Rod Serling’s classic 1961 episode of The Twilight Zone, “The Obsolete Man,” offers a timeless meditation on authoritarianism, conformity, and the erasure of humanity. In it, a quiet librarian, Romney Wordsworth (played by Burgess Meredith), is deemed “obsolete” by a dystopian state for believing in books and God—symbols of individual thought and spiritual meaning. Condemned by a totalitarian chancellor and scheduled for execution, Wordsworth calmly exposes the cruelty and contradictions of the regime, ultimately reclaiming his dignity by refusing to bow to tyranny.
Over 60 years later, “The Obsolete Man” feels less like fiction and more like a documentary. The Trump era, supercharged by the rise of artificial intelligence and a war on truth, has brought Serling’s chilling parable into sharper focus.
The Authoritarian Impulse
President Donald Trump’s presidency—and his ongoing influence—has been marked by a deep antagonism toward democratic institutions, intellectual life, and perceived “elites.” Journalists were labeled “enemies of the people.” Scientists and educators were dismissed or silenced. Books were banned in schools and libraries, and curricula were stripped of “controversial” topics like systemic racism or gender identity.
Like the chancellor in The Obsolete Man, Trump and his allies seek not just to discredit dissenters but to erase their very legitimacy. In this worldview, librarians, teachers, and independent thinkers are expendable. What matters is loyalty to the regime, conformity to its ideology, and performance of power.
Wordsworth’s crime—being a librarian and a believer—is mirrored in real-life purges of professionals deemed out of step with a hardline political agenda. Public educators and college faculty who challenge reactionary narratives have been targeted by state legislatures, right-wing activists, and billionaire-backed think tanks. In higher education, departments of the humanities are being defunded or eliminated entirely. Faculty governance is undermined. The university, once a space for critical inquiry, is increasingly treated as an instrument for ideological control—or as a business to be stripped for parts.
The Age of AI and the Erasure of the Human
While authoritarianism silences the human spirit, artificial intelligence threatens to replace it. AI tools, now embedded in everything from hiring algorithms to classroom assessments, are reshaping how knowledge is produced, disseminated, and controlled. In the rush to adopt these technologies, questions about ethics, bias, and human purpose are often sidelined.
AI systems do not “believe” in anything. They do not feel awe, doubt, or moral anguish. They calculate, replicate, and optimize. In the hands of authoritarian regimes or profit-driven institutions, AI becomes a tool not of liberation, but of surveillance, censorship, and disposability. Workers are replaced. Students are reduced to data points. Librarians—like Wordsworth—are no longer needed in a world where books are digitized and curated by opaque algorithms.
This is not merely a future problem. It’s here. Algorithms already determine who gets hired, who receives financial aid, and which students are flagged as “at risk.” Predictive policing, automated grading, and AI-generated textbooks are not the stuff of science fiction. They are reality. And those who question their fairness or legitimacy risk being labeled as backwards, inefficient—obsolete.
A Culture of Disposability
At the heart of “The Obsolete Man” is a question about value: Who decides what is worth keeping? In Trump’s America and in the AI-driven economy, people are judged by their utility to the system. If you’re not producing profit, performing loyalty, or conforming to power, you can be cast aside.
This is especially true for the working class, contingent academics, and the so-called “educated underclass”—a growing population of debt-laden degree holders trapped in precarious jobs or no jobs at all. Their degrees are now questioned, their labor devalued, and their futures uncertain. They are told that if they can’t “pivot” or “reskill” for the next technological shift, they too may be obsolete.
The echoes of The Twilight Zone are deafening.
Resistance and Redemption
Yet, as Wordsworth demonstrates in his final moments, resistance is possible. Dignity lies in refusing to surrender the soul to the machine—or the regime. In his quiet defiance, Wordsworth forces the chancellor to confront his own cowardice, exposing the hollow cruelty of the system.
In our time, that resistance takes many forms: educators who continue to teach truth despite political pressure; librarians who fight book bans; whistleblowers who challenge surveillance technologies; and students who organize for justice. These acts of courage and conscience remind us that obsolescence is not a matter of utility—it’s a judgment imposed by those in power, and it can be rejected.
Rod Serling ended his episode with a reminder: “Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of man—that state is obsolete.”
The question now is whether we will heed the warning. In an age where authoritarianism and AI threaten to render us all obsolete, will we remember what it means to be human?
The Higher Education Inquirer welcomes responses and reflections on how pop culture can illuminate our present crises. Contact us with your thoughts or your own essay proposals.
