Provided Photo by Melinda Sue Gordon I’m starting to think the Luddites were right. The Luddites arose among textile workers in England during the dawn of industrialization. Angered by the unsafe working conditions, poor pay and dehumanizing treatment from the original tech bros, Luddites would storm factories and destroy their oligarchs’ precious machinery. More than 200 years later, the fight against the machines continues. Only this time, it's also happening in one of our most sacred of places — barrooms. At his vaguely threatening titled event “We, Robot” in Vegas last month, Elon Musk unveiled his latest monstrosity: Tesla’s Optimus robotic bartender. Wearing a white cowboy hat and apron, the robot clumsily pulled beers from a tap, served them and engaged patrons in games of rock, paper, scissors. This is ALSO not a bartender. It is an abomination. Screen shot from X There are, of course, other robot bartenders being developed. In fact, Optimus isn’t even the first robot bartender in Vegas. Some, like one design out of South Korea, come with blinking eyes. Others, like the one serving drinks at Globe Life Field during Texas Rangers games, look like the sad robot police officer in New York. Thankfully, so far none of them really work at this point. In fact, as with most things related to Musk, the reality of Optimus didn’t match the promotion. It turns out none of Musk’s robots were actually making drinks — but were instead controlled by hidden human beings. But if past is prologue, either Musk or some other tech bro will make good on the “promise” of robot bartenders. Driven by a relentless belief that humans are hopelessly inefficient and fatally flawed, the tech world is hellbent on forcing AI down our throats and into every corner of our lives, despite its penchant for racism and dangerous “hallucinations.” Bartenders aren’t machines, and tending bar isn’t a simple “job.” There’s not only the obvious artistry that goes into perfectly mixing a good drink, but bartenders are also social managers. They set the tone and vibe of a bar, from the music and TV programs that play to the lighting and very atmosphere. Now THIS is a bartender Photo by Max Becherer / The TImes-Picayune Anybody who’s ever sat in a bar through a shift change has seen how the subtle differences between two bartenders can shift the energy level in the room. On a quiet day, they’ll spend hours offering up free therapy to patrons struggling with issues at work or at home. They keep tabs on regulars and can be an early warning system for their friends if someone goes missing. They organize fundraisers for the sick and toy drives for kids. They keep our secrets — and our sanity. Robots can do none of this.    It's not a surprise that Tesla is pursuing an abomination that reduces the human condition to nothing more than ones and zeroes. Musk has little concern with the rights and dignity of workers and has become famous for demanding they work grueling hours while often facing abuse from management. As for the artistry of, well, anything, you only need to look as far as Tesla’s vehicles. Most are well acquainted with the monstrosity that is the Cyber Truck, whose goofy, unimaginative name is matched only by its offensive design. The cars lack any soul. Yes, they’re sleek. And they’re ... fine looking, I suppose, in the same way a glass of warm tap water is “fine” when you’re thirsty and really want a beer. No reasonable has ever looked at a Tesla and dreamt of the freedom of an open road or thought to themselves, “Oh yeah, I’m gonna look so cool driving that.” Photo by Bob Warren / The Times-Picayune The rise of the robotic barkeep reflects the broader cultural tipping point we face today. Musk and his allies believe in the maximization of profit at the expense of all else. They also view any expression of creativity, art or human connection as bad for business and a sign of weakness. Meanwhile, the internet and online life – which are increasingly flooded with toxicity thanks to people like Musk – are replacing peoples’ traditional “third place” outside of work and home, like churches, libraries and even bars. Their war against those things can be seen not just in AI systems displacing workers but also the retrograde treatment of transgender people, the normalization of overtly racist language and their embrace of a decidedly 19th century robber baron approach to politics and business. Bartenders just happen to find themselves in the middle of this fight. This is not new for bartenders. Their vocation has put them at the center of every political fight, war and period of social upheaval since the first Cro-Magnon bartender asked “whaddya having, Keyrock?” After all, barrooms are where we go to catch up with friends, talk about the latest news, commiserate over our jobs and, of course, civilly and calmly scream at each other about politics.    Thankfully, we don’t need John Connor to come back from the future to beat these robots. The Luddites may not have won, but they and other early anti-industrialization protest movements helped pave the way for the first major wave of workers’ rights reforms in Europe and the United States. That, in turn, was the start of a series of movements which secured the right to vote for women, better civil and voting rights protections for Black and Brown people, started LGBTQ rights and environmental movements and more. And not an insubstantial part of the organizing of those efforts happened in, you guessed it, bars. Provided photo by Digital Domain +4