I think a lot of people will be liberated from a lot of

In the unfolding dawn of the digital age, when the hum of machines rises like a second heartbeat of the world, Tyler Cowen, the economist and philosopher of our time, spoke with a voice both hopeful and prophetic: “I think a lot of people will be liberated from a lot of oppressive manufacturing jobs, or a lot of service jobs, because they'll be done by computers. There'll be the world's best education available online and free.” In these words, Cowen does not merely foresee a technological revolution — he envisions a transformation of the human condition itself. His statement is both a hymn to progress and a challenge to our courage, for he reminds us that the future will not be given to us gently; it must be understood, adapted to, and claimed with wisdom.

The origin of Cowen’s words lies in the age we now inhabit — the age of automation and artificial intelligence, where machines learn, reason, and even create. He is a thinker who has watched with clear eyes as the old engines of labor — factories, assembly lines, and offices — are slowly replaced by the quiet power of algorithms and robots. Yet he does not mourn this change. He sees, instead, the possibility of liberation. For centuries, millions have bent their backs and spirits under the weight of repetitive toil — work that drains the body and dulls the mind. Cowen’s hope is that technology, rightly harnessed, will lift this burden. The computers, he says, will take over the drudgery, leaving humanity free to pursue what is higher — knowledge, creativity, and purpose.

And yet, his vision carries within it the gravity of a warning. For freedom without preparation can become confusion, and leisure without purpose can decay into emptiness. The ancients, too, spoke of this truth: that when men are freed from necessity, they must turn to virtue and wisdom, or else fall into vice. Cowen’s faith in “the world’s best education available online and free” is not merely about knowledge as information, but about the renewal of human potential. He imagines a world where the power of learning — once confined to temples, monasteries, and universities — is released like sunlight for all to share. Just as the printing press of Gutenberg broke the chains of ignorance in the Middle Ages, so now the Internet may break the barriers of inequality.

Consider the story of Salman Khan, a modern teacher of this new era. He began with simple videos on mathematics, made to help his cousin understand algebra. But these small acts of generosity grew into Khan Academy, a platform where millions across the world — rich or poor, young or old — could learn freely. A child in a remote village, with nothing but a screen and a spark of curiosity, can now sit beside the greatest teachers in the world. This is the promise that Cowen speaks of — the democratization of knowledge, the birth of an age where learning is not a privilege but a right, and the classroom extends to the farthest reaches of the earth.

But Cowen’s optimism is not naïve. He knows that as the machines rise, not all will find the transition easy. The “oppressive manufacturing jobs” of today may vanish, but so too may the security they provide. The challenge before humanity, then, is not only to invent machines, but to re-invent itself. The world must prepare its people not merely to survive automation, but to thrive beyond it — to cultivate skills of imagination, empathy, and critical thought, which no machine can replicate. For while computers may perform tasks, they cannot dream; they may analyze data, but they cannot seek meaning. That power still belongs to the human heart.

Let us remember, too, the lesson of history. When the Industrial Revolution swept across Europe, it brought both prosperity and pain. The weavers of England, displaced by the mechanized looms, rose in anger as Luddites, smashing the very engines that threatened their livelihoods. Yet out of that turmoil came a new age — of science, art, and discovery — shaped by those who learned to wield the new tools rather than fear them. So too must we learn, in our time, to work with the machines, not against them. Progress cannot be stopped, but it can be guided. It is the duty of the wise to ensure that technology serves humanity, not enslaves it.

So, O listener, hear the wisdom in Cowen’s vision. Do not see the rise of computers as a thief of purpose, but as a call to higher purpose. When the old labors fall away, fill your hands with new creation. When the world’s knowledge is offered to you freely, take it with gratitude and use it well. Teach your children not merely to consume, but to understand; not merely to adapt, but to imagine. For the age to come will not belong to those who cling to what is dying, but to those who embrace what is being born with open eyes and steady hearts.

The teaching of Tyler Cowen is thus eternal in its essence: that technology, like fire, can warm or destroy; that education, like water, must flow freely to give life; and that humanity, though remade by its inventions, must never forget its soul. The machines may one day take our labor, but they cannot take our longing — to learn, to love, to create. Therefore, let us prepare for the world to come not with fear, but with wisdom — and remember always that the truest freedom is not the absence of work, but the presence of purpose.