Aykırı Medya
Labour and Economy

Whose Labour Is Visible, Whose Is Not?

Some work steps onto the stage with its results; other work is noticed only when it is not done. Visibility is not a neutral light falling after labour; it is a resource distributed by the power inside an institution.

The person who gives the presentation at a meeting is applauded; those who prepared the data, corrected the text, arranged the room and solved every problem in advance are usually not remembered. When a company succeeds the manager’s vision is discussed; the knowledge employees accumulated over years, the care that made it possible for them to work, and the infrastructure society provided fall outside the story of success. Visibility is not merely a matter of appreciation. Which labour is seen also determines who will gain wages, promotion, security and the right to decide. Some work steps onto the stage with its results, while other work is noticed only when it is not done.

Work whose result is seen and whose process disappears

The modern work regime loves measurable outputs. Sales figures, completed files, lines of code, units produced and customer ratings are easily reported. Preventing a crisis before it appears, quietly helping a new colleague, reducing tension within a team, or slowing down at the right moment through experience does not appear in the table. Unmeasured activities are taken as a natural part of the job; that they require time and skill is forgotten.

This invisibility pushes the worker towards producing the signs that are measured. A person learns to make their work visible before doing it well. Speaking in meetings, generating email traffic and appearing constantly busy become valuable. Deep thinking, care, cooperation and the prevention of error can fall behind. The more an institution treats what it can measure as real, the more employees produce behaviour suited to measurement; in the end the indicator takes the place of the work.

Why is care labour taken as natural?

Cooking, cleaning, and the care of children and the elderly inside the home are indispensable for life to continue. Even so this work is usually seen as the natural result of love, of womanhood or of being a family. Because money does not change hands it does not count as work; the person doing it is considered to be “at home.” While the ability of waged workers to return to the job the next day rests on this labour, the economy keeps it outside its calculation of costs.

The same repeats at work. Whoever takes the notes at a meeting, remembers birthdays, welcomes the newcomer and softens tension is often a woman; because these are not counted as official duties they do not turn into promotion. Emotional labour is presented as a natural talent, as though “that’s just their personality.” Yet appearing constantly understanding, hiding one’s anger and attending to others’ comfort consumes energy. Labour taken as natural is more exposed to remaining unpaid or low-paid.

The distance between clean work and dirty work

Society keeps some work not only low-paid but out of sight. Rubbish collection, sewerage, slaughterhouses, mining, seasonal agriculture and migrant labour make the comfort of city life possible; yet the people who do this work rarely find a place in the public story. The consumer sees the clean, packaged product and not the danger, the poor housing and the bodily wear behind it. Comfort rests on the cost being carried elsewhere, by another body.

Invisibility is no accident. When the real conditions of work become visible, the moral cost of cheapness and speed appears too. Supply chains are therefore divided into layers, subcontractors disperse responsibility, and the institution places distance between the main brand and bad conditions. Everyone appears responsible only for a small contract; nobody takes responsibility for the whole life the worker lives.

Whose name is written on the product?

In the production of knowledge and culture too, visibility is unequally distributed. On the cover of the book is the author, on the film poster the star, in the story of a technological product the founder. Editors, research assistants, translators, technicians and those who produced the basic knowledge years ago with public funding remain in the background. The story of individual genius gathers collective production under a single name. That name gains more resources and more say, while the contribution of the unseen does not turn into future opportunity.

At work, too, whoever first voices an idea and whoever makes it workable may be different people. When a person in a powerful position restates another’s proposal in a meeting, the idea can be remembered under their name. Whose word will be listened to depends not only on content but on title, gender, language and social credibility. Visibility is not a neutral light falling after labour; it is a resource distributed by the power inside the institution.

Is making visible enough?

Thanking invisible labour matters but is not enough on its own. People applauded as “hero workers” may continue with low pay, insecurity and exclusion from decisions. When appreciation takes the place of material and political rights it becomes a new form of exploitation. Labour becoming visible acquires meaning when its time enters the account of work, when it is paid for, when its burden is shared and when those who do it have a say over the process.

Making every kind of labour permanently visible on a performance screen is not the solution either. This time the worker must prove themselves without pause and loses their privacy. What we need is not more intense surveillance but fair institutions that accept the limits of measurement. These questions are simple but opening: when a task is not done, who notices? Whose comfort rests on another’s unseen effort? Do praise, pay, security and the right to decide go to the same people? When invisible labour becomes visible, if we are not ready to change how the relation is built rather than merely to say thank you, the stage lights shift while the order stays in place.

Share

Comments · No comments

To comment, please log in.

  • No comments yet. Be the first to comment.

Newsletter

Leave your email to hear about new writings.