Review of:
Albert Borgmann, Holding On to Reality: The Nature of Information at the
Turn of the Millennium. Chicago: U of Chicago P,
2000.
-
Reacting against the Boasian study of myths for "historical data," Claude
Levi-Strauss urged anthropologists to look behind myths to what they might reveal
of cultural and cognitive structures:
The myth is certainly related to given facts, but not a representation of them.
The relationship is of a dialectical kind, and the institutions described in the
myths can be the very opposite of the real institutions. This conception of
the relation of myth to reality no doubt limits the use of the former as a
documentary source. But it opens the way for other possibilities; for in
abandoning the search for a constantly accurate picture of ethnographic reality
in the myth, we gain, on occasions, a means of reading unconscious realities.
(172-73)
The twenty-first century finds the myth-making apparatus producing a surfeit of
narratives chronicling the emergence of the "information society." Some of these
posit a decisive break with the past, an information society so
different from preceding Fordist or Gutenberg eras as to engender entirely
new modes of being. Other works locate the information society at the apex (or
the aporia) of developments in culture, politics, or library science. In
these,
the information society is only explicable in light of earlier epochs--a
"Gutenberg Galaxy" giving way to more "cool" mediums, the vertical organizations
of Fordism giving way to post-Fordist, flexible networks. But all of these
formulations remain "emergent"; the information society has proven notoriously
resistant to empirical description, and to argue for a summary break with the past
or for a selective genealogy is, in these works, ultimately a metaphysical
question. Nevertheless, the tremendous outpouring of commentary suggests that
information--whatever its status as a bona fide object of social inquiry--is an
important site for cultural work. What is at stake here is, I would suggest,
nothing less than the shape of the future: the possibilities engendered in the
new and the continuities with what has gone before.
-
Albert Borgmann's Holding On to Reality is an ultimately
mythological narrative outlining a highly selective vision of the
past parlayed into a Procrustean manifesto for the future. Uneasily
jumping between Dionysian novelty and Apollonian continuity,
Borgmann's work is, finally, conservative and even Arnoldian,
recapitulating the moral-redemptive message of his 1993
Crossing the Postmodern Divide. And yet, there is much
here that might prove useful to the student of the information
society, even if one sometimes works against Borgmann's
text.
-
Unlike technocratic definitions of information as a thing, value, or signal:noise
ratio, Borgmann's information is relational: "INTELLIGENCE provided, a PERSON is
informed by a SIGN about some THING in a certain CONTEXT" (38). That is, given
some pre-acquired information literacy, people are able to ascertain something
about the world from signs in a particular social or cultural milieu. It's this
phenomenological reading that has changed over the course of millennia, from
Edenic beginnings
in "natural information" to the contemporary postmodernity of "technological
information." Ultimately, Borgmann's information is the motor informing both
his historical narrative and his moral judgments on the efficacy of information
for modern life.
-
Like the savage for Rousseau, Native Americans function for Borgmann as the
architectonic origin of information, the "ancestral computer," as it were. The
Salish, according to Borgmann, lived in a world characterized by natural
information: for example, "Snow-capped Lolo Peak was the sign that pointed
the Salish
toward the salmon on the other side of the Bitterroot divide" (25). People (with
proper knowledge) are surrounded by a world of signs and things in the "fullness"
of natural contexts. Humans inhabit an inherently perspicuous world. In any
paradise, of course, there must be a myth of the Fall. For the Salish
(uncomfortably subsumed as "our" ancestors), this means the erection of
monumental signs across the landscape, cairns, and "medicine wheels" that while
"well-ordered" and "eloquent" nevertheless gesture to
things expelled from the garden of presence. And yet, these monumental
signs have only a limited capacity for reference:
Since the informational capacity of the cairn is so small, large tasks remain for
the people to whom the cairn is significant. Elaborate instruction and careful
memorizing are needed if the message of the sign is to survive. Moreover,
since the cairn as a sign is occasion-bound as well as place-bound, it normally
carries one and only one message. It is not a vessel that can be used to
convey different contents on different occasions. (37)
We can see where Borgmann is going here. In this tale of information theodicy,
successive forms of information are already immanent in their predecessors, forms
that admit technical advantage while gradually surrendering the antediluvian
"fullness" of signs, things, and contexts.
-
The successor to natural information--that is, "cultural information"--is
typified by the
emergence of writing: "letters and texts, lines and graphs, notes and scores"
(57). Its strength lies precisely in its abstraction from reality, the way
that three of the five nodes signified in information "drift into the
background," i.e., "intelligence," "person," and "context" recede against
the
ascendance of "sign" and "thing." "Writing consists of signs that are about some
thing, letters that convey meaning. By itself,
writing is not bound to a particular person or context, and its possession
requires no particular intelligence" (47).
-
However, by removing information from natural "presence," cultural information
opens up the world to "structure," by both exposing
structure through the study of nature and imposing
structure through the elaboration of musical notation and
architectural drawing. By foregrounding signs and
things, cultural information begs the question of their
ratio, ultimately opening the possibility of the perfect
concordance of signs and things. Yet, in the wake of Wittgenstein
and in the slow demise of generative grammars, this would seem an
impossible goal.
-
Nevertheless, it is cultural information that, for Borgmann, heralds the
development of the sciences and humanities, of the great works that
he alternately rhapsodizes and elegizes. It is cultural
information that balances perspicuity and nature, reality and
structure. In a vast, synthetic panorama, Borgmann turns from
Euclid's postulates to the development of writing and reading
culture to Thomas Jefferson's surveying methodologies to, finally,
the architecture of Freiburg Minster, the great
medieval church that, for Borgmann, is one of the finest exemplars
of cultural information, a monumental structure that is also an
"open book" filled with signs.
-
Combining Romanesque and Gothic elements in the context of the mountainous
landscape, Freiburg Minster is manifestly perspicuous but also highly
engaged with reality, or what Borgmann begins glossing as
"contingency": "contingency, however, is inherently meaningful and so
makes significant information possible. Contingency comes to us as
misfortune or good luck, as disaster or relief, as misery or grace"
(105). For Freiburg Minster, "contingency" means a succession of
builders each appending different designs to the church--Romanesque,
Gothic, Renaissance. In other words, it is in the frisson
of the contending, contingent whole that we apprehend cultural
information.
-
And yet, as wonderfully balanced as cultural information is, "technological
information" is already immanent in the cultural. In the search for ultimate
structure and the struggle to impose structure on an obstinately contingent
world, physics, mathematics, and, later, cybernetics and information science posit
fundamental, fungible elements ultimately constitutive of reality; this
will-to-structure generates our "digital" world. "Thus physics and mathematics
engendered the hope that, once the elementary particles of information had been
found, information theory might devise a semantic engine that would bridge the
gap between structural and instructive information" (128). Out of the
conjectural interstices of physics and the topologies of mathematics comes an
"information space" structured "all the way down" to binary "bits" and,
therefore, potentially infinitely transparent and infinitely controllable.
-
However, by developing an information space, reality itself is elided by
this
self-contained, infinite perspicuity: signs detach from things, completing
the alienation from presence that cultural information began. In a somewhat
labored and oddly trivial example, Borgmann explains the difference. Your
daughter attends a performance of Bach's Cantata no. 10 and returns home. In
answer to your query, she tells you she's just attended a performance of Bach's
Cantata no. 10. This corresponds to natural information about
reality. In the second case, she returns home and presents you with a score
for the Cantata. This is an example of cultural information for
reality. In the final case, she returns home and gives you a CD. "The
compact disc, finally, can be information about and for reality. But the
technological information it contains is distinctively information as reality.
Information gets more and more detached from reality and in the end is offered as
something that rivals and replaces reality" (182). That is, the performance
itself is utterly eclipsed by the world of the compact disc. There is no need
to go beyond the information space of the CD. It is all there--absolute
presence premised on the absolute absence of context.
-
It is this progressive disengagement from reality that really irks Borgmann, and
he summons up touchingly dated evocations of MUDs and MOOs to drive
home his point.
At the limit, virtual reality takes up with the
contingency of the world by avoiding it altogether. The computer,
when it harbors virtual reality, is no longer a machine that helps
us cope with the world by making a beneficial difference in reality;
it makes all the difference and liberates us from actual reality.
(183)
Only signs matter in the hermetic, evacuated worlds of
technological information. But by refusing the contingency of the
world for self-contained information space, technological
information risks triviality, a fatal separation from the
"eloquence" of reality. The result, Borgmann suggests, is an
unsatisfying life riven with postmodern versions of modern
alienation: "anomie 2.1."
-
Not surprisingly, Borgmann cautions us to attend to the contingency and ambiguity
of reality and balance that against the torpor of technological
information.
No amount or sophistication of cultural or technological information can
compensate for the loss of well-being we would suffer if we let the realm of
natural information decay to one of resources, storage, and transportation.
Analogously, nothing so concentrates human creativity and discipline as the
austerity of cultural information, provided the
latter again is of the highest order, consisting of the great literature of
fiction, poetry, and music. Our power of realizing information and our
competence in enriching the life of the mind and spirit would atrophy if we
surrendered the task of realization to
information technology. (219-20)
-
In a foregone conclusion, Borgmann returns to the idyll of the Montana
countryside, interspersed with some unexpected paeans to urban
living. For him, the "moral eloquence of reality" can only be
achieved through admixtures of Virgilian nature and Arnoldian
culture, heir to the Emersonian perambulations Leo Marx explores in
The Machine in the Garden; indeed, Borgmann reiterates
a well-worn American ambivalence towards technological change and
social "tradition."
- So what are we supposed to draw from Borgmann's triptych?
Certainly not lessons on historiography. Holding On to Reality is
rife with jarring anachronisms and prolepses. We are told that "Theuth discovered
the digital nature of letters" (60). And this "digitality," moreover, would have
resulted in "faultless copying were it not for the foibles of scribes" (81).[1] The book of Genesis is testament to
the fullness of natural information, with God designing to directly manifest to
Moses (rather than send an e-mail with a .jpg attachment). "That there should be
information of such magnitude seems incredible or incomprehensible to some of the
most thoughtful people today" (32). But these examples, however fanciful, are
consistent with the spurious teleology of the whole project. We have to give up
much in the way of incredulity to see burial cairns as the ancestors of the CD.
In anthropology, we certainly have no compelling reason to think of these things
as species of proto-computers. To do so is simply to subsume the
past into the
present, the Other into the Self, constructing far-flung genealogies
that echo
the Victorian penchant for unilinear, evolutionary schema--first savages, then
barbarians, and finally civilized Europeans. An "Assiniboin Medicine Sign,"
a medieval church, a Vedic fire altar: we can only consider these varieties of
information if we submerge their cultural and historical contexts, building, as
it were, our own hermetically sealed, virtual environments where others are
consigned to infinitely reflecting the West. There may be, as anthropologists
have pointed out since the end of the nineteenth century, a brief thrill in
discovering an information society in the Salish, in Euclid, in
incunabulum, but
that pleasure is bought at the cost of real understanding.
-
But while Borgmann's evolutionary account of "our
ancestors" is unconvincing, I find
his description of contemporary information compelling.
"Technological information" is inherently transparent,
e.g., Geographical Information Systems (GIS) can "uncover"
successive features of
geomorphology. Fourteen hundred digital photos of Freiburg Minster
taken by a computerized camera mounted on a helicopter render every
detail stunningly clear. Yet, the transparency of technological
information may not be analogous to the perspicuity of natural or
cultural information:
The word transparency, like
clarity, has a double meaning. It denotes both absence and
presence. We call information transparent when the fog between us
and our object of inquiry has been removed and the medium of
transmission has become pellucid. But we also call clear or
transparent what has become present once the fog has lifted, the
objects or structures we are curious about. (176-77)
Borgmann's
point--though deeply imbricated in a metaphysics of presence--is
that information implies both transparency and occlusion,
the foregrounding of some signs and the active suppression
of others. Back at the aforementioned Freiburg Minster, site of
cultural information's triumph, another sort of knowledge has been
suppressed. Despite heroic portrayals of many Old Testament motifs
that "generally reflect the genial and cooperative relations"
between Jewish and Christian citizens, Freiburg excelled--for over
five hundred years--in brutal anti-Semitism (116). Is this
information part of the church, or is this information in spite
of the church?
- Part of the context in the relationship that enables
information must be institutional. Surely, cultural and technological
information doesn't just exist "out there" to be apprehended by monadic
intellects. Information is instead produced by governments, universities, and
corporations. And it may be in the interest of institutions to suppress
information even as they produce it. In the course of my
research on the information society at the Library of Congress, I
attended a staff
introduction to the LC's National Digital
Library. In
response to Head Librarian James Billington's proclamation that the digital
collection would concentrate on "American memory," one of the staffers asked if
Latin American or South American materials would be included. Billington angrily
retorted that only U.S. materials would be digitized. Was there nothing
in Latin or South American histories germane to U.S. history? And what does it
mean to distance "U.S. history" from its military and mercantile past in these
regions? We may be able to understand Billington's summary comments, however, in
the context of a budget-cutting Congress and the growing importance of corporate
sponsorship in which philanthropy is oftentimes synonymous with public relations.
This context is vital to the production (and reduction) of
information.[2]
-
By the 1960s, commentators would complain that we are awash in too much
information, that, inundated with "data smog," we suffer from
"information anxiety." The prescription for this postmodern malaise
is the establishment of "limits" and "boundaries." As Saul Wurman
advises in Information Anxiety, "the secret to
processing information is narrowing your field of information to
that which is relevant to your life, i.e. making careful choices
about what kind of information merits your time and attention"
(317). This is a formidable task. Any perfunctory internet search
opens onto a jumble of widely brachiating topics, each exhibiting
considerable variance in relevance and banality. Efforts at
limiting
information, however, are immensely helped by the shape of
technological information itself.
-
As Borgmann demonstrates in an interesting chapter on Boolean architecture in
information processing, technological information is binary--it is "on" or "off,"
"yes" or "no." "Between input and output, however, there is nothing but the pure
structure of yeses or noes" (147). Either the file is there, or it is not;
either the hyper-links are there, or they aren't. Technological information may
be hyperbolically fecund in a media-saturated, internetworked world, but it is
also easier to control, to parse
"all the way down."
- As I write this review, the United States is engaged in a
military campaign in Afghanistan. It is very much a physical battle, with many
Afghani casualties, but it is also a war of information, with the United
States battling its "information other," the flexible, post-Fordist al-Qaida
network.[3] The United States seeks to expand its
information network at all costs--detaining immigrants, seizing bank accounts,
renewing a campaign of cloak-and-dagger espionage. At the same time,
it tries
to limit information output, winning seemingly complete complicity from news
corporations in not reporting, underreporting, or misreporting details of U.S.
military maneuvers and tactics. Al-Qaida seems equally invested in the
occlusion of perspicuity, sundering the binary linkages in its network at the
onset of U.S. investigations. On the other hand, deliberate misinformation
abounds: the London Sunday Telegraph reported that, in a
particularly postmodern
subterfuge, Osama bin Laden has as many of 10 doubles of himself in Afghanistan
(Hall and Rayment).
-
In military communications, information is subsumed into C3I (Command, Control,
Communications and Information). But, as an organizational form,
the information
society demands this kind of vigilant surveillance of all institutions:
proprietary knowledge and spin
control have arisen alongside any putative information explosion.
Additionally, insofar as we have all become--à la C. Wright
Mills--"organization" people, we have also been interpellated as information
managers, separating public from private lives, taking care to control our
appearance under the surveillant glare of the corporation and the state. In
other words, not enabling information is as important as enabling it; in
binary logic, "information" and "no-information" are meaningful values
constituting the program of advanced capitalism. To re-work Borgmann's initial
formulation, "INTELLIGENCE provided, a PERSON is informed about a SIGN about some
THING and NOT ABOUT some OTHER THING in a certain CONTEXT" (38). Erasing those
errant or critical linkages to alternative things, meanings, and
identities has been the great defining element in an era of
technological information, resulting in an information black hole right
alongside the information explosion. Alternatives to capitalism, local
struggles, dialectical theorizing--all of these have disappeared into an event
horizon even as other information overwhelms the public sensorium.
Dept. of Sociology, Anthropology and Criminal Justice
Towson University
scollins@towson.edu
COPYRIGHT (c) 2002 BY Samuel Gerald Collins .
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Notes
1. The "copy" has had a very long history, from
Plato's denunciations in The Republic to Benjamin's "The Work of
Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" and beyond. Monks copying the
Vulgate are doing something rather different than I do when I download MP3
files!
2. This is a serious--and telling--omission
in Borgmann's book. Anthony Giddens, Herbert Schiller and many others have
examined political economies of information, while Borgmann considers
only IT theorists (cf. Shannon and Weaver).
3.
Al-Qaida appears (in the U.S. press, at least) to employ the same sorts of
"flexible accumulation" strategies as transnational corporations, making them the
perfect foil of advanced capitalism, the ideal enemy in the post-socialist
imaginary.
Works Cited
Borgmann, Albert. Crossing the Postmodern Divide.
Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1993.
Giddens, Anthony. The Nation-State and Violence.
Cambridge: Polity, 1985.
Hall, Macer, and Sean Rayment. "Ring 'Closing' on bin Laden."
Sunday Telegraph [London] 18 Nov. 2001.
Lévi-Strauss, Claude. Structural Anthropology. Vol. 2.
New York: Basic, 1976.
Marx, Leo. The Machine in the Garden: Technology and the
Pastoral Ideal in America. [1964] New York: Oxford UP, 2000.
Schiller, Herbert. Culture, Inc.: The Corporate Takeover of
American Expression. New York: Oxford UP, 1989.
Schwartz, Hillel. The Culture of the Copy: Striking
Likenesses, Unreasonable Facsimiles. New York: Zone, 1996.
Shannon, Claude E., and Warren Weaver. The Mathematical Theory of
Communication. Urbana, IL: U of Illinois P, 1964.
Wurman, Richard Saul. Information Anxiety. New York:
Doubleday, 1989.
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