In this book, a collection of heavily reworked essays written between 1970 and 1994, Andrew Feenberg reviews the various strands of radical critiques of technology that have emerged in philosophy and culture since the 1960s and reinterprets various "classical" theoreticians of technology (Herbert Marcuse, Juergen Habermas, Jean-Francois Lyotard, and important 20th-century Japanese philosophers of technology) in order to develop a theory of democratic technological change that would allow to reshape (post)modern technological society (232). Feenberg grounds his theory on three basic assumptions (which he shares with recent constructivist theorists of the sociology of technology and with Axel Honnethís reconstruction of Critical Theory):

  1. Technological design is socially contingent
  2. The unequal distribution of influence over technological design contributes to social injustice
  3. There are some instances where public involvement in the design of devices and systems has made a difference (3).

In other words, technological choices are underdetermined, which means that there are no logically compelling or "objective" reasons for choosing one technical design over another. In addition, technological choices are multivalent, that is, the same technology (for example, a computer) may embody different sets of values (e.g. control vs. communication) to different sets of users; also, the meaning of a technology may change over time (for example, the telephone which originally was intended to be used for business communication only but, much to the displeasure of early telephone advocates was "taken over" by the public as a means of private communication). Technology hence has no internally compelling objective logic, but is instead influenced by cultural, historical, and social forces (i.e. it is culturally, historically, and socially contingent).

The shape the design of a given technology takes, is shaped by social actors. However, not all actors have the same amount of influence in this process. Therefore, those groups whose worldview determines what is normal and real and rational have a greater say in the designs of technology than non-dominant groups. Consequently, the technologies/designs a society actually uses are not the single most efficient and rational ones (there is never only one design that is the most efficient) but instead those which from among a group of potentially possible designs, best reflect the hegemonic beliefs and values of the dominant group. Feenberg calls these "dominant" design features which win out in the design process technical codes (4). Technical codes have two essential characteristics (1) they express and prescribe certain hegemonic values and (b) they are invisible, i.e. they appear as normal even though they are not. (For example, in our society we assume that speed and efficiency are universal values which are good for their own sake). Technology hence is not neutral instrument but instead (through the codes inscribed in it) a "legislative force" that shapes our lives. Given the pervasiveness of technology in postmodern society, technology, in fact, has become a legislative political institution and therefore should be controlled democratically, i.e. by public debate and conscious coordination of democratic action rather than through the force of the free market only (as is currently the case (5). A democratic society needs to open up technolgogical design processes to all of its members rather than hand them over to a few privileged actors only. Feenberg provides two case studiesóAIDS patientís direct attack on regulations concerning the application and availability of experimental drugs and the "reappropriation" of the French videotext system Minitel (a system designed to distribute information) by the public, which used it as a communication mediumóto illustrate that public participation in the technological design process is possible and can make a difference.

In developing his theory, Feenberg draws on (and discusses) Langdon Winner (5), Juergen Habermas, Jean Francois Lyotard (10), Thomas Kuhn, and on the work of Axel Honneth, Herbert Marcuse, Bruno Latour, and Donna Haraway, who challenge the Weberian view of technology as fundamentally different and separate from values. For this last group of thinkers, as for Feenberg, the distinction between technology as based on objective, universally valid knowledge of causal processes and values as based on personal preference (i.e. culturally and individually contingent) is a false one. Technological objects are neither neutral tools, as instrumental theories of technology have it, nor do they constitute a new kind of cultural system that controls the entire social world, as substantive theories postulate (e.g. Heidegger, Ellul). To overcome the dichotomy between instrumental and substantive theories of technology, Feenberg proposes to conceptualize technology as an ambivalent process, and consequently, as a site of political struggle (both within individual cultures and between different cultures).

Expanding his perspective beyond the United States, Feenberg argues that Western rationality and its physical manifestationóWestern techno-science and its technological imperativesómay have achieved practical universality but they are not ontologically universal (i.e. not really universal and autonomous). Western modernity hence is not characterized by actual/real autonomous rationality, but instead by the "necessary" illusion of Western rationalityís autonomy and universality. Given this "relative"1 nature of Western rationality, it is possible to invent alternative modernities based on different (cultural) values. We therefore are not stuck between the rock of accepting that technology will eventually take us over and the hard place dreaming we could return to pre-technological innocence.2 Instead, we can conceptualize technology as a field of action that challenges and allows us to create a "multicultural politics of technology" (232).

 

Recommendation:

I give this book a double recommendation as a challenging but excellent overview of the relatively young field of philosophy of technology (Loewy 533) and as a philosophical work in its own right that advocates a "third way" of conceptualizing technology as an enhancer of human values rather than a panacea or a constrictive iron cage determining our history. His culture-based attempt to transcend the dichotomy techno-optimism and techno-pessimism, seems to me an exciting starting point for re-thinking technology and culture. I do have some problems with his case studies, which present such special cases that they can barely be seen as representative, and I deplore his omission of "third World" cultures and their role in the technological global system, but Feenberg has opened much new thinking space for me. In particular, I liked that his book expanded my perspective beyond a narrow focus on print/digital media as indicators of future developments in our culture and has reminded me that the print/hypermedia debate is part of the much broader issue of the role of technology in modern and postmodern culture. Naturally I am also intrigued by Feenbergís awareness of the cultural contingency of technological development and of the philosophy of technology, even though I wish he would have addressed that issue much more strongly and would have broadened his perspective beyond Japan, the only non-European country he discusses in detail, mainly because at the time of writing (before the Asian economic crisis) Japan still was an ideal model of an alternative way to economic success.

In relation to our class-discussions and readings, I found Feenbergís discussion and re-vision/expansion of Lyotard in chapter six ("French Theory and Postmodern Technology") particularly interesting. In this chapter, Feenberg introduces Lyotardís paralogic alternative to both technocracy and dystopianism. According to Lyotard, there is no single form of rationality, and hence no technological determinism. Instead, there is a paralogic of multiple rationalities, which are "like islands of order in a radically contingent world" (126). Scientific rationality is only one of many island, and it is a big one, but this does not mean that all we are left with is romantic protest against technology. Instead, we need to explore the margins of maneuver opened unintentionally by the technological system. Lyotardís theory is ultimately rooted in the orality-literacy theoretical tradition, but does not follow the mainstream of that tradition which sees secondary orality as the logical result of modern information technologies and believes that secondary orality will restore immediacy and transparency to social relations. It is this last assumption with which Lyotard takes issue. In his opinion, there will be no secondary orality which essentially cancels modern individuality and creates one happily united global village. What will develop instead (according to Lyotard) is a "happy fragmentation" that modifies (but does not erase) the traditional/modernist notion of individualism. As Feenberg points out, Lyotard was writing in the late 1970s, which meant that he could not offer much proof for his claim that individualism (the very core of modernism) will not disappear but survive in different forms. This is where Feenberg sets in to continue Lyotardís work. Here is what he says: Lyotard was right to see the computer as an essentially ambivalent technology, i.e. that it can lead to liberation/better education for all or to total control. To better understand this dichotomy we can apply the concept of oral and literate cultures to computer-mediated communication, but we need to radically generalize the orality-literacy thesis. This means, that we should replace the terms orality and literacy with the terms repeatable and retrievable discourse (136). Repeatable discourse has the following characteristics: Repeatable texts are stored in human memory and "accessed" through repetition or performance. The cultural transmission of repeatable texts is often assigned to special individuals and access to the text is not under individual control. Instead, it is regulated socially (when and how a story is told by whom to whom). The existence of communities organized around repeatable text depends of a performance ethos that organizes the communityís social memory. (This is the original paradise of narration Lyotard describes). In communities organized around repeatable (synchronic) discourse, the code of interpretation is immediately known by all (137). Retrievable text, by contrast, involves the accessing of "permanent" texts (eg. on a wax tablet, in a book or on a disk). Retrievable texts can be under entirely individual control as it does not require the presence of other humans. Communities organized around retrievable text have a "peculiar" ability to recall and inspect their entire past. Each form of text transmission, be it repeatable of retrievable (e.g. storytelling, books, mass communication) supports recall of the past through different types of "iteration." CMC constitutes a new form of iteration, i.e. it creates a new form of social memory. McLuhan thought that this new form of social memory would be a secondary orality which will restore immediacy to social relations. But McLuhan was wrong because he overlooked that repeatablility (fixed, permanent text) is invading repeatability (unfixed, spoken text). For example, answering machines and recordings and digital files make oral communication retrievable. Therefore, like Derrida said, we are not witnessing an end to writing. On the contrary, retrievability will remain powerful and it will be the foundation for a postmodern individualism (137). This postmodern identity will be different from modern identity because it is immaterial, because it disperses the subject in nonlinear spatio-temporality and because it disrupts stable identity. Butóand this is the important pointópostmodernity does not mean the end of individualism. In fact, "computer writing" is a factory of postmodern subjectivity, a machine for constituting non-identical subjects, that is, an inscription of an ëotherí of Western culture into its most cherished manifestation (the subject/individual). This, of course, will be a mixed blessing. It is clear, for example, that computerization will sharpen class difference and social injustice. But the real problem is not so much that the masses will be left out of the computer revolution as that the germs of their inclusion will be radically unfavorable (137). Here is why: In cultures organized around repeatable texts, the code of interpretation is known by all. Tradition is not an object of study and interpretation follows no explicit canon. This means that in such societies there are few problems of interpretation because the process of preservation is at the same time a process of interpretation (138). By contrast, in cultures organized around retrievable texts, the meaning of texts is no longer self-evident because the texts have been detached from their authors and from the social context. Consequently, the interpretation codes and performance are separated and interpretation becomes a central concern. The codes of interpretation are not universally available to the members of the community, i.e. those who donít have access to the codes must follow those who do. In the CMC/digital world the structures of experience and interpretation we associate with literacy become universal and replace the pseudo-oral community of broadcasting/mass media societies. One can asses this new form of social communication optimistically (like Lyotard) or pessimistically. The optimistic view presupposes an underlying base of literacy competences, a universalization of fairly sophisticated interpretive skills, the general availability of the codes of meaning in terms of which an increasingly diverse and complex social reality can be organized in sensible patterns. If these conditions are fulfilled, the computer will indeed bring good changes. The pessimistic view, by contrast, sees us drifting toward chaos in an radically disorganized communicative environment increasingly inhabited by individuals who have lost their interpretive code of social meaning required in the technological society. Therefore, we will end up with anarchy or be subordinated to intelligent machines, we will have chaos or a system of totally ritualized mass-participation in an incomprehensible set of mechanical routines. This is the point where Feenbergís third way comes in. As he points out, there is a third possible scenario, in which humanized technological designs will succeed in mimicking familiar objects so successfully that ordinary people will be at home in the world the computer makes, and able to exercise some control there3. Perhaps through virtual reality, which, according to Feenberg, is primarily an attempt to provide more "intuitive" ways of operation machines (not, as the "journalistic cliché" has it, to realize fantasies in an imaginary world) might enable us to overcome barriers to full participation in a technological society. In this case, technology would help us overcome the undemocratic potential of technology. Of course, such a user-friendly world would have its price, for example, there would be no clear boundaries between reality and the fantastic construction of the computer. Also, new forms of oppression might arise in a society that is "epistemologically impaired." But perhaps, in such a world, also new forms of resistance would arise. The point is that today, as computers pervade our lives and offer both threats and possibilities, our attitude toward computers/digitalization can no longer be either technocratic/purely optimistic nor dystopian/pessimistic. Instead, we must realize that technology is a contested zone we are within rather than an enemy oppressing us from without, or a deus ex maquina, saving us miraculously. We need to realize that we have an ambiguous interactive relation to computer-mediated society. On the one had we are constantly solicited to participate in the operations of machines (i.e. become a part of the machine). On the other, CMC enlarges our power over self-representation and language. This means that for those able to master the system, new possibilities will open, perhaps some of the hopeful ones implied by Lyotard. Therefore, we might conclude that perhaps the disagreement between optimists and pessimists is not really about alternative futures but about a single future that contains different destinies (144). Thus, we are perhaps seeing the first signs of a "threat promised from the beginning of the industrial age": the emergence of a society in which the rate of technological advance has finally accelerated to the point where social position will be determined by position in the continuum of change.

 

Reviews of Alternative Modernity