a Words: From speech to writing
Technology is the expression of a drive to extend ourselves into the virtual. It reflects our capacity to abstract reality, to remove ourselves from the immediacy of experience in the world, to lift it up âinto thought.â Its consequences mark the path technology has forged in human history, and the world-changing transformations it has occasioned. In order to explore how this manifests in the digital era, we intend to provide a basic framework from which to understand them, outlining, in broad strokes, a short history of the technology of communication and tracing the primary ways in which each subsequent technology has transformed human experience.
The story we want to tell begins with the appearance of what some might consider our first technology: language. With words, human being was extended into the abstract and ethereal realm of concepts that freed us from the passage of time and the tyranny of becoming. Speech articulates the mental world, extends our experience with virtual possibilities, and re-configures it with ideas and constructed narratives. Articulated in the air of spoken words, behavioral patterns, acquired tastes and tendencies, etc., they are passed on from generation to generation, in âmemesâ (to use Dawkinsâ now-trending term), which function at the cultural level as genes do biologically. Thanks to language, human evolution speeds up beyond the biological. As Yuval Harari (2011) observes, since the emergence of language, humans donât live in only one mode of natural life, as animals seem to do, they live in many cultural alternatives.
The virtual was first forged by spoken words and images, constituting together a mythical worldview.1 With alphabetical writing â a particularly Western form of inscription that articulates meaning around arbitrary signs â the mythical thought of words and images was replaced by logical, rational thought. By massifying that technology in the 15th century, the printing press helped intensify this shift away from orality which has prevailed in our culture ever since.
In transforming spoken words and images into logical concepts, writing subordinates our synchronistic, moment-to-moment experience of time to the diachronic progression of history. As VilĂ©m Flusser (2011a) says, âthe unidirectional flow of writingâ (p. xiv) results in a new experience of time as linear, a stream of unstoppable progress, of dramatic unrepeatability, of framing, in short, history. Past, present, and future, and our conception of time as progressive, are made possible by this virtual extension of experience.
The invention of writing made it possible for stories to reach farther across time and space than their tellers and stay more stable than memory; and new communications, reproduction, and transportation technologies only continue the process. (Solnit, 2003, p. 11)
But as we know, every gain brings a loss with it. As McLuhan (1998) pointed out in his seminal book, Understanding Media, the advent of any technology involves not just an extension but also an amputation of experience. When our calculating capacity is extended by an electronic calculator, for example, we stop adding or multiplying in our head. The mental activity of calculating is amputated. When we extend our motility with the car, we amputate our legs so that we hardly consider it a possibility to walk even short distances. When we extend our memory with the Internet, we begin to depend so much on the technological extension that we stop committing to memory the information that is stored there now.
In their battle against spoken language, Flusser (2011b) writes, âthe characters of the alphabet suck the life of the language up into themselves: letters are vampiresâ (p. 37). And, as Havelock (1986) points out, with writing, âthe acoustic flow of language contrived by echo to hold the attention of the ear has been reshuffled into visual patterns created by the thoughtful attention of the eyeâ (p. 13). Writing displaces bodily interaction: the sonority of the voice that the ear receives gives way to the intellectual sharpness of the seeing eye and the spontaneity of speech yields to the deliberateness of reason. The analytic, sequential way of thinking and perceiving fostered by the linear logic of the alphabet pointedly contrasts with the thought and perception that characterized oral culture. The richness of the image and the associative thought it promotes is replaced by the exactness of the concept and rational way of thinking. We thus begin to live as we read, logically and sequentially, as if in a fixed line towards a goal. But, of course, this transformation did not take place immediately.
The printed page, in placing the object before us in inert signs, extends our capacity for concentration, objective analysis, and representational memory. That shift transforms language and modifies the way in which we had traditionally modulated the virtual. Whereas in the oral tradition, the expression with which words were delivered was inseparable from its content, so that they were literally an extension of our tongues, in the new scribal tradition content becomes more important than expression, and so language is transformed into a tool. The industrial revolutionâs emphasis on production and efficiency, and the pragmatic expeditiousness of that era that is occasioned by writing, turns language into a mere âvehicle of information,â what Benjamin (1978) called a âbourgeois languageâ (p. 318).2 Its clear concepts, sedimented on the page, simplify the complexity of oral language and its aesthetic dimension. We begin to experience reality through the objective concepts of reason, and gradually become more insensitive to the pregnant opacities of actual experience, unable to see the meanings that opened up through the spoken word and its images.
So, although bourgeois language achieves an aesthetic detachment from sensible experience that is, of course, responsible for many scientific achievements in these past centuries, it involves also the kind of sensible impoverishment that Plato warned us about, when he pointed out that writing would affect the capacity to interiorize what we learn and end up confusing information for wisdom. Once we begin to read the world through the thinking head rather than the resonating body, concepts are divorced from their live, performative contexts. They abstract us from time and disconnect us from its flow. Spontaneity yields to regularity, contingency and the unknown are systematically disavowed, and our vital circle narrows. While written language provides a precise, technical tool and expedites communication, it also takes away its existential depth.
If technology is, as McLuhan (1998) observed, an extension of human being, then images and drawings, concepts and words, each constitute a different extension of experience with its own particular modulation of virtuality. With the spoken word we leave the mute privacy of wordless experience and enter into verbal interaction with actual others that help forge a public world of shared meanings. By suspending temporal movement and casting events into abstract signs (i.e., writing), we substitute the immediacy and fleetingness of experience with a permanent, objective, atemporal, visual trace. No longer subject to the transience of passing voices in a conversation or fleeting thoughts, with writing the world is sedimented into objective, atemporal meanings.
The illusion of an orderly world and of a world with a rational telos, at the service of humans, is only possible with a language turned into a tool of reason, understood as pure or as instrumental. The excesses that this will incur are anticipated, for instance, by the image of Goyaâs famous etching â of a man crumpled on his desk asleep upon an open book â âThe sleep of reason produces monsters.â