THE MIKE MULLIGAN MOMENT

By ROBERT WRIGHT

In the week since computers became the best chess-playing species on earth, we homo sapiens have proved that we remain world champs in at least one cognitive domain: rationalizing defeat. While Garry Kasparov was spending his post-match press conference accusing IBM of cheating, commentators around the world were finding other ways to minimize Deep Blue's triumph. CHESS, SHMESS! COMPUTERS STILL CAN'T HANDLE THE TOUGH STUFF, said the headline on a Boston Globe article that noted how much trouble machines have understanding a sentence or telling a dog from a cat. Britain's Daily Telegraph observed that computers "cannot be properly original" and that there is still no "decent tennis-playing robot." Thus were the Telegraph's readers assured that they and their kind remain "nature's last word."

Maybe the idea here was to dampen the economic insecurity induced by Deep Blue. During the Kasparov match, there were many references to John Henry, who in legend died trying to defend his job against the incessant march of technology--in his case, the steam-powered drill. After pondering that outcome, and Deep Blue's triumph, people naturally find it reassuring to be reminded that chess is an artificial endeavor, hardly central to our lives or our livelihoods, and that computers still can't make meaningful small talk.

But the reassurance is false, because computers don't take people's jobs by acting like people. There's no mistaking an automated-teller machine for a bank teller. Bank tellers can tell cats from dogs and play tennis--which they have plenty of time to do after they lose their jobs to ATMs. And the Website where I just bought some running shoes looks nothing at all like a salesperson at the Athlete's Foot. Similarly, if given the choice between lunch with an accountant and lunch with Turbotax, who among us would opt for Turbotax? (O.K., maybe a few people would.) But lunchtime conversation isn't what we want from an accountant anyway.

Often computers, rather than out-and-out stealing their victim's job, just nibble around the edges. The Bell Atlantic directory-assistance operator hasn't been entirely replaced. But with a machine asking you what listing you're after and then giving you the number, and the operator uttering about 4.6 words in between, fewer operators are needed. Even tax-preparation software works that way when accountants themselves use it instead of their old adding machine--the software raises their productivity, thus dampening demand for new accountants. (The use of professionals for tax preparation has so grown in recent decades, though, that you won't see many accountants in breadlines.)

In this sense, the real-world competition is rarely human vs. machine, as it was with Kasparov. It's one kind of tool vs. another kind of tool.Thus the steam drill wasn't really challenging John Henry; it was challenging his sledgehammer. It's the guy using the steam drill who was challenging John Henry. Similarly, the bank teller's competitor is not so much the atm as the people who design the machine or those who build it or service it. Functionally speaking, they're just bank tellers using new tools. And that's all the old bank teller really needs: new tools--skill as an ATM programmer or servicer.

Of course, this is the refrain of technology's cheerleaders. Jobs don't disappear. They just change. Nimble people with can-do spirit can always find a new one. And on average, the jobs pay better and better. Life gets easier and easier. Actually, I'm one of technology's cheerleaders. Forced to choose between hunting buffalo with a bow and arrow and microwaving a cheese-steak hoagie, I'll take the sandwich. On balance, progress does make things better, at least materially, for most people. But the costs are real. Converting someone from a teller to an ATM servicer is not easy or cheap. And if we as a society are going to meet the challenge, we should avoid dubious reassurance about the impregnable uniqueness of our species.

After Kasparov's loss, a Wall Street Journal editorial issued a stern warning against viewing technology as a threat ("Sierra Club thinking"). After all, the Journal reminded us, Deep Blue is a product of human genius. So buck up! When you turnpike-toll takers lose your jobs to E-ZPass and other electronic systems, just remember: E-ZPass is a product of human genius. There. Feel better?

The Journal also noted that computers like Deep Blue can invent new drugs by "sorting quickly through hundreds of chemical combinations that once required months of human tedium." Well, as some toll takers might observe, one human's tedium is another human's job. And although automating the tedious does raise average wages over time, it can lower wages for people with obsolete skills.

In the end, John Henry is too dramatic a metaphor. People rarely die trying to outrun technology. They usually adapt, moving either up the skills-and-income scale or down it. Perhaps a better metaphor is Virginia Lee Burton's classic children's story of Mike Mulligan and his steam shovel, Mary Anne. Outmoded by diesel models, Mary Anne retires in the cellar she has just dug for the new town hall. She becomes the building's heater. And Mike Mulligan finds gainful employment, though not by mastering diesel technology. He works contentedly alongside Mary Anne, as a janitor.