Who decides what work is valuable? The politics of labour and status

For as long as work has existed, so has the hierarchy that defines it. Some jobs are seen as prestigious, others as undesirable. But who decides which work deserves respect and which work is dispensable?

Why do we praise the corner-office executive but overlook the carpenter who built that office? Why does a stockbroker earn exponentially more than a plumber, when we will always need plumbers?

These questions may seem abstract, but they lie at the heart of how capitalism has shaped our understanding of labour, value and dignity.

Hollywood has played a crucial role in this process. Over time, it has crafted and reinforced a specific image of success — the suave stockbroker in a tailored suit, shouting at his secretary in a sleek office with a panoramic view of the city. That became the aspiration. That became the definition of a “career”.

Meanwhile, the people who keep the world running — the electricians, the shoemakers, the tilers — became invisible. You almost never see a plumber on television unless it’s for comedic effect, as if the work itself is something to laugh at.

This is not a coincidence. It is a deliberate social construction designed to make people aspire to the world of finance, law and corporate power rather than manual labour. It is a way of devaluing essential work and pushing people into a system where wealth is made not through production, but through speculation.

After World War 2, the American economy boomed, fuelled by the Marshall Plan, military expansion, and exploitation of global resources. The result? A shift in the concept of work itself. The physical, tangible labour that built the country — factories, farms, trade work — was devalued in favour of using money to make more money.

Capital itself became a commodity, and suddenly, work was not about creating, but about circulating wealth. That was the moment when certain types of jobs became unfashionable.

Take a plumber, for example. No matter how much technology advances, humans will always eat and poop, which means we will always need someone to deal with the consequences. Robots might be sophisticated enough to drive cars, but they are too refined to handle our sewage.

We need welders, tilers, electricians and carpenters. No civilisation — no matter how modern — will ever function without them. And yet, their work has been systematically devalued.