Society

Australia - A Sweden of the South?

By Vern Hughes:

Since the 1960s, the Scandinavian model of social inclusion, economic co-operation and political consensus-seeking has been cited around the world as the stand-out, practical, real-life alternative to both free market capitalism and centralized socialism. For many people who are disheartened by the brutal winner-take-all politics of English-speaking nations, the five countries of Scandinavia (Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Finland and Iceland) have been a beacon of social inclusion, intellectual moderation, sexual equality and economic partnership.

Given the affection which many Australians have towards the Scandinavian way of doing things, it is surprising that social reformers here have not exploited this synergy. We value openness as the Scandinavians do. We have a love of the outdoors and nature as Nordic people do. We pioneered sexual equality along with New Zealand and the Scandinavians. We were innovators in democracy in the 19th century, like the Nordic countries. We have a down-to-earth non-pretentious culture which, at its best, values loyalty and relationships over personal indulgence and conspicuous wealth (conspicuous private wealth is still culturally frowned upon in the Nordic countries to a remarkable degree).

At various points in the last half century, the Scandinavian model – and Sweden, in particular – have been proposed as directions for Australian public policy and social reform. When industrial democracy and economic collaboration were talked about in the 1970s and 1980s, it was the Swedish and Finnish models that were discussed. The ACTU’s Prices and Incomes Accord during the Hawke-Keating period was drawn from Swedish and Norwegian historical experience. When alternatives to our military dependence on the USA were explored in the 1980s, it was Swedish and Finnish neutrality that caught our interest. As second-wave feminism gave way to practical issues of sexual partnership, it was Iceland, Denmark and Sweden that were pace-setters. As our public schools began to fall behind in the 1990s, it was the Finnish education system that beckoned.

In the 1980s, I first came across the term ‘Sweden of the South’. It referred to an Australian take-up of the Swedish model of economic and social inclusion. This was popular for a period with some Australian economists, trade unionists, and feminists. Some in the peace movement took it up in the late 1980s as Sweden stood outside NATO and military entanglement with the United States in a nuclear stand-off with the Soviet Union. Adult education groups discovered Sweden’s extensive system of adult and further education. Reformers in areas such as illicit drug use, prostitution and crime embraced the Swedish model in these areas.

Why didn’t this trend find its expression in the Australian Democrats? On the surface, the Democrats (1977-2003) might appear to have been a likely proponent of Scandinavian centrism. The late Senator John Siddons was a fervent advocate of employee ownership of firms and industrial democracy. He was joined in the 1990s by Senator Andrew Murray from WA. And the party always favoured reform of our Westminster parliamentary system to extend proportional representation and create a more diverse and representative system of contending political parties.
But in the main, the prevailing social libertarianism of the 1980s and 1990s ran counter to the consensual egalitarianism and inclusion of the Scandinavians. Advocacy of industrial democracy and learning circles in firms, family co-operatives in social policy, and recognition of natural relationships and mutual supports in disability and mental health require more than a culture of parliamentary amendment and protest: they demand a culture of creating practical alternatives in society and building social participation in these arrangements. This was a step too far for the Democrats – the party never managed to make the transition from ‘keeping the bastards honest’ to constructing social and economic arrangements that kept the bastards out of power and influence.

Today, the Scandinavian model stands as clearly as ever as an alternative to the political paralysis and division that has engulfed the Western world. A Donald Trump or a Jeremy Corbyn are both inconceiveable in the five Nordic countries. While parliamentary stagnation and division in Australia, the US and the UK reach record levels, Sweden continues its 40 year practice of Almedalen, where 20,000 political leaders and party members across the spectrum gather on the island of Gotlund for a week-long summer camp of discussions, talks and shared recreation. Can Australians imagine anything like this in our politics?

When Australian voters are asked in opinion polls what they expect of their politicians, they consistently indicate a preference for something like Almedalen, that is, they expect their representatives to work together for the common good without partisan divisions or game-playing. The trouble is, our Westminster system of duopoly ensures they never get it.

In 2018 there is a huge vacuum in the centre of Australian politics for an electoral force that represents the Scandinavian way of doing things – a ‘Sweden of the South’. Can such an electoral force emerge? In several key areas, the residual Left and Right still stand in the way.

On immigration, refugees and social cohesion, the Scandinavian countries do not favour open entry to their nations. They acknowledge limits to diversity, and limits to their capacity to absorb immigrants and refugees into the social mainstream. Denmark, Norway and Sweden have in recent years reduced their intake of new settlers. Sweden has curtailed welfare allocations to asylum seekers and now restricts jobs for immigrants to positions that can't be filled by native Swedes. Australia can learn from this typically Scandinavian pragmatism. Most of the centre left in Australian politics is reluctant to embrace a similar stance, as if there is something morally deficient in limiting the entry of immigrants and refugees. Australians can surely learn from the Scandinavians that limiting immigration in the name of social cohesion is perfectly legitimate for a nation that values cohesion and participation.

On economic collaboration and industrial co-operation, the Scandinavians have been prepared to subjugate ideological positions (free markets and protection of local industry) to more fundamental and enduring commitments to shared ownership and governance in industry. Imagine the Australian debate on corporate tax cuts if an Australian party proposed that companies (big and small) with more than 50% ownership by their employees would receive big tax cuts and exemptions from land and payroll tax. Imagine the debate on energy if we proposed to transfer the operating licences of energy retailers to co-operatives of consumers and small businesses. Imagine the debate on Medicare if we proposed the Dutch model of health reform, whereby citizens may choose one of several competing health mutuals to meet 100% of their health needs (a Catholic mutual, a New Age mutual based on natural and complementary health, a sports and outdoor living mutual, an indigenous mutual based on traditional culture, and so on).

On partnership between the sexes, the Scandinavian countries have a cultural tradition of celebrating children and building child-centred communities, which has shaped their feminism. Compared to countries in the Anglosphere, the family unit is relatively strong in the Nordic countries - Sweden has the highest birth rate in Europe, Italy has the lowest. Australian feminists can learn a great deal from Scandinavian feminism, rejecting the anti-family feminism that is prominent in English-speaking countries and embedding egalitarian partnership between the sexes in daily life, and a celebration of children in the culture.

Individualised funding, or use of ‘vouchers’ in service delivery has tended to be anathema to ‘progressives’ in the Anglosphere, but Sweden has the highest use of vouchers of any country in the world. It has embedded individualised funding arrangements throughout its welfare state. This has resulted in greater ownership of social provision through taxation than in countries like Australia where political parties tend to use social programs as vote-buying dispensations to passive disengaged 'clients'. Extended individualized funding arrangements in service delivery in Australia would strengthen ownership of social service provision by consumers, and shift the balance of power from providers to consumers.

On drugs, the Scandinavian countries have been pragmatically sceptical of the overblown ‘war on drugs’. They have been prepared to experiment and learn from the results. In the 1980s Sweden decriminalized several illicit drugs, in expectation that drug use would go down. Twenty years later, when drug use had increased, Sweden reversed its position, moving to mandatory rehabilitation for users of several illicit drugs and re-criminalisation of dealers. Australians can learn from this pragmatism. Ideology should always be subservient to evidence of what works.

And on defence and foreign policy, the Nordic countries have maintained an ethic of independent military self-reliance, sceptical of entangling military alliances, which is backed up by compulsory military service for young people. All the Scandinavian countries integrate their military forces into civil society in the interests of comprehensive security planning and to prevent the development of a separatist military caste that stands apart from the rest of society. Both Left and Right in Australia have tended to not take military self-reliance and independence seriously - a consequence of our ongoing 'cultural cringe' which drives, still, our military dependence on the United States. Our peace movement and our defence forces have tended to live in different cultural universes – the Scandinavian tradition of inclusion and participation has demanded their collaboration.
Is this too big a jump for Australian political activists and social change movements? Can we build on our tradition to embody a clear alternative to neo-liberal capitalism and big government socialism that is radically centrist and radically Australian? Can we be the ‘Sweden of the South’?

Chapter 2: What was Promised?



The Technological Tempest: Charting a New Course

Chapter 2: What was promised?

 

In 1999 Daniel Broderick’s book “The Last Mortal Generation” was published. Broderick begins his book with the sentence: ‘Some time during the twenty-first century, ordinary humans like you and me – or our children, or our grandchildren – will be offered new medical treatments that will lead, eventually, to physical immortality’ (Broderick, 1999, p 1). 

Broderick, like many others, looks at recent developments of technology and projects them into the future. Such projections of technological progress are usually seen as offering a pathway to a Utopian or Dystopian future (or anywhere on the spectrum in-between). Utopian projections are typically the domain of optimistic science fiction writers and futurists. Such people tend to emphasise the perceived benefits of technology and predict a future based on these, largely ignoring or glossing over the drawbacks and negatives. Many ‘utopians’
tend to assume that the problems caused by technological progress will be solved by technological progress. Dystopian projections are likely to come from social critics and those who are already somewhat discontented with what they see in their society. These predictions take the opposite tack, projecting the negative effects of technological development whilst discounting the perceived benefits, or perhaps paint such ‘benefits’ in a negative light. Science fiction writers may also select some aspects of technology and use these to create ‘monster’ scenarios, like out-of-control computers or organisms created by technology.
These are typically variations on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein monster story - of science escaping the control of its creators.  In fact, some people, like Derek Jensen, suggest that science and technology have already escaped human control (Jensen and Draffan, 2004). 

To some, utopia is a society largely without technology.  In 1754 French social philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote ‘A Discourse on the Origins and Foundation of Inequality among Men’ (Cranston, Rousseau 1984).  In his Discourse, Rousseau laments civilisation as a corrupting force which creates inequalities in wealth, power and privilege. Rousseau eulogises Man in a state of nature as follows:

‘I see an animal less strong than some, less agile than others, but taken as a whole the most advantageously organized of all. I see him satisfying his hunger under an oak,
quenching his thirst at the first stream, finding his bed under the same tree which provided his meal; and behold, his needs are furnished’ (Cranston, Rousseau 1984, p. 81)

In relation to medical technology, to many the most
compelling argument for technological development, Rousseau declares the
following:

‘On the question of sickness I shall not repeat the vain and empty declamations against medicine that are uttered by most people when they are healthy, but I will ask whether there is any solid evidence for concluding that in the country where medicine is most rudimentary the average life of men is shorter than it is the country where that art is cultivated with the greatest care; and how indeed could that
be the case if we bring upon ourselves more diseases than medicine can furnish remedies? The extreme inequality of our ways of life, the excess of idleness among some and the excess of toil among others, the ease of stimulating and gratifying our appetites and our senses, the over-elaborate foods of the rich, which inflame and overwhelm them with indigestion, the bad food of the poor, which they often go without altogether, so that they over-eat greedily when they have the opportunity; those late nights, excesses of all kinds, immoderate transports of every passion, fatigue, exhaustion of the mind, the innumerable sorrows and anxieties that people in all classes suffer, and by which the human soul is constantly tormented: these are the fatal proofs that most of our ills are of our own making’ (Cranston, Rousseau, 1984, p. 84).

Indeed, has anything improved in any of these regards in the modern world?  One doubts. Rather it is likely that with the addition of exposure to various toxins and pollutants, that civilised life
contributes even more to illness today than in Rousseau’s time. This claim of Rousseau is one we return to in the light of other evidence later. In relation to gaining the benefits of one’s own industry we have the following argument
from Rousseau:

‘Even those who have been enriched by their own industry could not base their right to property on much better titles. In vain one would say: ‘I built this wall; I earned the right to this field by my own labour.’ For ‘Who gave you its extent and boundaries?’ might be the answer.  ‘And in virtue of what do you claim payment from us for work we never instructed you to do? Do you not know that a multitude of your brethren perish or suffer from need of what you have to excess, and that you required the express and unanimous consent of the whole human race in order to appropriate from the common subsistence anything beyond that required for your own subsistence?’ (Cranston, Rousseau, 1984, p. 121).  

Of course, there are arguments against this. One being that by populations accepting systems of governments, which in turn implement systems of markets, that populations have endorsed a process for the allocation and transfer of land from commons to private individuals and between private individuals. However, in reply to this Rousseau might well possibly draw on his arguments that such systems of government and property seem set up precisely to legitimise an elite group taking possession of common resources. Rousseau suggests that this process took place as follows:

‘Destitute of valid reasons to justify himself and of forces adequate to defend himself; easily crushing an individual but crushed himself by troupes of bandits, alone with his equals against all, and unable because of mutual jealousies to form alliances with his equals against enemies united by the common hope of plunder, the rich man under pressure of necessity conceived in the end, the most cunning project that ever entered the human mind; to employ in his favour the very forces of those who attacked him, to make his adversaries his defenders, to inspire them with new maxims and give them new institutions as advantageous to him as natural right was disadvantageous’ (Cranston, Rousseau, 1984, p. 121).

Now it is very questionable that any such approach took place. However, Rousseau’s summation does read like the sort of justification that any state may provide for its own existence even today:

‘instead of directing our forces against each other, let us unite them together in one supreme power which shall govern us all according to wise laws, protect and defend all the members of the association, repulse common enemies and maintain us in everlasting concord’

Of course, there certainly is evidence of at least some injustice in our systems of private ownership, and by implication our systems of government, which is consistent with Rousseau’s accusations against the institution of states. The conversion of common lands to private through the English enclosure movement, which is explored in Chapter 3, provides examples of this. Also the modern economist Piketty (2014) points out similar tendencies towards inequality in his book Capital in the Twenty-First Century’. Karl Polanyi is another who presents a strong case against the injustices of modern market systems in his book “The Great Transformation” (first published in 1944). We return to Picketty’s and Polanyi’s ideas later in this chapter.  

In his notes, Rousseau makes clear his indictment of civilisation:

‘Compare without prejudice the condition of the civilised man with that of the savage, and investigate, if you can, how, aside from his wickedness, his needs and his miseries, the civilized man has opened new doors to suffering and to death. If you consider the anguish of mind which consumes us, the violent passions which exhaust and grieve us, the excessive labours with which the poor are overburdened, and the even more dangerous laxity to which the rich abandon themselves, so that the former die of their needs while the later of their excesses; if you think of the monstrous mixtures they eat, their pernicious seasonings, their corrupt foods and adulterated drugs; the cheating of those who sell such things and the mistakes of those who administer them, of the poison vessels used for cooking; if you take note of the epidemic diseases
engendered by the bad air where multitudes of men are gathered together, take note also of those occasioned by the delicacy of our way of life, by our moving between the interiors of houses and the open air, by the use of clothes put on or taken off with too little precaution, and all the cares that our excessive sensuality has turned into necessary habits and of which the neglect or deprivation then costs us our life or our health,; if you take also into consideration fires which consume and earthquakes which overthrow whole cities, killing their inhabitants by thousands; in a word, if you add up the dangers that all these causes continually put together over our heads, you will see how dearly nature makes us pay for the contempt we have shown for her lessons.’ (Cranston, Rousseau 1984, p. 149).

Picketty in his 2014 book ‘Capital in the Twenty-First Century’ suggests that there is empirical evidence to support Rousseau’s bleak general analysis of civilised society by making the following claim in relation to 19th century France:

‘As I will soon show, the structure of the income and wealth hierarchies in nineteenth- century France was such that the standard of living the wealthiest French people could attain greatly exceeded that to which one could aspire on the basis of income from labor alone. Under such conditions, why work? And why behave morally at all? Since social in equality was in itself immoral and unjustified, why not be thoroughly immoral and appropriate capital by whatever means are available?’ (p. 240)

Henry David Thoreau was another who was suspicious not only of modern civilisation but also its governments, stating in the introduction to his book ‘On the Duty of Civil Disobedience’ the following:

‘Government is at best but an expedient; but most governments are usually, and all governments are sometimes, inexpedient. The objections which have been brought against a standing army, and they are many and weighty, and deserve to prevail, may also at last be brought against a standing government. The standing army is only an arm of the standing government. The government itself, which is only the mode which the people have chosen to execute their will, is equally liable to be abused and perverted before the people can act through it. Witness the present Mexican war, the work of comparatively a few individuals using the standing government as their tool; for, in the outset, the people would not have consented to this measure.’

And like Rousseau, Thoreau, seems to advocate the advantages of a simpler life:

‘Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind. With respect to luxuries and comforts, the wisest have ever lived a more simple and meagre life than the poor.’ (Thoreau, 1854, para. 19).

Greg (1936) makes the following argument in relation to simplicity:

‘It is often said that possessions are important because they enable the possessors thereby to enrich and enhance their personalities and characters. The claim is that by means of ownership the powers of self-direction and self-control inherent in personality become real. Property, they say, gives stability, security, independence, a real place in the larger life of the community, a feeling of responsibility, all of which are elements of vigorous personality." name="_ftnref1" title="" id="_ftnref1"> style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"'>[1]

Nevertheless, the greatest characters, those who have influenced the largest numbers of people for the longest time, have been people with extremely few possessions. For example, Buddha, Jesus, Moses, Mohammed, Kagawa, Socrates, St. Francis, Confucius, Sun Yat Sen, Lenin, Gandhi, many scientists, inventors and artists. "The higher ranges of life where personality has fullest play and is most nearly free from the tyranny of circumstance, are precisely those where it depends least on possessions. . . . The higher we ascend among human types and the more intense personalities become, the more the importance of possessions dwindles.’ href="" name="_ftnref2" title="">[2] (section IX)

Finally on this point are more recent advocates of simple living Alexander, Trainer, & Ussher (2012):

‘Once our basic material needs are met, the limitless pursuit of money and stuff merely distracts us from more meaningful and inspiring things. As the ancient philosophers told us long ago, those who know they have enough are rich, and those who have enough but do not know it, are poor. Consumerism, it is clear, represents a mistaken idea of wealth, and it is based on a mistaken idea of freedom.’ (p. iii)

So we have seen one type of utopia – a simpler world living closer to nature. Is it possible that we can exist in a closer state to nature and still be happy? (technology after all, is largely about separating us from a state of nature.) It may well be so, and this is a topic we return to in Chapter 7.

Two variations on dystopian themes of futuristic societies are presented in the books ‘Brave New World’ and ‘1984’.

Aldous Huxley’s 1932 book “Brave New World” is a tale of a futuristic society in which everyone seems to be free, but desires are manipulated by the state (through behaviour conditioning) and various
state-favoured forms of amusement are promoted. In particular amusements based on casual sexual relations, a variation on cinema movies (called ‘feelies’) and a legalised drug called soma. Consumerism is encouraged and slogans like “ending is better than mending” contribute to a “throw-away” mentality in the population.

In Chapter 17 of ‘Brave New World’ Huxley presents the following conversation between two of his characters: John the Savage, who was raised in uncivilised reservation, and Mustapha Mond, Resident World Controller of Western Europe:

‘Mustapha Mond shut the [philosophy] book and leaned back in his chair. "One of the numerous things in heaven and earth that these philosophers didn't dream about was this" (he waved his hand), "us, the modern world. “You can only be independent of God while you've got youth and prosperity; independence won't take you safely to the end.” Well, we've now got youth and prosperity right up to the end. What follows? Evidently, that we can be independent of God. 'The religious sentiment will compensate us for all our losses.” But there aren't any losses for us to compensate; religious sentiment is superfluous. And why should we go hunting for a substitute for youthful desires, when youthful desires never fail? A substitute for distractions, when we go on enjoying all the old fooleries to the very last? What need have we of repose when our minds and bodies continue to delight in activity? of consolation, when we have soma? of something immovable, when there is the social order?”

    “Then you think there is no God?”

    “No, I think there quite probably is one.”

    “Then why? …”

    Mustapha Mond checked him. "But he manifests himself in different ways to different men. In pre-modern times he manifested himself as the being that's described in these books. Now …"

"How does he manifest himself now?" asked the Savage.

    "Well, he manifests himself as an absence; as though he weren't there at all."

    "That's your fault."

    "Call it the fault of civilization. God isn't compatible with machinery and scientific medicine and universal happiness. You must make your choice. Our civilization has chosen machinery and medicine and happiness. That's why I have to keep
these books locked up in the safe. They're smut. People would be shocked if
…"

    The Savage interrupted him. "But isn't it natural to feel there's a God?"

    "You might as well ask if it's natural to do up one's trousers with zippers," said the Controller sarcastically. "You remind me of another of those old fellows called Bradley. He defined philosophy as the finding of bad reason for what one believes by instinct. As if one believed anything by instinct! One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them. Finding bad reasons
for what one believes for other bad reasons–that's philosophy. People believe in God because they've been conditioned to.

    "But all the same," insisted the Savage, "it is natural to believe in God when you're alone–quite alone, in the night, thinking about death …"

    "But people never are alone now," said Mustapha Mond. "We make them hate solitude; and we arrange their lives so that it's almost impossible for them ever to have it."’

How poignant is this final statement about the difficulties in attaining solitude today? Can we be alone for long without interruptions of mobile phones? Without the distracting noises of the modern world? Even in remote locations the sense of isolation is often interrupted by the sound of airplanes flying overhead – ensuring that the ‘modern world’ stays present in our mind - perhaps associated with the recall of many unfinished tasks or impeding financial obligations?  The effects of constant interruptions to one’s thoughts caused by smart phones and other technology is a topic debated by neuroscientists and many authors in this area discuss the
possibility of severe negative effects on human brain function and psychology (Greenfield, 2014; Levitin, 2014; Roberts, 2014).

“Brave New World’ presents a covertly controlled society. In a later essay written in 1958, called ‘Brave New World Revisited’, Huxley reflects on his 1932 book ‘Brave New World’ and actual society at that time, Huxley explains the processes of control (as he sees them) as follows:

‘It is perfectly possible for a man to be out of prison, and yet not free -- to be under no physical constraint and yet to be a psychological captive, compelled to think, feel and act as the representatives of the national State, or of some private interest within the nation, want him to think, feel and act. There will never be such a thing as a writ of habeas mentem; for no sheriff or jailer can bring an illegally imprisoned mind into court, and no person whose mind had been made captive by the methods outlined in earlier articles would be in a position to complain of his captivity. The nature of psychological compulsion is such that those who act under constraint remain under the impression that they are acting on their own initiative. The vic­tim of mind-manipulation does not know that he is a victim. To him, the walls of his prison are invisible, and he believes himself to be free. That he is not free is apparent only to other people. His servitude is strictly objective.’ (Huxley, 1958, Sec. XII)

George Orwell’s book ‘1984’ (published in 1949) presents a more overtly controlled society in contrast to the more subtle and sophisticated methods of ‘Brave New World’. A society in which government engages in mass surveillance so as to detect and eliminate any possible resistance or threats to the government or the dis-information it disseminates.   

Aldous Huxley argued in a letter to George Orwell that the covert means of control used in Brave New World was more realistic than 1984’s overt methods:

‘the lust for power can be just as completely satisfied by suggesting people into loving their servitude as by flogging and kicking them into obedience. In other words, I feel that the nightmare of Nineteen Eighty-Four is destined to modulate into the nightmare of a world having more resemblance to that which I imagined in Brave New World. The change will be brought about as a result of a felt need for increased efficiency.’ (Huxley, 1949)

Note that the driver of this process is believed by Huxley to be ‘a need for efficiency’, the type of motivation one might expect in a technocratic society, a society in which efficiency is defined or conceived in such a way so as to exclude many negative side effects (i.e negative externalities) - a topic which we will return to in a later chapter.

One pattern that appears to emerge from our brief analysis of visions of utopia and dystopia, is that utopian societies can be ones with relatively little technology (or at least with relatively simple technologies) or ones with very sophisticated technology, like Broderick’s book ‘The Last Mortal Generation’. Dystopian ideas, however, tend be almost exclusively associated with societies that have attained a level of ‘high technology’. It is as though highly developed technology is itself somewhat ominous, somewhat less controllable by everyday people, and somewhat more empowering for dehumanised abstractions, like state power or ideologies. This may in part be explained by the fact that societies without technology are seen as more imaginable, perhaps the underlying, and unsaid, understanding is that one need only study historical societies to know what less technologically sophisticated societies would be like. This implies that any future society that does not use highly sophisticated technology would be very much like one or more societies of the past. But is this true? Could we not have a society that is in many ways different from past societies, even if we were to revert back to a much simpler way of living? Does this assumption of future-being-like-the-past place too much emphasis on the role of technology in society? Perhaps this perspective itself, of seeing and judging societies based on their levels and use of technology is a product of our own ‘technologically biased’ mindset? Someone visiting from a past time period brought to our modern world may overlook our technology entirely. Rather than being in awe of our technological achievements they may be well be horrified at the high cost and slowness of our justice systems, the levels of ill health and obesity, the fact that vast numbers of people sit all day in offices, the enormous amounts of time (and energy) spent travelling, the inequality of wealth, the waste and epicureanism all around. They may well regard our opinion of ourselves as an ‘advanced human culture’ as altogether conceited, and in many ways inaccurate.

There are however, some who conceive the possibility of a life closer to nature, with simpler technologies, and see this not as a return to the past, but as an entirely new culture. David Holmgren and Bill
Mollison proposed permaculture as a system for redesigning society for a ‘low energy future’. Such a pattern of reaching a peak of resource use, followed by a sudden collapse is one of the scenarios predicted by modelling in the 1972 report, sponsored by the Club of Rome, called the ‘Limits to Growth’. The Limits to Growth report also tackled technological determinism as depicted by statements like:

‘There are no substantial limits in sight either in raw materials or in energy that alterations in the price structure, product substitution, anticipated gains in technology and pollution control cannot be expected to solve’ (pg 130)

In response, based on their modelling, the report’s authors conclude:

‘The basic behavior mode of the world system is exponential growth of population and capital, followed by collapse. As we have shown in the model runs presented here, this behavior mode occurs if we assume no change in the present system or if we assume any number of technological changes in the system.’ (p. 142)

An alternative vision of society is provided by Bill Mollison and David Holmgren, both of whom have written extensively about the system they call ‘permaculture’. Bill Mollison describes permaculture as
follows (Mollison 1991):

‘The word itself is a contraction not only of permanent agriculture but also of
permanent culture, as cultures cannot survive for long without a sustainable agricultural base and landuse ethic.’ (p. 1)

Mollison (1988) also states that a principle of permaculture is ‘Cooperation, not competition, is the very basis of existing life systems and of future survival’ (p 2)

For his part, Holmgren (2002) states:

‘I am suggesting that we need to get over our naïve and simplistic notions of sustainability as a
likely reality for ourselves or even our grandchildren and instead accept our task is to use our familiarity with continuous change to adapt to energy descent’ (p. xxx)

By energy descent Holmgren is referring to notions of a global peak of energy use followed by a rapid decline, with its associated chaos.  

Holmgren’s and Mollison’s vision is a variation on, and perhaps a direct descendent of, the vision of Professor J. Russell Smith who in 1929 published a book called “Tree Crops” (Smith, 1929). Smith argues for a system of agriculture that relies more on trees and less on annual grains. Smith claims this will protect soils from erosion, and require less work than pure grain crops whilst providing farmers with a diversity of crops to protect them against the failures that may affect single crop systems. Smith proposes that nut and fruit trees should be used largely to provide animal feed, not just human food. Like permaculture Smith also suggests that this will provide a system of ‘permanent agriculture’.

The visions of the Smith, Holmgren and Mollison stand in stark contrast to the ‘predictions of Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein and other macho sci-fi novelists whose future worlds were always filled with space traders, superslick salesmen, genius scientists, pirate captains and other rugged individualists’ (Barbrook & Cameron 2007)

The idea of the power of the individual seems to be embedded in American culture. John Ralston Saul (1992) has suggested that most cultures are based on a kind of mythology or ideology. In America, this mythology seems to be based around the idea of the ‘self-made man’. In other words, the ability of any American to become rich if they just apply themselves. If you are rich, it is because you deserve to be rich. In America, unlike Old Europe where wealth is inherited, people become rich by applying themselves to hard work either in industry, their own education or both. Based on this concept of meritocracy, America has promoted itself in the past as the ‘land of opportunity’. 

This myth based around the merits of the individual has always been questionable. Let us consider the merit of the bankers who take home enormous sums; are the people whose ingenious inventiveness in derivatives led to global financial collapse in 2008 really worth those large sums? Presumably, merit in a meritocracy, such as America claims to provide, should lead to benefits for all? Otherwise, it is not really a system that rewards merit at all – or least not what most people would consider merit, but rather a system that rewards pure selfishness and greed. And that at the expense of everyone else.

In fact, it is likely that it is selfishness and greed that is taking away many of the opportunities that Americans have enjoyed in recent decades. For example, many American opportunities for gaining work and experience in a range of fields are either disappearing overseas (to China, India and other low-wage countries) or being automated away (Ford, 2007). The opportunities that are not automated away probably mostly remain with vulnerable small to medium enterprises (with
varying degrees of profitability) or with large bureaucratic organisations in which work is (and thus workers are) standardised and controlled as never before. Recent evidence suggests that active efforts are underway by large players to eliminate smaller ones as quickly and ruthlessly as possible. This is especially the case with respect to agriculture and food production, which appears to have a revolving door between corporate positions and government regulatory roles, much like the American financial industry.


So, if the only opportunities outside of large organisations like Walmart are to work for businesses whose jobs and services cannot be offshored or automated, and if even these are under attack from the large corporations (using fair means or, just as likely, foul), then how is America any more a ‘Land of Opportunity’ than, say, Mexico? Yet, Americans still believe in this myth. Why is that?

Perhaps it because there always has been some examples of individuals who have succeeded apparently through their own merits. More recently the most obvious domain in America that provides prominent examples that seem to make this myth plausible is technology. The internet and its related success stories prop up the entire edifice of American opportunity, which in many other respects seem to be crumbling. The success of people like Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and glamorous tech companies like facebook and Google allow this myth to continue
to be promulgated and, in doing so, is thus preventing Americans from making a fundamental re-examination of their entire culture. Today is the promise of the Internet that is propping up the justification for the so-called 1 per cent of the population to hold so much wealth with the promise that any member of the 99 per cent can escape to a life of wealth of fame — if they are talented enough. It is the Internet that provides sufficient rags-to-riches stories of the likes of Mark Zuckerberg, so as to beguile a whole nation. A nation not only adoring of technology for its own sake, but also because of its promises of wealth and privilege for the common-man.

Support for the premise that the Internet has been used to sell the ‘American Dream’ can be found in a joint publication produced by some of America's leading technological evangelists, including Esther Dyson, George Gilder, George Keyworth, and Alvin Toffler. The following are extracted from an 1994 publication by these authors. The publication was telling called ‘Cyberspace and the American Dream: A Magna Carta for the Knowledge Age’:

America, after all, remains a land of individual
freedom, and this freedom clearly extends to cyberspace. How else to explain the uniquely American phenomenon of the hacker, who ignored every social pressure and violated every rule to develop a set of skills through an early and intense exposure to low-cost, ubiquitous computing.
style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"'>

‘Those skills eventually made him or her highly marketable, whether in developing applications-software or implementing networks. The hacker became a technician, an inventor and, in case after case, a creator of new wealth in the form of the baby businesses that have given America the lead in cyberspatial exploration and settlement.’


The extract above refers to the opportunities for freedom (read: wealth) that are available in America and ‘the uniquely American phenomenon’ (another myth) of the penniless hacker whose talents (read: merits) lead them to success.

So the elite, and their servants, continue to mislead the public. Perhaps fortunately, for the elite, this myth was established well before the 2008 financial crisis hit so as to maintain the illusion even as the Occupy movements across America decried the growing inequalities of American society.

Social and Technological critic Langdon Winner wrote an article linking the ideas of ‘Cyberspace and the American Dream: A Magna Carta for the Knowledge style='font-style:normal'>Age’ to right wing conservatism and suggests the influence of Ayn Rand. Rand’s philosophy suggests that one’s abilities and talents are entirely one's own. Thus those fortunate enough to be gifted by nature with intelligence and ability owe nothing to their fellow man.
In fact, these unfortunates are to be despised, as most likely (according to Rand – see her book ‘The Fountainhead’) their ignorance and incompetence will just hold back those who are more talented. Is this the meritocracy of America? Where the strong exploit, rather than help, the weak? Sadly, that seems to be evident in both banking and corporate behaviour more generally in America.

The influence of Any Rand has continued to play an on-going role in Silicon Valley politics.  Under the brand ‘libertarianism’ Rand’s philosophy is presented as defending the rights of the individual – in particular individual freedom.  Freedom for the individual to both create whatever he or she desires, and also to justify any outlandish returns such risk-taking behaviour may bring him or her. Rand’s philosophy says nothing about the responsibilities of the individual for any harm or damage they may cause, it only defends their right to do as they please, unfettered by those whom Libertarians may call ‘less ambitious’ but whom the population more generally may call prudent or cautious.

It seems that such one-sided arguments as Rand’s which argue for freedom but not for responsibility can lead to reckless, unjust and inhumane behaviour. And it is not just Rand who promotes such views. The following extract from the article by Morozov (2015) discusses the influential theories of free-market economist Friedrich Hayek and links those theories to an example of the very sorts of problems that such unbalanced free-market thinking seems to lead to:

‘In the free-market utopia of thinkers such as Friedrich Hayek – the true patron saint of the sharing economy – your reputation would also reflect what other market participants know about you.
Thus, if you are a nasty customer or an ill-mannered driver, everybody else will soon discover this, and specific laws to police your behaviour are
rendered unnecessary.

The good news, according to Hayek, is that once our norms change – what was considered nasty 50 years ago might be perfectly acceptable today – our reputations would reflect these changes immediately.
Laws, on the other hand, would take quite some time to be altered.

In reality, though, such a perfectly liquid and dynamic reputation
marketplace is nowhere to be seen. A recent lawsuit in the US highlights its
absence. Uber drivers have been accused of discriminating against disabled people by refusing to put their wheelchairs in the boot of their car. One would think that anti-discrimination laws that apply to taxis would also apply to Uber. Uber says it has anti-discrimination policies – and that it’s not a taxi company, it’s a technology company, a platform. Here, there is clearly no easy feedback mechanism to assist disabled travellers: this is what consumer protection laws are for.

It seems that Uber is one Silicon Valley company that subscribes to the idea of a free-market but limited responsibility, and perhaps reflects the influence of Rand? Other possible consequences of the ideologies prevalent in Silicon Valley are suggested in Barbrook &
Cameron’s 2007 article ‘The Californian Ideology’. An extract from that article reads as follows:

 While the Vietnamese at the cost of enormous human suffering were able to expel the American invaders from their country, the hippies and their allies in the black civil rights movement were eventually crushed by a combination of state repression and cultural co-option.

The Californian Ideology perfectly encapsulates the consequences of this defeat for members of the virtual class.
Although they enjoy cultural freedoms won by the hippies, most of them are no longer actively involved in the struggle to build ecotopia. Instead of openly rebelling against the system, these digital artisans now accept that individual freedom can only be achieved by working within the constraints of technological progress and the free market. In many cyberpunk novels, this autistic libertarianism is personified by the central character of the hacker, who is a lone individual fighting for survival within the virtual world of information.[31]’

So in Rand’s Utopia it seems the individual is faced with accepting firstly the status-quo of an increasingly repressive society, and secondly – and perhaps implied by the former - a state of individualistic fighting for survival. Rand’s philosophy seems closely related to the economic notions commonly referred to as neo-liberalism which are “characterised by strong private property rights, technological rationalism and free markets”
Mann (2014 pg 2).

Need life be so hard and limiting? Are our efforts at creating ‘utopias’ perhaps creating conditions that are far harder on the human soul than many actual real societies of the past?

In his article ‘A small and shuffling life’ (Jan 15,
2015) Geroge Monbiot laments the conditions of modern life with the reflective question: ‘Why, in this age of freedom, are we so confined? And what can we do to reclaim our lives’ – a cry that echoes the sentiments expressed in Barbrook & Cameron’s ‘The Californian Ideology’ extract above. In his article Monbiot draws on accounts of a past reality as a comparison:

‘Perhaps we have forgotten the bitter complaint made by Benjamin Franklin in 1753. “When an Indian Child has been brought up among us, taught our language and habituated to our Customs, yet if he goes to see his relations and make one Indian Ramble with them, there is no persuading him ever to return.”(2) But when European Americans “have been taken prisoners young by the Indians, and lived a while among them, tho’ ransomed by their Friends, and treated with all imaginable tenderness to prevail with them to stay among the English, yet in a Short time
they become disgusted with our manner of life … and take the first good
Opportunity of escaping again into the Woods, from whence there is no
reclaiming them.” In 1785 Hector de Crèvecoeur asked two European refuseniks why they would not come home. “The reasons they gave me would greatly surprise you: the most perfect freedom, the ease of living, the absence of those cares and corroding solicitudes which so often prevail with us.”(3)’

So what is leading us away from such perfect freedom and ease of living?

Karl Polanyi suggests that ‘once elaborate machines and plant were used for production in a commercial society, the idea of a self-regulating market was bound to take shape’ (Polanyi 1957, pg 41). So are we in the grip of forces beyond our control, as Jensen and Draffan, (2004) suggest? Or perhaps our problems emanate from notions of  techno-utopianism;
the idea ‘that technology will solve our problems’ (Alexander, 2015). Techno-utopianism follows the story line that technology driven growth which would seem to lead to shortages, or other problems, can be overcome by technological advances. 
The Grantham Institute for Climate Change’s 2013 report provides an example of the Techno-Utopian story based on the following extracts from its Executive Summary. The story follows the structure of problem-solution-outcome:

1. Problem (caused by industrialism/technology):

There is still a chance to achieve a reduction in CO2 emissions that would keep the world broadly on track to limit global warming to around 2 degrees Celsius (2°C) above pre-industrial levels. This study outlines how it could be done’.

 

2. Solution (more technology):

‘The study specifies the technologies that would be employed in this energy system in a reference scenario (the “low mitigation scenario”, LMS) in which no concerted action on climate change is undertaken, and in a range of low-carbon scenarios (LCS) in which emissions reductions would be broadly in line with a
2oC global warming target. In this way the study sets out the major
technologies needed for this energy system transformation, with associated costs.’

 

3. Outcome (business-as-usual; growth can continue):

‘Importantly, this study assumes that future GDP growth is the same in the LMS and the LCS,
which implies that investments in low-carbon technologies do not affect other investments outside of the energy sector, such that the overall effect of investment patterns on growth is the same in both scenarios’

So the Grantham Institute for Climate Change’s 2013 report seems to provide evidence of how our society desperately seeks technological solutions to resolve the problems caused by technology, seeking at the same time to preserve our technological system and the ideologies associated with it.

So what has gone wrong with our technological society? Why are we faced with such momentous calamities? Why have our utopian dreams around the possibilities of progress been unable to deliver happiness and security? Perhaps the answer is alluded to in the writings of Friedrich Georg Juenger in his 1920 book titled ‘The Failure of Technology’. In this book Juenger writes about the authors of utopian visions as follows:

‘No one will look for prophetic gifts in a Jules
Verne or a Bellamy, for they lack almost everything that makes a prophet. Most of all, they lack the vocation, the call, and with it also the necessary wisdom, and the language in which this wisdom speaks. At best, they make a lucky guess that something will happen. They play with the imaginary, they play with the future, but it can never have for them the certainty it has for him who thinks and lives in religious terms. What they project into the future is merely a possibility emerging in the present, expanded by them in a logical and rational manner.’ (pg 2)

Is it true that utopian authors and peddlers lack wisdom? Perhaps at leastit is true that they lack the calling, as frequently they are seeking to tell a story, seeking perhaps to titillate the intellectual senses, rather than address real problems of the world in a holistic and wise manner?  Who do we turn to then we want to consider what sort of society we want and how we might achieve it? Perhaps the first question to answer here is: What sort of society do we want? Hopefully the following chapters will help shed some light on what aspects might be desirable, and also what might be undesirable, as well as offering some lessons in regard to the question of how to achieve what we might want.

 

 

 

 



" name="_ftn1" title="" id="_ftn1"> class=MsoFootnoteReference> style='font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"'>[1]
"Property: A Study in Social Psychology," by Ernest Beaglehole, Alien
& Unwin, London, 1931.

" name="_ftn2" title="" id="_ftn2"> class=MsoFootnoteReference> style='font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"'>[2]
"The Christian Attitude Toward Private Property." by Vida D. Scudder
(a pamphlet), Morehouse Pub. Co., Milwaukee, Wis.; cf. also Chapter VI of
"Our Economic Morality," by Harry F. Ward, Macmillan

Chapter 1: Where are we? (The Technological Tempest: Charting a New Course)

Prelude

This book arrives in a society completely lost in a sea of technological gadgetry. Furthermore that society is unceasingly buffeted by powerful winds of change that continually destroy and reshape both the social and physical landscape. The book attempts to explain how we arrived at this situation, what forces and visions drove us here. It recalls the warnings of the prudent which were ignored as we discarded the anchor of past moralities and left the safety of the shores for a new adventure that promised wealth and opportunity for all. To some extent it is a story of pirates and brave heroes, but it reads as much like tragedy as it does epic. The book reveals what we left behind and by drawing on small islands of knowledge it attempts to chart a course to take us through calmer, safer waters.



Chapter 1.

Stated in the most dramatic terms, the accusation can be made that the uncontrolled growth of technology destroys the vital sources of our humanity. It creates a culture without moral foundation. It undermines certain mental processes and
social relations that make human life worth living.

Neil Postman, Technopoly (1993)

Introduction: Where are we?

Like many people I have, at times, been in thrall of the power of science and technology. In my honours year as an undergraduate student I saw potential to understand the forces of nature. One area of particular fascination not just for me but also for scientists, technologists and business people everywhere was the relatively new fields of chaos and complexity theory which largely emerged in the 1990’s. These were hard, mathematical scientific theories that offered promise for understanding previously incomprehensible natural forces in a rigorous way. I allowed my imagination to run loose with the possibilities that these new approaches offered, and I found that many of the possibilities I envisioned were shared by others. However, at some stage I came to realise that while this science may give us a new way of thinking about complex natural processes it could never provide the complete understanding I had hoped for. That was my first disappointment. My second disappointment came following years of study in the fields of artificial intelligence and machine learning, the topic of my doctoral dissertation. I had held high hopes that these fields would open up new possibilities for not only
understanding the human mind and human nature, but also for solving many of humanity’s problems. Imagine having an army of machines that could research medical science; could run production processes freeing us from toil; could produce food from raw materials. All in all humanity would be released from the constraints of nature; released from hunger and disease. All the dreams of science fiction would be available: a life of leisure to study and explore vast fields of knowledge and the rapid development of technologies for space exploration and habitation. 

I now see how deluded and misguided I was on so many fronts. No doubt many readers have experienced a similar journey (or are perhaps on one now). In this book I attempt to explain both the delusion as well as how it arises. In its place I attempt to paint a picture of a more real and sane reality (and, in my opinion, a better one in many ways). The more enlightened among us may never have succumbed to the delusions I describe, and hopefully for them this book provides a validation of their world view. I do not pretend to be the font of all knowledge, or to have all the answers, all I can offer is one person’s perspective. For many that perspective will be challenging. That in itself is sufficient reason for me to write this book, independently of how accurate or convincing my case is. Such challenges need to
be placed as we each need to question claims and beliefs (and perhaps refute some) so as to determine for ourselves what is true and what is false. Otherwise the risk of delusion remains. A second reason is, as I stated earlier, to present an alternative view of the role of science and technology in our society and the world in general. Of course I am not unique in this area, and many ideas that I discuss and present are not new or novel to the literature (however, they may be for the reader). I hope that by drawing on the work of others and by providing one more perspective on these issues, that I can help balance the scales in some small way. And by balancing the scales I mean helping people avoid succumbing to the allure of seeing science and technology as the provider of solutions to all our problems and as an unconditional net
benefit to mankind.

At this point I would like to present some common claims made supporting the path of technological development that industrialised (mostly western) nations have taken. These claims will be investigated and aspects of them both challenged and supported throughout this book:

Claim 1:  Without technology we would not be as healthy

Claim 2: Since industrialisation, quality and length of life has improved (eg: infant
mortality has dropped, life spans have extended and people have more
opportunities.)

Claim 3: Our modern science and conveniences would not be possible without our history of industrial development.

Claim 4: Modern science has dispensed with superstition.

Claim 5: Technological development and industrialisation in agriculture is necessary to support today’s large global population.

We will look at each of these in various levels of detail as themes develop throughout the book.  However, there is one fundamental assumption that needs to be challenged outright and up-front. That is the assumption that the path of industrialisation and technology development that we have been on was not only necessary and inevitable, but also was the only way to achieve the benefits we have attained. This assumption underlies many an argument justifying courses of action that were once taken, and are often still taken, to achieve results. The assumption itself rests on valuing economic and material outcomes over fairness and justice. As I will argue in this book, through such thinking not only are principles of fairness and justice often compromised (or totally abandoned), but in many cases, the claimed economic benefits can be shown to either not exist, or if they do, to exist only in the short term or for a minority group. In the case of minority (or elite) groups benefitting, it is not uncommon to find that this benefit is gained at the cost of someone else’s loss. The attitude that economic expediency should take precedence over fairness is perhaps reflected in the following statement by the economist John Maynard Keynes (Keynes, 1931):

‘For at least another hundred years we must pretend to ourselves and to everyone that fair is foul and foul is fair; for foul is useful and fair is not. Avarice and usury and precaution must be our gods for a little longer still. For only they can lead us out of the tunnel of economic necessity into daylight.’.

But this was not what Keynes claimed to aspire to, as preceding the above statement he states (Keynes, 1931):

‘I see us free,
therefore, to return to some of the most sure and certain principles of
religion and traditional virtue—that avarice is a vice, that the exaction of
usury is a misdemeanour, and the love of money is detestable, that those walk most truly in the paths of virtue and sane wisdom who take least thought for the morrow. We shall once more value ends above means and prefer the good to the useful. We shall honour those who can teach us how to pluck the hour and the day virtuously and well, the delightful people who are capable of taking direct enjoyment in things, the lilies of the field who toil not, neither do they spin.’

So, such a strange philosophy from one of history’s most influential economists: to aspire to one set of values, but claim it can be achieved through another.

Western society also has a great fear of a
Malthusian famine. Thomas Malthus authored “An Essay on the Principle of Population” in 1798. In that treatise he argued that population would
inevitably rise to point where resources were exhausted, resulting in famine. This fear is supported by evidence of many periods of famine – for example in England between1600 – 1800, and reports of humans’ stunted growth as result of malnutrition during this period up to the early 1900’s (Roberts, 2008). Malthus predicted a crisis for the human race by the middle of the 19th Century. That fact that the predicted crisis never occurred is often attributed, at least in part, to new technology. For example, Roberts (2008) explains that “as food prices rose, producers redoubled efforts to increase productivity with whatever new technology or input might help raise yields”. This question leaves open the relative contribution of each possible factor. What proportion of the increase in yields was due to an increase in inputs, and what proportion due to improvements in technology? This is an important question which we will investigate later.

Not long after Malthus’s essay another concept entered into the modern lexicon: the Luddite. The term Luddite is usually applied in a derogatory way. Often it implies the idea of a laggard i.e. someone who is resistant to change (in case anyone is considering labelling me as a Luddite based on this book, I would like to establish up front, that I am certainly not resistant to change; in fact I am anxiously anticipating change. But I anticipate positive change, whereas what I see around me is largely in a negative direction, as will be argued in due course). A Luddite is also seen as someone who is opposed to machines, and by implication technology and technological progress. This comes from the history of the term Luddite which emerges from a movement, triggered reputedly by a person of the name Ludlam or Ludd, in which industrial machinery was smashed between 1811 and 1816. However, Postman (1993) describes the Luddite fight as “people desperately trying to preserve whatever rights, privileges, laws, and customs that had given them justice in the older world-view” (pg  43). Thus the Luddite fight can be seen as one for human values in a culture where machines were increasingly replacing the meaningful work of craftsmen with cheap products (Sale 1999). Sale (1999) describes the movement in detail including a Luddite ballad used at the time which is as follows:

‘Chant no more your old rhymes about bold Robin Hood
His Feats I but little admire I will sing the Achievements of General Ludd
Now the Hero of Nottinghamshire
Brave Ludd was to measures of violence unused
Till his sufferings became so severe
That at last to defend his own Interest he rous'd
And for the great work did prepare.’

With this understanding of a Luddite, as someone who believes in the dignity and rights of people over machines and an industrial system, the label does not seem one to be so ashamed of.

Let us consider in more depth what the Luddites were fighting. We can start by considering a few facts about the social history of England that led to the Luddites smashing the machines of industrial civilisation as described by Sale (1999). From the 1500's up until the Luddite movement there had been on-going theft of land from villagers in England by their elites (the enclosure movement). This theft was supported by state power.

This hit a peak early in the 1800's as many elites evicted villagers and
appropriated the land for their own purposes. A mass of people were thus left homeless and destitute. Not just the villagers, but the craftspeople who depended on them. This mass converged on the cities and the emerging factories seeking work. There was insufficient work for all of them, so many literally starved. There were riots, which were brutally suppressed by army troops who were deployed, as necessary, around England. In fact this is the recurring pattern of our culture and industrial development. Similar techniques were applied to Indigenous nations from the Americas to Australia. The pattern has been repeated continuously now for around 500 years; no signs of change are apparent. It reflects a failure to learn. For the last few decades there has
been talk about the importance of 'Learning Organisations', but we do not have a 'Learning Society'. On the contrary, the evidence is that in some important respects our culture cannot adapt, it cannot change. Thus our culture and society continue to be based on coercion and violence which is more apparent at some times and places than others. By right of might (economic and military) our culture claims ownership of the entire planet. History shows that any alternative culture that western culture encounters is eventually destroyed (Saul, 1992). First by violence, followed by a loss of sovereignty, autonomy and community. The pattern of lawlessness in this regard is clear: from the theft of land from English peasants to the theft of land from American Indians (and
Australian and other Aborigines), despite numerous legal contracts assuring indigenous ownership (Hedges & Sacco 2012). General Custer's famous last stand was a process of stealing land, legally owned by Indians, because they refused to sell it and they stood in the way of resource extraction (Hedges & Sacco 2012). Sitting Bull acidly suggested that the whites should “start selling dirt by the pound”. Faced with the violent destruction of his tribe and the theft of everything they owned, Sitting Bull also posed the question “Do we submit or resist?” (Hedges & Sacco 2012). The disregard of western culture for other cultures and contrary views is apparent. The Occupy movement is a
case in point here. Groups of peaceful people using relatively small patches of public land to present an alternative narrative about our society were met with violent resistance and removal. In nearly all cities, despite often having vast public parks, show grounds, sports arenas, no alternative space could be found and offered to the Occupiers. It is clear that they, or rather their message, could not be tolerated. In relation to this consider a quote from D. H Lawrence who wrote:

‘But you have there the myth of the essential white America. All the other stuff, the love, the democracy, the floundering into lust, is a sort of by-play.

The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.’

Perhaps this is also true of the souls of many other nations?

In any case, it is now obvious to all that our predominant western culture cannot continue as it is indefinitely. The signs are everywhere, including environmental destruction, species extinction, our oil-dependent production machinery, and even our farming practices evidenced by a recent peer reviewed report produced by 400 experts which concluded that “'business as usual' farming practices are no longer an option" (IAASTD 2008). The final hours have arrived. We are now engaged in the most destructive processes of resource extraction in all of history (e.g.: the Canadian Tar Sands projects). Revolts are either in progress or imminent across the globe in China, the Middle East and in Western nations, with parts of Europe being early candidates. As the opiates of consumerism and material comforts are removed from more and more people and they awake from what Chris Hedges refers to as ‘electronic hallucinations’ the true ugliness underlying our culture is revealed, and like Sitting Bull people are asking: ‘Do we submit or resist?’. Increasingly voices are calling for an end to passive resistance and advocating direct action ranging from non-violent (e.g. Chris Hedges) to violent (e.g. the film END-CIV).
Violent action is not desirable, as history shows. Violent movements are
typically led by violent people, and the resulting regimes are often worse than those they replace (consider the Reign of Terror in France). Regardless, we are unavoidably heading toward crash, clash or, more likely, a combination of both.

Hedges & Sacco (2012) are convinced that as our culture and the planet's systems collapse the cultural violence that has been mostly applied to others will now be turned on its own citizens. The enclosure movement provides past evidence of this as does state violence in response to protests in 1960's and 1970's USA (e.g. see the BBC series ‘The Century of Self’). State responses to the Occupy movement in general suggest that this is just as much a possibility today along with recent violent government responses to protests in Spain and China, and highly militarised police responses to protests in places like Ferguson, Missouri, U.S.A.

Yet we desperately need alternatives, and we need them soon. We are entering a phase where the true mettle of our leaders will be revealed and I fear we may find that the souls of those in many other countries are also ultimately seen to be “hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer” as powerful elites call upon the state to maintain their privileges to the bitter end. The fact that state power is used against both local and foreign populations clarifies who this culture really serves: the more powerful, the elite. In a 'culture that cannot learn' and without alternatives most of us, who are not elites, are ultimately doomed to both dispossession and oppression. First by
those currently in power and later by those who seize power in the resulting cultural vacuum. Thus the Luddite fight for a more humane and just society is now needed as much as it ever was - alternative cultures are diminishing whilst state power is growing ever more forbidding with the aid of technological tools of control and surveillance that the Luddites would never have dreamed possible. So let us in the following chapters explore these problems and consider the implications of technological development and its role in human society.

 

Chapter References 

 

Hedges, C & Sacco, J 2012, Days of
Destruction, Days of Revolt,
Nation Books.

IAASTD 2008, International Assessment of
Agricultural Knowledge, Science and Technology for Development,
available
from:

Keynes, J.M 1931, Essays in Persuasion, MacMillan
and Co, London.

Postman, N 1993, Technopoly: The Surrender of
Culture to Technology
, Vintage Books, NY.

Roberts, P 2008, The End of Food: The Coming
Crisis in the World Food Industry
, Bloomsbury, Great Britain.

Sale, K 1999 'The Achievements of `General Ludd': A
Brief History of the Luddites', The Ecologist, vol. 29, no. 5, Aug/Sep

Saul, J.R 1992 Voltaire's Bastards: The
Dictatorship of Reason in the West
, Penguin Books.

 

 

 

Practical Ways in Which Everyone Can Improve Society


Not many people are Christians these days. However, there is one aspect of Christian thought which is perhaps worth modern atheists considering. That is the idea that improvement needs to come from the ground up – i.e. from the grass roots. We may lament the poor quality of our politicians, the corruption of political donations, the failure of neo-liberalism, and we may feel we are somewhat powerless against these. Christian thought says otherwise. Christian thought sees society as a product of its members, as a sum produced from the parts. Under this ideology, if you improve the parts you improve the overall organism. Thus according to this idea - which in modern language is perhaps associated with the term synergy - individuals are not powerless. In fact, the quality of the whole depends on the quality of the parts.

So how then do we improve the parts – in this case the individual people? Well firstly we must identify the problems. Here are some that I can see (in no particular order):

  • Increasing aggression (road rage, etc.);
  • Increasing impatience with others – we see them as holding us up, not doing what we want, not agreeing with what we say;
  • Increasing selfishness of various types, not considering others in a myriad of ways;
  • Increased ‘transactionalism’ – seeing others as just a means to an end, not as people (eg. Shop attendants);
  • Lack of humility – if others draw attention to any faults – whether rightly or wrongly – the response is anger and/or indignation.

Now these things could all be linked to the classic Christian vices, but even non-Christians would probably agree that most of the above are undesirable. And if we are honest, most of us will admit to exhibiting one or more of these failings regularly. Under the Christian concept, that is fine, and the secular mind is also unlikely to expect that everyone should be perfect. The traditional way of dealing with this is to practice mercy and forgiveness.

So what I propose is that everyone, Christian or not, spends some time each day reflecting on their own actions, whether they were selfish or not, whether they could perhaps have let that car change lanes in the heavy traffic, whether they were viewing the sales assistant at the shop as a fellow human, or just a kind of vending-machine to dispense what they, the customer, wants.

Perhaps if we all reflect on these points, and then try to improve ourselves in these regards then maybe, perhaps gradually or perhaps quickly, society will start to improve. And as a result people may find themselves much happier if they are consciously trying not to rush everywhere. Maybe rushing to get home to relax is not as good as enjoying life as one goes about one’s business? Maybe some decide to try and do less; maybe many are less angry and frustrated with others if they are trying harder to see things from the other’s perspective and value more the time they spend with them. And maybe, just maybe, people will reach the point where each of us can suggest faults and improvements without being confronted with anger and indignation, but rather humility, a humility which is prepared to accept, in the first instance, that the critic is right and then only after reflection make a judgement on the validity of any suggestions that have been offered.

There are many things that are out of our control. This situation is not unique. Soldiers like Simpson may not have been able to stop the first world war, but they could still do plenty to help their fellow men on the field of battle through selfless action. These actions no doubt made a huge difference in the lives of those they helped, as well their friends and family

It's Pawn-Ography!

This piece speaks about psychological entrapment and manipulation of reality by social politics much more than it arbitrates upon Hensen's photos per se.

This makes it a relevant, if not fundamentally crucial, theme for how "we can do better." It is useful as a catalyst to further discussion, even if it is not a technical and/or particularised accounts of the mess as it is physically unravelling structurally or locationally with regard to resources, energy, materials and overpopulation. It is true that the mere mention of those photos may trigger the monochrome Pavlovian payload that has been loaded into the issue. This might obscure the actual point of the script to many, unfortunately.- Editor

It's Pawn-Ography!

'There seems to be no agent more effective than another person in bringing a world for oneself alive, or, by a glance, a gesture, or remark, shrivelling up the reality in which one is lodged.' (1)

'The physical environment unremittingly offers us possibilities of experience, or curtails them. The fundamental human significance of architecture stems from this. The glory of Athens, as Pericles so lucidly stated, and the horror of so many features of the modern megalopolis is that the former enhanced and the latter constricts humankind's consciousness.' (2)

Within these two quotations, there are some incredibly insightful points that enable us, if we open our minds to the richness of their meaning, to understand the Bill Henson Art issue beyond the bounds of a highly charged, simplistic, moral stance. It is hard to believe, when one looks at the level of technical sophistication in our society, just how it is that this very society continues to relish the exact same scapegoat routine that it has for centuries. Hetty Johnson's self-proclaimed Judge and Jury role, in combination with the 'Jack Boot' tactics of the NSW's Police Force, created a farcical public response in some quarters, that was reminiscent of the 'Killing of the Witch' scene from Monty Python's satire, the Holy Grail, set in Medieval England. The populist Politicians headed by Kevin Rudd, aided by some in the profit hungry media, knew exactly how to exploit this highly charged issue, pulling the strings in their own sordid game of 'Pawn-ography'.

Unfortunately, this simplistic moralist approach is what our politicians want, it is what some in the media want, and it's what business wants, for one very simple reason; it sells. For politicians it sells popularity, for the media more advertising and for business the consumption goods that 'make us happy', providing us with a convenient diversion when we reach the point of having to seriously confront the 'disturbing realities' of our world.

And for those occasions when our conscience really does catch up with us, why confront the 'disturbing realities', like those of pedophilia and child abuse in their own right, why spend time and committed effort in reaching an understanding of the deep complexity of these issues, when it's much easier to link them to a suitable scapegoat, someone like Henson whom we can project our own lack of insight onto ? After all, lynch mobs aren't concerned with complexity, apart from the expert needed for the knot, and afterwards we can all get back to consuming.

Of course our politicians have become highly skilled in understanding exactly how this psychology works, they're as happy as can be that Bill Henson, Dr Haneef and The Tampa were all ripe for the picking.

When our so called 'leaders', the politicians charged with addressing the true causes of the 'disturbing realities' of our world, are doing nothing more than perpetually exploiting those issues for their own benefit, we the public have an obligation to ask, 'where does the true sickness lie in our Society?' Spending our time pursuing those questions instead of chasing witches, would rapidly help us to begin seeing that our Society and its Politicians are stuck in a web of deceit of their own making. This deceit has one primary purpose and that is to keep the focus off the true insanity and the disturbing realities that this insanity causes.

'In order to rationalize our industrial-military complex, we have to destroy our capacity to see clearly any more what is in front of, and to imagine what is beyond our noses. Long before a nuclear war can come about, we have had to lay waste our own sanity. We begin with the children. It is imperative to catch them in time. Without the most thorough and rapid brain-washing their dirty minds would see through our dirty tricks. Children are not yet fools, but we shall turn them into imbeciles like ourselves, with high IQ's if possible.'(3)

In uncovering the true insanity, we are able to see perhaps for the first time, the extraordinary lengths we are prepared to go to in order to keep it hidden.

'From the moment of birth, when the stone-age baby confronts the twentieth-century mother, the baby is subjected to these forces of violence, called love, as it's mother and father have been, and their parents and their parents before them. These forces are mainly concerned with destroying most of its (the babies) potentialities. This enterprise is on the whole successful. By the time the new human being is fifteen or so, we are left with a being like ourselves. A half-crazed creature, more or less adjusted to a mad world. This is normality in our present age.'(4)

Only when we understand what we are hiding from and why, can we reach an understanding of what Bill Henson is perhaps trying to capture, the Teenager's inner conflict between their own purity and the torment we put them through in our efforts to adapt them to the insanity of our world.

Why is it that we are not questioning the cause of that torment and insanity and our role in it? Why is it that we persist instead with simplistic moralism and witches? What are we ultimately afraid of facing? If we honestly confronted ourselves with those questions and found the answers, we may find that what we are really afraid of is love in its purest form, in particular, the risks and insecurities that go with it.

'Love and violence, properly speaking, are polar opposites. Love lets the other be, but without affection and concern. Violence attempts to constrain the other's freedom, to force him / her to act in the way we desire, but with ultimate lack of concern, with indifference to the other's own existence of destiny.'(5)

We are each personally responsible for gaining a deeper understanding of the world we inhabit, but in a world that is highly manipulated in order to keep us from that understanding at all costs, the biggest question left unanswered is just what it is going to take to finally shrivel up the insane reality in which we are lodged?

Sources

(1) Erving Goffman; Encounters: Two Studies in the Sociology of Interaction (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1961) Page 41.)

(2,3,4,5) R.D. Laing; 'The Politics of Experience' (London: Penguin, 1967) Pages 28, 29, 49 & 50.)