The details from 404 Media regarding Amazon’s LAS8 facility — where workers remove spines from books, scan them, and discard the remains — have caused widespread shock. The rumoured internal logo, depicting a tyrannosaurus devouring an open book, is more than just dark humour; it symbolises the relationship between capital and culture. The key point is not the gruesome imagery or the destruction of rare books but that this process is not unusual. It exemplifies capitalism’s fundamental principle: turning all human labor, creativity, and cultural heritage into raw materials for profit.
Capital views only inputs, not the rarity or scholarly value
of a first edition, a rare monograph, or a fragile volume. It ignores the loss
of centuries of intellectual effort because it measures only the rate of
return. The destruction of books to develop AI isn't a flaw in the technology;
rather, it's how the technology functions within capitalist social relations.
The irony of “uncontaminated” text
The AI industry’s demand for pre-digital books highlights a
deeper contradiction. As noted, these books are valued because they are
“uncontaminated'—free from the recursive errors and stylistic decline caused
when AI models are trained on AI-generated texts. This situation exemplifies a
system consuming itself. The companies flooding the internet with
machine-produced content now have to destroy physical books to access untainted
text, as their digital outputs have compromised the quality of the digital commons,
effectively strip-mining humanity's intellectual heritage.
This is more than just irony; it vividly illustrates a core
contradiction highlighted by Marx: as productive forces evolve, they surpass
the social relations that regulate them. While AI has the potential to broaden
human knowledge, remove monotonous tasks, and make culture more accessible,
within capitalism it largely accelerates the erosion of cultural heritage and
deepens exploitation.
Who owns the accumulated knowledge of humanity?
Tom Hall emphasises that AI systems are built upon the
collective labour, knowledge, and creative outputs of millions of workers. This
is especially true for the books destroyed at LAS8, whose contents—including
scientific discoveries, literary works, and historical scholarship—represent
the intellectual labour of humans across generations. These works are social
products, created collectively and meant for universal access. However, under
capitalism, they are regarded as a “finite and depleting resource” to be
privately exploited by companies like Amazon, Anthropic, and others. After
their informational content is extracted, the physical copies are often
discarded as waste.
This isn't simply a copyright dispute; it's about who owns
humanity’s collective intellectual legacy. The solution isn't to stop AI
progress—such reactionary calls divert blame from capitalism and target the
technology itself. As Trotsky emphasised, technology represents a fundamental
victory for humanity. While machines may oppress workers, workers can
ultimately achieve liberation only through machines. The real question isn't
whether AI should exist but rather under what social conditions, in whose
interests, and who should control it.
A key insight from the 404 Media investigation is that it
relied on anonymous Amazon workers who risked personal safety to testify. This
highlights a recurring point the WSWS emphasises: beneath every element of
“automation,” human labour exists—hidden from public view and controlled
entirely by corporate interests. The workers at VGT3, who cut spines and feed
scanners, are part of a global workforce that also labels training data,
moderates toxic content, and performs routine tasks critical to AI development.
Their work is vital yet often deliberately kept out of sight.
The revelation about Amazon did not come from regulators but
was uncovered by a $29 AirTag and a proactive reporter, which itself highlights
a problem. No laws require Amazon, Anthropic, Google, or OpenAI to reveal what
data they scan, delete, or how they protect rare materials. The industry’s own
explanation of its actions surfaces only when it is compelled to disclose
information—and even then, often through vague corporate statements.
Amazon’s statement, which claims to “purchase books through
commercial channels to help develop and improve the products and services our
customers use,” is a carefully crafted avoidance. It omits any mention of AI,
destruction, or why a company primarily selling books now runs a facility
focused on their disassembly.
Removing rare books to train AI models does not indicate a
regulatory failure. It cannot be addressed solely through disclosure
requirements, cultural heritage protections, or ethical guidelines — although
these measures might temporarily lessen the harm. Instead, it reflects the core
conflict between the social nature of production and the private ownership of
its outcomes.
Humanity's accumulated knowledge is a social creation, and
the technology that makes this knowledge universally accessible is also the
result of extensive social labour. However, a few monopolies control both and
treat them as private assets for profit. The answer is not to reject AI but to
advocate for the expropriation of major tech companies and their conversion
into public utilities managed democratically by workers. The knowledge in
books—and the technology that enables access—rightfully belongs to all of
humanity, not to corporations like Amazon.
