Netflix’s Squid Game Exposes the Dark Parallels Between Entertainment, Algorithmic Control, and the Dehumanizing Face of Automation

Squid Game, a survival drama on Netflix, is a terrifying allegory about technology, control, and dehumanization, despite its apparent distance from industrial automation. The fatal games on the show, which are planned with computerized surveillance and mechanical accuracy, are a metaphor for the unbridled power of automation in society. Robots monitor behavior, enforce regulations, and replace human judgment, resulting in a strict system that reflects concerns about algorithmic control and loss of autonomy in tech-driven workplaces. Squid Game depicts a society in which technology takes the place of empathy, from the robotic doll in "Red Light, Green Light" to the control room surrounded by security screens. The algorithmic decision-making in contemporary enterprises, where AI systems track employee productivity, issue warnings, or even terminate employment without human review, is strikingly similar to the lack of judgment in its automated enforcers. These automatic decisions are a reflection of larger issues with accountability and fairness in automated settings.

Another potent theme is depersonalization. Each competitor has a unique tracksuit and is given a number rather than a name. Guards serve as submissive extensions of the system while wearing faceless uniforms. This identity erasure criticizes the way that contemporary workers are frequently viewed as replaceable parts that are only assessed based on output and metrics. The images evoke real-world settings where people feel like inanimate gears, devoid of agency and dignity, such as gig platforms and warehouses.

Squid Game also emphasizes the enormous power held by those in charge of technology. Behind the scenes, the top organizers use machines to commodify the players' battle and control their destiny. This disparity in power illustrates how automation may be used as a tool for exploitation in the modern economy by removing labor, enforcing conformity, and transferring accountability through opaque mechanisms. The loss of autonomy is arguably the most alarming warning. Participants have no control once they enter the game. In a similar vein, people would find their choices limited, their behavior tracked, and their voices muffled in a world run by unfathomable algorithms. This techno-authoritarianism is dramatized in Squid Game to make us consider whether we are creating systems that benefit humans or that humans must use.

It is an urgent lesson. We must give ethical frameworks top priority as we implement AI and automation throughout industries, guaranteeing openness, equity, and human oversight. In addition to providing a dystopian mirror, Squid Game advocates for a future in which automation empowers rather than subjugates. We have a choice between those routes.