Wednesday, February 26, 2025
America Gone!
Tuesday, February 18, 2025
The wild cowboy: the Machine
Think of the cowboy on the back of
his horse. The cowboy tells his horse what to do and the horse does it. This
working relationship between and his horse seems perfectly natural. Now imagine
the horse riding the cowboy. It not only seems unnatural, not to mention
ludicrous, but impossible. And yet today, social critics believe that is
exactly what has happened.
Emerson put the idea this way:
About 150 years later, it seems
that the “thing,” or technology or the Machine, is firmly in the saddle. This
view states that today the Machine is the predominant influence on human
thought and activity, in sum human culture. Furthermore, the Machine as a
totality has become autonomous since human beings have been so thoroughly
brought under its spell. Human beings may think they are free, but they are
not. “Neither nature nor culture now determines social structure,”[2]
Thomas Hughes tells us, because “technological systems have become the
determiner.”
Little Control
To see just how little control
people have today over the Machine (the author prefers the word Machine to other words such as technology or system because it conveys the idea of a unified, dynamic object or
system that the components of which have been organized to achieve specific,
desired ends, some simple, others complex. It comes in multiple forms, and may
be as large as a city such as New York or as small as an automobile or better
yet a smart phone that keeps humans on an electronic leash. Machines such as
these have taken control of people’s lives. Of course, they have beneficial
uses; otherwise, they would not have been built. However, their influence almost
always has harmful side effects. For decades the dominant concerned has been
the degradation of living environments.
For example, Los Angeles has an air
pollution problem that will cost 9.4 billion dollars this year in
health-related costs alone.[3]
That is a lot of money, but more important it reflects a lot of suffering,
especially among children. In addition, one hundred plant and animal species
are driven to extinction each year (1,000 time the prehistory rate.) Industrial
and chemical pollutants threaten to change the wealth (via the greenhouse
effect) and destroy the ozone which protects humans from dangerous ultraviolet
radiation that comes from the sun.[4]
The environment is being threaten on every front. This does not mean that
humans will destroy the environment, but they may change it so that it is no
longer conducive to human life. As Gregg Easterbrook puts it, “Nature doesn’t
care if the globe is populated by trilobites or thunder lizards or people or
six-eyed telepathic slugs.”[5]
Basis for Modern Society
But people generally do care. So
why don’t they, we, do something about these problems? One reason is that the
Machine is inherently a polluter and it is also the basis for modern society. We
have come to depend on it. To get rid of the Machine would be to throw the baby
out with the bath. Our situation is like air travelers who, 37,000 feet above
the Atlantic, decide they don’t want to fly. Another reason we can’t seem to
control the Machine is that our thinking has been so influenced by it that we
have forgotten how to think in non-Machine terms. Consequently, when the
Machine creates a problem, we usually turn to the Machine to solve it.
Furthermore, our values have become Machine-oriented. No one
today seems satisfied. And traditional sources of meaning—family, children
work, community, art, education, religion, etc.—compete poorly with going to
Mars or even with owning a Mercedes Benz automobile. Even the old technology
quickly becomes boring unless something new is introduced—or it becomes boring because something new is introduced.
Can't Say “No”
Thus we find ourselves on a wheel
of endless pursuit of satisfaction that we believe only the Machine can
provide. We have come to depend on the Machine as a source of meaning and in
doing so have given ourselves over to its control. We simply cannot say “no” to
the Machine. If the Machine says it is possible to build a Stealth bomber at
$530 million per plane, we build it. If the Machine says that we can go to
Mars, then, as the Time Magazine
headline exclaims, “It is the time for the U.S. to head for Mars.”[6]
Free time is an important indicator
of the amount of control we have over our lives. When free time becomes scarce,
there is a definite sense that forces greater than ourselves are in control of
our lives. It is like driving a car and discovering suddenly that the brakes
are gone. One moment we had complete control, and the next we find we can’t
stop at all. Having free time in our lives means being able to stop to look at
the scenery or to take a walk with our children. When we find there is less
time for such activities, then we know that we have given control over our
lives to something else.
More Work, Less Free
Time
One would think that as more
efficient and productive machines are built that people would be working less
and have more time for those many other interests that make well-rounded human
beings. But to think that the Machine creates free tome is to misunderstand the
nature and influence of the Machine. For example, consider the fact tht the
works f the two most technologically advanced nations of the 20th
century work more than twice as long as their prehistorical ancestors.
The Kung Bushmen, for example,
whose hunting and gathering cultures represents a way ofe that has existed for
40,000 years. Their workweek includes from 12 to 19 hours of labor. And though
their lives are materially poor compared our own, they are not empty. They
devote their free time to “such activities as visiting and entertaining friends
and relatives, and engaging in dances that put the participants into a trance.”[7]
Without the help of drugs such as Cocaine and Ecstasy because dancing itself is
enchanting. Placing oneself in a trance might seem primitively inconsistent
with modernity—the age of machines. Yet, the Machine (its communication
technologies) has become modernity’s pied piper.
In case the reader believes that
being placed in a trance has no place in modern society, he or she has to consider
that the average American family huddled around the mesmerizing glow of the TV.
Or not if the children are in their rooms playing video games or watching their
favorite shows on the computer. Being in a trance is compared to being in a
mental state induced by hypnosis. Yet, haven’t the various media of the Machine
had a hypnotic effect on modern societies? The Pied Pipers of the Machine
captures minds and lead the people under their thrall to an alternate,
artificial reality created by the Machine. They are like Dorothy and her dog
Toto who are swept away to the Land of Oz by a tornado. But Dorothy escapes
from Oz and returns to the real world, the Earthworld. That’s not so easy for
people living in a Machine world. Ponder the motorist who, with his head jerking
rhythmically up and down, turns and smiles at you uncomprehendingly. Or,
reflect on those ubiquitous joggers and walkers who tread intently onward in
sync with the hidden drumbeat of their portable music device or scanning their
smart phone.
Getting back to work, the point is
that technological advancement did not reduce the mount of work to be
performed. In fact, the workday first increased substantially with two
technological innovations that should have, one would have expected, reduced
the energy and time needed to grow food: the plow and the harness. These two
inventions, along with a few other minor inventions, such as the wheel, brought
into being agrarian society.[8]
Less Time for Dancing
With these inventions, people would
find that there would be even less time for dancing. Even today, the most
technologically advanced farmer in the world, the American farmer, has not seen
his workday shortened, though his standard of living has improved. One reason
for this is that technologies that make the American farmer the most productive
in the world are expensive, requiring more land and more work to pay for them.
Technological utopians, such as H.G. Wells and Karl Marx, thought the Machine
would ultimately free humans from work. About the influence of the Machine on
human labor, H.G. Wells says in his A
Modern Utopia (1905), “There are some foreshadowings of mechanical possibilities
in ‘New Atlantis’ [a utopian work written by Francis Bacon, published 1624],
but it is only in the 19th century that Utopias appeared in which
the fact is clearly recognized that the social fabric rests no longer upon
human labour.”[9]
As recently as 1969 this
expectation was expressed in “testimony before a Senate Subcommittee [which]
indicated that by 1985 people could be working just 22 hours a week or 27 weeks
a year or could retire at 38.”[10]
But these high-tech utopians did not understand the Machine. And as the reader
knows full well, their expectations turned out to be overly optimistic. To the
contrary, the amount of leisure time enjoyed by the average American has shrunk
37% since 1973, and the average workweek, including commuting time, has jumped
from under 41 hours to nearly 47 hours.[11]
Japanese workers have even less free time, working 360 hours more a year than
the average work in the United States.[12]
Why isn’t there more time? Because all the time-saving devices require more
time—to pay for, to keep up with, and to understand.
Machine Paradigm
The Machine not only requires more
work, but greater control over the worker. Almost all forms of work are
organized to some degree according to the Machine Paradigm (the idea that the
Machine is the ideal model of operation, each part of the operation performing
a specific function, under complete control of the mechanical system, having no
more value or importance otehr than the function it performs.) This method
analyzes work into a mechanistic, segmented process that structures the
worker’s activity into a predetermined and predictable pattern. The result from
the increasing specialization and control may be work alienation,
dissatisfaction with or indifference to the work being performed. Unalienating
work on the other hand, is often hard, dirty, long dangerous or low paying, but
it is also seen by the worker as having inherent value. Workers who operate
machines such as trucks, tractors, cranes, boats, etc. consider their work
meaningful not only because it requires skill, but because it gives workers a
sense of control, a sense of being free in their work.
Two Key Factors
There seem to be two keay factors
to worker satisfaction. The first is the worker’s relationship to his or her
work. The unalienated worker usually has greater control over a significantly
complex task. If the work, with the help of the Machine Paradigm, has been rationalized
into discrete segments of a continuing process (mail sorting, for example),
then the work becomes meaningless and seemingly in control of the worker.
Why isn’t there more time?
Because all the time-saving devices require more time
to pay for, to keep up with, and to understand.
Some companies, in order to reduced
turnover, have done way with the Machine Paradigm for certain tasks in order to
make tasks more meaningful for the worker. Indiana Bell Telephone , for
example, used to use an assembly-line method involving 21 steps. Turnover, a
sensitive measure of work morale, was reduced by 50%.[13]
The other factor is the relationship existing between and department or the
company. If workers believe that their only value to the organization is
functional or utilitarian (the organization being seen as a large, impersonal
Machine), workers will become alienated.
The factory was the first to use
the Machine Paradigm as an ideal model for organizing the work of its
employees. The assembly line broke the work into simple segment so that the
worker no longer had control of the entire job. Ultimately, worker lost control
over the quantity, quality, direction, and pace of the work.[14]
Lost Control
The result was workers became
alienated from their work, but no because it was hard, dirty, long, dangerous
or even low paying. Workers became alienated because they were no longer using
the Machine, but being used by it. They were simply cogs in a long, complicated
mechanical process. They might have control over a particular step of the
process, such as operating and arc welder or drill punch, but they had little
influence upon the process itself. Furthermore, because they no longer perform
complete job but only a single discrete step in the process, their work became
meaningless as it became trivial. For these workers, work had become an
impersonal activity which they could neither identify with nor control.
Henry Ford had used the Machine
Paradigm as the model for organizing labor into a continuing mechanical
process. The goal was to systematize and schedule all aspects of the working
operation, including sales, service, manufacturing and management. Most work
was no longer as hard, dirty, long, dangerous or low paying as it once was, but
the work had become mechanical and meaningless and the system had become
impersonal and threatening. Men like Henry [15]Ford
and Frederick Taylor (the father of scientific management) knew that in most
cases the Machine Paradigm degraded the work performed, but both men correctly
realized that systemization increased efficiency and productivity. Furthermore,
they believed, incorrectly, that the increasing rewards would compensate or any
loss of significance workers might experience.)
High Rate of Turnover
For example, 1914 Ford’s workers were
the highest paid in the automotive industry, an unprecedented $5 per day. And
yet, the high rate of employee turnover remained—380% in 1913 at the Highland
Park factory. For every hundred employees needed, the company would have to
hire 963. The wife of one worker wrote Ford the following: “The chain system
you have is a slave driver. My God! Mr. Ford. My husband has come home and
thrown himself down and won’t eat his supper—so done out! Can’t it be
remedied?... That $5 is a blessing—a bigger one than you know—but, oh they earn
it.”[16]
What this woman did not understand
was that from Ford’s point of view, which was that of the Machine Paradigm, the
worker’s only significance was is small role in the manufacturing operation.
Her point of view as the worker’s wife was different. Let’s call it organic and
human since it places the individual, her husband, at the center of concern. Furthermore,
she did not understand that Ford had created a system over which he no longer
had any control. The system demanded the type of work performed by the wife’s
husband. The system could be changed, of course, but any system based on the
Machine Paradigm, any system that is going to be optimally efficient and
productive, tends to dominate and exploit the worker.
In other words, it is the nature of
the Machine to exploit the worker in such a way as to make the worker more
productive and efficient.
Sometimes, changes in the Machine
actually do enhance the quality of work; riding a tractor is preferable to
walking behind a mule. However, such enhancements are secondary to the primary
principle of change in the workplace, which is to increase efficiency and
productivity. Of course, Machine efficiency may have to be sacrificed to minimize
other losses such as workers’ alienation and turnover.[17]
Mere Pawns
The major problem seems to be that
workers believe that they have little control over their lives as workers and
that they are merely pawns in the large Corporate Machine which uses them. Are
workers happier today in a Machine-oriented society? Apparently a large number
of them are not. Research published in a book titled The Cynical Americans: Living and working in the Age of Discontent and
Disillusion says that in 1983 43% of American worker were cynical about their
jobs and 16% are wary.[18]
In some groups it is even higher: blue collar workers, 54%; secretaries and
clerks, 48%; public utilities, 72%. Cynicism was lowest among professional
workers, 34%.[19]
As related to the worker, cynicism can be seen as an indicator of alienation.
The Machine is much kinder to
consumers. However, the high degree of control and influence exerted by the
Machine remain. When a job is alienating, it is up to management to convince
workers that the job really is meaningful and satisfying if only workers will
look beyond their specific task to the broader significance of the entire
operation. With consumers it is the job of advertising to convince consumers
that they need something that they in fact do not need. According to Montagu
and Matson, “Management of consumer demand is the manufacture of need and the
engineering of tastes.”[20]
The results of this engineering are that consumers are led further and further
from traditional values and drawn increasingly under the influence of the
Machine’s values.
In Alvin Toffler’s The Third Wave we are told: “The market,
which was subordinated to the social or religious-cultural goals of early
societies, came to set the goals of industrial society. Most people were sucked
into the money system. Commercial values became central.”[21]
Change in Values
Though one might hesitate to argue
that the Machine seeks to destroy traditional values, the Machine does seem to
have an inherent tendency to commercialize or replace them with values that
increase dependence upon the Machine. Older Americans, those who were adults
during World War II, are especially aware of the change in values that has been
an industrial society since 1870—when machine-based industry replaced agriculture
as he most important economic activity[22]—it
was not until the 1940s that the values of the average American began to change
dramatically.
It was about this time that America
began to shift from a work-oriented society to a consumer-oriented society, which
would eventually result in a radical decline of the importance of traditional
values. Thus we see a shift in the way Americans value children, the family,
the community, religion, and work, as well as the importance of secondary traditional
values such as art and education. It is not surprising that our greatest economic
competitor, Japan, is also becoming acutely aware of the threats to its
traditional values ever since the Machine became the dominant influence in
Japanese society.
The Machine has an inherent tendency
to commercialize traditional values
or replace them with values that increase
dependence on the Machine.
The increasing affluence that has
made many Japanese eager to adopt the American consumer-oriented way of life,
as the following editorial in an Asahi newspaper attests: “Japan has become the
richest country with money earned abroad—but only in bookkeeping... Living in
Japan, there no feeling of being rich.... It is high time to change the
Japanese way of thinking.”[23]
Other Japanese fear that the new way of life offered by the Machine will soon
destroy their traditional culture and its values. As one would expect, both
groups turn to America as their example.
Although older Americans are now
aware of the fact that the way of life that produced their values no longer
exists as the dominant influence in American society, they often are not aware
of the crucial role the Machine has played in causing the shift in the American
worldview and value system. It is tempting to blame the new generation for the
decline in traditional values, but this explanation is not very satisfactory
and perhaps unfair.
Our Changing Worldview
One of two things changes the traditional
worldview: either new ideas or new things. Some social critics like Alan Bloom (The Closing of the American Mind)
emphasize ideas. Bloom, being a philosopher, would probably tend to look to
ideas as the major source of influence. Nevertheless, new ideas have not had a
significant influence unless the material conditions of the society are conducive
to the acceptance of those ideas. For example, had the working classes of France
and Russia not been abused and exploited by selfish and uncompromising ruling
classes, revolutions implemented new social-political paradigms might not have
occurred.
Although the influence of ideas
remains relevant to the situation in modern America, the ideological explanation
does not sufficiently take into account the tremendous influence the Machine (technology)
has had on American society since World War II, such as the unprecedented
affluence of the middle class and (believe it or not) the introduction of
television into American society.
The Entertainment
Machine
Let’s take a closer look at the influence
of television and similar entertainment technologies. It is natural to blame
the decline of traditional values on the content of certain forms of
entertainment, such as rock music, television and motions pictures. It is is natural
because machines are thought to have neutral value: “Guns don’t kill people; people
kill people.” The motivating factor is the idea, not the thing. Yet, as true as
this is, it ignores the influence of
the gun.
Guns themselves embody an idea. In
handguns the only idea is to “kill people.” In America, where there is a
profusion of handguns in the homes, on television, in movies, and in stores,
the weapon has created its own mystique and mythology, thus having become a
dominant influence upon the American mind. In other words, things are not
neutral, but influence the way people think about their world and the way they
deal with it. Consider the ideas embodied in certain specialized environments,
such as a church, a playground, or a university. The ideas are those of
worshipping, playing, and learning. The objects of these environments express
various ways of perceiving and relating to and the world. They influence our perception
as well as our attitudes.
Now mentally walk into a gun store.
You would see something like this with handguns on the opposite wall:
One’s relationship to the world changes dramatically. The
idea is death, and too often the idea is acted upon. In the first week of May
1989,[24]
for example, 464 people were killed by guns in America.
Neutral Presence
People often take the same attitude
toward entertainment technologies as they do toward guns—assuming their
presence is neutral. Or, at best, they will attribute any influence to the
content of the various entertainment media. Recognizing this influence, as well
as the fact that the content itself often reflects consumer values created by
the Machine, it is also necessary to recognize that the media themselves are no
less influential. Consider, for example, the pervasiveness and accessibility of
the most popular form of the Entertainment Machine. Music is now available to
anyone, anyplace, anytime on radios, tapes, records, compact discs, personal
stereos, “boom boxes,” etc. Revision offers almost as many technological
variations, and is probably the overall winner since it is turned on an average
of eight hours a day in American homes. [TV has become a grandparent Machine surrounded
by a plethora of new audio-video Machines.] With the advent of home as an
entertainment center, video games and the VCR, the television is without a doubt
the most influential institution in American culture.
Little Time or
Learning
What is so impressive about this is
how entertainment technology has inundated society with so much entertainment, so
much that Americans spend 25 to 30 percent of their time being entertained by a
machine of one kind or another. Content aside, so much time devoted to the Entertainment
Machine is bound to have drastic consequences. Children who have spent 16,000
hours of their short childhood before the television set (in addition to the
time spent plugged into their pop music machines) simply cannot have much time
left over for learning activities.
The Machine has not only made entertainment
pervasive, it has made it easy. The might be characterized as a “dumbing down
effect,” meaning that the entertainment skills that people themselves once aspired
to acquire now been invested in the Machine. Simply put, the entertainment
Machine encourages passivity rather than activity. Skilled participators become
unskilled spectators.
The passive audience’s trance-like
state requires only the lowest level of cognitive operation. Unlike playing a musical instrument, painting
a picture, sewing a dress or even reading a book(which does improve literacy as
well as other thinking skills), there are no cognitive skills—beyond simple
consciousness—needed for most forms of entertainment provided by the Entertainment
Machine. It is not surprising that young people who spend most of thier time
being passively entertained find it much more difficult to engage themselves in
intellectually demanding tasks.
With the advent of the home
video games and the VCR, the
television has become the most
influential institution in
American culture.
The Obvious Threat
The threat to the Work Machine is
obvious. Preoccupation with passive form of entertainment produces
personalities and mind unsuited or the intellectual demands made upon them by
school and work in a technological society. The Work Machine is bound to suffer
more directly from the “dumbing-down effect” of the Entertainment Machine, as
well as from the loss of thousands of hours that every individual could have devoted
to intellectual development. The result is that the Entertainment Machine robs
its brother, the Work Machine, of intelligent workers capable of engaging in complex
tasks with intellectual skill.
A society that is saturated by entertainment
is bound to become entertainment-oriented. One of he results of the work-to-entertainment
paradigm shift is the decline of the work ethic (which basically says that work
is good if not always fun). There is an ever-widening gap between the world of
work and the world of entertainment, with the result that increasingly work is
seen as a necessary evil.
Preoccupation with
Entertainment
In addition, very little of the
content of pop music, television, and modern motion pictures applauds the value
of work (beer commercials being the most notable exception). The result of the
preoccupation with the Entertainment Machine is that work has lost much of its
status as a cultural value.
However, the Work Machine is better
at adapting than those poor unprepared young people who have been led to La La
Land by that pied piper the Entertainment Machine. When the Work Machine loses
a worker because of the “dumbing-down effect” of the Entertainment Machine, it
simply creates a smarter machine to do the job. Once the youngster awakens from
the Entertainment Machine induced reverie he might find himself barely making a
living at a low-paying service job or unemployed. The Machine, like nature, is
indifferent to the fate of the individual who chose to be entertained rather
than educated. And playing catch-up is difficult as an adult struggling to
survive in an intellectually demanding world. Many people never do catch up. And
the Machine does not care.
False Utopia
As the new generation comes under
the influence of the Machine, it is no wonder that the old generation often
does not recognize its own children. The Machine that was so lovingly created
by the old generation for all the new would radically change the values of he
new generation. The Machine was a gift from the parent generation that had
known the scarcity of the Great Depression and the sacrifice required by World
War II.
This was a generation that was
devoted to its children, to its community, and to its country. It was a
generation that, out of love, generosity, and a profound devotion to work,
created an affluent utopia for its children. For them, the Machine that made
the utopia possible was simply that, a machine. That it could transform the
American way of life and the American value system did not seem possible, and
was hardly a consideration when it was ostensibly the cause of such dramatic
improvement in the material quality of American life.
One recalls the transforming touch
of King Midas who loved three things more than anything else: first his
daughter, then his rose garden, and finally gold. Through the good deed of
saving a satyr he earned wish and he chose to be able to transform anything he
touched into gold. That seemed like a good idea in theory, but when he touched
the flowers of his garden they turned to gold, and when he touched his daughter
she too turned to gold. The effect of the machine was similarly pervasive. In less
than a century it had a transforming effect on every aspect of American life, upon
the workplace, the community, and the home. The older generation created a Machine
of extraordinary transformational power and bequeathed it to its children only
to discover that transformed them as well.
The new generation would soon lose
touch with the values of the Machine’s creators. The new way of life that the
younger generation would embrace would be that of consumerism; a life
preoccupied with the Machine and its endless diversions. They would revel in
their own Midas touch and disregard its control and corrupting influence. (In
Japan this new generation is call shinjinrui
or new human beings, the new breed of consumers.)[25]
As a result, the new generation’s
devotion to the old community, to the old religion and its ethical worldview,
to the old America, to its children, and even to its own parents, would
decrease or disappear whenever that devotion conflicted with the pursuit of the
newly-created wealth that flowed endlessly from the Machine that had been so loving
built. Today we live in a new world, a world that is materially far superior to
that of the old. Few Americans, young or old, would want to return to the old
pre-Machine world. And yet, Americans are becoming increasingly aware that a
good as the changes have been, they have exacted a price, not only from the
physical environment, but also from the cultural soul of the people. The old
way of life, to use the jargon of the car salesman, has served a the trade-in
for the new.
Americans are also beginning to
realize that such costs can ultimately destroy much, if not all, of the good
that has been accomplished. A nation that spends most of it leisure time
watching TV and adoring pop stars such s Roseanne Barr—“TV’s hottest star,”
says Time magazine,[26]
and Kevin Costner (described on the cover of Time as “The new American hero: Smart, Sexy and on a Roll”[27])—will
not long be able to sustain a culture that is either affluent or spiritually
meaningful.
Nor can a nation that is
quickly depleting its
resources and poisoning its
environment expect to
maintain or very long a
materially high quality of life.
Nor can a nation that is quickly
depleting its resources and poisoning its environment expect to maintain for
very long a materially high quality of life. Finally, a people that finds, for
whatever reason, that their work has become drudgery, will not only have lost
one of the most significant sources of meaning in life, but will no longer be
able to afford the affluence that has been made possible by those Americans who
loved to work even more than they loved to spend.
Show Some
Self-Control
If Americans want to keep the
technological gains that they have made and not totally abandoned the values of
the old world, then they are going to have to start thinking about just what it
is they want fro the Machine, as well as about what they do not want from it.
Then they must act upon their conclusions. They are going to have to show some
self-control as well as control over the vast Machine they have created.
As it stands, the influence of the Machine is supreme because Americans have failed to control their consumerist appetite. This appetite is typical of a society trying to fill the void created by the abandonment of traditional sources of meaning. If Americans, and the rest of the world, fail to control themselves, then things will remain in the saddle and continue to ride mankind. And as long as that situation prevails, the future America society, and that of humankind in general, will remain uncertain.
[1]
Abert Borgman, Technology and the
Character of Contemporary life. (Chicago: U. of Chicago Press, 1984), p.
58.
[2]
Thomas Hughes, American Genesis: A
Century of Invention nd Technological Enthusiasm—1879-1970. (New York:
Viking, 1989), p. 58.
[3]
Alina Tugend, “Cost of Smog: $9.4 Billion a Year,” Los Angeles Herald Examiner, 7 July 1989, p.1.
[4]
“Planet of the Year: What on Earth Are We Doing?” (cover story), Time, 2 January 1989, pp. 26-73, 54.
[5]
Gregg Easterbrook, “Cleaning Up,” Newsweek,
24 July, 1989, p. 50.
[6]
“Michael Lemonick, “The Next Giant Leap for Mankind,” Time, 24 July 1989, p. 50.
[7]
Rudi Volti, Society and Technological
Change (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1988), p.89.
[8]
Gerhard Lenski nd Jean Lenski, Human
Societies: An Introduction to Macrosociology, 5th ed., (New
York: McGraw Hill, 1987), p.164.
[9] H.G.
Wells, “A Modern Utopia,” The Quest for
Utopia, eds., Glenn Negley and J. Max Patrick (Garden City, New York:
Doubleday, Anchor Books, 1962), pl 234.
[10]
Nancy Gbbs, “How America Has Run Out of Time,” Time, 24 April, 1989, p 59.
[11]
Ibid., p. 58.
[12]
Karl Schoenberger, “Self-Denial Wears Thin for Japanese, ” Los Angeles Times, 7 July 1989, p. 11.
[13]
Lenski, p. 283.
[14]
Bernard Gendron, Technology and The Human
Condition (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1977), p. 136.
[15]
Hughes, p. 219.
[16]
Ibid., p. 219.
[17]
Lenski, p. 283.
[18]
Donald Kanter and Philip Mirvis, Living and working in the Age of Discontent
and Disillusion (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1989), p. 10.
[19]
Ibid., pp. 170-173.
[20]
Ashley Montagu and Floyd Matson, The
Dehumanization of Man (New York: McGraw-Hill 1983), p. 114.
[21]
Alvin Toffler, The Third Wave (New
York: Bantam, 1982), p. 40.
[22] Lensky,
p. 237.
[23]
Schoenberger, p. 11.
[24] The
year this essay was written and published in Coleman College’s magazine Aim High was 1989. Has the gun situation
improved much since then? Not according to the BBC December 17, 2024 article “How
many US mass shootings have there been in 2024?”: “There have been more than
488 mass shootings [an incident in which four or more people are injured or
killed] across the US so far in 2024. For each of the last four years there
have been more than 600 mass shootings - almost two a day on average.” Or The Trace (Dec 31, 2024): “16,576 - The
number of firearm deaths, excluding suicides, in 2024.”
[25] Schoenberger,
p. 10.
[26] “Slightly
to the Left of Normal,” Time, 8 May
1989, p. 82.
[27] “Kevin
Costner: The New American Hero—Smart, Sexy and on a Roll,” (cover story), Time, 26June 1989, pp. 76-82.
Saturday, February 15, 2025
The Limits of Postmodernism
Preface: The Journey that Became a Destination
Coleman College paid for me to take a train to University of Nebraska at Kearney to present a paper titled “Seeking the Postmodern Project.” The conference was “Modernity, Postmodernity, and the Problem of Reception: Nietzsche and the Consequences.” It was put on by the German language department. It became a special experience for me for reasons having nothing to do with the conference. Coleman College allowed me to take a train from Fullerton, California, to Hastings, Nebraska. I argued that the train would get me closer to Kearney than a plane would. That was a true, but the route was very long, passing through the enchanting states of California, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, and Nebraska. I enjoyed every minute of the trip. The train let me off at about 3 AM. It was a wintry morning and the town was asleep. The car I reserved was all alone in the train station parking lot with the keys inside. During the drive to Kearney I saw migrating geese. I got out of the car to watch and listen to them as they passed over high above in the gray sky. During the conference I drove out to a prairie-grass reserve. There I stood and looked upon a remnant of the ancient prairie. A mystical experience? Perhaps.
Seeing
the geese and prairie grass meant more to me than the talk about Nietzsche, though
I didn’t say that to my boss Dr. Coleman Furr, though I think he would have
understood because he had a desert home in Yuma, Arizona. My talk was on Nietzsche and Hemingway. But I
rewrote it for its publication in the Platte
Valley Review (winter 1995, volume 23, number 1). Nietzsche was still
present, but having viewed the Great Plains from the train and in person I
replaced Hemingway with the Pawnee Indians, the ancient dwellers of that
ancient land. In the words of poet William Cullen Bryant, it was the place
where,
The red man came—
The
roaming hunter tribes, warlike and fierce,
And
the mound-builders vanished from the earth.
The
solitude of centuries untold
Has settled where they dwelt. (“The Prairies”)
The title of my article became “The Limits of Postmodernism.” A question that came to mind was “Are our lives, more comfortable and less vulnerable to daily hazards, more meaningful than the early lives of the red and white settlers of the prairies?”
The Limits of Postmodernism
I
want to reflect on the project of postmodernism and pay tribute to this
place—the city of Kearney and the state of Nebraska. Also pay tribute to the
peoples who have called this place home—Americans and the native peoples, most
recently the Pawnee—and indirectly to Nietzsche, who valued perhaps most of all
living simply and honestly, who understood life to be a drama of very basic
forces, who believed Western culture had created a worldview so cluttered by
false notions and meaningless distractions that it had lost sight of the simple
yet dramatic realities of living.
Postmodernism
is essentially a historical period, not a project. But once people like
ourselves become aware of the postmodern condition and begin to explore it,
define it, and respond to it, it evolves into a kind of project. Even if the
postmodern means that all projects are finished, insofar as they no longer have
final legitimacy, then learning to live meaningfully, truthfully, beneficially
in such a world becomes our project.
Having
a clearly defined project enables individuals and cultures to move confidently
into the future by giving them a clear sense of direction. And though many
postmodern thinkers suggest certain directions, certainly the postmodern
condition is characterized by the lack of a universal project capable of giving
definition to society or to the individual. Western society has been
characterized by its universal religious and secular projects contained in
grand mythic narratives and expressed in ideologies. The postmodern world, on the other hand, offers no
clear project that society or the individual can aspire to, no imperatives for
living rooted in a general ontology.
The
first task is to reconsider whether the worldview of postmodernism or modernism
or the Western religious tradition can adequately serve as the basis for a new
project. Western culture has taken a good deal of pride in replacing
traditional cultures, even those of its own. But now in this post-modern
period, when even the final projects of modernism have been called into
question, it is time to consider whether or not the culture that evolved out of
Western philosophy, religion, science, and technology is really truer, better,
more meaningful than even those first cultures that existed before the great
civilizations.
Take,
for example, the Pawnee who lived in the region. Are our truths more profound
and satisfying? Do they more accurately express the reality of the lifeworld?
To think that these people whose relationship to the world was one of immediacy
did not understand the world seems to me arrogant and misguided. Do we really
understand life more clearly? I do not think we do. How can we, isolated as we
are from the primordial world, that first and final world, by the clutter of
our intellectual, artistic, and technological creations? I believe that we, the
critics and philosophers of the postmodern, have created a complex symbolic
universe that may provide us with a fascinating dwelling place but does not
effectively serve the lives of most people. Do we really need all this? Do the
people of this city Kearny—these farmers, merchants, parents, and children–need
what we have to offer? Does our talk really get to some important truth that
can lead them or anyone to a way of life that is truer and more noble than the
one we see about us here on the great plains of Nebraska? Or is what we have to
offer simply more of the intellectual clutter that has poured so profusely from
the Western tradition?
Note the words of planting from one of the primordials, those people who dwelled in the first world, these the words of the Navajo:
The
sacred blue corn-seed I am planting
In
one night it will grow and flourish
In
one night the corn increases
In
the garden of the House God
The
sacred white corn-seed I am planting,
In
one day it will grow and ripen,
In
one day the corn increases,
In its beauty it increases.[1]
Does all of
our knowledge enable us to live more truthfully, meaningfully, and
appreciatively than this? What do we offer instead? This was once a world where
all things and activities were sacred. This was a world where life and language
were simple and profound.
Language
creates, translates, and reveals reality for human beings, but I ask what
greater thing our modern theoretical systems do than are accomplish by the
simple expressions of the Navajo. Is our world truer? Is it more noble? Have we
greater insight? Or have we created a universe of words that imprison us, that
separate us from the world that is truly our flesh, our mother, our origin, and
our end? Language can create the illusion of reality; it can become an
artificial reality. Moderns are awash in language and yet have, it seems to me,
very little experience or understanding of reality. And the postmoderns seem to
have lost their way in this complex linguistic universe, and even seem to be
cheerful at having become lost.
The
Pawnee who once grew their corn and hunted buffalo here, the farmers who still
take their living from the earth, they are not lost, and they have little need
of what we offer. So what is it we as postmoderns offer? What are we about? If
it is we who are the educators, then we must accept the responsibility of
leadership, but the direction of that leadership remains unclear to me. Or if
there is some direction but we cannot communicate it simply and clearly to
ordinary people, to farmers, merchants, students, then what we do is really of
little value and we have little to offer. For unlike doctors who help their
patients with treatments and medicines, we have only our language to offer to
those who seek some direction in the postmodern world. When I offer direction to
my students, I do not send them to the texts of the postmoderns, which they
cannot comprehend, but to those simple words of the believers, artists, or
Native Americans, who I believe lived lives far more simple, truthful, honest,
and beautiful than those of moderns or postmoderns. I fear that we have lost
our way and are not really interested in finding a direction, which would, as a
result, dislocate the self from the center of attention.
Is
reality as complex as our philosophical, scientific, aesthetic, and even
religious systems would have us believe? Yesterday I drove about the
countryside, walked upon a dusty road, and even walked upon a remnant of
ancient prairie. What I saw was wonderful yet to very simple. Certainly the
individual forms of this vast expanse—the river, sky, land, and the animals and
plants—are complex, and wonderful in their complexity, even mystery; but their
purpose, their ultimate reason for being, seems to me to be manifest. They
simply are. It is the appearance, not its cause, that is the final and
important reality.
I
marvel at the red-tailed hawk that sails overhead on giant wings, its ancient
head gazing keenly at the world below. If I dissect this beast and master the
mechanics of its organism, do I really understand its reality any better? I do
not think so. It is what it appears to be, a creature of the world that seeks
to continue its being, to stay out of harm’s way, to enjoy the simple pleasures
that happen to be associated with its particular form. I believe we have overly
complicated our lives, and postmodern theory has simply added to the muddle. As
leaders, experts in the present condition of humanity, we must consider
carefully what it is we should be conveying to others. Are we leading our
students to some place where the vision of life is clear, fine, and satisfying,
or are we continuing the long history of complicating life and obfuscating what
is real?
The
Western tradition began with the complex symbolic universe of ideas created out
of ancient religious narratives and Greek philosophy. The tradition has spent
2000 years adding to, understanding, verifying, and more recently, attempting
to simplify itself. Postmodernism seems to be the last stage—a realization that
we have been investigating a world of our own creation more than the world
itself, perhaps as a result of never fully living in or understanding the real
world as a lifeworld. Historically, most people continued to live in the reality of the lifeworld in spite
of the fact that philosophers, theologians, and scientists told them that they
were not living in the real world and that their worldly lives were not fully real thus not that important.
Priests and philosophers, cloistered from the activities of the earth-world, studying scripture or inventing metaphysical systems, told them that reality was hidden and obscured, that it revealed itself only through their contemplative activities, mental inventions that expressed human reality as it truly is. The theologian told them that the true world lay elsewhere and that people’s lives were insignificant because they occurred in a subordinate realm of inferior reality. Native Americans, however, understood that there was nothing other than the act of living. For them the value and reality of every act of living was absolute and self-evident. This attitude is expressed in what Beverly Hungry Wolf says of the life of women among the Blackfeet:
Let me just say that in the culture of my people the work of the woman was generally respected and honored, for the men knew very well that they could not live without them. The people of the past thought it a great honor that the women should bear and rear the children, ensuring that there would be people in the future. Equally honorable was the woman’s work of creating the lodges that made the homes, putting them up and taking down when camp moved, heating them, and providing the bedding and clothing for the household members. In the social life of my grandmothers, a household was judged not only by the bravery and generosity of the man, but also by the kindness and work habits of the woman. Even the wife of a poor man could find honor among the people by being a good housekeeper.[2]
Do
her words somehow miss the mark? Is there some hidden, essential dimension of
reality if overlooked life cannot be fully lived? Is her view of the reality
and significance of the lifeworld naive and unsophisticated? Again, I do not
think so. Whatever we might add would be at best superfluous, at worst would falsify
reality. And perhaps the great tragedy of the postmodern condition is to have
lost complete sight and experience of the fundamentals of life. What has the
modern world invented that gives life greater meaning than the forms of being
of the native peoples? In fact, if we look at the monstrous projects of
modernism, we find that what continues to matter most to people are the
simplest of things—love, work, pleasure, family, friends, community, the forms
of nature, and a clear sense of purpose. The modern world remains in spite of
its technological wonders a universe in which people still seek most those
primordial elements of being human. If anything, modernism has transformed
these elements into grotesque mutations. The tragedy of modern projects is that
in the process of creating a world of greater comfort and security, sight of
the fundamentals of being human has been lost.
Traditional
Western man believed that nothing mattered so much as the presence of himself
in the world, that he was the sovereign of the earth and its creatures and the
object of universal, cosmic concern. On the other hand, modern man, rejecting all
anthropomorphic metaphysics knows he means nothing to the universe, so he kills
or captures its creatures so that his power at least makes him sovereign of the
earth. If there is no God, then man will become God. To the Indian both
attitudes would have seemed perverse. The Indian sought to be noticed by the
great forces of the world, but did so not from a sense of self-importance but,
to the contrary, from a profound sense of insignificance within the great
scheme of things. The Indian knew that the universe—the “Wholly Other”[3] that
was also home and mother—was the true object of wonder, not its human
offspring. The Indian’s attitude was ultimately one of respect and adoration
without the narcissistic egoism of the Jew or Christian. The Lakota prayer to
the Great Mystery begins,
Great
Mystery, you existed from the first.
The
sky, this earth you created;
Great
mystery—look upon me, pity me,
that
the Nation may live.[4]
For
2000 years Westerners have suffered from delusion of grandeur and
self-infatuation, which have, ironically, stripped the world of meaning for
humans. Commencing with the Jewish and Greek worldviews and continued and
refined by the Christian worldview, Western culture has embarked upon a process
of establishing humanity as the supreme object and purpose of the cosmos. All
the world leads to the human doorstep. (The religious traditions have often
been critical of secular humanism, but both attitudes are egocentric and self-infatuated.)
Yet, we rejected or destroyed the native cultures because their cultures and beliefs were considered nothing more than
childish superstition. But it has been we who have been children, continuing to
surrender ourselves to a Great Savior or wrap ourselves in ideological security
blankets that negate and oppress rather than enhance life, afraid to accept our
humble status in the world, misusing our technical prowess like a frustrated
child angrily demanding the focus of every attention and the satisfaction of
every wish. When we learn to accept the red-tailed hawk as our equal, then we
will share in its nobility. But I am afraid that opportunity has already
passed; the people who understood most clearly the ways of life and the place
of humanity among nature’s other creatures have already existed.
Said Chief Luther Standing Bear f the Lakota, or Sioux,
[The Lakota] loved the Earth and all things of the Earth, the attachment growing with age. The old people came literally to love the soil. They sat or reclined on the ground with a feeling of being close to a mothering power.
Their tepees were built upon the Earth and their altars were made of Earth. The birds that flew in the air came to rest upon the Earth and it was the final abiding place of all things that lived and grew. The soil was soothing, strengthening, cleansing, and healing.
That is why the Indian still sits upon the Earth instead of propping himself up and away from its life-giving forces. For him, to sit or lie upon the ground is to be able to think more deeply and to feel more keenly; he can see more clearly into the mysteries of life and come closer in kinship to other lives about him.
Kinship with all creatures of the Earth, sky and water was a real and active principle. For the animal and bird world there existed a brotherly feeling that kept the Lakota safe among them and so close did some of the Lakotas come to their feathered and furred friends that in true brotherhood they spoke a common tongue.[5]
The
focus of life for Indians was worldly rather than otherworldly. They were a
people at home in the real world, the primordial world of nature. They lived in
the midst of its forms and knew them intimately. They were not lords of the
earth but merely one form of being among millions of others. In their struggle
to survive they knew they participated in that single principle of being—to
endure and survive meaningfully. They understood also that all forms of life
were of one family bound together in this struggle. It was a worldview that
required courage and humility—a sense that the self mattered less than the
whole and the greatest virtue was humility expressed through self-sacrifice.
The
postmodern, with certain important exceptions such as ecofeminism, which in fact
seeks a return to the abandoned organic lifeworld,[6] is not
an advancement over the follies of the traditional Western and modern worldviews.
At least the older Western worldviews required some sense of humility or before
some great human project. But now, with the traditional and modern projects
dismantled, we are left only with our self-centeredness. And the center is
empty because the periphery of the world has disappeared. Without the world we are nothing, and modern
technological society sacrificed the world long ago.
In
this place, Kearney, Nebraska, one can still see the world that was once there
for everyone. It is the earth. It humbled us, fed us, gave us work to do, and
sustained a sense of wonder for Being—as it still does for these people. Here
we can see clearly the horizon of that primordial world that invented us and
will one day reclaim each of us, our ideas, and our civilizations. It is the
horizon of Being, and it is neither the creation of God or a god. It is simply
our home, our mysterious home, mysterious only because of its presence, just as
each one of us is mysterious by the very fact that we are. To seek more than
that, to seek further justification of our being, to demand a final explanation
or purpose, results not only in becoming lost—and I believe that no people have
become more lost than we—but also in losing a sense of wonder and mystery for
the very act of living—being here and having the opportunity of seeing (as an act
of reverent appreciation) the world and its magnificent forms.
We
may have no ultimate purpose beyond our being here, beyond wanting to endure
and to see those whom we love endure for the length of their allotted time, but
that does not lessen our value, because our
being is the stuff of our purpose and our values. Our eyes enable us to see the
beauty of the world; our ears allow us to hear its mystery; our hearts enable
thus to love our own; our hearts and minds allow us to know, appreciate, and
love all the forms being—living and non-living; our families friends, and
neighbors enable us to commit ourselves to others and to endure the suffering
that comes with sacrificing for others.
We
can still be heroes and saints. Even without God, we can aspire to the divine
life of Jesus—who loved all things of the world, whose life was heroic, noble
and sacred because it was a life of concern and sacrifice. It was a life of
power, but not the power of control, manipulation, and destruction, not the
power of accumulation and domination; it was the power of love, the power of altruistically transforming oneself into a gift for others. Such a life is needed in a world with
or without God.
But
this is not the message of the postmodern world. If anything the postmodern
world lives in in greater forgetfulness than the traditional or modern. It is a
small, claustrophobic world of illuminated mirrors that reflect only one
another. The music and dance of life has become a disco of artificiality, a TechNoir,[7] where
the rock music and colored strobe-lights become a formless noise that has no connection
with the world beyond. Where in the artificial capsule of the technological
society is one going to find a place and time to sit upon the earth in order to
experience its life-giving forces? Nowhere. Life in the postmodern is
completely alienated from the first world, the primordial world.
Whether we rediscover our lifeworld before we destroy most of it remains to be seen. If we do not then we will finish our existence like Sartre’s hell—condemned to live alone with one another, in a world from which the beautiful and mysterious forms of Being were driven into extinction, with what is left being displayed in in cages or reserves so curious humans can view remnants of the world they have lost. We have created a prison and then happily became its prisoners, living not even in cages but cells that would be dark were it not for electric lights and television that glimmer like the illuminated shadows that dance upon the walls of Plato’s cave. In creating the modern world we destroyed or at least eclipsed not only an older world but a universe. Certainly, if the postmodern world seeks to create a new universe, it will have to begin by searching through the ruins of the old, for as of yet it has no materials of its own to build with.
* * *
This
journal article was published in the Platte
Valley Review, January 1994. It was based on my presentation “Seeking the
Postmodern Project” that I gave at University of Nebraska at Kearney for a
conference put on by the German language department: “Modernity, Postmodernity,
and the Problem of Reception: Nietzsche and the Consequences” (April 15-17,
1993).
The author wrote Her Quest, a science fiction novel that describes a young teenage girl who embarks on a long, arduous journey to find the wisdom of the Native Americans. She lives in Usatopia, a technological society that is so artificial that birds are tiny robots that serve as observation drones. That is her world, the one that made her. She knows nothing of the world she seeks. Her quest was inspired by the words of her father, emperor of the Usatopia. Broodingly pacing back and forth and talking to himself unaware of his daughter’s presence, he says that his society lost the wisdom possessed by the ancient peoples who came before technology took control of the world, eventually destroying global civilization because it was misused by dull-minded men not unlike the men wrecking our world. Ironically, robots are more humane than the males driven by masculine aggression. Why? Because they are controlled by the A.I. Her journey is a return to the old ways of an ancient people.
[1] John Bierhorst, ed., The Trail of the Wind: American Indian Poems and Ritual Orations (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux,1987) 115.
[2] Beverly Hungry Wolf, The Ways of My Grandmothers. See “Learning to Camp Like My Grandmothers” (New York: Quill, 1980) 120-129.
[3] Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy (London University Press, 1969) 25.
[4] Quoted in Curtis’ Western Indians by Ralph W. Andrews (New York: Bonanza Books, 1962) 93.
[5] Luther Standing Bear, Touch the Earth: A Self-Portrait of Indian Existence, ed., T.C. McLuhan (New York: Promontory Press, 1971) 6.
[6]
The meaning of organic need not be limited to organisms. For the Native
American all of nature was alive—rivers, streams, fire, shooting stars, the
waxing and waning of the moon, the sun passing overhead, rain, snow, clouds, wind, storms, and dust devils, the passing and arriving seasons, and so
on. The earth has been an evolving organism since its birth, and it will grow
old (if we don’t destroy it before it does) and die. What the Native Americans knew that the
Western tradition has forgotten with its religions, philosophies, sciences, and
ideologies is that each entity of nature has a life of its own.
Who would have ever expected the
beaver to be wiser than humans who killed them to near-extinction for hats and perfumes?
They build their homes and care for their families. They are aggressive only
toward threatening intruders; otherwise, their philosophy is live and let live.
Tortoises also possess greater wisdom than humans. They too are not aggressive
creatures by nature. They don’t go out looking for trouble as humans do. They
are loners. Like the beaver they will protect their home territory. And like
other loners they can moody. However, the greatest wisdom of the tortoise is
that he/she doesn’t race though life, as we humans do. He/she seems to realize
that goal of life isn’t about winning or reaching an invented destination.
The wisdom of these creatures
is that the primordial raison d'ĂȘtre of
life is simply being/existing in the world, better yet living life with the
appreciative awareness possessed by Native Americans but forgotten by moderns and
postmoderns who surrendered their minds and lives to invented fantasies,
ideologies, and technologies. Busily
they hurry to this destination or that, often leaving a trail of blood,
oblivious to the world about them. It’s hardly a sign of wisdom that humans
engage in war as ants and chimpanzee do. You would think we would know better.
Apparently we’re no smarter than them just better armed. We deified masculine aggression and invented religious and secular ideologies to justify our love of war, hardly indications of wisdom but forms of euphemized stupidity.
[7]
The name of the discotheque in the film The
Terminator.