I just got through
rereading Matthew Arnold’s 1862 book-length essay, Culture
and Anarchy, this time fortunately in a well-edited and concise version
provided by the Great Books Foundation.
It’s a wonderful gem for the ideas it contains and a tedious bore for
the lengthy Victorian language in which they’re embedded. Arnold is more generally known as a poet (he
taught poetry at Oxford and his “Dover
Beach” at least used to be required reading in any literature class). But his late 19th century democratizing
reform of the English school system and his great essay properly put him on the
reading list for social history courses; that was where I first encountered him.
The culture he writes about is not the
culture of paintings and music and how to dress properly for a ball, nor anthropology’s
modern definition of culture as a communication system, but about the search
for perfection, “seeing things as they are” and virtuous action. He dubs the whole thing “sweetness and light”
and says that is what we should be educating for, because that is what holds
society together. It is, for example, “seeing
things as they are” which enables us to recognize the common traits and foibles
we share with others opposed to us and completely unlike us and to work
together with them. And, like his
contemporary John Stuart Mill, he believes that Liberty is meaningless unless
it produces responsible action. It is
the interaction between the search for perfection and virtuous living that
prevents society from descending into an “anything goes” anarchy on the one
hand or an intolerable conformancy on the other. And the greatest enemy of sweetness and light
is what he calls our immersion in the “machinery” of living. For that immersion distracts us from asking “why”
and focuses us only on “how to.” Nowadays
we would call that “machinery” technology.
It all sounds very
abstract and Victorian until you read the newspapers and journals and cartoons. For example, in the Washington Post David Ignatius writes about how at NSA, intelligence
specialists were so consumed with what they could do with advanced technology
to collect “metadata” that they went about collecting everything, without
regard to why or why not it was needed.
Meanwhile, in a Scientific
American review, Craig Venter, of human genome fame, is quoted as saying he
doesn’t worry about the misuse of technology, but about the possible lack of
use of it. And in a recent New Yorker
cartoon, young people dressed as a wedding party are standing around in front
of a priest; each of them is intently reading his/her iphone, and the bride is glancing
up and saying “oh yeah, I do.” We treat
Liberty as meaning our right to carry assault rifles and to pollute our air and
streams. We don’t ask why all those
rounds are needed in a city park, or why increased profit should come at the
expense of dirty air. We see “the way
things are” only as meaning millions starve for the benefit of a few.
Venter is charging
ahead in pursuit of “digital life”, with the goal of eventually transferring whole
people to the Internet. He thinks the
whole of life is reducible to “DNA machines” and “protein robots.” His immediate “why” is obvious: to secure a
personal immortality with some fame and fortune along the way. That’s fascinating, given that “machines” or “robots”
are not generally interested in that sort of thing. His internet should be dubbed “Venter’s Ark.” No more worry about climate or arthritis if
you are just a cloud of electrons floating about in the ether. Of course, propagating the species after a
major system crash becomes problematic, or what is foregone in the life of an
electron cloud, as well as what is happening to the billions of people who are
not transferred to the Internet. Or what
to do on a dreary day a million years from now.
Or why immortality is desirable in the first place.
The NSA intelligence
analysts have the excuse of an overriding concern with preventing
terrorism. That bumps into a national
concern with preserving privacy. At the
start of the Snowden escapade, my view of the conflicting priorities was that
so long as responsible governance required use of metadata, responsible
citizenship required making it available.
But the NSA scenes described by Ignatius don’t constitute responsible
governance. They depict analysts caught
up in the pleasures of technical accomplishment, the “how’s”, to the point of
forgetting to ask the “why’s.” The “why”
of preventing terrorism becomes an excuse for figuring out how to do an even
more advanced analysis. They’re like
that wedding party with the iphones; they have no clue about why they are there
in the first place, or the significance of the consequences.
I’m no Neo Luddite. I spent a career introducing new technology,
and am proud of it. But having an answer
to the “why” was always important. I
always tried to avoid solutions in search of a problem. I’ve turned down more than one technical
proposal on those grounds. That
reluctance to over employ technology just for the fun of it is what I see less
and less of these days. We’re caught on
the carousel of innovation, flying faster and faster, each trying to grab a new
golden ring, approaching the “anything goes” anarchy of which Arnold
warned. Meanwhile, our education systems
are avoiding teaching the importance of “virtuous action” as too controversial
in a multicultural society. “Values”
education is no longer a goal in our schools, and it should be. It’s time to reclaim the tools we use to separate
what’s really important from the trash.
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