Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Language is to Technology as they are to Culture

Selber, Stuart A. Rhetorics and Technology. Columbia, South Carolina: University of South Carolina P, 2010.

We do understand technology as “either an intrinsic or inescapable aspect” of our culture, but I have been trying to figure out whether this qualifies as a “postcritical intellectual stance” (Miller 5). Everywhere I turn I encounter 1) the use of technology, 2) complaints about our (personal) reliance on technology, and 3) complaints about (others') use of technology. More than one of our authors this semester has mentioned that teachers in some schools are not permitted to take away students' cell phones. I have heard two reasons for this: first, that phones are an extension of the student's body, not just personal property; second, that the phone is the student's constant link to the outside world, and that cutting students off from it is a violation of their personal rights. Ignoring for a moment that no one was too worried about my personal justifications fifteen years ago, and that teachers and principals felt quite right to take away my (let's see), pager, PDA, earphones, or cell phone—almost as if I were carrying a cutting torch to school—it seems the problem with cutting off students from technology is worse than just their divided attentions. Assuming that the domain beyond the walls of the school building is “outside” is counter to the foundational ideas of the Academy, the university philosophy, or the ostensible purposes for education. Schools shouldn't have to worry that they will be viewed as their students' jailers. I haven't been to a college which feels like a jail, but I did attend and teach in such a high school. I worry rather that students' attention is divided because they see no motivation to concentrate on the material at hand.

Cooper paraphrases Davydov, “In the process of human anthropogenesis, a break occurred between organic needs and the means of satisfying them, that is, human beings lost their instincts” (17-18). She makes the case that during the Enlightenment, people began to see technology not as a tool or an extension of the body, and instead as a force that, while necessary, is inaccessible and incomprehensible to the population. Enter the idea of the engineer, or today the guru. I believe that Cooper's real argument, using Wittgenstein, Clark, Derrida, and Latour, shows that people use language as a tool and technology as a tool in the same sorts of ways. Wittegenstein's idea of a protolanguage, that the block, pillar, slab, and beam, and the signs that indicated each one to fellow workers, is a form of both technology and language. Language is, in short, our technology.

Technology cannot be viewed simply as a binary, a simple off-and-on, any more than language can be learned or taught simply as speak-or-not-speak, fluent or ignorant. Cooper follows Maturana and Varela in comparing biological evolution and cultural evolution (22), which she believes are both co-evolution. In light of, for instance, Karen's and Craig project in our own class, I'm interested in what makes up cultural evolution, and how it can be compared to constant changes in language and in technology. The most puzzling or provocative excerpt I found in this week's reading comes from Latour, who explains that utterances are like delegations. We send our language out into the world to perform an act on our behalf, rather like a diplomatic mission. His riddle calls human co-evolution a “transcendence that lacks a contrary,” as Cooper points out (24). The question appears to be this: what do we leave behind, for better or for worse, when we evolve as a culture? If there is no “contrary” to transcend, we can assume that evolution only moves us forward, never abandoning practices or knowledge that would be useful in the future. Perhaps I misinterpret. It would be wonderful if cultural, linguistic, or technological evolution proceeded in this straightforward fashion—and if so, we should abandon all conservative or conservationist practices with haste.

I have understood study in general, not just of history, but of language (hurry before it becomes extinct), culture (hurry before it becomes extinct), or technology (don't leave that most innovative idea in the dust), as a balance between development of new ideas and the development of existing ideas. This is why the “design approach” to communications seems important: it integrates what we already know of communication with the body and with technology to create 1) more texts, which are 2) more readable, by 3) a greater variety of readers. Johnson-Eilola points out, “Reading is no longer the invisible consumption of text but a semipublic performance” (53 ), and that is thanks to technology. We are so surveilled, so involved, and so interconnected that the most solitary activity has become a chance for community.

Tutorial:
I know very little about video composition or editing. This many-part guide has a great deal of information I could stand to learn—and practice.

http://lifehacker.com/#!5785558/the-basics-of-video-editing-the-complete-guide


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