Dirty Work

Eyal Press’ book Dirty work describes tasks that society depends on but deems morally compromised, unethical, or stigmatized. Sociologist Everett Hughes famously observed this during his visit to post-WWII Frankfurt, where ordinary Germans had delegated Nazi atrocities to others while disavowing responsibility. Hughes argued that such behavior isn't unique to authoritarian regimes but exists in democracies like the United States, where societal norms quietly sustain questionable practices.

What is "Dirty Work"?

Dirty Work refers to labor that causes harm to people, animals, or the environment and is disproportionately carried out by marginalized individuals under society’s implicit approval. Examples: 

- Prison guards who manage mentally ill inmates in dehumanizing conditions; 

- Drone operators tasked with life-and-death decisions, which often lead to civilian casualties; 

- Slaughterhouse workers who endure brutal conditions to meet consumer demands. 

Privilege allows some to outsource moral compromises, leaving others to bear the physical, emotional, and ethical burdens. These roles remain hidden from public view. This allows society to enjoy their benefits without confronting the moral consequences:

- Mass incarceration disproportionately impacts on marginalized communities; 

- Environmental degradation is perpetuated by unsustainable consumption, and 

- The labor of the disadvantaged sustains the lifestyles of the privileged elsewhere on the globe. 

A call for reflection and action

Dirty work is not inevitable. Moral and structural inequalities are sustained by deliberate policies and passive societal acceptance. Confronting these practices requires acknowledging hidden labor and the individuals who perform it. Systemic inequality can be challenged through policy and public engagement. Societal norms can be reevaluated by asking tough questions about what we’re willing to tolerate for convenience or comfort.

A call for justice and humanity in the U.S. prison system

The story of Darren Rainey, a mentally ill prisoner scalded to death in a rigged shower at Florida's Dade Correctional Institution, is used by Press as a reminder of the systemic failures in criminal justice and mental health systems.: His death, which resulted in no criminal charges despite overwhelming evidence of abuse, shows the inherent impunity and neglect in American prisons. 

The hidden toll on prisoners and staff

At Dade Correctional Institution, mental health counselor Harriet Krzykowski hoped to help inmates but quickly became disillusioned as she witnessed starvation, solitary confinement, and physical violence inflicted on mentally ill prisoners. She stayed silent, because she feared retaliation.

This story reminded me of Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann's "Spiral of Silence" (Noelle-Neumann, 1993). Fear of social isolation drives people to observe and conform to public opinion. Individuals may suppress their opinions if they believe expressing them would invite rejection or disapproval, while those who feel supported by public consensus speak out confidently. This dynamic can amplify certain voices while silencing others, particularly on emotionally or morally charged issues. Assertive minorities can shape perceived majority opinion, and mass media play a critical role by consistently promoting specific views. Public opinion functions as a mechanism of social control, which stabilizes society over time, though its content varies across cultures and eras.

 

Historical and structural parallels

Correctional officers described a toxic environment of low pay, inadequate training, and normalized brutality. Guards, often scapegoated for systemic failures, are victims of the same system that dehumanizes the incarcerated. This dehumanization resembles historical injustices, from the legacy of slavery to the punitive incarceration policies of today. Florida's prisons, isolated in rural areas, remain hidden from public scrutiny—a civilized punishment that conceals its brutality, as sociologist Norbert Elias described. 

Privatization has worsened conditions. Companies like Corizon and Wexford prioritize cost-cutting over care, which leads to preventable deaths and neglect of medical and mental health needs. 

A vision for reform

The story of Darren Rainey shows the need for change. Press gives some suggestions: 

- Adopt models like Norway’s Halden prison, which prioritize dignity and rehabilitation. 

- Strengthen oversight and enforce consequences for neglect and abuse. 

- Improve training, pay, and mental health resources for correctional officers. 

- End the criminalization of mental illness and invest in community-based care. 

Darren Rainey’s death is no singular tragedy; marginalized groups, particularly Black and mentally ill individuals, bear the brunt of systemic injustice. 

 

Remote warfare: Moral Injury, psychological strain, and societal detachment

Drone warfare is often portrayed as a cleaner, more precise form of combat—remote, efficient, and risk-free for those conducting it. But for operators, the reality is far more complex and devastating. Their stories shed light on the profound ethical, psychological, and societal impacts of modern conflict.

Christopher Aaron, initially enthusiastic about his role as a drone imagery analyst, became disillusioned as he witnessed the devastating consequences of targeting errors and collateral damage. His work often involved life-or-death decisions based on incomplete data, leading to profound guilt and psychological strain. Similarly, Heather Linebaugh, drawn to the drone program as an escape from economic hardship, found herself haunted by the civilian casualties she witnessed, including a misidentified woman and child.

Both experienced moral injury—a deep psychological wound caused by actions that violate one’s ethical beliefs. The combination of emotional detachment from physically distant targets and the psychological intimacy of prolonged surveillance created a unique and harrowing form of stress. This left operators grappling with nightmares, guilt, and emotional withdrawal, compounded by a military system that often dismissed their mental health struggles.

Drone warfare enables remote operations with minimal risk to soldiers, fostering public apathy toward its human toll. The secrecy surrounding drone missions isolates operators, leaving them to bear the moral and emotional burdens of decisions made in service of a largely disengaged public. Critics like Aaron and Linebaugh emphasize how this disconnect perpetuates an endless cycle of war, shielding society from grappling with the ethical cost of modern conflict.

Breaking the silence

Both Aaron and Linebaugh sought to raise awareness about the hidden costs of drone warfare. Aaron found solace in veterans’ retreats and speaking engagements, while Linebaugh shared her experiences in an op-ed for *The Guardian*. Yet, their efforts often met resistance or indifference, reflecting society’s reluctance to confront uncomfortable truths.

The path forward

Press advocates for: 

- Increased public accountability for drone programs and their consequences. 

- Robust mental health resources for drone operators to address moral injury and psychological harm. 

- A societal reckoning with the human and moral costs of remote warfare. 

As drone warfare continues to shape modern conflict, we must confront the realities faced by those on the front lines of this new kind of war—operators like Aaron and Linebaugh—and work toward systems of accountability and healing. 

 

Resilience amid exploitation

The journey of Flor Martinez is a testament to resilience, survival, and the systemic exploitation of undocumented workers in the United States. Growing up in rural Mexico, Flor endured extreme poverty and abuse from her alcoholic grandfather. At just 15, she migrated to Texas with her siblings under treacherous conditions, seeking a better future. However, her hardships continued in the U.S., where she faced exploitation, abuse, and the constant shadow of economic insecurity.

Working in poultry plants, Flor experienced excruciating physical labor, verbal abuse, and the denial of basic rights like bathroom breaks. Supervisors treated workers as expendable, and the relentless demands of the job left Flor with debilitating injuries. Despite this, she persisted, raising her children and striving for better opportunities. 

Flor’s journey took a turn when she began advocating for workers’ rights. Her time at a labor rights organization gave her a platform to fight for others like herself, even as she battled her own health challenges, including severe hand injuries, COVID-19, and breast cancer. 

The poultry industry, like many others, thrives on the exploitation of undocumented workers. These "shadow people" are essential to keeping America’s food supply chain running but are marginalized and denied protections. Flor’s story highlights the human cost of the invisible labor behind the products we consume daily. 

Flor’s resilience is a reminder of the strength and dignity of millions of undocumented workers who persevere despite overwhelming odds. Her story calls attention to the urgent need for systemic reform to ensure fair treatment and protections for those who form the backbone of our economy. 

 

The human cost of industrial disasters

The 2010 Deepwater Horizon explosion impacted lives, communities, and ecosystems. The story of Stephen and Sara Stone reveals the human toll overshadowed by headlines of environmental damage. Stephen, a rig worker, survived the explosion but was left with PTSD and a sense of betrayal. Once a dedicated provider, he struggled with insomnia, paranoia, and job instability. His coping mechanisms—heavy drinking and medical marijuana—only deepened his pain. Sara, his wife, endured secondary trauma as a caregiver, dealing with the emotional fallout of Stephen’s struggles while grappling with her own pain. Their marriage ultimately broke under the weight of these challenges. Sara channeled her emotions into art, creating haunting oil portraits that captured the emotional aftermath of the disaster. Later, she turned to filmmaking, documenting the ripple effects on families and communities. Her work sheds light on the unseen sacrifices of rig workers and their loved ones, offering a powerful counter-narrative to the industry’s focus on profits over people.

A systemic failure

The Deepwater Horizon disaster was not an isolated incident but a product of profit-driven negligence in the oil industry. The story critiques this "safety culture" and exposes the precarious realities faced by workers, particularly in communities like Louisiana’s coastal towns. These regions bear the environmental and economic brunt of an industry essential to national energy demands, yet their human sacrifices remain underacknowledged.

Through Sara’s lens as an artist and filmmaker, we’re reminded of the moral and psychological injuries borne by those forced into dangerous jobs due to economic necessity. Stephen’s story, layered with resilience and betrayal, reveals the disconnect between societal dependence on oil and the neglect of the people who risk everything to extract it. The narrative urges us to consider the hidden costs of industrial accidents—not just the oil-covered pelicans but also the broken families, psychological scars, and the systemic inequities perpetuated by “dirty work.” 

 

Tech’s Moral Dilemma

The ethical challenges faced by white-collar professionals in tech reveal a less visible but equally troubling side of “dirty work.” Tech workers encounter moral dilemmas with far-reaching consequences—though their privilege affords them unique leverage to act.

Take Jack Poulson, a former Google employee, who resigned in protest over Dragonfly, a censored search engine app designed to comply with China’s strict regulations. Poulson recognized how the project clashed with Google’s stated values and enabled human rights abuses. His decision to leave highlighted the tension between professional integrity and systemic pressures in tech.

Similarly, Laura Nolan, another Google employee, resigned after working on Project Maven, an AI initiative for the Pentagon. Concerned about its potential use in lethal drone strikes, she exposed how fragmented workflows in tech allow employees to detach from the broader consequences of their work.

Beyond individual projects, tech’s reliance on global supply chains exacerbates exploitation. For instance, the cobalt mining industry in the Congo—critical for devices like smartphones—remains rife with hazardous child labor and environmental degradation, despite corporate promises of “responsible sourcing.”

A system of diffused responsibility

In tech, the compartmentalized nature of work shields employees from feeling complicit, while companies outsource the most exploitative practices to less visible parts of the supply chain. This systemic diffusion of responsibility complicates accountability, perpetuates harm, and insulates those at the top from personal or financial consequences.

Unlike blue-collar workers, white-collar professionals often possess financial security and prestige, softening the impact of resigning or voicing dissent. Poulson, for example, received multiple job offers after leaving Google. But how many choose to stay, complicit in a system they privately question?

The ethical compromises of tech professionals highlight the broader realities of global capitalism, where harm is outsourced, and responsibility is diffused. Yet, tech workers hold a unique power to challenge the status quo, whether by resigning, organizing, or advocating for systemic change.

 

Recognizing Essential Workers

During the COVID-19 pandemic, healthcare workers were thrust into the spotlight, hailed as heroes for their sacrifices. Yet, their experiences reflect a broader narrative of the ethical dilemmas, emotional toll, and societal dynamics faced by workers across many industries.

Healthcare workers

During the pandemic, medical professionals grappled with life-or-death decisions, such as rationing resources, resulting in moral injury and lasting psychological trauma. Unlike most dirty work, their struggles received public acknowledgment and gratitude—a rare validation for those performing society’s indispensable yet harrowing tasks.

Dirty Work in the shadows

For many others, dirty work remains invisible. These roles include the drone operators, industrial slaughterhouse workers, cobalt miners and prison staff described by Press in earlier chapters.  These workers are often marginalized, bearing the emotional and moral burdens of jobs that society relies on but prefers not to confront. Structural barriers—prisons, factories, and nondisclosure agreements—keep these realities out of sight and shield the public from engaging with their ethical implications.

As beneficiaries of these systems, we are often complicit in their perpetuation. By reaping the rewards while distancing ourselves from the harm, society tacitly mandates dirty work and stigmatizes those who perform it. This dynamic disproportionately affects marginalized individuals with limited economic choices, reinforcing inequalities.

Recent changes in public attitudes toward mass incarceration, fossil fuels, and industrial farming show the power of collective action to drive reform. Recognizing dirty workers as agents acting on society’s behalf can pave the way for accountability and systemic change. Unlike healthcare workers during the pandemic, most dirty workers are denied platforms to share their stories. Public acknowledgment and listening to their experiences are needed for healing moral injuries and addressing societal failings. By shining a light on the unseen, we can begin to challenge the structural and moral inequalities that perpetuate dirty work.

Conclusion

All in all, I think this is a great book. It gives enlightening empirical examples of the way in which "dirty work" is ingrained in society. It also gives suggestions on how to change this. Kudos for Press to include sociologists Everett Hughes and Norbert Elias in the book. This, to me, really makes the book rise above other books about the realities of the people on the workfloor. It shows the societal phenomenon of dirty work. 

Postscript - The mechanism behind Dirty Work