Against bullshit jobs and bullshitis: a call for anarchisation

In 2013, anarchist and anthropologist David Graeber published his essay ‘On the phenomenon of bullshit jobs: a work rant’ which, against his own expectations, caused a bit of a shit storm and had more than a million views. Many people contacted Graeber to share their views and experiences. There were those who admitted that they felt like they were in bullshit jobs. Then there were others who were outraged and indignant, and who thought that Graeber’s theory was itself downright bullshit. In 2018, Graeber published an entire book on the matter: ‘Bullshit jobs: the rise of pointless work and what we can do about it’ . The term ‘bullshit jobs’ has become as common as the phenomenon itself.

I share Graeber’s outrage about the proliferation of bullshit jobs and the lack of effective action to counteract it. Consider this essay therefore a continuation of his rant; although it can’t do full justice to Graeber’s book, which deserves your full attention if you wish to develop a thorough understanding of what exactly bullshit jobs are and why they continue to exist. I use Graeber’s work as a foundation, and propose a call for direct and immediate action, drawing on anarcho-syndicalist organisational principles, encouraging ‘anarchisation’ without having to be(come) an anarchist.

Ten years on from the publication of his essay, despite a pandemic that could have been (and briefly looked like) a moment of reset, the levels of bullshit still seem to be increasing. In 2021, following the global outbreak of COVID-19, a phenomenon called ‘The Great Resignation’ or ‘The Big Quit’ occurred. Large numbers of employees voluntarily quit their jobs because of a deep-rooted dissatisfaction, ranging from a lack of flexibility, challenging working environments, low wages, etc. The pandemic had led many to rethink their work-life balance and with that, employees started asking existential questions about their professional activities. Yet, in August 2023, the BBC reported that The Great Resignation seems to be over and that there are significant indicators that we are back to ‘business as usual’, partly explained by increasing global economic instability. Or: bullshit is back after never really having left.

I will start with an outline of what exactly bullshit jobs are, who might be doing them and why they are harmful, using bullshit examples from my own professional context. Then, I will propose a way forward and an alternative to what seems to be cognitive dissonance about bullshit jobs, drawing on anarcho-syndicalist organisational principles, and calling for a certain level of ‘anarchisation’ to resist, sabotage and transgress bullshit jobs, and neoliberal structures more generally. By first recovering anarchism from its difficult reputation, I will illustrate how anarcho-syndicalist principles, largely based on the work of Rudolph Rocker, can function against and provide a way out of bullshit jobs. I will provide some concrete examples of recent events that are based on anarcho-syndicalist principles, and from there, provide suggestions for what we can do, individually as well as with others, to sabotage, destroy and transgress bullshit (in our) jobs by putting anarcho-syndicalist principles to work. It is also my hope that anarchist practices more generally, can be re-valued, thereby also speaking to non-anarchists who might wish to engage in certain levels, big or small, of anarchisation in an attempt to build alternative worlds in the present.

A reminder: What exactly are bullshit jobs and why are they proliferating?

A bullshit job, according to Graeber (2018), ‘is a form of paid employment that is so completely pointless, unnecessary or pernicious that even the employee cannot justify its existence even though, as part of the conditions of employment, the employee feels obligated to pretend that this is not the case’ (p. 9–10). Graeber identified five types of bullshit jobs and identified finance, business administration, marketing, insurance, in particular in middle management, as common sectors with a proliferation of such roles. This does not imply that, at the top of the hierarchy, there is no bullshit whatsoever, yet those at the top very often perceive their jobs as meaningful and useful to society despite ample evidence against it.

When Graeber first published his essay and later, expanding his research whilst working towards the publication of his book, he received numerous testimonials from employees across the globe who described various levels of meaninglessness in their own jobs. Corporate lawyers, deans of faculty, interface administrators, project coordinators, public service engineers, pitchers, IT professionals, consultants, … people from the most diverse range of fields and contexts admitted that their jobs were largely meaningless and felt that their jobs did not contribute to society. Graeber (2018) poignantly describes the financial sector as being one of the biggest large-scale bullshit scams since ‘it represents itself as largely about directing investments toward profitable opportunities in commerce and industry, when, in fact, it does very little of that. The overwhelming bulk of its profits comes from colluding with government to create, and then to trade and manipulate, various forms of debt’ (p. 150–151).

It is important to distinguish bullshit jobs from shit jobs. Bullshit jobs are done by white collar, salaried employees as opposed to blue collar workers who are paid by the hour (Graeber, 2018). The latter are very often in shit jobs due to extremely low wages, hostile working environments, lack of benefits, etc. Yet, a shit job can have more meaning and purpose than bullshit jobs, as in many cases, those in shit jobs contribute directly and meaningfully to society. Think of waste collectors, janitors, cooks, nurses, social workers, teachers.

When asked, pretty much every paid worker wholeheartedly wishes for their job to have purpose. Most individuals have a desire to contribute meaningfully to a larger cause and a positive society: no one voluntarily wants to create or contribute to (bull)shit. Of course, the question remains what it means for a job to be really meaningful, but I will return to this later. What is also revelatory about Graeber’s work — and goes against the assumptions of many — is that very few enjoy bullshit work, even if they are well paid. Turning up to the office to spend an entire day doing meaningless or very little work, backed by a significant paycheck, makes people miserable. And yet, people seem to find it hard to quit their bullshit jobs, as they come with a certain level of prestige and the reputation of being ‘successful’. Their environment perceives them as accomplished professionals, and these jobs also pay for the increasing cost of living. Walking away from bullshit jobs thus seems challenging for many.

Graeber dedicates an entire chapter to analysing possible causes of the proliferation of bullshit jobs as well as the increasing ‘bullshitisation of useful forms of employment’ (Graeber, 2018, p. 146). It is not possible here to do justice to his rich analysis, but I nevertheless would like to mention a couple of the important causes he discusses. One is the rise of the service economy wherein ‘information services’ take up the bulk of the sector. Another very significant cause is the idea that in a neoliberal, capitalist society everyone must have paid employment to be a productive and ‘useful’ member of society. The very fact that one has salaried work is the pinnacle of a successful life. Whether employment contributes meaningfully and positively to society is not really relevant.

I am convinced that pretty much everyone reading this essay will recognise (some of) these factors and will probably admit that they are also experiencing increasing levels of bullshitisation, even in what could be generally considered as meaningful jobs. I am one of them and would like to illustrate this with an example from a recent professional experience.

The Audit Disaster

I work as a lecturer and researcher at a university of applied sciences in the Netherlands. Earlier this year, our department was subject to an obligatory audit (a phenomenon extensively described by Michael Power (1994) in his book The Audit Explosion). Many will be familiar with and might have experienced some kind of audit process themselves. The proliferation of audits is not coincidentally congruent with the proliferation of information services, but I am digressing.

The audit mechanism at our university works as follows: audits happen in a five year cycle with a mid-term audit after 2,5 years (which presumably prepares you for and helps you to ‘make it through’ the actual audit). The audit is carried out over several days by an external audit panel that has been provided with an extensive report (printed on glossy paper and distributed widely) written by us (teaching and research staff of the relevant department/university programme) over the course of six to eight months. Based on this report, the panel interviews several groups of colleagues extensively, focusing on a set of quality criteria (for higher education) that are set at a national level. Our university has an internal department called ‘Team Quality’ that supports all programmes in their preparation for this audit: they advise, question, amend, direct and instruct with the aim that we be found — ideally — more than satisfactory for all quality domains.

Our department did not (entirely) make it through the audit, as the audit panel took issue with the way some assessments were being graded and feedback was given. What made matters worse, was that it was not really clear what exactly the issues were, as there seemed to be internal disagreement between the panel members, as well as a lack of transparent communication generally. Their ‘concerns’ about the assessments were mentioned, briefly and in passing, for the first time, during one of the last interviews. Within the department this revelation resulted in a panic, largely fed by the interventions of Team Quality who saw it as their task to instruct us about which types of documents should be created and/or dug up to salvage the audit. Once again, communication went in different directions and requests were shared with some, and not with others. All this needed to be done in a matter of days, during one of the busiest periods of the academic year.

To sum up and further clarify the entire operation and its levels of bullshit: for several months, our department, led and ‘supported’ by Team Quality, spent an astonishing amount of time and resources on preparing for this audit and ‘proving’ the high level of quality work we are delivering whilst not being able to engage in the high level quality work we should be delivering. As a result of the audit, we were told that we are not delivering the desired quality within the domain of assessment, whilst the desired level of quality remains unclear, and were instructed by ‘Team Quality’ to put together, ASAP, a pile of documents to prove the opposite. None of us involved, although critical of our own work, did not consider that the quality of our assessments was that problematic and neither did ‘Team Quality’. It was merely essential that we generated more documentation to satisfy the audit process that they had done something and we had responded. All this amidst one of the busiest times of the year: assessment time! This level of bullshitisation and meaningless work that takes away time and energy from our actual tasks (educating future teachers, no less), would have been an excellent testimonial addition to Graeber’s book.

Cognitive dissonance about bullshit jobs: a pathology called ‘bullshitis’

As the drama unfolded, it was fascinating to observe how colleagues responded. I am fortunate to work with colleagues who are very committed to teaching and developing the programme in meaningful and creative ways. It was therefore remarkable to see how much energy many of them put into the preparations for the audit, developing a discourse that suited the operation, and how upset and scared they were when hearing the verdict about the assessments. What was even more remarkable, however, was how pretty much everyone involved in the process complained about the way the audit process had been carried out, how inappropriate and intrusive ‘Team Quality’ had behaved and how pointless much of the audit work had been. There was almost unanimous agreement about the high levels of bullshit that made up the entire process. Yet, these conversations largely happened off the record, over coffee or wine, during commutes or WhatsApp conversations, whilst on the record and simultaneously, most colleagues continued working hard on offering crisis responses to the Audit Disaster. It was a classic example of cognitive dissonance, represented by the last section of Graeber’s definition that employees feel obligated to pretend that the bullshit of their jobs is not the case .

In our case, the values of colleagues, as demonstrated by their disdain expressed in private moments was not aligned with their behaviour in professional moments where they worked and scrambled to support the audit.

How is this possible? How can intelligent and highly educated employees allow for and buy into so much bullshitisation whilst also thoroughly disdaining the entire audit process? Part of this can be explained by the earlier mentioned factor of the feeling of accomplishment and success that comes with paid employment and what is more, in the Netherlands, salaries of university employees are often significantly higher than elsewhere, so working at a university actually also pays the bills (as opposed to the situation of colleagues in academia elsewhere).

I would like to add another factor, something that in Dutch would be described with the beautiful long word ‘handelingsverlegenheid’ (freely translated as ‘shy to act’): despite the fact that colleagues in our department work fairly autonomously and have the authority to make certain decisions, they seem to suffer from paralysis and anxiety when situations like the one described above occur. They become submissive, anxious and stressed, and feel too ‘shy to act’, especially when their actions would mean going against the expectations of management. I would like to call this pathology ‘bullshitis’: to be in cognitive dissonance about bullshit which results in paralysis and the inability to act against it.

Why bullshit jobs are harmful

The increasing levels of bullshitisation and the growing pathology of bullshitis in a world that urgently requires a radically different response with regard to climate, health, politics, economy and thus also (the purpose of) employment, are very concerning. This brings us back to the earlier posed question about what exactly makes a job meaningful and therefore also what it means to meaningfully contribute to society and to live well. Kate Soper (2020) summarises aptly what kind of citizenship we need when she says that we need to embrace ‘duties towards and concerns for the wider community, including the well-being of future generations and the planet’ (p. 77). I would suggest this applies just as much to the kind of employment we need. Amidst catastrophic weather events, financial instability, wealth diseases and overpopulation, it seems totally inappropriate and unethical to contribute to growth, productivity and progress, elements that lie at the heart of the capitalist, managerial neoliberal discourses that rule the world. Bullshit jobs are entirely immersed in these discourses and are essential to keep these discourses going. The meaninglessness of these jobs is therefore not harmless, but harmful. Indeed, it seems easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism, as Mark Fischer, inspired by Fredric Jameson and Slavoj Zizek, famously stated.

And yet, alternatives are possible.

Responding to the bullshit

In his book, Graeber proposes the Universal Basic Income (UBI) as one possible response to and action against bullshit jobs as well as capitalist, managerial and neoliberal discourses. There is a lot of merit in this idea and Graeber is joined by others, such as economist and politician Yanis Varoufakis and Dutch historian Rutger Bregman who is an avid advocate of UBI. In a 2016 talk on the future of work, Varoufakis makes a very strong argument for UBI (and against bullshit jobs) when he says ‘the right to turn down a job is essential as desperate people will do desperate things’. Producing bullshit against one’s will and desire (bullshitis) can quite obviously be considered as desperate.

Bregman, in a range of different publications (see for example this article), extensively discusses successful examples of UBI initiatives in recent history (see for example Brazil) and lays out very strong and convincing arguments for UBI as an alternative to the damaging structures that lead to increasing inequality, and indeed, one could also argue, to bullshitis. UBI empowers individuals to reject bullshit jobs (as well as shit jobs) by removing the financial pressure. I wholeheartedly support UBI initiatives, but in addition, would also like to think of other ways of organising ourselves individually as well as in small communities, to refuse, act against, and transgress bullshitisation, starting from direct and immediate actions in the present. What can we do now, starting from our own (professional) contexts, to act against the further development of bullshit jobs and bullshitisation?

For this, I wish to turn to anarcho-syndicalist organisational principles and, more broadly, call for ‘anarchisation’.

Anarchisation (for non-anarchists)

Anarchism suffers from an unfortunate reputation. According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, ‘anarchy’ originally meant ‘without archon’ (‘without leader’) and was used in the 16th century as a synonym for ‘absence of government’. However, in contemporary usage, anarchy has come to mean chaos, lack of rules, disorder because of its associations with terrorism, violence and revolution. This shift in meaning also indicates that popularly, there is an assumption that the absence of government leads to chaos and that the presence of a top-down governmental structure is a necessary condition to govern ourselves (Chaterlier & Van dermijnsbrugge, 2022; Van dermijnsbrugge, 2023). This need not be the case.

The original interpretation creates possibilities to conceive of anarchism as a general political philosophy and daily practice functioning as ‘liberation of peoples from political domination and economic exploitation by the encouragement of direct or non-governmental action’ (Kinna, 2005, p. 3). It is offering a view on human existence that is centred around relationality, interconnectedness and solidarity. Anarchism challenges oppressive structures and domination through a commitment to bottom-up social transformation and direct action, underpinned by principles of self-governance, mutual aid and participatory democracy (Suissa, 2006). An anarchist approach, according to Suissa (2006), ‘does not simply concern “blueprints for single institutions”, but sees in the very act of restructuring human relationships within such institutions (the school, the workplace), a creative act of engaging with the restructuring of society as a whole’ (p. 139). This brings us back to the earlier point about what it means for an individual as well as an organisation or institution to meaningfully contribute to a positive society. For anarchists this involves a society without oppression and domination and most definitely a society free from bullshit jobs that function as enablers of meaningless, often oppressive structures. The financial sector, as earlier mentioned, is a classic example of being entirely built around a single, oppressive structure: creating and maintaining debt. Anarchism is driven by an ethical discourse (Graeber, 2004, loc. 62) and anarchists ‘like to distinguish themselves by what they do, and how they organise themselves to go about doing it’ (loc. 53–54). Anarchism, in this sense, can be more broadly understood as a way to ethically self-organise and act, and can therefore also be practiced by non-anarchists. A certain level of anarchisation can help non-anarchists to resist, transgress and act against bullshit jobs.

It is exactly this kind of self-organisation, drawing on anarcho-syndicalist organisational practices, that I wish to explore further as a cure to bullshitis.

Recovering anarcho-syndicalism

Anarcho-syndicalism emerged from the labour movement in the early 1900s (Chomsky, 1976) and was concerned with the welfare of workers and their rights to organise and govern themselves in small syndicates. Prichard (2022) notes that ‘syndicalism’ has its origins in the French syndicat — translated as ‘union’. While anarcho-syndicates have, then, a linguistic and historical connection to unionism, Prichard also notes that in English, syndicalism ‘signifies a more radical grass roots, bottom-up industrial unionism, encompassing all trades in a workplace, rather than the top-down, specialist trade unionism we are more accustomed to today’ (p. 34). The prefix anarcho is also important in its function of working against the possibility for syndicates to centralise power. As German anarchist and activist Rudolph Rocker (1873–1958) described, anarcho-syndicates ‘are based on principles of solidarity and participation and have two distinct features: (1) small by intention and (2) self-governance’ (Chatelier & Van dermijnsbrugge, 2022, p.4).

To sum up, anarcho-syndicalist organisational structures function against external, oppressive authorities and allow for small groups to self-organise and engage in mutual aid (as opposed to charity), starting from direct action in the present. The notion of direct action is important as it ‘is ultimately the defiant insistence on acting as if one is already free’, to return to Graeber (2014, p. xx) once again. Free from oppression, indeed, free from bullshit. Forming anarcho-syndicates within existing organisational structures can support individuals in transgressing their shyness to act, and in feeling empowered to take direct action, big or small, towards more meaning and less bullshit.

Before going into the practicalities of how anarcho-syndicalist organisational structures can be activated in professional environments that are infested with various levels of bullshitisation, it is important to emphasise that anarcho-syndicalism has very little in common with unions as we know them today. Contemporary unions are steeped in capitalist, neoliberal logic as

‘the top-down bureaucratic nature of how the majority of the trade unions operate likely entrenches hierarchies’ (Shaw, 2023, p. 54). They are mammoth organisations that speak on behalf of the employed masses (at least those who have a paid membership), are entangled in complicated politics and levels of power, supported by intricate financial streams. Although they seem to be negotiating matters that ‘serve’ employees (e.g. pay, extra-legal benefits, number of working hours etc.), their agenda entirely follows the logic of capitalist productivity. This is the reason why there are no unions for, say for example, unpaid child carers or community gardeners. It is also important to note here that, to the extent that anarcho-syndicalism might be associated with revolution, I distance myself from this conception. Indeed, I agree with Erik Olin Wright (2019) who argues that, ‘the results of such revolutionary seizures of power, however, were never the creation of a democratic, egalitarian, emancipatory alternative to capitalism’ (p.40).

There are numerous contemporary examples of actions and social movements that are (implicitly and/or explicitly) built on anarcho-syndicalist principles and doing justice to them would require a more extensive illustration than I can do here (the work of Riannon Firth offers good insight). Here I want to point to three of the more broadly known initiatives: as Occupy Wall Street (the anti-capitalist movement that emerged in New York in 2011), Occupy Sandy (commmunity-led, small scale disaster relief set up in 2012, in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy) and the Umbrella Movement (the pro-democracy, largely student-led movement that emerged in Hong Kong in 2014 with further connections to the city-wide protests in 2019).

Each of these initiatives were grassroots, small-scale, and without hierarchy. They were often ‘providing services not offered by the state at a time of crisis’ (Shaw, 2023, p. 58) and go radically against what they consider oppressive structures from state and other external authorities. They self-organise based on a set of very simple practical principles, underpinned by an ethical responsibility towards the common good. There is neither time nor place for bullshit.

Can you start imagining what anarcho-syndicalist organisational principles and initiatives could bring about if they would be weaponised against bullshit jobs and increasing levels of bullshitisation?

In the words of Gavin Mueller (2021) in his book ‘Breaking things at work: the Luddites are right about why you hate your job’: ‘Instead of imagining a world without work that will never come to pass, we should examine the ways historical struggles posited an alternative relationship to work and liberation, where control over the labour process leads to greater control over other social processes, and where the ends of work are human enrichment rather than abstract productivity’ (p. 29).

Arm yourselve sagainst bullshit jobs: be the barricades

So, how to practically go about all this, right here and now? In what follows, I will list five practical principles and possible actions, rooted in anarcho-syndicalist ways of organising, that can help anyone to cure themselves, and possibly others, from bullshitis. It is my hope that you try these principles for yourself. You might fail at times, but you also might succeed. You might even come up with your own cure against bullshitis. You might even develop an anarchist streak in your professional practice. Whatever happens: share your findings. Act. Don’t be shy.

Find allies

Small is underestimated. Innovation and significant change usually start small, driven by an individual or a small group of people, often well away from the spotlight and the mainstream. Sometimes they build on the ideas of others, sometimes they start from scratch. What unites them is their boldness: they are not afraid of swimming upstream, are well organised and have very good reasons for undertaking their actions. They have a strong why. So, start small and find allies. Organise. Make sure you know why you are doing what you are doing. If anyone questions you: give a polite, yet firm and justified response.

Say no

Refusing to do something can be more powerful than saying yes. Say no to bullshit as much as possible. Mitigate the risks of bullshitisation. Ask difficult questions. Ask for justifications. Walk away when things smell ethically fishy.

When the verdict of the audit of our university programme fell, we were asked by Team Quality to very quickly produce a set of documents based on a pilot assessment project that we had been running for a few months. Most of the colleagues found it inappropriate to use a pilot project as a ‘salvation’ and agreed that Team Quality was asking for information that had been well communicated several times before. There was some scrambling around and a couple of colleagues desperately tried to give Team Quality — once again — what they wanted, but a small group of colleagues firmly said: NO. They refused. They had good reasons for their refusal to respond to the demands of Team Quality. They were professionals and felt like it. Very soon, others started to say no too. They felt empowered, and in the end, Team Quality did not get what they asked for. It was a victory.

Sabotage

Gavin Mueller (2021) draws on the practices of the 19th century movement of the Luddites who engaged in acts of sabotage in an attempt to be less productive and to engage in purposeful ‘withdrawal of efficiency by a competent worker’ (p. xxx). Sabotage, in this context, did not mean to destroy infrastructure or engage in meaningless violence: it meant a deliberate going against increasing levels of productivity that came with working in textile factories. Efficiency and productivity are still core values of the capitalist neoliberal economy and, although contradictory at times, even those in bullshit jobs or those dealing with increasing levels of bullshitisation, are expected to be productive and efficient, always, in everything. Productivity is the unquestionable neoliberal dynamic which puts ever increasing levels of pressure on individuals, communities and the planet. It is past time to sabotage: slow down, decrease your efficiency, for the sake of yourself, others, and the planet.

Assume possibility, demand the impossible

We often hear the phrase ‘I would love to do X, but this is not possible’. Employees easily and unquestioningly assume that certain things are not possible or not allowed: they heard someone say this; they thought they read it in a document somewhere; they are sure that the manager will not like X, etc. And thus no one has ever tried X. Yet, when investigating what actually has been put on paper about things that have to be done (in a certain way), often not much can be found and very little is officialised. Nevertheless, employees have stopped imagining things otherwise, assuming that there is no alternative to ‘the way things happen around here’, that contributing to bullshit is simply the way things are. Well, guess what: your assumptions might be wrong. To use the legendary phrase of the 1968 uprisings: ‘Be realistic, demand the impossible’. Go on, and try.

Be the barricades

It is not enough to build the barricades and keep the authorities (managers, bullshit, productivity, …) out. Very little happens when you find yourself in a trench war against bullshit. It matters then what you do on the other side of the barricade; the action you take, together; how you self-organise. Protest is good, action is better: refuse, interrupt, sabotage, prevent, organise. Now is as good a time as any. Our task is simple and is summarised perfectly by Scott Branson (2022) in the introduction to their book ‘Practical anarchism: a guide for daily life’:

We can’t wait for the perfect moment to start living; we can’t expect a pure revolutionary change in which we leave the old world behind for good. We have to work with what is in front of us; we have to prepare ourselves to live lives that promote our freedom and everyone else’s too. We must refuse their terms, but we can use the resources at hand to re-envision what life could really be. (p. 7)

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