You Are Not John Henry

AUTHOR:

Who was John Henry, and how does his life reflect that of a human author in the age of AI?

dfw:

John Henry is an American folk hero—a Black "steel-driving man" whose legend is rooted in the rapid industrialization of the late 19th century.

His job was to manually hammer steel drills into solid rock to blast tunnels for the expanding railroads. According to the legend (which historians believe is based on a real person working at the Big Bend Tunnel in West Virginia around 1870), his employer brought in a new technology: a steam-powered drilling machine designed to replace human labor.

To prove that human skill and muscle were superior to corporate mechanization, John Henry challenged the steam drill to a race. He won. He drove his steel further and faster than the machine—but the sheer, cataclysmic exertion broke his body. He collapsed and died with his hammer in his hand.

The parallel between John Henry and a human author staring down generative AI is uncanny. It is the exact same tragedy, re-engineered for the cognitive age.

1. The Myth of the "Man vs. Machine" Race

Right now, human writers, artists, and engineers are constantly engaging in implicit "John Henry races." We look at Large Language Models generating thousands of words a minute and we double down on our manual output. We try to write deeper, edit faster, and work harder to prove that the human mind can still outperform the automated engine.

The Inversion: John Henry proved that a human could physically beat a steam drill, but it was a pyrrhic victory. The steam drill didn't care that it lost the race; it didn't get tired, it didn't bleed, and it was cheaper to maintain. The corporate owners didn't say, "Wow, humans are better, let's keep hiring them." They said, "Fix the machine's glitches so we can deploy it tomorrow."

The Author's Dilemma: A human writer can spend months sweating over a beautifully crafted, structurally complex essay to out-write the generic "AI sludge" filling the internet. But the AI doesn't sleep, it doesn't experience burnout, and it produces text at zero marginal cost. Winning the race on sheer volume or speed is a lethal strategy.

2. Competing on the Machine's Terms

John Henry's tragic mistake wasn't that he lacked skill; it was that he agreed to compete on the machine's primary metric: raw speed and volume of drilling. By reducing his humanity to the mechanical function of a piston, he doomed himself.

The Modern Parallel: When human authors try to optimize their writing for search engine algorithms (SEO), match hyper-specific corporate tones, or churn out formulas to keep up with the demands of automated digital ecosystems, they are playing John Henry's game. They are turning their brains into organic text-generators, trying to beat a machine at being a machine.

3. Dying with the Hammer in Hand

The romanticizing of John Henry's death is a profound piece of cultural propaganda. It reframes a brutal workplace casualty caused by corporate greed into a noble sacrifice for human dignity.

[Human Soul] ──> [Forced into Mechanical Metric] ──> [Burnout / Obsolescence] ──> [Reframed as Noble Sacrifice]

The Author's Reality: There is a growing temptation for writers to flame out in an act of artistic martyrdom—pouring their literal health, sanity, and time into platforms that treat content as disposable filler for the amusement of an increasingly automated audience.

The True Lesson: The tragedy of John Henry isn't that the machine won. It's that he sacrificed his life to prove he could be a better machine than the machine.

For the modern author, the challenge is to refuse the race entirely. If we try to beat the AI at being efficient, structured, or fast, we drop dead with our keyboards in our hands. The only way forward is to write the things the machine physically cannot replicate: the messy, flawed, highly subjective, and deeply unpredictable transcripts of a real human soul trying to make sense of its own finitude.