In “Among the Disrupted,” the cover essay for the New York Times Book Review (January 18,
2015) Leon Wieseltier laments how devices are often valued over books,
technology seems ascendant over the humanities, hunger for instant information
has replaced the long search for wisdom, and the meaning of humanity has been
reduced to the mechanistic. All worthy concerns, I would say, even if you or I
would parse things differently in places from Mr. Wieseltier.
You can read his essay here.
And to get you started pondering the ideas Wieseltier
raises, here are few quotes from “Among the Disrupted”:
“Journalistic
institutions slowly transform themselves into silent sweatshops in which words
cannot wait for thoughts, and first responses are promoted into best responses,
and patience is a professional liability. As the frequency of expression grows,
the force of expression diminishes: Digital expectations of alacrity and
terseness confer the highest prestige upon the twittering cacophony of
one-liners and promotional announcements. It was always the case that all thing
must pass, but this is ridiculous.”
“The
distinction between knowledge and information is a thing of the past, and there
is no greater disgrace than to be a thing of the past.”
“Aside from
issues of life and death, there is no more urgent task for American
intellectuals and writers than to think critically about the salience, even the
tyranny, of technology in individual and collective life.”
“The
processing of information is not the highest aim to which the human spirit can
aspire, and neither is competitiveness in a global economy. The character of
our society cannot be determined by engineers.”
“Every
technology is used before it is completely understood. There is always a lag
between an innovation and the apprehension of its consequences. We are living
in that lag, and it is a right time to keep our heads and reflect. We have much
to gain and much to lose. In the media, for example, the general inebriation
about the multiplicity of platforms has distracted many people from the scruple
that questions of quality on the new platforms should be no different from
questions of quality on the old platforms. Otherwise a quantitative expansion
will result in a qualitative contraction. The new devices do not in themselves
authorize a revision of the standards of evidence and argument and style that
we championed in the old devices.”
Hans
Rookmaaker, art historian and colleague of Francis Schaeffer published Modern Art and the Death of a Culture in 1970.
It was written, in other words, in the Sixties, a time of cultural ferment and
protest in the West, and increasing defensiveness within the American church. We
live in a world that still bears the marks of that decade, for blessing and for
curse.
At the
beginning of the Sixties Reinhold Niebuhr was arguably the best-known and most
influential public intellectual in American society. “Niebuhr
was the ideal type of a species all but lost to us today,” Ross Douthat notes,
“the public theologian, deeply engaged in a particular Christian tradition—in
his case, a ‘neo-orthodox’ Protestantism—but capable of setting the agenda for
the secular world as well.” I suspect Douthat is understating the case—the idea
that a Christian theologian of whatever stripe could be America’s premier
public intellectual is simply unimaginable today at the beginning of the 21st
century.
It was also
a time when technology and a technological mindset started to assume a larger,
or more obvious and noteworthy role in daily life and society. We are so used
to living in a technological world by now, of course, that this may not sound
like much, but at the time it was significant. Things felt different, looked
different, was different, and people
were thinking differently as a result. There were gadgets, innovations and
conveniences, new weaponry, state power and governmental reach, a flood of
images and news available so quickly after the events occurred—as I say,
commonplace now but novel then.
A lot of
new things appeared and happened. The birth control pill received FDA approval and
scientists invented lasers (1960), the Berlin Wall was constructed and the
Soviets put a man in space (1961), the first Wal-Mart opened (1962), John F.
Kennedy was assassinated (1963), the British band The Beatles hit America and
Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in prison (1964), American troops were
sent to Vietnam (1965), Star Trek series appeared on T.V., Black Panther Party
and National Association of Women were established (1966), the first heart
transplant, the first Super Bowl, and the first black, Thurgood Marshall, on US
Supreme Court (1967), Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy were assassinated,
and the horrible My Lai massacre occured (1968), Neil Armstrong became the
first man to land on the moon and the first episode of Sesame Street was shown
(1969), computer floppy disks became available (1970).
The Sixties
were also a decade of unrest, protest and revolution. Four black college
students conducted a sit-in at the Woolworth’s whites-only luncheon counter in Greensboro,
NC (1960), Freedom Riders challenged segregation on interstate buses (1961),
the first person was killed trying to cross the Berlin Wall and at the
University of Mississippi James Meredith became the first black admitted as a
student (1962), the March on Washington and Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech occurred, and
activist Medgar Evers was shot in Jackson, MS and was initially refused care at
the hospital, where he died, because he was black (1963), the Civil Rights Act
became law in the U.S. (1964),
This list
perhaps can serve to provide a feeble hint—admittedly wildly selective and incomplete—of
what seemed at the time to be a brave new world of technological advance and
social protest that was the Sixties. Modern Art
and the Death of a Culture was written into and out of this cultural
moment. The fact that Hans Rookmaaker wrote it more than four decades ago means
it is dated; the fact that his perspective was firmly rooted in the ancient
wisdom of the biblical worldview means what he wrote can serve as a model of
Christian discernment.
In
reviewing the book recently I remembered how great an impact it had on me. The
Sixties were a time of spiritual crisis for me. The Christianity in which I had
been raised did not provide reasonable answers for the questions and challenges
I faced in my classes and in the late night conversations I had with friends.
Rookmaaker’s book arrived like a glimmer of hope. Never before had I known any
serious Christian to take art seriously. Reviewing Modern Art and the Death of the Culture also reminded me that the
perspective on life and faith that Rookmaaker advanced was radical. That is
probably why the bookwas, as far as I could tell, by and large ignored by a
church that was increasingly defensive, withdrawn, and reactionary.
This
excerpt captures a hint of what I mean.
Those who put their faith in a
perfected technology have of course some grounds for their optimism, even if
they also have their problems. We are living in an advanced world, better
equipped than any before to tackle the great problems of mankind: housing,
transport, safety, health, home comforts, efficiency. We have better
communications, safer systems, more convenient utensils, better organization.
Much of our western society is wealthy, affluent. Economics, by applying the
methods of the sciences, has been able to break through old barriers; together
with sociology it has been the means of providing for everyone goods and
services previously undreamt of. No longer is the world one with a happy few, a
small class, at the top, with the masses of the nameless poor at the bottom.
Democracy, leisure and convenience for everyone have been achieved—well,
perhaps not quite, for we are still uncomfortably aware of the areas where they
have not yet arrived.
Certainly the world is a
fast-changing one: air transport is faster, and within the reach of an
ever-increasing number of people. Television, in the course of one or two
decades, has changed the habits, knowledge and whole outlook on the world of a
large majority of the people. Cars are now a commodity instead of a luxury.
More people get better schooling and higher education at university and college
level. Books are cheap and within the reach of all. People live longer as a
result of the rapidly advancing medical care and research.
All this is true, and many of these
things have no doubt led to much greater happiness and satisfaction in life for
many. No-one wants to undo them, or go back to being without them, or deny
their importance. Nor can it be denied that they all have a deep influence on
our lives. Certainly one aspect of the crisis of our age is to be found in the
fact that we have not yet completely adjusted to them; we have not yet found
the right attitude to them, for we are often still like children completely
taken up with a new toy. But the overwhelming ecological problems of today show
that we must stop playing at random: our utensils may destroy us, our machines
cause the decay of the very earth on which they stand. Perhaps we have bought
our affluence at too high a price.
Our world is changing, and we with
it. It has become much larger, as our horizons have widened; but also much
smaller, for we get instant information on problems and events in places far
away. We get involved in things we have never even thought of before. So our
world has become much more complex, and in our answers to the problems of life
we have to cope with far more factors than ever before.
All this means that Christians must
go through a period of study, thought and re-evaluation that will take much of
our energy. Conflicts will arise within Christian circles as older people
especially are not consciously aware of this need for re-orientation, and
therefore think that the old answers are still valid and sufficient. It is not
that the foundation has to change, or that the basic doctrines have lost their
meaning. But the expression and formulation of them sometimes needs rethinking
as we listen afresh to God's Word, and seek to present it to the new world in
which we are living.
The whole cultural situation however
is much more complex than can be dealt with simply by asserting that we have to
adjust and rethink. There are many negative elements in the technocracy of
today. We must find out what they really are, think through the means of
removing them or at least formulating our attitude to them.
We must also learn to react
positively to the positive elements of the revolt and protest around us. For
it, too, is against the evils of technocracy. We must rejoice in the fact that
man is shown to be still human by his protest against the forces that would
dehumanize him. We must be alert to see that the lawless and negative
revolutionary elements do not obscure the real issues, so that they do not
become themselves an obstruction to finding the solution they seek.
Reading this excerpt after so many years also raised
questions in my mind as to how Rookmaaker’s vision of Christian faith could be
applied to the opening decades of the 21st century.
Questions for
reflection and discussion:
1. What is
your first impression of what Dr. Rookmaaker communicates? Why do you think you
responded as you did?
2. Do you
know anyone personally who tends to “put their faith in a perfected
technology”?
3. Writing
in 1970, Rookmaaker says, “All this means that Christians must go through a
period of study, thought and re-evaluation that will take much of our energy.”
Did this occur in the last 40+ years? If so, to what extent was it adequate for
the task?
4. Rookmaaker
goes on to argue there is both a negative and a positive aspect to our task as
Christians. The negative, he says, consists of naming the social and
technological changes that affect us and then assess them in distinctly Christian
categories. In his words: “There are many negative elements in the technocracy
of today. We must find out what they really are, think through the means of
removing them or at least formulating our attitude to them.” Has this been
accomplished adequately over the past four decades? Why or why not?
5. The
positive aspect to the Christians assessment may surprise many Christians. In
most retellings of the story of the Sixties, the numerous protests and
revolutionary movements tended to be viewed with unrelenting disapproval by
conservative Christians—then and now. How do you respond to Rookmaaker’s
perspective, especially as it is expressed in the final paragraph?
6. This is
purely speculative, of course, because Dr. Rookmaaker is dead and cannot speak
for himself. Still, I suspect that he would have a very similar thing to say to
Christians at the beginning of the 21st century. What might that consist
of?
Excerpt: From Modern Art and the Death of a Culture by
H. R. Rookmaaker (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press; 1970) pp. 197-199.
Source: Bad Religion: How We Became a Nation of
Heretics by Ross Douthat (New York, NY: Free Press; 2012) p. 25.
In The New Atlantis: A
Journal of Technology and Society, Roger Forsgren writes “The Architectureof Evil,” in which he reflects on the life and work of Albert Speer. Speer was
the engineer, the architect that built the impressive structures, buildings and
monuments from which Hitler launched the Nazi cause.
Albert Speer did not, as far as any
historians know, personally design any death chambers, nor did he personally
kill another human being. But Speer did use his brilliant technical expertise
and talents to enable the war efforts of the most evil regime in history,
allowing it to murder millions of human beings. But even as we condemn him, we
must ask—especially we engineers and technicians—is Speer so different from us?
How many of us would be willing to compartmentalize our emotions, suppress our
consciences, almost to sell our souls, for the opportunity to work on the grand
projects that Speer was involved in? How many of us are so focused on solving a
technical problem that we fail to contemplate where that solution might lead?
To many engineers, Speer and his
experiences during the war may seem irrelevant today. But although there seems
to be little chance (we hope) of a highly industrialized power again waging a
war of world conquest, the essential questions that Speer faced still pertain
to the work of many engineers today. You may be an engineer sitting in front of
a computer-aided design screen, creating a seemingly benign component that will
become part of some sophisticated weapons system that will be sold to unknown
people in a far-off land. You may be a computer security researcher, or a
virologist, and discover some new potential weapon or security vulnerability,
and have to decide how to make the information public to shield against such
attacks, but without helping those who would launch them. Or you may design
automobile parts, and be faced with a compromise between saving your company
production costs and protecting the lives of customers.
These are good issues. To be seduced by the magnitude of
a project so that we begin to make a series of tiny compromises is easy, and
the danger involved can seem small enough to not count. Having a worldview
rigorous enough to sustain the necessary reflection and a community lively
enough to nourish such reflection is essential for all of us. All of us live
out our vocations within an ethical context because we live in God’s world and
bear his image.
There is another danger, one that we all face. It is to so
pursue excellence in our work, to so bury ourselves in the demands of our
vocation that we get lost in the details until we no longer are committed to
anything larger. This is a creeping danger, a slow process, not something that
suddenly arrives with trumpets blaring. Still when Work and Vocation are
elevated to the status of idolatry, they are cruel masters. If excellence in
architecture is capturing in design the vision and purpose of a structure,
Speer achieved a rare and brilliant excellence. But at a horrific cost.
It might be said that
Speer exemplifies what happens when a technical person becomes too absorbed in
his work. Speer claimed at his trial that he was simply doing what nearly any
other architect would have done; he was too busy “studying far into the night”
to even discuss the political world exploding all around him, too lacking in
the ability to think discriminately and critically, and so he found himself
“unable to deal with the arguments” of his cohorts, and instead just went
along. Perhaps it is the inherent nature of the technical disciplines that
brings their practitioners to view the world with a practical eye, to possess a
preoccupation with efficiency and order—even to the point of ignoring the
humane values of dignity and justice. These are characteristics that will
surely sound familiar, to some extent, to those who have worked with engineers,
even if in far less sinister contexts.
The difficulty with this is that few of us are like Speer:
we are not engineers working on great projects. We are ordinary people working
on ordinary things. The danger here is to assume our smallness automatically
shields us from hard choices, or that our hard choices do not matter so much
because they are small. As Francis Schaeffer was fond of saying, in God’s
economy there are no small people and no small places. The children of God are
to pursue their callings, their work, their vocation with excellence—and that
cannot be accomplished unless our pursuit is shaped by a growing discernment
that brings all of our life consciously under the Lordship of Christ.
Source: “Evil’s Architect,” on The Dish (25 Nov 2012 08:07
AM)
In the April 2011 issue of The Atlantic, James Fallows wrote a fascinating piece, “Learning to Love the (Shallow, Divisive, Unreliable) New Media” exploring the digital media
revolution that is occurring in the world of news. It’s worth reading and
discussing, because the changing media landscape is a reality that helps shape
our thinking, beliefs, and lives.
One paragraph gives both the flavor of the essay and raises
a question that is worth careful reflection:
“If we accept that the media will probably become more and
more market-minded, and that an imposed conscience in the form of legal
requirements or traditional publishing norms will probably have less and less
effect, what are the results we most fear? I think there are four:
• that this
will become an age of lies, idiocy, and a complete Babel of ‘truthiness,’ in
which no trusted arbiter can establish reality or facts;
• that
the media will fail to cover too much of what really matters, as they are drawn
toward the sparkle of entertainment and away from the depressing realities of
the statehouse, the African capital, the urban school system, the corporate
office when corners are being cut;
• that
the forces already pulverizing American society into component granules will
grow all the stronger, as people withdraw into their own separate information
spheres;
• and
that our very ability to think, concentrate, and decide will deteriorate, as a
media system optimized for attracting quick hits turns into a
continual-distraction machine for society as a whole, making every individual
and collective problem harder to assess and respond to.”
It seems to me that there are several reasons why Christians
should have an advantage in this area, so that as the digital revolution
unfolds, the church can increasingly become a bulwark of careful thinking and
disciplined reading. We are people of the Word and so have all the more reason
to take words—and truth—with utmost seriousness. We are already organized and
used to discussion so that learning from one another to choose and read media
sources with discernment should be possible. And we have a final authority in
the Scriptures so that we are not dependent on media pundits to spell out the
opinions we should hold.
The question, of course, at this point is simple. Will
Christians take advantage of these things or will we merely flow along with the
rest of our world, seduced by the most clever rhetoric, drawn into the
ideologies of the Left and the Right, open to adopting whatever myths are
spawned in a cynical world, and overwhelmed by the profusion of media options?