Layoffs are back — and so is the erosion of the professional’s identity

Olimita Roy

In the shifting sands of the global economy, multiple factors drive this instability. The return of Donald Trump in the White House is already reshaping Silicon Valley. Tech leaders, wary of regulatory scrutiny and eager to align with the new administration’s priorities, are cutting jobs in pursuit of leanness and efficiency. Meta’s recent layoffs — affecting five per cent of its workforce — have been justified under the guise of eliminating “low performers”, a move that coincides with Mark Zuckerberg’s broader ideological shift towards workplace “masculine energy”. Meanwhile, Alphabet has introduced voluntary exit programmes, reminiscent of Elon Musk’s brutal restructuring of Twitter (now X). This method of workforce reduction, offering severance to those willing to leave, signals that further rounds of layoffs may follow if cost-saving targets are not met.

At the same time, artificial intelligence looms as both a disruptor and a paradox. AI, particularly general-purpose systems like ChatGPT, threatens to displace millions of jobs, yet also promises to create new roles. The International AI Safety Report suggests that in advanced economies, 60 per cent of jobs are vulnerable to automation. Meanwhile, companies like China’s DeepSeek have demonstrated that billion-dollar R&D budgets are not prerequisites for AI breakthroughs, raising existential questions about the tech industry’s hiring practices. If innovation can be achieved with a handful of fresh PhD graduates, what does that mean for the legions of experienced engineers once deemed indispensable?

The unravelling is economic, yes, but also psychological. Work was always more than a paycheck; it was a structure, a way to locate oneself in the world. Now, that structure is crumbling. The educated unemployed, the overqualified underemployed, the knowledge workers staring blankly at screens — these are not abstractions. They are people in apartments they can no longer afford, calculating how many more months the severance will last, deleting emails with subject lines that begin “Unfortunately…”. They are scrolling job listings at 2 am, toggling between resumes that feel less like records of achievement and more like relics from a life that no longer exists.

In a culture that equates productivity with purpose, what happens when the jobs disappear?

There are, of course, alternatives. Some leave cities, sublet their apartments, move back in with parents who had not expected them to return. Some take contract work with no benefits, no guarantees beyond the next month. Others monetise hobbies, set up digital storefronts, sell prints, ceramics, essays — anything that might resemble a livelihood. They film their days, turn their personalities into brands, edit their lives into something digestible, optimised for engagement. They start vlogs, build followings, sell courses on how to build followings. They document morning routines, unbox PR packages, test products they may or may not actually use. They become the product.

The old frameworks are gone, but the new ones have yet to take shape. The question is no longer just how to make a living, but how to construct a life. What does success look like when no one is watching? What is ambition without an audience?

The months ahead will bring more layoffs, more instability, more careful budgeting, more people standing in grocery store aisles doing mental arithmetic, weighing necessities against indulgences. But also, perhaps, a reckoning. The understanding that work was never enough, not really, and that something else must take its place. What that is remains uncertain. Maybe it is creative, maybe it is communal, maybe it is nothing that fits neatly into a LinkedIn update. But in the space where careers once were, something quieter, more elemental, might emerge. A different kind of life. A different way forward.

The writer is a consultant at AON