There are moments in public life when a single argument, once dismissed as speculative or premature, suddenly becomes a map. Tyler Cowen’s Average Is Over is one of those arguments. When it appeared in 2013, many readers treated it as a provocation—an economist’s thought experiment about the future of labor markets. But a decade later, in the early years of the AI revolution, Cowen’s thesis reads less like a forecast and more like a description of the world we have already entered.
Cowen’s central claim is stark: in an age defined by
intelligent machines, societies will divide into two broad groups—those who add
value to machines, and those who do not. The first group will enjoy the
fruits of abundance, autonomy, and meaningful work. The second will live on the
margins of the new economy, sustained by cheap goods, cheap services, and cheap
entertainment. It is not a moral judgment. It is a structural prediction about
how technological systems reorganize human possibility.
Cowen’s argument is not merely economic. It is
anthropological. It is about the kinds of people we are becoming, the habits we
cultivate, the institutions we build, and the moral imagination we bring to a
world where machines increasingly mediate our choices. And now, with AI woven
into the fabric of daily life, his thesis demands a deeper reckoning. What does
it mean to “add value” to a machine? What does it mean to be displaced by one?
And what does this bifurcation reveal about the character of our society?
The question is not whether Cowen is right. The question is
what kind of people we must become if we hope to inhabit the future with
dignity, agency, and moral seriousness.
I. The Bifurcation: Complement or Compete
Cowen’s argument begins with a simple observation: when
machines become capable of performing routine tasks—whether cognitive or
manual—human beings face a choice. They can compete with the machine, or
they can complement it. Competition is a losing strategy.
Complementarity is the path to flourishing.
To complement a machine is not merely to use it. It is to
make it better. It is to supervise, interpret, refine, and extend its
capabilities. It is to bring judgment, context, and moral discernment to a
system that is powerful but not wise. It is to understand that the machine is
not a rival but a force multiplier.
Cowen’s winners are not necessarily the most educated or the
most technically skilled. They are the most adaptive. They are the ones
who learn continuously, who experiment, who ask better questions, who integrate
new tools into their work without surrendering their agency. They are the ones
who treat technology as an instrument rather than an oracle.
The losers are not morally inferior. They are structurally
disadvantaged. They are the ones whose work is easily automated, whose skills
do not compound, whose habits of mind were shaped for a world that no longer
exists. They are the ones who find themselves increasingly managed by
algorithms rather than collaborating with them.
Cowen’s bifurcation is not a prophecy of doom. It is a
description of incentives. And incentives, once established, shape culture.
II. The Age of AI: Cowen’s Thesis Comes of Age
When Cowen wrote Average Is Over, artificial
intelligence was still largely confined to specialized domains—chess engines,
recommendation algorithms, predictive models. The idea that machines could
write, reason, or converse with human fluency belonged to science fiction. But
the arrival of generative AI has changed the landscape. What was once
theoretical is now quotidian.
AI now drafts memos, analyzes data, summarizes research,
generates images, composes music, and assists in scientific discovery. It is
not merely a tool; it is a collaborator. And in this new environment, Cowen’s
distinction between those who add value to machines and those who do not
becomes the defining fault line of modern life.
The question is no longer whether AI will reshape the labor
market. It already has. The question is how individuals and institutions will
respond.
Some will treat AI as a shortcut—a way to avoid thinking, to
outsource judgment, to replace effort with automation. They will become passive
consumers of algorithmic output. They will drift toward the second group in
Cowen’s schema, not because they lack intelligence, but because they lack
agency.
Others will treat AI as a research assistant, a thinking
partner, a tool for amplifying their own judgment. They will remain authors of
their work. They will use AI to deepen their understanding, accelerate their
learning, and expand their creative range. They will inhabit the first
group—not because they are inherently superior, but because they have chosen to
remain active participants in their own formation.
Cowen’s bifurcation is not about intelligence. It is about
posture.
III. The Moral Imagination in a Machine Age
Cowen’s argument is often read as a purely economic thesis,
but its implications are moral. If the future belongs to those who complement
machines, then the future belongs to those who cultivate certain
virtues—curiosity, discipline, adaptability, humility, and the willingness to
learn.
These are not technical skills. They are moral habits.
The moral imagination becomes essential in a world where
machines can generate plausible answers to almost any question. The danger is
not that AI will deceive us. The danger is that we will deceive ourselves—by
mistaking fluency for truth, speed for understanding, and convenience for
wisdom.
To add value to a machine is to bring something the machine
cannot supply: judgment, conscience, historical memory, empathy, and the
capacity to interpret human experience. These are not optional. They are the
very qualities that prevent us from becoming spectators in our own lives.
Cowen’s winners are not merely economically successful. They
are morally awake.
IV. Institutions in the Age of AI
Cowen’s thesis also has institutional implications.
Institutions—schools, universities, corporations, governments—must decide
whether they will cultivate complementarity or complacency.
Institutions that treat AI as a replacement for human
judgment will hollow themselves out. They will become brittle, reactive, and
dependent on systems they do not understand. They will produce graduates and
workers who are technically proficient but morally unformed.
Institutions that treat AI as a tool for formation will
thrive. They will teach students to think with machines without surrendering
their agency. They will train leaders who can navigate complexity, interpret
ambiguity, and make decisions under uncertainty. They will cultivate a culture
of curiosity, experimentation, and moral seriousness.
The future of institutions depends on whether they can form
people who add value to machines.
V. The Temptation of Cheapness
Cowen’s most unsettling prediction is not the rise of a
high-performing elite. It is the emergence of a large class of people who live
on “cheap food, cheap rent, and cheap fun.” This is not a dystopia. It is a
seduction.
Cheapness is not merely an economic condition. It is a
cultural disposition. It is the temptation to trade agency for comfort, effort
for entertainment, formation for distraction. It is the temptation to let
algorithms curate our desires, shape our attention, and define our sense of the
possible.
In the age of AI, cheapness becomes a moral hazard. It
offers the illusion of abundance without the discipline of growth. It offers
the appearance of knowledge without the labor of understanding. It offers the
comfort of passivity without the dignity of authorship.
Cowen’s warning is not about poverty. It is about drift.
VI. Agency as the Dividing Line
If Cowen is right, the dividing line between the two groups
is not intelligence, education, or social class. It is agency.
Agency is the willingness to take responsibility for one’s
own formation. It is the refusal to outsource judgment. It is the discipline to
learn continuously, to adapt, to experiment, to remain curious. It is the
courage to remain a participant rather than a spectator.
AI amplifies agency. It also amplifies its absence.
Those who bring agency to AI will find their capacities
multiplied. Those who do not will find themselves increasingly shaped by
systems they do not control.
Cowen’s bifurcation is not a fate. It is a choice.
VII. The Work of Formation
The deeper question is how individuals cultivate the habits
that allow them to complement machines. This is the work of formation—slow,
deliberate, and often invisible.
Formation requires:
- reading
widely and deeply
- engaging
with history
- practicing
moral discernment
- cultivating
intellectual humility
- learning
to ask better questions
- developing
the discipline to revise one’s own thinking
These are not tasks that AI can perform for us. They are
tasks that AI can assist, but not replace. They require a posture of
attentiveness, a willingness to wrestle with complexity, and a commitment to
truth.
Formation is the antidote to cheapness.
VIII. The Future of Leadership
Cowen’s thesis also reshapes our understanding of
leadership. In a world where machines can generate answers, leadership is no
longer about possessing information. It is about interpreting it. It is about
making judgments that machines cannot make—judgments about people,
institutions, values, and the common good.
Leaders in the age of AI must be:
- morally
serious
- ethically
and historically grounded
- humanely
educated
- institutionally
literate
- attentive
to human complexity
- capable
of integrating technology without surrendering agency
Leadership becomes less about expertise and more about
character.
Cowen’s winners are not merely high performers. They are
stewards.
IX. The Human Future in a Machine Age
Cowen’s argument is often criticized for being too
deterministic, too accepting of inequality, too resigned to a bifurcated
future. But this criticism misses the point. Cowen is not prescribing a future.
He is describing the incentives that shape it.
The question is not whether the bifurcation will occur. It
already has. The question is how we respond.
We can respond with resignation, treating AI as an
inevitability that diminishes human agency. Or we can respond with
responsibility, treating AI as a tool that expands human possibility.
The future belongs to those who choose the latter.
X. Conclusion: The Work Ahead
Cowen’s Average Is Over is not a manifesto. It is a
mirror. It reflects the world we are building and the people we are becoming.
It forces us to confront the moral and institutional consequences of a
technological age.
The challenge is not to resist AI. The challenge is to
remain human in its presence—to cultivate the virtues that allow us to
complement machines without becoming subordinate to them. The challenge is to
build institutions that form people capable of agency, judgment, and moral
imagination. The challenge is to resist the seduction of cheapness and embrace
the discipline of growth.
Cowen’s bifurcation is not destiny. It is a call to
formation.
The age of AI has begun. The question is whether we will
meet it as spectators or as stewards.
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