Precarity is a part of life. It cannot be escaped from, even if modernity has attempted to minimise its most animalistic forms. More of us live longer than previously, we are generally richer and have access to more material things. On the surface at least, it looks like precarity at its most fundamental level has been assuaged. Yet professional, social and psychological precarity still haunts us.

As Adam Phillips argues in Missing Out, our lives are a collection of lives not lived, lives which we imagine we could have had and pretend what could have been. This process can stir up conflicting emotions — anger, sorrow, happiness, and even fear. This is always to some extent true — it always has been and always will be. However, in our atomised world, it is more true than ever before. We have been told that we can achieve anything, while also being separated from our social roots, which exaggerates and disorients our sense of desire.

John Gray argues in Liberalism that free markets underpin economic freedom in a way which no other system possibly can. For Gray, controlling our own labour and being directed towards a purpose we desire is the primary way to achieve our own ends. Not unlike Phillips, Gray draws upon our competing desires to illustrate that we ourselves can act upon our own wants which institutions themselves cannot possibly fully capture. Thinkers as diverse as Hayek and Oakeshott have also defended the principle of free markets on the grounds that the alternatives are simply worse. 

Today, we are told that we should be flexible, moving from job to job, place to place, and partner to partner

Yet, it should be obvious to us all that this vision cannot guarantee freedom to act for many of us. Instead, it can only guarantee freedom for those in the right circumstances. From George Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris and London to James Bloodworth’s Hired we can see the illusory nature of the freedom being offered by the supposedly gracious hand of the market. Far from guaranteeing freedom, these conditions merely stave off the abject condition of slavery.

Today, we are told that we should be flexible, moving from job to job, place to place, and partner to partner, filling our lives and our souls with precarity. Insecure work now affects more than 6 million people in the UK — ranging from those in the food service industry to the creative arts. The proliferation of so-called “gig economy” work helps entrench an already existing economic hierarchy. This can trap people into a cycle of insecure employment where breaking out of work which barely pays the rent becomes more and more difficult. Inevitably this leads to stress, unhappiness and an inability to develop. 

I have experienced this process myself. Having taken 10 years in education to finish my BA, MA, and PhD, I am now coming towards the end of a 10 month teaching contract. My sector, which is in the midst of a generational reshuffling, is contracting hard and fast. Universities which collected PhD students akin to how a magpie collects shiny objects now have no real means of employing even close to half of those they trained. 

The result is disastrous for institutions and those affected. Trust has been eroded and feelings of disappointment and anger have risen to the surface. Unable to put down roots, enter relationships on an equal basis or acquire peace of mind we are stuck in a purgatory-like existence. 

If you’re fearing for your own future, how can you reliably look after anyone else’s?

Precarity necessarily makes it more difficult to do your job. If you’re fearing for your own future, how can you reliably look after anyone else’s? Always having one thing on your mind makes you a preoccupied mentor, an average writer, and an inefficient researcher. Always looking over your shoulder for the next paycheque withholds the spirit of proper labour, short-changing everyone involved. Precarity breeds the opposite of what it is supposed to. Far from thriving you struggle to survive. 

This may appear like playing the world’s smallest violin. After all, surely jobs which are desirable, such as those in academia, should be highly competitive and only go to the select few who can fill them? This type of precarity surely cannot be compared to the type James Bloodworth describes of Amazon workers. This is to some extent true. Academic precarity cannot be compared to a warehouse or a call centre when it comes to the actual work. But both types of work are increasingly subject to hyper-precarity. 

The focus on increasing production has led to degrading conditions, intermittent work, and little chance of forging community relations amongst workers. The result is an atomised workforce, left with little but concern about where the next paycheque will come from. 

Constant monitoring and the insistence unrealistic targets further entrench the feelings of insecurity. Far from being supported in their goals they are merely fighting against time. Precarity makes people put the job first, above all else, and at the expense of their other valuable traits. 

Precarity as a whole cannot be stopped. Yet, we should not incentivise or encourage precarity to emerge unnecessarily. Precarity, especially in its extreme form, is a pernicious system undermining our very best traits. Indeed, it fails on its own terms. Far from securing a strong and dynamic workforce it creates fear, anxiety and loneliness, undermining the best a workforce can be.