure out how to solve any real issue on their own without direct
assistance. Unfortunately, these experiences reflect the breakdown in many
businesses between mental and manual work. Moreover, when such businesses
emphasize the bottom line over good work, the talents and capacities of
their employees will suffer as a result.
|
|
6. Our educational
institutions do not train us in a certain kind of knowledge, but rather a
habit of flexibility.
One unfortunate by-product of increasingly computerized
office jobs is their impact on higher education. Because of the often
intangible goods of mental work that offices create, it is harder to
evaluate the substance of a worker’s contribution to a company.
Contemporary business culture has broadened its focus to include social
metrics as well as product-or service-based efficiency metrics. This has
de-emphasized the need for employee knowledge, and has instead emphasized
their flexibility and compliance to the culture of the office.
The impact this has had on educational institutions and
their culture has been palpable. Now, what one knows and can demonstrate is
not nearly as important as attuning oneself to the social rhythms of
offices. What matters is not the substance of your education, but the
titles you have gained, especially in relation to other people. One wants
to fit the bill and meet appearances more than have enduring knowledge of
one’s field. Scoring a high GPA, going to an Ivy League school, or
attaining graduate or postgraduate degrees are no longer reflections of
one’s moral and intellectual formation, but rather one’s attainment of
socially desirable goals.
This is often felt throughout one’s primary education, as
students increasingly disengage intellectually from the material, even if
they still score excellent grades. The mismatch here between appearance and
reality is wrapped up in the mismatch and confusion amongst businesses. The
mental work so often lauded in American culture as a necessary component of
success is hard to quantify. Oftentimes, the social metrics we employ to
measure workplace productivity and happiness have nothing to do with the
real knowledge employees possess.
On the contrary, such delusions and at times broad confusion
cannot occur in the trades. Whether one’s work is on par is not socially
determined by one’s self-assessment nor a quarterly report by one’s
managers. It is determined by the external world and the adequacy of one’s
interaction and alteration of it. This applies to machinists, mechanics,
and plumbers alike. One’s labor can be measured and verified in its
functions.
Of course, this is not to say that all mental work, all
office spaces, and all non-manual labor is just guesswork and fluff. As
aforementioned, the dichotomy between mental and manual work is pernicious
and unstable. Yet, one does have to acknowledge that the often intangible
labor of office work can ring hollow compared to the tangible and readily
realized merits of manual labor.
|
|
Endnotes
These insights are
just an introduction. If you're ready to dive deeper, pick up a copy of Shopclass
as Soulcraft here. And since we get a commission on
every sale, your purchase will help keep this newsletter free.
*
This is sponsored content
|
|
|
This newsletter is powered by Thinkr, a smart reading app for the
busy-but-curious. For full access to hundreds of titles — including audio —
go premium and download the app today.
|
|
No comments:
Post a Comment