Fluent Essays

read the articles below , and fill the form . MLA format , must follow the details I send also include 1 discussion question Do Artifacts Have Politics? Author(s): Langdon Winner Source: Daedalus, Vol. 109, No. 1, Modern Technology: Problem or Opportunity? (Winter, 1980), pp. 121-136 Published by: The MIT Press on behalf of American Academy of Arts & Sciences Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20024652 Accessed: 25-07-2016 15:58 UTC Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at http://about.jstor.org/terms JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected] American Academy of Arts & Sciences, The MIT Press are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Daedalus This content downloaded from 169.235.44.133 on Mon, 25 Jul 2016 15:58:19 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms LANGDON WINNER Do Artifacts Have Politics? In controversies about technology and society, there is no idea more pro vocative than the notion that technical things have political qualities. At issue is the claim that the machines, structures, and systems of modern material culture can be accurately judged not only for their contributions of efficiency and pro ductivity, not merely for their positive and negative environmental side effects, but also for the ways in which they can embody specific forms of power and authority. Since ideas of this kind have a persistent and troubling presence in discussions about the meaning of technology, they deserve explicit attention.1 Writing in Technology and Culture almost two decades ago, Lewis Mumford gave classic statement to one version of the theme, arguing that from late neo lithic times in the Near East, right down to our own day, two technologies have recurrently existed side by side: one authoritarian, the other democratic, the first system-centered, immensely powerful, but inherently unstable, the other man-centered, relatively weak, but resourceful and durable.2 This thesis stands at the heart of Mumfords studies of the city, architecture, and the his tory of technics, and mirrors concerns voiced earlier in the works of Peter Kropotkin, William Morris, and other nineteenth century critics of industrial ism. More recently, antinuclear and prosolar energy movements in Europe and America have adopted a similar notion as a centerpiece in their arguments. Thus environmentalist Denis Hayes concludes, The increased deployment of nuclear power facilities must lead society toward authoritarianism. Indeed, safe reliance upon nuclear power as the principal source of energy may be possible only in a totalitarian state. Echoing the views of many proponents of appropri ate technology and the soft energy path, Hayes contends that dispersed solar sources are more compatible than centralized technologies with social equity, freedom and cultural pluralism.3 An eagerness to interpret technical artifacts in political language is by no means the exclusive property of critics of large-scale high-technology systems. A long lineage of boosters have insisted that the biggest and best that science and industry made available were the best guarantees of democracy, freedom, and social justice. The factory system, automobile, telephone, radio, television, the space program, and of course nuclear power itself have all at one time or another been described as democratizing, liberating forces. David Lilienthal, in T.V.A.: Democracy on the March, for example, found this promise in the phos 121 This content downloaded from 169.235.44.133 on Mon, 25 Jul 2016 15:58:19 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms 122 LANGDON WINNER phate fertilizers and electricity that technical progress was bringing to rural Americans during the 1940s.4 In a recent essay, The Republic of Technology, Daniel Boorstin extolled television for its power to disband armies, to cashier presidents, to create a whole new democratic world?democratic in ways never before imagined, even in America.5 Scarcely a new invention comes along that someone does not proclaim it the salvation of a free society. It is no surprise to learn that technical systems of various kinds are deeply interwoven in the conditions of modern politics. The physical arrangements of industrial production, warfare, communications, and the like have fundamen tally changed the exercise of power and the experience of citizenship. But to go beyond this obvious fact and to argue that certain technologies in themselves have political properties seems, at first glance, completely mistaken. We all know that people have politics, not things. To discover either virtues or evils in aggre gates of steel, plastic, transistors, integrated circuits, and chemicals seems just plain wrong, a way of mystifying human artifice and of avoiding the true sources, the human sources of freedom and oppression, justice and injustice. Blaming the hardware appears even more foolish than blaming the victims when it comes to judging conditions of public life. Hence, the stern advice commonly given those who flirt with the notion that technical artifacts have political qualities: What matters is not technology itself, but the social or economic system in which it is embedded. This maxim, which in a number of variations is the central premise of a theory that can be called the social determination of technology, has an obvious wisdom. It serves as a needed corrective to those who focus uncritically on such things as the comput er and its social impacts but who fail to look behind technical things to notice the social circumstances of their development, deployment, and use. This view provides an antidote to naive technological determinism?the idea that tech nology develops as the sole result of an internal dynamic, and then, unmediated by any other influence, molds society to fit its patterns. Those who have not recognized the ways in which technologies are shaped by social and economic forces have not gotten very far. But the corrective has its own shortcomings; taken literally, it suggests that technical things do not matter at all. Once one has done the detective work necessary to reveal the social origins?power holders behind a particular in stance of technological change?one will have explained everything of impor tance. This conclusion offers comfort to social scientists: it validates what they had always suspected, namely, that there is nothing distinctive about the study of technology in the first place. Hence, they can return to their standard models of social power?those of interest group politics, bureaucratic politics, Marxist models of class struggle, and the like?and have everything they need. The social determination of technology is, in this view, essentially no different from the social determination of, say, welfare policy or taxation. There are, however, good reasons technology has of late taken on a special fascination in its own right for historians, philosophers, and political scien tists; good reasons the standard models of social science only go so far in ac counting for what is most interesting and troublesome about the subject. In another place I have tried to show why so much of modern social and political thought contains recurring statements of what can be called a theory of tech This content downloaded from 169.235.44.133 on Mon, 25 Jul 2016 15:58:19 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms DO ARTIFACTS HAVE POLITICS? 123 nological politics, an odd mongrel of notions often crossbred with orthodox liberal, conservative, and socialist philosophies.6 The theory of technological politics draws attention to the momentum of large-scale sociotechnical systems, to the response of modern societies to certain technological imperatives, and to the all too common signs of the adaptation of human ends to technical means. In so doing it offers a novel framework of interpretation and explanation for some of the more puzzling patterns that have taken shape in and around the growth of modern material culture. One strength of this point of view is that it takes technical artifacts seriously. Rather than insist that we immediately reduce everything to the interplay of social forces, it suggests that we pay attention to the characteristics of technical objects and the meaning of those characteristics. A necessary complement to, rather than a replacement for, theories of the social determination of technology, this perspective identifies certain technologies as political phenomena in their own right. It points us back, to borrow Edmund Husserls philosophical injunction, to the things themselves. In what follows I shall offer outlines and illustrations of two ways in which artifacts can contain political properties. First are instances in which the inven tion, design, or arrangement of a specific technical device or system becomes a way of settling an issue in a particular community. Seen in the proper light, examples of this kind are fairly straightforward and easily understood. Second are cases of what can be called inherently political technologies, man-made sys tems that appear to require, or to be strongly compatible with, particular kinds of political relationships. Arguments about cases of this kind are much more troublesome and closer to the heart of the matter. By politics, I mean arrange ments of power and authority in human associations as well as the activities that take place within those arrangements. For my purposes, technology here is understood to mean all of modern practical artifice,7 but to avoid confusion I prefer to speak of technology, smaller or larger pieces or systems of hardware of a specific kind. My intention is not to settle any of the issues here once and for all, but to indicate their general dimensions and significance. Technical Arrangements as Forms of Order Anyone who has traveled the highways of America and has become used to the normal height of overpasses may well find something a little odd about some of the bridges over the parkways on Long Island, New York. Many of the overpasses are extraordinarily low, having as little as nine feet of clearance at the curb. Even those who happened to notice this structural peculiarity would not be inclined to attach any special meaning to it. In our accustomed way of look ing at things like roads and bridges we see the details of form as innocuous, and seldom give them a second thought. It turns out, however, that the two hundred or so low-hanging overpasses on Long Island were deliberately designed to achieve a particular social effect. Robert Moses, the master builder of roads, parks, bridges, and other public works from the 1920s to the 1970s in New York, had these overpasses built to specifications that would discourage the presence of buses on his parkways. According to evidence provided by Robert A. Caro in his biography of Moses, the reasons reflect Mosess social-class bias and racial prejudice. Automobile This content downloaded from 169.235.44.133 on Mon, 25 Jul 2016 15:58:19 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms 124 LANGDON WINNER owning whites of upper and comfortable middle classes, as he called them, would be free to use the parkways for recreation and commuting. Poor people and blacks, who normally used public transit, were kept off the roads because the twelve-foot tall buses could not get through the overpasses. One con sequence was to limit access of racial minorities and low-income groups to Jones Beach, Mosess widely acclaimed public park. Moses made doubly sure of this result by vetoing a proposed extension of the Long Island Railroad to Jones Beach.8 As a story in recent American political history, Robert Mosess life is fasci nating. His dealings with mayors, governors, and presidents, and his careful manipulation of legislatures, banks, labor unions, the press, and public opinion are all matters that political scientists could study for years. But the most impor tant and enduring results of his work are his technologies, the vast engineering projects that give New York much of its present form. For generations after Moses has gone and the alliances he forged have fallen apart, his public works, especially the highways and bridges he built to favor the use of the automobile over the development of mass transit, will continue to shape that city. Many of his monumental structures of concrete and steel embody a systematic social inequality, a way of engineering relationships among people that, after a time, becomes just another part of the landscape. As planner Lee Koppleman told Caro about the low bridges on Wantagh Parkway, The old son-of-a-gun had made sure that buses would never be able to use his goddamned parkways.9 Histories of architecture, city planning, and public works contain many ex amples of physical arrangements that contain explicit or implicit political pur poses. One can point to Baron Haussmanns broad Parisian thoroughfares, engineered at Louis Napoleons direction to prevent any recurrence of street fighting of the kind that took place during the revolution of 1848. Or one can visit any number of grotesque concrete buildings and huge plazas constructed on American university campuses during the late 1960s and early 1970s to de fuse student demonstrations. Studies of industrial machines and instruments also turn up interesting political stories, including some that violate our normal expectations about why technological innovations are made in the first place. If we suppose that new technologies are introduced to achieve increased efficien cy, the history of technology shows that we will sometimes be disappointed. Technological change expresses a panoply of human motives, not the least of which is the desire of some to have dominion over others, even though it may require an occasional sacrifice of cost-cutting and some violence to the norm of getting more from less. One poignant illustration can be found in the history of nineteenth century industrial mechanization. At Cyrus McCormicks reaper manufacturing plant in Chicago in the middle 1880s, pneumatic molding machines, a new and largely untested innovation, were added to the foundry at an estimated cost of $500,000. In the standard economic interpretation of such things, we would expect that this step was taken to modernize the plant and achieve the kind of efficiencies that mechanization brings. But historian Robert Ozanne has shown why the development must be seen in a broader context. At the time, Cyrus McCormick II was engaged in a battle with the National Union of Iron Mold ers. He saw the addition of the new machines as a way to weed out the bad This content downloaded from 169.235.44.133 on Mon, 25 Jul 2016 15:58:19 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms DO ARTIFACTS HAVE POLITICS? 125 element among the men, namely, the skilled workers who had organized the union local in Chicago.10 The new machines, manned by unskilled labor, ac tually produced inferior castings at a higher cost than the earlier process. After three years of use the machines were, in fact, abandoned, but by that time they had served their purpose?the destruction of the union. Thus, the story of these technical developments at the McCormick factory cannot be understood ade quately outside the record of workers attempts to organize, police repression of the labor movement in Chicago during that period, and the events surrounding the bombing at Hay market Square. Technological history and American politi cal history were at that moment deeply intertwined. In cases like those of Mosess low bridges and McCormicks molding ma chines, one sees the importance of technical arrangements that precede the use of the things in question. It is obvious that technologies can be used in ways that enhance the power, authority, and privilege of some over others, for example, the use of television to sell a candidate. To our accustomed way of thinking, technologies are seen as neutral tools that can be used well or poorly, for good, evil, or something in between. But we usually do not stop to inquire whether a given device might have been designed and built in such a way that it produces a set of consequences logically and temporally prior to any of its professed uses. Robert Mosess bridges, after all, were used to carry automobiles from one point to another; McCormicks machines were used to make metal castings; both tech nologies, however, encompassed purposes far beyond their immediate use. If our moral and political language for evaluating technology includes only cate gories having to do with tools and uses, if it does not include attention to the meaning of the designs and arrangements of our artifacts, then we will be blinded to much that is intellectually and practically crucial. Because the point is most easily understood in the light of particular in tentions embodied in physical form, I have so far offered illustrations that seem almost conspiratorial. But to recognize the political dimensions in the shapes of technology does not require that we look for conscious conspiracies or malicious intentions. The organized movement of handicapped people in the United States during the 1970s pointed out the countless ways in which machines, instruments, and structures of common use?buses, buildings, sidewalks, plumbing fixtures, and so forth?made it impossible for many handicapped per sons to move about freely, a condition that systematically excluded them from public life. It is safe to say that designs unsuited for the handicapped arose more from long-standing neglect than from anyones active intention. But now that the issue has been raised for public attention, it is evident that justice requires a remedy. A whole range of artifacts are now being redesigned and rebuilt to accommodate this minority. Indeed, many of the most important examples of technologies that have political consequences are those that transcend the simple categories of in tended and unintended altogether. These are instances in which the very process of technical development is so thoroughly biased in a particular direc tion that it regularly produces results counted as wonderful breakthroughs by some social interests and crushing setbacks by others. In such cases it is neither correct nor insightful to say, Someone intended to do somebody else harm. Rather, one must say that the technological deck has been stacked long in ad This content downloaded from 169.235.44.133 on Mon, 25 Jul 2016 15:58:19 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms 126 LANGDON WINNER vanee to favor certain social interests, and that some people were bound to receive a better hand than others. The mechanical tomato harvester, a remarkable device perfected by re searchers at the University of California from the late 1940s to the present, offers an illustrative tale. The machine is able to harvest tomatoes in a single pass through a row, cutting the plants from the ground, shaking the fruit loose, and in the newest models sorting the tomatoes electronically into large plastic gondolas that hold up to twenty-five tons of produce headed for canning. To accommodate the rough motion of these factories in the field, agricultural researchers have bred new varieties of tomatoes that are hardier, sturdier, and less tasty. The harvesters replace the system of handpicking, in which crews of farmworkers would pass through the fields three or four times putting ripe to matoes in lug boxes and saving immature fruit for later harvest.11 Studies in California indicate that the machine reduces costs by approximately five to sev en dollars per ton as compared to hand-harvesting.12 But the benefits are by no means equally divided in the agricultural economy. In fact, the machine in the garden has in this instance been the occasion for a thorough reshaping of social relationships of tomato production in rural California. By their very size and cost, more than $50,000 each to purchase, the ma chines are compatible only with a highly concentrated form of tomato growing. With the introduction of this new method of harvesting, the number of tomato growers declined from approximately four thousand in the early 1960s to about six hundred in 1973, yet with a substantial increase in tons of tomatoes pro duced. By the late 1970s an estimated thirty-two thousand jobs in the tomato industry had been eliminated as a direct consequence of mechanization.13 Thus, a jump in productivity to the benefit of very large growers has occurred at a sacrifice to other rural agricultural communities. The University of Californias research and development on agricultural ma chines like the tomato harvester is at this time the subject of a law suit filed by attorneys for California Rural Legal Assistance, an organization representing a group of farmworkers and other interested parties. The suit charges that University officials are spending tax monies on projects that benefit a hand ful of private interests to the detriment of farmworkers, small farmers, con sumers, and rural California generally, and asks for a court injunction to stop the practice. The University has denied these charges, arguing that to accept them would require elimination of all research with any potential practical application.14 As far as I know, no one has argued that the development of the tomato harvester was the result of a plot. Two students of the controversy, William Friedland and Amy Barton, specifically exonerate both the original developers of the machine and the hard tomato from any desire to facilitate economic con centration in that industry.15 What we see here instead is an ongoing social process in which scientific knowledge, technological invention, and corporate profit reinforce each other in deeply entrenched patterns that bear the unmistak able stamp of political and economic power. Over many decades agricultural research and development in American land-grant colleges and universities has tended to favor the interests of large agribusiness concerns.16 It is in the face of such subtly ingrained patterns that opponents of innovations like the tomato This content downloaded from 169.235.44.133 on Mon, 25 Jul 2016 15:58:19 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms DO ARTIFACTS HAVE POLITICS? 127 harvester are made to seem antitechnology or antiprogress. For the harves ter is not merely the symbol of a social order that rewards some while punishing others; it is in a true sense an embodiment of that order. Within a given category of technological change there are, roughly speaking, two kinds of choices that can affect the relative distribution of power, authority, and privilege in a community. Often the crucial decision is a simple yes or no choice?are we going to develop and adopt the thing or not? In recent years many local, national, and international disputes about technology have centered on yes or no judgments about such things as food additives, pesticides, the building of highways, nuclear reactors, and dam projects. The fundamental choice about an ABM or an SST is whether or not the thing is going to join society as a piece of its operating equipment. Reasons for and against are fre quently as important as those concerning the adoption of an important new law. A second range of choices, equally critical in many instances, has to do with specific features in the design or arrangement of a technical system after the decision to go ahead with it has already been made. Even after a utility company wins permission to build a large electric power line, important controversies can remain with respect to the placement of its route and the design of its towers; even after an organization has decided to institute a system of computers, con troversies can still arise with regard to the kinds of components, programs, modes of access, and other specific features the system will include. Once the mechanical tomato harvester had been developed in its basic form, design altera tion of critical social significance?the addition of electronic sorters, for ex ample?changed the character of the machines effects on the balance of wealth and power in California agriculture. Some of the most interesting research on technology and politics at present focuses on the attempt to demonstrate in a detailed, concrete fashion how seemingly innocuous design features in mass transit systems, water projects, industrial machinery, and other technologies actually mask social choices of profound significance. Historian David Noble is now studying two kinds of automated machine tool systems that have different implications for the relative power of management and labor in the industries that might employ them. He is able to show that, although the basic electronic and mechanical components of the record/playback and numerical control sys tems are similar, the choice of one design over another has crucial consequences for social struggles on the shop floor. To see the matter solely in terms of cost cutting, efficiency, or the modernization of equipment is to miss a decisive element in the story.17 From such examples I would offer the following general conclusions. The things we call technologies are ways of building order in our world. Many technical devices and systems important in everyday life contain possibilities for many different ways of ordering human activity. Consciously or not, deliber ately or inadvertently, societies choose structures for technologies that influence how people are going to work, communicate, travel, consume, and so forth over a very long time. In the processes by which structuring decisions are made, different people are differently situated and possess unequal degrees of power as well as unequal levels of awareness. By far the greatest latitude of choice exists the very first time a particular instrument, system, or technique is introduced. Because choices tend to become strongly fixed in material equipment, economic This content downloaded from 169.235.44.133 on Mon, 25 Jul 2016 15:58:19 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms 128 LANGDON WINNER investment, and social habit, the original flexibility vanishes for all practical purposes once the initial commitments are made. In that sense technological innovations are similar to legislative acts or political foundings that establish a framework for public order that will endure over many generations. For that reason, the same careful attention one would give to the rules, roles, and rela tionships of politics must also be given to such things as the building of high ways, the creation of television networks, and the tailoring of seemingly insignificant features on new machines. The issues that divide or unite people in society are settled not only in the institutions and practices of politics proper, but also, and less obviously, in tangible arrangements of steel and concrete, wires and transistors, nuts and bolts. Inherently Political Technologies None of the arguments and examples considered thus far address a stronger, more troubling claim often made in writings about technology and society?the belief that some technologies are by their very nature political in a specific way. According to this view, the adoption of a given technical system unavoidably brings with it conditions for human relationships that have a distinctive political cast?for example, centralized or decentralized, egalitarian or inegalitarian, re pressive or liberating. This is ultimately what is at stake in assertions like those of Lewis Mumford that two traditions of technology, one authoritarian, the other democratic, exist side by side in Western history. In all the cases I cited above the technologies are relatively flexible in design and arrangement, and variable in their effects. Although one can recognize a particular result produced in a particular setting, one can also easily imagine how a roughly similar device or system might have been built or situated with very much different political consequences. The idea we must now examine and evaluate is that certain kinds of technology do not allow such flexibility, and that to choose them is to choose a particular form of political life. A remarkably forceful statement of one version of this argument appears in Friedrich Engelss little essay On Authority written in 1872. Answering anar chists who believed that authority is an evil that ought to be abolished altogeth er, Engels launches into a panegyric for authoritarianism, maintaining, among other things, that strong authority is a necessary condition in modern industry. To advance his case in the strongest possible way, he asks his readers to imagine that the revolution has already occurred. Supposing a social revolution de throned the capitalists, who now exercise their authority over the production and …