Today, we share with you what will be the last 'Voice in the Wilderness' post for a month or two. We need to get more collaborators, and garner more interest in this project, and we hope to spend the next month or so doing just that. In the meantime, I invite you to read today's entry written by Nathan Gibbard.In it, Nathan (inspired by Pope Francis) invites us to reflect on to the question " can our modern technological culture achieve authentic depth in the way we relate to others and to information?'
Nathan received his Ph.D. in Religious Studies in February 2015 from McGill University in Montreal, where he focused on issues related to religion and media. During his studies, he was also the Director of the Newman Centre of McGill, a position he held until 2014. He currently works as the campus minister as for the Ryerson University Catholic community in Toronto, Ontario.
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Paragraphs 43-47 of Laudato Si’ introduce several major thoughts in broad outline, without
going into depth into any one. It brings up the uniqueness of human beings, assuming a deeper
human anthropology as explored by John Paul II, before situating the human into a wider
human ecology of cities, green space, and technology. A driving question found throughout the
larger document is found here as well: how do we create an environment, a total ecology, that
allows humans to really thrive, connected as they are to each other and the world around
them? This is a crucial question, and the issue of an authentic human ecology might be –
twenty years from now – one of the defining contributions of Pope Francis papacy in terms of
the humanities and social sciences. But this is not what I want to focus on here for this post.
Rather, I want to explore paragraph 47 in greater detail, as it is this section – its fears, assumptions,
and possibilities – that continue to animate my own thought.
A key component of human ecology is the opportunity to create real bonds between people,
fostering an environment where dialogue and genuine care for the other can grow. Out of this
dialogue and genuine care, we are sparked into action, recognizing in the other another self
that requires giving of ourselves in order to ensure the other’s survival and flourishing. Part of
our human anthropology is the desire to give of ourselves, so part of any genuine human
ecology is ensuring opportunities to give and receive that self-gift. One problem, though, as the
documents says “Real relationships with others, with all the challenges they entail, now tend to
be replaced by a type of internet communication which enables us to choose or eliminate
relationships at whim, thus giving rise to a new type of contrived emotion which has more to do
with devices and displays than with other people and with nature.” And part of the reason for
the appeal of technology is precisely that “they also shield us from direct contact with the pain,
the fears and the joys of others and the complexity of their personal experiences.” In other
worlds, a virtual reality is constructed that people seem to prefer to live, rather than having to
embrace the ‘real’ world.
This preference for a ‘virtual world’ at the expense of a real one is articulated through a fear of
a lack of depth found in modern technological systems; “when media and the digital world
become omnipresent, their influence can stop people from learning how to live wisely, to think
deeply and to love generously.” However, what is assumed in this section is that: 1) depth
within a technological society is possible, and 2) it is wanted.
For fear of ending up writing an academic article on this topic instead of a blog post, I will try to
present the broad outlines of what I am suggesting. Hopefully presenting the broad outlines
will initiate discussion and perhaps encourage a ‘deeper’ exploration of some of the thoughts
involved.
As mentioned above, there are two questions that para. 47 assumes an answer for that does
not necessarily warrant that assumption. The questions are: 1) is depth within our current
technological system possible? 2) If it is possible, assuming depth is good, how do we do it?
These questions are not as easy to answer as they might appear, as they are wrapped up in the
nature of technology, media, and perception. One reason they are more complex is because
the internet, and the increasing interconnectedness among technological devices it has
fostered, is not merely a system of information, but also shapes how we process and
understand that information. As Marshall McLuhan, a Catholic, pointed out “the medium is the
message.” Part of what he meant by that is that the medium itself structures our perception of
what is contained within the medium. Sight, in this way, helped to foster rationality and a view
of the shared nature of truth in that we could debate as to the nature of what we saw, and then
verify the truth after positing competing hypotheses.
According to McLuhan, up until the current electronic age, the sense of sight dominated media
(painting and reading, for example) and thus dominated the structures of our perception (his idea is
much more complex than this, but hopefully this serves as a brief overview). However, with the
electronic age, McLuhan argued that the instantaneousness of communication would mean
that sight would lose its priority, and that instead the senses would return to a balance: it
would be as if we were in a global village, where sight, sound and the other senses would all be
used together in communication. Walter Ong, a Jesuit, used McLuhan’s thought to explore the
idea of a ‘secondary orality’ that is reliant upon print and the written word, but which is a more
deliberate auditory sound.
One approach that has received, to date, much less attention simply because it seems to have
little precedent, is what happens to our perception if instead of sight or hearing, the dominate
sense becomes touch? What happens, or might happen, if society is based on touch? (The
insights of the visually impaired would be very useful in this context, even as such insights in
published form are virtually non-existent)
If we look at the words and metaphors we use in describing our contact with technological
devices, this view that touch is becoming a dominant way of perceiving the world is not that
far-fetched. We ‘click’ on an icon, ‘scroll’ through pictures, all through either a ‘touch’ screen
or tactile mouse that is an extension of our hand. Even if touch is not becoming the dominant
sense, it is still having a fundamental impact on our perception of the world and reality. The
question then becomes, how does this impact our relationship to truth and to our
surroundings.
There have been many fascinating studies that examined the impact of technology on the brain
itself. One of the findings of the study was that the brains of younger people who are
technological savvy are structurally different than people who are older, without as much
contact with information technologies. Now, it is important not to go too far, as connections
within the brain do seem to show a heavy degree of malleability, especially until the later
twenties, but the results are interesting. What if, through the use of technology, our
perception of truth and understanding is itself changing? If our modern tech is heavily
influenced by touch, what impact might that have on perceptions of truth and understanding? I
might read an article on Wikipedia, but the very fact that I am reading it on a computer
structures how I receive that information.
A tactile technological society would be one where the surface, rather than depth, held sway.
The surface, in fact, is all there is. Touch is skin deep. We float and skim over the surface of the
skin, careful not to go too deep, because it will wound us. Depth is avoided as it punctures the
skin, slices into flesh, causing pain, disfigurement, and even trauma if the wound is deep
enough. Depth is to be avoided, as it causes injury – it causes offence. It separates the tactile
membrane of the skin, and because the surface is all there is, the idea that there is a deeper
unity the keeps us together through the depth of the body is forgotten. Pain, offence, must be
avoided at all costs. Thought of in this way political correctness is accorded an active value,
while at the same time making treatment of deeper societal ailments far more difficult.
Truth as tactile also corresponds remarkably well with a relativistic view of the world. If there is
no depth, then there is no way of claiming a deeper truth, and if one claims a deeper truth then
that also threatens violence and injury in puncturing through the tactile membrane of society.
The truth of tactile tech is one that skims along the surface, comparing and connecting point A
with point B, but certainly not in a position to say that point A or B are ‘closer’ to the core of the
matter, for closer immediately necessitates depth. It is to imagine and live in a 2D world, to live
life on a screen, which no matter how complex are the images, only provide the illusion of
depth and not the real thing. As a teacher, trying to explain the logical failure of relativism, I
sometimes wonder if part of the problem is less the arguments provided, than that a student’s
perception is too dominated by technological systems that give the illusion that the surface is
all there is; arguing matters of truth is less about providing good arguments, than in shifting the
barriers of understanding.
This is the fear that certain streams in our technological society limits true human ecology.
True human ecology must provide for at least a three dimensional view of reality, while a focus
on the surface of things – on touch – prevents us from digging deeper, obscures depth at all,
leaving us in 2-dimensional confusion and agitation. We were meant to see things in 3D. But is
that all there is? Is modern technology doomed to diminish us, making us less aware of our
surroundings and to others? Does it necessarily rupture, in a negative way, human ecology?
I don’t think so, but then the problem becomes how do we create depth within technological
systems? My response is, admittedly, partly based on the firm belief that if St. Paul was alive
today he would be on Facebook. The great master communicator and apostle would find ways
to use our instruments of communication precisely in that way: as instruments of
communication, recognizing the inherent complexities tied to each. One way of creating depth,
as well as a yearning for it, can be seen in the appeal and deep resonance Steven Colbert and
John Stewart had with their audiences. Both of them created a public persona that one knew
was a persona, but in knowing it was a persona, they invited the viewer to try and peel back the
layers to discover the deep truth they were articulating. In so doing, they provided a third
point, situating topics and subjects within the complexities and pain of a 3-Dimensional world.
Are there other ways to create depth through modern technology? How do we create and use
information systems and media in ways that push one back in to real community, with all its
pain and messiness, but ultimately fulfilling as it satisfies the deepest desires of human
anthropology. It falls upon us, then, to figure out what St. Paul would intuit: how do we create
depth within our world of technology – for baring Armageddon that is not going away – as well
as a desire for it?
Nathan received his Ph.D. in Religious Studies in February 2015 from McGill University in Montreal, where he focused on issues related to religion and media. During his studies, he was also the Director of the Newman Centre of McGill, a position he held until 2014. He currently works as the campus minister as for the Ryerson University Catholic community in Toronto, Ontario.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Paragraphs 43-47 of Laudato Si’ introduce several major thoughts in broad outline, without
going into depth into any one. It brings up the uniqueness of human beings, assuming a deeper
human anthropology as explored by John Paul II, before situating the human into a wider
human ecology of cities, green space, and technology. A driving question found throughout the
larger document is found here as well: how do we create an environment, a total ecology, that
allows humans to really thrive, connected as they are to each other and the world around
them? This is a crucial question, and the issue of an authentic human ecology might be –
twenty years from now – one of the defining contributions of Pope Francis papacy in terms of
the humanities and social sciences. But this is not what I want to focus on here for this post.
Rather, I want to explore paragraph 47 in greater detail, as it is this section – its fears, assumptions,
and possibilities – that continue to animate my own thought.
A key component of human ecology is the opportunity to create real bonds between people,
fostering an environment where dialogue and genuine care for the other can grow. Out of this
dialogue and genuine care, we are sparked into action, recognizing in the other another self
that requires giving of ourselves in order to ensure the other’s survival and flourishing. Part of
our human anthropology is the desire to give of ourselves, so part of any genuine human
ecology is ensuring opportunities to give and receive that self-gift. One problem, though, as the
documents says “Real relationships with others, with all the challenges they entail, now tend to
be replaced by a type of internet communication which enables us to choose or eliminate
relationships at whim, thus giving rise to a new type of contrived emotion which has more to do
with devices and displays than with other people and with nature.” And part of the reason for
the appeal of technology is precisely that “they also shield us from direct contact with the pain,
the fears and the joys of others and the complexity of their personal experiences.” In other
worlds, a virtual reality is constructed that people seem to prefer to live, rather than having to
embrace the ‘real’ world.
 |
| source:http://lilianablechman.blogspot.ca/2015/04/phones-change-peoples-personality.html
Are we able to maintain deep connections with each other in our isolated technological society?
|
This preference for a ‘virtual world’ at the expense of a real one is articulated through a fear of
a lack of depth found in modern technological systems; “when media and the digital world
become omnipresent, their influence can stop people from learning how to live wisely, to think
deeply and to love generously.” However, what is assumed in this section is that: 1) depth
within a technological society is possible, and 2) it is wanted.
For fear of ending up writing an academic article on this topic instead of a blog post, I will try to
present the broad outlines of what I am suggesting. Hopefully presenting the broad outlines
will initiate discussion and perhaps encourage a ‘deeper’ exploration of some of the thoughts
involved.
As mentioned above, there are two questions that para. 47 assumes an answer for that does
not necessarily warrant that assumption. The questions are: 1) is depth within our current
technological system possible? 2) If it is possible, assuming depth is good, how do we do it?
These questions are not as easy to answer as they might appear, as they are wrapped up in the
nature of technology, media, and perception. One reason they are more complex is because
the internet, and the increasing interconnectedness among technological devices it has
fostered, is not merely a system of information, but also shapes how we process and
understand that information. As Marshall McLuhan, a Catholic, pointed out “the medium is the
message.” Part of what he meant by that is that the medium itself structures our perception of
what is contained within the medium. Sight, in this way, helped to foster rationality and a view
of the shared nature of truth in that we could debate as to the nature of what we saw, and then
verify the truth after positing competing hypotheses.
According to McLuhan, up until the current electronic age, the sense of sight dominated media
(painting and reading, for example) and thus dominated the structures of our perception (his idea is
much more complex than this, but hopefully this serves as a brief overview). However, with the
electronic age, McLuhan argued that the instantaneousness of communication would mean
that sight would lose its priority, and that instead the senses would return to a balance: it
would be as if we were in a global village, where sight, sound and the other senses would all be
used together in communication. Walter Ong, a Jesuit, used McLuhan’s thought to explore the
idea of a ‘secondary orality’ that is reliant upon print and the written word, but which is a more
deliberate auditory sound.
One approach that has received, to date, much less attention simply because it seems to have
little precedent, is what happens to our perception if instead of sight or hearing, the dominate
sense becomes touch? What happens, or might happen, if society is based on touch? (The
insights of the visually impaired would be very useful in this context, even as such insights in
published form are virtually non-existent)
If we look at the words and metaphors we use in describing our contact with technological
devices, this view that touch is becoming a dominant way of perceiving the world is not that
far-fetched. We ‘click’ on an icon, ‘scroll’ through pictures, all through either a ‘touch’ screen
or tactile mouse that is an extension of our hand. Even if touch is not becoming the dominant
sense, it is still having a fundamental impact on our perception of the world and reality. The
question then becomes, how does this impact our relationship to truth and to our
surroundings.
There have been many fascinating studies that examined the impact of technology on the brain
itself. One of the findings of the study was that the brains of younger people who are
technological savvy are structurally different than people who are older, without as much
contact with information technologies. Now, it is important not to go too far, as connections
within the brain do seem to show a heavy degree of malleability, especially until the later
twenties, but the results are interesting. What if, through the use of technology, our
perception of truth and understanding is itself changing? If our modern tech is heavily
influenced by touch, what impact might that have on perceptions of truth and understanding? I
might read an article on Wikipedia, but the very fact that I am reading it on a computer
structures how I receive that information.
A tactile technological society would be one where the surface, rather than depth, held sway.
The surface, in fact, is all there is. Touch is skin deep. We float and skim over the surface of the
skin, careful not to go too deep, because it will wound us. Depth is avoided as it punctures the
skin, slices into flesh, causing pain, disfigurement, and even trauma if the wound is deep
enough. Depth is to be avoided, as it causes injury – it causes offence. It separates the tactile
membrane of the skin, and because the surface is all there is, the idea that there is a deeper
unity the keeps us together through the depth of the body is forgotten. Pain, offence, must be
avoided at all costs. Thought of in this way political correctness is accorded an active value,
while at the same time making treatment of deeper societal ailments far more difficult.
Truth as tactile also corresponds remarkably well with a relativistic view of the world. If there is
no depth, then there is no way of claiming a deeper truth, and if one claims a deeper truth then
that also threatens violence and injury in puncturing through the tactile membrane of society.
The truth of tactile tech is one that skims along the surface, comparing and connecting point A
with point B, but certainly not in a position to say that point A or B are ‘closer’ to the core of the
matter, for closer immediately necessitates depth. It is to imagine and live in a 2D world, to live
life on a screen, which no matter how complex are the images, only provide the illusion of
depth and not the real thing. As a teacher, trying to explain the logical failure of relativism, I
sometimes wonder if part of the problem is less the arguments provided, than that a student’s
perception is too dominated by technological systems that give the illusion that the surface is
all there is; arguing matters of truth is less about providing good arguments, than in shifting the
barriers of understanding.
This is the fear that certain streams in our technological society limits true human ecology.
True human ecology must provide for at least a three dimensional view of reality, while a focus
on the surface of things – on touch – prevents us from digging deeper, obscures depth at all,
leaving us in 2-dimensional confusion and agitation. We were meant to see things in 3D. But is
that all there is? Is modern technology doomed to diminish us, making us less aware of our
surroundings and to others? Does it necessarily rupture, in a negative way, human ecology?
I don’t think so, but then the problem becomes how do we create depth within technological
systems? My response is, admittedly, partly based on the firm belief that if St. Paul was alive
today he would be on Facebook. The great master communicator and apostle would find ways
to use our instruments of communication precisely in that way: as instruments of
communication, recognizing the inherent complexities tied to each. One way of creating depth,
as well as a yearning for it, can be seen in the appeal and deep resonance Steven Colbert and
John Stewart had with their audiences. Both of them created a public persona that one knew
was a persona, but in knowing it was a persona, they invited the viewer to try and peel back the
layers to discover the deep truth they were articulating. In so doing, they provided a third
point, situating topics and subjects within the complexities and pain of a 3-Dimensional world.
Are there other ways to create depth through modern technology? How do we create and use
information systems and media in ways that push one back in to real community, with all its
pain and messiness, but ultimately fulfilling as it satisfies the deepest desires of human
anthropology. It falls upon us, then, to figure out what St. Paul would intuit: how do we create
depth within our world of technology – for baring Armageddon that is not going away – as well
as a desire for it?
