Womb Envy?

Freshmen at Berkeley are taking “The Cyberculture Imaginary –– From Login to Disembodiment.” They’re reading Donna Haraway. They’re studying Cyber Culture. They’re learning how important programming is in media culture. They’re learning about cultural constructs and how we’re designed and programmed to express ourselves. They’re being taught to ask questions like, “Does new media help us explore new patterns of behavior. They’re learning how we are in a “post biological period,” and we’re shifting away from the experience of the body, and they’re discussing the “boundary between human consciousness and computational consciousness.” All pretty heady stuff, and I say good for them. So why is it that the most I remember from the introductory pod–casts has to do with “womb envy?”

Womb envy was conceived as a reason why computers have been bestowed a feminine nature, and it’s “problematic.” It allows for the question, “Is the computer a submissive tool, or is it a device that has secret power?” As proof of male womb envy, I’m told, the first screen saver said, “take me, I’m yours.” And the whole idea sounds like a joke to me, mainly because I simply don’t believe that men have been advancing technology because they somehow felt their creative efforts were a substitute for giving birth. Men have been inventive mainly because they wanted to make whatever job in front of them easier on their bodies.

There’s an old saying in the construction trade –– “Show a lazy man a job, and he’ll find an easy way to do it.” It’s a joke of course, because there is a big difference between lazy and smart. A perfect example of making a job easier is the pneumatic nailer, and you’d never know how much easier it makes nailing unless you’ve actually spent some time nailing things together by hand. Of course, all technology becomes a tool of greed eventually. If the workers can nail it down faster then they should be able to put down more material for the same pay… right? I’ve watched technology go that greed–based route in more than just the building trades. Our “computational consciousness” is being used right now for amassing wealth more than anything else. And amassing wealth comes from one source: pure envy.

No, I’m not buying “womb envy.” It’s not even a good rationalization for the fact that the first computer screen saver said “take me, I’m yours.” Did you know that screen savers came out in the early eighties and a song by the New Wave Rock band Squeeze called “Take Me I’m Yours” hit the charts in 1978? It certainly leaves me wondering if that guy who programmed the first screen saver was into new wave rock music, because it sounds likely. But whether that’s true or not, womb envy, especially when applied to the invention of devices that just make work easier, sounds like a supercilious response to penis envy, and I don’t give either one of these ideas any real credence. In fact, I think ideas like this just get in the way of examining the much greater “problematic” consequence of pure envy, which can afflict anyone of us.

Games

Games. Do they affect how we perceive life, and if so in what ways? I remember playing a lot of chess at one time, and when I was on a roll, the diagonal a bishop could travel to take an unprotected pawn would pop into my head while I was changing lanes on the highway. I used to dream about knights leaping rooks to take the queen, and chessboards swimming sideways, like angelfish in a fifty gallon aquarium. And I couldn’t wait to get my hands on another book about how to be a better chess player. Although I doubt that there exists a game player in cyberspace who can’t wait to get his or her hands on a book that will explain how to be a better cyber–killer, I do think that after hours on end of gunning down cyber opponents, the player would be prone to seeing bodies shot to hell in the minds eye at every other stop light. I also think that people who spend a lot of time shoot’n ‘em up on a computer screen, dream a lot about shoot’n ‘em up when they’re asleep. Unless of course, I’m the only person on this planet who flashes on, and dreams about things I’m totally immersed in.

A good source recently told me that there’s no way to measure whether video games contribute to violence, or desensitize us to it, so I haven’t bothered looking into studies on the subject any further –– especially since I also heard recently on a national TV news program the ridiculous statement that smoking three cigarettes a day will cause 70% of the damage to a human body as smoking 2 packs a day. Studies… who can trust them? So, when it comes to cyber games, I prefer to believe what my eyes tell me and let that be the basis for my own conclusions.

We live in an extremely competitive and violent society. In the white–washed news that shows us little of what goes on out there, it takes something “newsworthy,” a synonym for “marketable,” to occur before we get a glimpse of our reality. For instance, the young girl who got her head kicked around like a soccer ball when she was on the ground in that bus terminal. Now that was marketable, yet violence of this kind goes on undocumented and unnoticed in every city in our country every day. Young people have always been prone to aggression, and anyone who knew me when I was younger knows that I have no room to point a finger. However, I’m not pointing a finger, not at our youth anyway; and although I have strong feelings about the effects of computer games, I haven’t really come to a definitive conclusion yet, because I’m still wondering.

I’m wondering if our games have become so competitive and violent because they are just a reflection of who we are. I’m wondering whether instead of being an outlet for aggression, they actually help to perpetuate our competitive violent nature. I’m wondering whether the moguls who are raping our society have recognized competitive violent computer games as a wonderful way to appease the masses, much like the gladiatorial games were used in ancient Rome. And, of course, I’m wondering whether competitive violent computer games actually do contribute to our competitive violent nature. About the only thing I never find myself wondering about is whether competitive violent computer games promote a collective sense of empathy and cooperation.

Along for the Ride

I read a blog recently that reminded of the main reason I think hypermediacy, or Freekyfro’s “web–induced ADD,” is a dangerous thing. At a time when we have a chance to become more aware of ourselves due to the incredible rate of growth in almost every area of learning and knowledge, we are also becoming more and more distracted from recognizing who we are due to a “network that has become the object rather than any real source fixed in space” (Freekyfro). In a frantic effort to erase any semblance of immediacy, hypermediacy demands “look at me.” Or, I suppose I should say “look at my disunity.” In its attempt to devour unity, it is the consummate snake eating its own tail, unaware it seems, that if it were to ever succeed in its efforts it would not only destroy unity, but also itself.

If the circle ever closed, it would lose its nature as a circle and become a dot, which I find ironic, because that would mean hypermediacy’s success would depend upon the creation of a unified field of vision. But at the same time, I see hypermediacy as not much different from any of the ways we have employed in the past to distract ourselves from ourselves... we’re just using digital technology to help us along in that process at a pace that at times seems to border on hysteria. Through the use of digital technology the dissemination of knowledge is growing exponentially while our ability to put that knowledge to good use is decreasing exponentially. We seem to be simply spellbound by it all, and unable to make a collective move toward conscious use of technological media, and our toys, that seem to be doing everything faster and better, also seem to be contributing to unconscious robotic behavior. And maybe that’s our future.

Maybe because we have grown exponentially as a species, hypermediacy is simply a reflection of what we are becoming. As time quick–marches into the future, at ever–increasing speed, we are beginning to look a lot like ants or bees, and questions concerning who we are as individuals are losing their value and meaning. This is perhaps the most dangerous result of hypermediacy. After all, in the end, we’re facing the same reality, and although a sense of contributing to the collective greater good is very important, this “sense” can only be achieved through an individual’s own growth in consciousness.

But then there is the thought that a person can be incredibly creative using hypermediacy in an inspired way. Artists will obviously end up using digital technology in the most thoughtful ways, the ways that have always had the most profound effect on us, although a scientist might argue that point. And who can really say, maybe the dot would be a better form than the circle because it would compress all views into one. But would that really be all that good? And around, and around, and around I go. In the end, all I can say for sure is that Bolter and Grusin’s Remediation is quite a circus ride.

“…visual media…are constantly remediating one another and therefore reminding us of the futility of believing that any technology of representation can fully erase itself” (Bolter & Grusin Remediation 83).

Transparent Immediacy -- Impossible?

At the end of chapter three in Remediation, after plowing through the lengthy exploration of the “psychosexual interpretation of the dichotomy between transparent immediacy and hypermediacy” (84), all I could say is “so what?” It’s not all that difficult to understand that “transparent immediacy attempts to achieve through linear perspective a single “right” representation of things […] while hypermediacy becomes the sum of all unconventional…ways of looking.” However, the final terse statement at the end of this chapter: “Transparency needs hypermediacy,” caused me to shake my head and wonder. Earlier in the book, Bolter and Grusin told me in the same succinct way that “immediacy depends upon hypermediacy” (6), so it was no jump to conclude that the authors believe that both transparency and immediacy, or transparent immediacy, needs and depends upon hypermediacy. But there seems to be –– maybe unintentional –– a deceptive psychological undertow created by this particular consideration of the remediated ocean we exist in. I feel like I’m being pulled along to accept the “futility of believing that any technology of representation can fully erase itself” (81), which is OK; but I also feel like I’m being pulled toward believing that hypermediacy will always reemerge due to the fact of impossible transparent immediacy.

Now there’s nothing wrong with a healthy fascination, and even a concentrated obsession is all right on occasion, but these authors are beyond fascination or obsession in Remediation. Consequently, their tightly focused vision creates a biased view, so narrow that it fails to take into account a certain reality that simply lies outside the realm of digital technological advancement, mediation, and remediation. This reality has to do with the non–technological transparent immediacy that can be achieved or shared between living, breathing human beings, the transparent immediacy that does not rely on hypermediacy because it does not rely on any form of media at all.

When I read the first page of Remediation, the following sentence nearly leapt off the page: “If the ultimate purpose of media is indeed to transfer sense experiences from one person to another, the wire threatens to make all media obsolete” (3). I remember thinking that media, as they say these days, has always–already been obsolete in the transference of sense experience between people. In fact, under the right circumstances, media isn’t even an issue. It’s superfluous… non–existent. How many times have each of us received a simultaneous impression with another, and with only a look, and sometimes not even that, shared the same inner “sense experience” –– the kind that really counts in human communication –– caused by that impression? How many times do we share this “transparent immediacy” with other human beings every day without any assistance at all from any form of technology? How many truly countless times has this type of “transference” happened over the eons of our existence between human beings engaged in the simple act of intimacy during the intake of a shared sensory perception?

Perhaps Bolter and Grusin’s grand obsession with the theory of remediation does serve a good purpose by “reminding us of the futility of believing that any technology of representation can fully erase itself.” However, I remain convinced that human beings not only have the capacity to engage in transparent immediacy, but that they do it all the time. In other words, in spite of the psychological current created by Remediation and designed to convince me that hypermediacy is transparent immediacy’s only hope, I believe that transparent immediacy does not “need” hypermediacy, and that “the rich sensorium of human experience” (34) is always–already shared during states of intimacy between human beings.

The Mills

Avoiding Seppuku

I read an interesting article in the L.A. times today stating that Toyota could be facing financial ruin because of the likely possibility that their “sudden acceleration” problem is due to faulty microprocessors or engine control modules. Not only would this kind of technological problem be very expensive to fix on a large scale, but it would also be a “tremendously difficult thing to spot,” according to Ronald Jurgen, electrical engineer. The reporter who wrote the article refers to the problem as an electronic ‘ghost’ waiting patiently to haunt the Japanese automotive manufacturer, and I suppose there just may be some top level computer designers over at Toyota who could meet that ghost, literally, after reestablishing, for their own purposes, the ancient Samurai practice of Seppuku.

That the problem facing Toyota is grave, there can be no doubt, and I believe there’s a lesson here relative to the world of technological advancement in the classroom. All along, I’ve believed Toyota’s problem was electronic, but the fact that Toyota is going to the wall by insisting it’s a mechanical problem proves one thing for certain in my eyes. We should be very careful about designating certain jobs to computers, and not only those jobs that require the solid and dependable characteristics of physical mechanics, like a throttle linkage. I also think jobs that require human contact, which by nature should concern all of us in the humanities, are prime candidates for critical analysis when technological advancement is being considered in the classroom. The idea from Selber concerning “what is lost as well as what is gained” plays a big role in this area.

Even though I do believe that technology in the classroom is going to mushroom and that someday in the near future we will be composing in wonderful new ways, the core of what we teach –– our identity as human beings concerned with our own growth and the growth of others –– has to remain our primary concern. Continually reminding ourselves of this aim is a good way to keep from inadvertently creating a sterile technological environment in the classroom, or thoughtlessly counting on technology to take care of too much for us. No matter what the outcome of Toyota’s problem, it is beginning to look like the damage done to their reputation is already irreversible. If we want to keep safe the reputation of the humanities as an area concerned with the study of the human condition, then we’d do well to look long and hard with a critical eye before overusing technology in areas requiring human interaction.

Response to Nya (couldn't post a comment)

The idea that the scholarly "competency requirements" you mention "fail to situate technology in social, political, and economic contexts," has bothered me for a long time. I've watched "collaboration and consensual decision-making" get sucked into the vortex of corporate America, and now I too am concerned about the future of technological advancements. However, I'm feeling a bit of relief because at least we are recognizing the need to consider "the implications technology has on social and political environments." If Selber is saying what I think he is, it's a sign that we are beginning to wake up.

Different genres and technology

I’m starting to see a link between the idea of teaching students the importance of considering the use of elements from different genres in freshman composition classes and the use of technological communication in the future. I'm also starting to think that someday composition will be done only on computers, using imagery along with words, much the same as we are doing now in our “visual essays.” I even think it’s possible that eventually we will be producing academic “essays” that have no resemblance at all to the type produced today in that they will count on imagery as foundational and words for embellishment. This I think is a good thing, because it has the potential to free us up from the confines of the written page and allow for more creative self–expression.

A second thought

A lot has changed since Cynthia Selfe wrote this book. It hardly needs to be mentioned that the world we live in is storming all around us. But eleven years ago, things looked rosy –– especially for technology. The dot com. bubble was growing fast in 1999, and that’s something I just plain forgot about in my earlier assessment of Selfe’s call to “acknowledge the economic and political goals that policymakers have identified as the end product of technology expansion: the effort to maintain and extend American privilege, influence, and power…” (161). I was blinded by my anger over recent developments in America, but now I suppose Selfe had a right to feel that she and America were riding high on a prosperous tide pulled along by technology. However, even though this is not the same America, or world, that Selfe was immersed in back when she wrote this book, I still think her advice is sound. Understanding that our environment acts on us in consequence to the way we act on it, and that the whole thing is reciprocal, still calls for paying attention. Now more than ever.

Democracy?

I guess what bothered me most about "Technology and Literacy in the Twenty–First Century" is the equation I kept seeing between democracy and corporate capitalism. Just recently, the last nail in the coffin of democracy in the United States was driven home when corporations were given the same rights as individuals –– the right to “freedom of speech.” Anyone who’s been “paying attention” knows that this means unbridled ownership of the airwaves, and that now, corporations will be able to pump as much money as they please from their “war chests” into advertisements to see that their candidates are elected. Do we really want to extend this type of “privilege, influence, and power” into cyberspace? I question who owns the internet now. Everywhere I go, no matter how little I surf, I run into someone trying to sell me something. The corporate world is entrenched in cyberspace, and it appears, if I can trust their track–record, they will be clamping down on it with an iron fist in the future. After all, now that they’ve got the networks of the American empire completely in their pockets, what’s left?

Just Wondering

The intro to “Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man” poses a lot of questions. One has to do with “the dilemma of Western Man,” who, having acquired from “the technology of literacy” the “power to act without reacting,” now finds this ability a hindrance in “the electric age.” Noninvolvement just won’t do anymore according to Marshall McLuhan, because “when our central nervous system is technologically extended to involve us in the whole of mankind and to incorporate the whole of mankind in us, we necessarily participate, in depth, in the consequences of our every action” (20). Is McLuhan suggesting that karmic law didn’t exist prior to the “electric age,” or that as we “implode” into this new universe karmic law will increase “in depth?” And what does that mean? Will it become faster because it follows us along at our own ever-increasing pace?