Introduction
There are a number of wide-ranging questions embedded throughout Matt Hayler’s
Challenging the Phenomena of Technology: Embodiment,
Expertise and Evolved Knowledge: How do we read? How do we engage
with the world around us? What separates experts and amateurs? Can we think
about technology from a nonhuman perspective? To answer these questions, Hayler
draws on a wide range of research areas and in doing so produces an exemplary
interdisciplinary model. One of the main strengths of Challenging the Phenomena of Technology is that it provides an
insight into some of the most contemporary issues currently causing debate in a
wide number of disciplines. Hayler’s balanced description of various contexts
will introduce readers to a number of discussions occurring behind disciplinary
walls and explain why we might want to care about them.
Challenging the Phenomena of Technology will be of
particular interest to Digital Humanities scholars. One of the main thrusts of
the book is how pervasive a certain kind of language surrounding technology has
become in Western discourse. The boundaries between artificial/natural,
organic/augmented, tool/technology, practice/expertise are constantly being
redrawn in new ways, but ways that are informed by a complex history. Challenging the Phenomena of Technology shows that,
rather than being a subset of niche concerns, questioning what we mean by
technology relates to everything we do. Therefore, I feel that Hayler’s work
speaks directly to the Digital Humanities community (both to our big and small
tents). Even those researchers on the fringes of the DH community will be
accustomed to the kind of discourse that surrounds our self-clarifications and,
at times, self-defences. That DH might be about focusing our attentions to new
media, digital content, or the use of digital methods inevitably draws up
distinctions between “natural” humanities scholarship and
newer “technological” departures. Challenging the Phenomena of Technology seeks to dismantle such a
distinction, demonstrating how the “natural” has always been
a complex arrangement of constructs. For example, Hayler asks, why should a pen
be treated as less technological than a computer? And are either of them in the
same technological realm as, say, my microwave or CERN’s Large Hadron Collider?
In doing so Challenging the Phenomena of Technology
moves through how we define technology, why the same artefacts might be
fundamentally different for different users, how this might change our
understanding of embodied knowledge, and finally, it places these issues into a
nonhuman context. Its comprehensive coverage of such expansive topics in a book
of under 250 pages should be commended. Hayler’s sources may come from a diverse
group of disciplines but the narrative is focused and bolstered with contextual
awareness.
Challenging the Phenomena of Technology covers a lot
of ground and for that reason this review will not attempt to address every
aspect. However, I have attempted to capture the central argument that builds
through Hayler’s work, and have arranged the review into five sections that
broadly correspond to the five chapters of Challenging the
Phenomena of Technology. The first three sections mainly consist of
short summaries, which are important for understanding Hayler’s later arguments.
In section three I set out how my theoretical perspective differs from Hayler’s
and the ways in which they might be productively compatible. The final two
sections of this review attend to what I believe to be the most innovative and
stimulating aspects of Challenging the Phenomena of
Technology and therefore include more analysis and suggestions of
possible avenues for further development of Hayler’s work.
One: What is “Technology”?
Challenging the Phenomena of Technology: Embodiment,
Expertise and Evolved Knowledge aims to do just that: challenge.
Challenge our definition of technology, but also any claims to naturalness we
might have. The opening chapter outlines various resistances to technology and
uses e-reading as a key example. Why have e-readers provoked such
resistance?
Hayler draws on a wide variety of folk phenomenological (non-academic, personal
reports), philosophical, and cognitive science arguments. These resistances are
then separated into two “flavours”: the “romantic: digital technology for reading provides a layer of visceral
insulation between us and the sensual world of which printed books are a
very pleasant part” and the “scientific concern: e-reading
negatively impacts upon our cognition and impoverishes the experience of
reading in a quantifiable way”
[
Hayler 2015, 19]. The distinction here is not between the amateur and the academic; Hayler
cites various scientific studies that are commonly used in public discourse as
well as a number of academic professionals drawing on
“romantic” arguments. Although he does not deny the
grounded reality of the complaints, Hayler’s perspective is that both sets of
arguments are built on shaky ground. The scientific arguments against e-reading
are often based on bad leaps of faith, scientism, and the drawing of conclusions
from unrelated studies. As is unsurprising for such a young technology, there is
real lack of primary research:
no study has put anyone in an fMRI,
or any other type of machine, with a printed copy of A Tale of Two Cities and a digital edition to
see what’s different, no one has yet compared like for like.
[Hayler 2015, 32]
This is also unfortunate due to the number of “romantic”
arguments made recently against e-reading that too draw on science to anchor
their concerns to statements about how the brain functions naturally.
[1] However, the main thrust from the
“romantic” camp is that technology “separates us from the
world”
[
Hayler 2015, 4]. In response to this assertion, Hayler draws on archaeological and
anthropological research that argues that humans have been technologically
embedded from our earliest times as a species. In this vein, Hayler builds on
the arguments of Timothy Taylor in
The Artificial
Ape, arguing that “the
idea of humans versus technology is wrong...Technology is at least as
critical to our identity as our soft tissues”
[
Hayler 2015, 189]. If technology has been central to our
evolution as a species and inextricably embedded in a long history of cultural
activities, then perhaps we need to interrogate the word “technology”. What
is it that we “really” mean when we use this word, with either positive or
negative connotations? Rather than avoiding this nebulous term, what happens if
we develop a new definition of technology, one that helps us better understand
the relationships between humans and artefacts? These are the leading questions
of the next section of
Challenging the Phenomena of
Technology.
Two: A New Definition of Technology
Hayler’s second chapter outlines a number of existing approaches to defining
technology in a concise and clear manner that quickly bring the reader up to
speed.
[2] These contextual frameworks prove useful in Hayler’s
later arguments, however their main purpose at this stage is to make a
foundational statement from which the main body of the book follows. Hayler
argues that:
There is no such thing as
“technology” by any persuasive definition, nothing we can point
to or touch, or describe consistent properties of, particularly in its
day-to-day use. This is a problem. It is a remarkably loose term; we
might often agree on the objects under discussion – computer: yes,
coriander: no – but the specifics of why this might be so are vague.
“Technology” is, at best, a consensus description of equipment
and practices.
[Hayler 2015, 60]
This declaration leads to one of the most exciting assertions of
Challenging the Phenomena of Technology: for Hayler,
technology is “not a class of
objects, but a class of phenomenological experience with several consistent
features”
[
Hayler 2015, 4]. His placing the emphasis on practice,
process, and active encounters rather than on lists of static objects
reconceptualises technology in a number of useful ways. To do so Hayler draws on
the philosopher of technology Joseph C. Pitt’s statement that “technology is ‘humanity at
work’”
[
Hayler 2015, 61]. This allows Hayler to start from, as he
puts it, a place of “dramatic inclusivity”
[
Hayler 2015, 61] but one that allows us to pay attention to
technological “experience” that is so integral to this text. Using this
broad focus, Hayler draws up four criteria that are important for understanding
technology as a phenomenological encounter. Hayler preempts the counterintuitive
nature of his criteria by suggesting that his definition
will produce some initially
strange, but hopefully illuminating, results; the definition that I want
to deploy will see, at least potentially, a book, a hunting dog, and a
dancer’s body as technologies, but banish the Large Hadron Collider, an
ATM machine, and a microwave from the same category.
[Hayler 2015, 61]
This is a dramatic warning shot, designed to provoke: how can such a statement be
true? Developing after the first chapter’s contextualisation of reactions
towards technology and its deconstruction of certain conceptions of naturalness,
this kind of statement should not come as such a surprise, yet it initially
comes across as illogical. It is therefore a deserved credit to Hayler’s
following criteria that lead such strangeness to become a realistic proposal.
Not every reader will be convinced, but all will certainly understand why we
might want to suggest that a hunting dog is more technological than a microwave.
Hayler’s four criteria are as follows:
- Technologies EXTEND our means or ability to accomplish tasks.
- Technologies are COMMUNAL, existing only in communities of users.
- Technologies are able to become, if only temporarily, skilfully
INCORPORATED into our embodied cognition.
- Technologies have an effect on their users, they are DOMESTICATING. [Hayler 2015, 71]
Through the above criteria, “dance,
language, the use of fire” and even “analytic thought”
[
Hayler 2015, 109] can be considered technological forms.
Hayler’s argument, as becomes clear in his later use of Object Oriented Ontology
(OOO), subscribes to a flat ontology. In doing so, techniques and objects can
exist on equal grounds as forms of technology. Therefore techniques such as
“writing, driving,
computing” can be seen as technologies in the same way as “its accompanying device (pen, car,
computer)”
[
Hayler 2015, 109]. This allows us to escape from a hierarchy
of natural vs. artificial or artefact vs. technique. Using this definition,
Hayler forces us to pay more attention to context and histories of practice
rather than on material distinctions. Applying such a definition to examples can
then help us as readers continue to ask what we mean by the word
“technology”. It is often the most jarring examples that lead to the
most productive considerations, moments when Hayler’s definition leads to
results that oppose our “common sense” definitions.
Three: How Do Experts See Things Differently?
Hayler now moves from his definition of technology to deal specifically with
expertise: how the same object can be different to two separate people.
Significantly, Hayler wants to portray the interplay between humans and
artefacts as distinctly dialogical: he states that artefacts “are both objects and shapers of
cognition and perception, [and] they are both moulded in and come to mould
our minds”
[
Hayler 2015, 119]. For Hayler, objects direct our cognition
in various ways whilst at the same time our cognition constrains how those
objects exist to us. A main part of Hayler’s assertion is that however I might
think about an object and whatever my skill or disposition, there is always a
real version of that object that I will never fully understand. In doing so,
Hayler draws on Edmund Husserl and Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological
approach to argue that we can draw closer to an artefact, but that this process
will never be complete: “some element
must always escape our comprehension”
[
Hayler 2015, 119]. Part of this approach appears to develop
within a wider
posthumanist context: it is hubris to think that a
master carpenter fully comprehends every part of the wood and tools she uses. At
the very most, the carpenter might understand the grain, flexibilities, and
resistances of the wood better than any other human. Even at this stage the
carpenter will never grasp the wood as it
really is. A bacterium,
woodworm, or bird will all understand the same wood in ways the carpenter cannot
even comprehend. But it is not simply enough to add up all these various
interactions the wood might have and draw up a holistic description of the wood
that takes all these perspectives into account. For Hayler, the essence of an
object will always retreat and can never be fully comprehended. In this context
Hayler uses the term
gestalt to describe how we make composites of
separate instances of interactions. The more we think we know about an artefact
the more fixed our gestalt becomes. These gestalts are simplifications of
artefacts: when someone becomes an expert at interacting with certain objects
they are reducing its essence to how it relates to them and their specific task.
When we fail at a task it is often because our gestalt does not match the actual
nature of the objects at hand. Our expert carpenter is surprised less often by
their wood and tools in comparison to an amateur, for whom the saw jars and
stutters rather than flowing gracefully. Here we might describe their skill as a
developed gestalt; the carpenter is not surprised because they have simplified
the wood to a certain set of characteristics within a particular context.
Placing this back into a phenomenological context, Hayler uses the term
sensual object to distinguish the personal and incomplete
object that the carpenter encounters from the real object of the wood that
cannot be fully encountered. It is, in fact, during a skillful sawing action
that the wood and tools hide away from the carpenter: a distinction of
ready-to-hand that Hayler borrows from Heidegger. Hayler anchors this idea to
the theory of metaphor presented by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson in
Metaphors We Live By. In essence, we navigate the
world using metaphors at a fundamental level, and to Hayler, when we turn from
one artefact to another we often attempt to treat the latter as the former. This
is why many struggle with, for example, e-reading. We bring our gestalt, our
experiences and expertise from physical codex reading to bear on an artefact
that is not the same. It is not that we understood the essence of books or that
we fail to grasp the essence of a Kindle, but that trying to metaphorically
treat e-readers as new types of paperbacks results in a mismatch. We must avoid
being constrained by old metaphors, in language and in practice. But what is
expertise anyway? How much knowledge of an artefact is possible? Although, as
stated earlier, Hayler argues we cannot fully understand an object, there is a
relationship between the user’s gestalt and object itself. He argues that:
True expertise must be about
experiencing things as closely as possible as what-they-are, not in
terms of some other thing; the reliance on metaphor will keep us as
amateurs unable to see the true affordances of the artefact that we are
working with.
[Hayler 2015, 139]
Here Hayler borrows the term
affordances from psychologist James
Gibson. The term describes the opportunities or potentials for particular
actions with an object. For example: a handle affords turning whereas a cord
affords pulling. An expert therefore is someone whose expectations align in some
way with the true affordances of an artefact. Hayler argues that “affordances are real qualities of
sensual objects”
[
Hayler 2015, 145 footnote 24]. What intrigues me is what
happens when certain sets of affordances that overlap are in conflict. To take
an example, we can say that a bench affords sitting: it is smooth, horizontal,
and free from traffic. We could also say that the same bench affords skateboard
grinds. The affordances are, in fact, very similar. However, the more
skateboarders grind on the bench, the less it affords sitting; the surface
becomes worn and uncomfortable. To Hayler, affordances are part of sensual
objects (created through our interaction) rather than the object on its own
terms. However, at what point does the wear from the grinds change the essence
of the bench into something new, or is it still a version of its original form.
If we are to agree that the bench is now a new bench (i.e. only good for grinds
and not for sitting) the distinction of its
real essence becomes
subjective (or at least based around the sensual object of the skateboarder). At
its core it seems that Hayler’s definition of technology is an attempt to avoid
this kind of thinking and to eschew subjectivity.
A similar query arises later in the book when Hayler sets out the theoretical
basis for his ontology of objects: on the one hand we have Actor Network Theory
(ANT), Bruno Latour, and Peter-Paul Verbeek, and on the other we have Graham
Harman and Object Oriented Ontology. Each has an influence on Hayler’s argument
but there is an issue where ontologically he must take sides: which is more
primary, entities or relations? Hayler states that:
the postphenomenology that I’m
interested in does not find its foundation in relations
[...] for me, the foundation for this entanglement is actually a radical
division [...] Verbeek, as Latour, accepts that
relations do not produce entities out of nowhere, but claims that those
entities do not function as actants with essential properties until they
enter relations which structure what they are as actants. I want to
emphasise the importance of all actants before they interact, what they
both bring to and withhold from the table.
[Hayler 2015, 162]
Hayler’s ontology is based around real objects that consistently surprise us and
evade our full understanding. My trepidation however, is that treating entities
as having essences prior to any relations might bias these essences as singular.
This choice relates back to the overlapping affordances of skateboards and
benches. If we want to claim there is a “real hammer” that precedes its
interactions with the world, then to me, this singularity can only ever be based
on our (human) version of events. Therefore, I side with the ANT
version of events, which places relations at the foundation of its ontology.
Hayler marks out these two positions (OOO vs. ANT) as incompatible. However, I
believe there are some significant ways in which an ANT approach is compatible
with many of Hayler’s conclusions. In fact I think an ANT reading of Hayler’s
perspective enlarges its scope and that switching between these two viewpoints
can be productive. I will therefore, in addition to outlining Hayler’s OOO
approach, try and reconcile these perspectives, or at least demonstrate how it
might not be necessary to adopt either exclusively, in the context of the book’s
conclusions.
Four: Technology as Embodied Knowledge
The final two sections of
Challenging the Phenomena of
Technology attach Hayler’s earlier arguments about technology to a
pragmatist perspective of knowledge. The argument is that objects are
embodiments of knowledge. That is, knowledge is defined as “any stored data that enables
repeatable and successful action within an environment”
[
Hayler 2015, 164]. This knowledge lies outside of a human correlationism: it is not simply
born out of our relations (what Hayler calls the sensual object or human
gestalts) but belongs to “things themselves [...] it’s the
real things that know”
[
Hayler 2015, 155]. Drawing on OOO, Hayler argues that all objects have a realness that
cannot be fully satisfied through interactions with either humans or other
objects. As elaborated above, when I interact with a saw I will never fully
grasp its essence, only what is important to me at that time: what becomes my
sensual gestalt. The same is true of object-to-object relations; when rainfall
encounters a gorge there is an encounter that exchanges information and changes
the form of both the rain and the rock. However, the rock has not encountered
the essence of the rain and neither has the water encountered the essence of the
gorge. Both entities have encountered only the qualities relevant to them in
that particular encounter. OOO allows Hayler to argue that nonhuman entities can
interact with other nonhuman entities in a variety of ways that involve
knowledge, without needing to affirm cognition upon rocks and rain. As Hayler
writes: “no two objects ever meet each
other as they are, but only as they appear to one another”
[
Hayler 2015, 178]. Hammers and nails have knowledge of one another, but only as they relate
to their own actions. Again, knowledge, as Hayler uses the term, is not about
hammers having thoughts and feelings but about objects comprising “any stored data that enables
repeatable and successful action within an environment”
[
Hayler 2015, 164]. Therefore, the flat top edge of a nail constitutes a kind of knowledge
about hammers, or at least enacted data that enables hammers and nails to
interact.
Although Hayler agrees with the OOO perspective that we cannot know the real
essence of an object, he diverges from Harman (and other OOO proponents) in that
he believes we can align our sensual objects (our encounter of an object) closer
to the real object through experience and expertise. Therefore, “the way that all objects encounter
other objects,
can include a potentially asymptomatic
approach, through this needn’t imply direct access”
[
Hayler 2015, 189], where asymptomatic refers to a curve on a graph that gets increasingly
closer to a value but never reaches it. In this way Hayler places the emphasis
on expertise: objects always escape us but that does not stop experts from
aligning their sensual objects close to the real thing. This would account for
the successful action of experts. By my understanding this does not just refer
to experienced craftspeople but also, due to the posthumanist position of OOO,
the repeated erosion of a gorge by a regular pattern of rainfall. The rain does
not grasp the essence of the rock but perhaps the action of erosion constitutes
knowledge in Hayler’s pragmatic outlook of repeatable and successful action.
This brings us to why, even though as stated above I side more with an ANT
approach at possible odds with Hayler’s project that prioritises relations over
entities, I think the conclusions of
Challenging the
Phenomena of Technology still hold true for this alternative
outlook. Hayler’s position is open to an outlook that prioritises process. I
believe that even if we prioritise relations over entities, much of Hayler’s
argument is still persuasive, particularly in the context of distributed
knowledge:
The expert’s knowledge of, for
instance, hammering is partly formed of data inside her brain, but the
relevant data is also in the hand and the arm that operate the tool, in
the tool itself and its feedback, and in the act of hammering with
this hammer in this moment in
this milieu [...] experience always prompts new data to
draw on, and this tends to strengthen the coherence of sensual gestalt
and real object. Such data is always dispersed across the contextualised
4EDS [the umbrella term Hayler uses for cognition which is distributed,
extended, embedded, or embodied] soft-assemblage – it is the
technical encounter that knows best, not just an expert
human brain
[Hayler 2015, 194]
Hayler stresses the changing and individual nature of objects. His emphasis of “
this hammer in
this moment in
this milieu”
[
Hayler 2015, 194] asks us to see technological interactions of objects as specific
interactions that generalised critiques of “technology” overlook. Hayler’s
structuring of interactions as a coherence of real objects and sensual gestalts
helps us understand objects as mysterious and mostly hidden to everything with
which they interact. To me however, placing the emphasis on specific encounters
that are unique to a particular context where “it is the
technical
encounter that knows best”
[
Hayler 2015, 194] prioritises the system rather than individual entities. That we might
only be able to engage with the sensual objects part of that assemblage explains
why systems can behave in such unexpected ways. Perhaps the fact that the
knowledge is held in the interaction of these unknowable objects owes credit to
Hayler’s argument that each object has a real essence outside of its relations:
we cannot fully know the system of interactions because we cannot fully
understand the objects at play. Perhaps we might even want to argue that
relations can be described with Hayler’s language of real and
sensual objects, aligning gestalts of knowledge, just as productively as
entities. Perhaps such a reading would not lead to an orthodox
ANT approach, and instead simply lead Hayler’s method away from Harman and
towards a kind of thinking similar to Jane Bennett’s vital materialism [
Bennett 2010].
Whichever way one reads it the conclusion is exciting. The first reading, which
supports Hayler’s insistence that entities come first, is useful in various
dynamic contexts. An alternative model, which incorporates an ANT or process
disposition into Hayler’s OOO-inspired conclusions, also yields interesting
results, one that challenges the distinction between entities and relations.
This ambiguity sets the stage for the final argument of Challenging the Phenomena of Technology that I believe is
convincing either on its own terms or through an ANT perspective.
Five: The Evolution of Technology
Hayler’s final section develops his pragmatic distinction of knowledge as
embodied in objects by arguing that this knowledge is subject to evolutionary
pressures. Hayler traces the roots of this evolutionary epistemology and
outlines the modes of thought necessary to treat artefacts as subject to the
evolutionary pressures of “
variation (due to
mutation),
selection (due to pressures from the
environment), and
reproduction (due to an individual’s
success)”
[
Hayler 2015, 211]. Using the example of the codex, Hayler argues that books are subject to
variation (for example, mutations such as oversize atlases and
pocket editions),
selection (through pressures of the marketplace),
and
reproduction (by reprinting successful books and more generally
the stabilisation of publishing norms). In this way we can treat the range of
possible books as the gene pool and the variety of codices that continue to be
printed as the phenotypic expression of that gene pool. The books themselves do
not have any agency; they are not trying to survive. However, the environment
(in this case humans) is shaping their existence through reproduction of forms
that are the best “fit” with that environment. As Hayler expresses it,
“evolution is all about
repeatable successful action”
[
Hayler 2015, 215] which we should remember is his definition
of knowledge in a nonhuman context [
Hayler 2015, 164]. The
distinction Hayler makes between gene pools and offspring as a partial product
of that gene pool is quite persuasive in the context of objects having a real
but unknowable essence. I think it is more than metaphorical to say that in this
context the unexpected nature of epigenetics can echo very well the unexpected
ways in which objects can change and react in new contexts, while retaining a
concrete, or at least traceable, identity.
To project this version of artefacts as embodiments of knowledge developed
through evolutionary pressures into a truly nonhuman context, Hayler draws on
the work of Henry Plotkin. In
Darwin Machines and the
Nature of Knowledge, Plotkin uses stick insects as an example of
embodied knowledge. The body of the stick insect, unbeknownst to the insect,
embodies knowledge of its surroundings. Hayler argues, through Plotkin, “the stick insect’s body therefore
possesses knowledge of an aspect of the world far greater than its own
mind is capable of”
[
Hayler 2015, 217]. Placing this in an OOO context, Hayler argues that even though it seems
like the body of the insect has knowledge of the plants it lives in, it is only
ever a partial knowledge. The body of the insect (or the species as a whole) has
knowledge that only relates to the way its predators' eyes function: the rest of
the environment recedes. Nor does the knowledge held in the environment fully
satisfy the stick insect’s existence, which is a benefit of an OOO outlook. We
must be sympathetic to the depths that we will never understand; we cannot
simply use descriptive characteristics about the insect or environment to claim
that we fully understand them. The knowledge that humans, branches, or a stick
insect’s body hold is never exhaustive. To Hayler, knowledge only ever concerns
sensual gestalts. This then allows a way of seeing a whole host of individuals,
animals, objects, artefacts, and technologies as “knowing” about the world
around them while maintaining their ability to surprise and be surprised by
interactions. This also brings us back to one of the opening examples of
Challenging the Phenomena of Technology: what is going
on when people reject Kindles, even if they “work” just as well as a codex?
Knowing Hayler’s argument, we can say that the evolution of the codex reflects a
hard-won journey and one that embodies a vast amount of knowledge concerning
reading practices and our relationship with the written word. Disconnected from
this history, e-readers have a different (and more recent) set of affordances
and characteristics. Kindles have had less time to adapt and reflect their
environment and therefore our sensual gestalt does not align with the real
essence of the artefact. Nor does the knowledge embodied in the Kindle
adequately reflect its users. Hayler argues that we do not
know
e-readers yet, but also, in equal measure, that e-readers are yet to know us
well enough either. Hayler articulates that:
We may feel uncomfortable with the
idea that codices possess knowledge rather than simply store it, but
this only reflects a prejudice surrounding the use of the word
“knowledge” as a narrow band of human experience, rather than
seeing that band as a subset of something that we share with the world
that we have emerged from and remain in complex concert with.
[Hayler 2015, 225]
This posthumanist stance allows human beings to be humble towards the world, and
in particular towards technology. I also think that this conclusion, although
developed out of an engagement with OOO, does not require us to reject models
that place interactions before entities. Much of what Hayler describes as
“knowledge” develops through interactions. To my mind, although many of
these leave traces (the shape of an insect’s body), there are also types of
knowledge that emerge and dissipate without leaving a permanent trace. Read in a
digital context, in which more of our world is governed algorithmically, I think
there are countless times in which rapid change is the norm, rather than stable
entities. Increasingly our interactions with technology rely on knowledge as
emergent successful actions rather than repeatable
ones. If we read Hayler’s conclusions concerning situated knowledge in this
context I think the results are very productive.
Throughout my reading of
Challenging the Phenomena of
Technology I frequently tried to apply Hayler’s method to various
examples. In particular I kept relating Hayler’s model to my own research: that
of web search engines. I found this a particularly interesting test case,
particularly as it fits Hayler's criteria of a technology. Using Google
regularly extends my ability to accomplish tasks, functions through community,
is incorporated into my cognition, and domesticates me in various ways. I can
also divide Google along the lines of sensual vs. real object. I have knowledge
of a sensual gestalt (the data, links, and ranking that takes place) but not the
real essence of the process. Everything so far works with Hayler’s definition.
The trouble is, Google is in no way a singular or static object. Google is all
the varied contexts in which vast datasets are used, the engineers employed, and
the vast network of users that change the ranking through daily use. Google
search is less like a single technology and more like a coordinated emergent
response from a number of different elements that cannot be fully predicted.
Google search results are localised and personalised to each user, their ranking
reassessed with every query, and they are organised through sets of algorithms
that are altered and revised constantly.
[3] Even the
engineers are not fully in control as the searches and other usages create
patterns measured by potentialities rather than firm predictions. The way this
network changes can, I think, be described and elaborated using Hayler’s
framework very usefully. However, its usefulness lies in the ways it describes
processes rather than specific objects. Considering search engines, where can we
draw the boundaries around the technology? Is each algorithm a separate and
interlocking technology; each engineer, each user? Results change
second-by-second in a way that I think differs from the evolution of codices in
more than simply speed. Any set of criteria that draws boundaries too firmly
around objects is going to misrepresent this kind of technological mode that is
becoming increasingly ubiquitous. This is why I think Hayler’s conclusions are
valuable beyond a commitment to the OOO project. Because of the evolutionary
context, knowledge is described as dynamic and emergent, as Hayler puts it: “all things never meet one another
as they are, always reducing and approximating, always escaping and
surprising one another”
[
Hayler 2015, 231]. In doing so Hayler’s definition works both for “traditional”
technologies or ones which might seem to demonstrate a more stable sense of
identity,
and newer technological modes or systems that seem harder
to define. What if we were to describe
relations in terms of
sensual and real objects? What if we argue that an algorithm has a sensual
gestalt of a particular dataflow; a dataflow that is obviously real but, due to
its speed and the colossal number of contexts in which it becomes meaningful,
can only ever be considered through partial knowledge? Perhaps Hayler would see
such attempts as a misappropriation of his method, but regardless, the kind of
model he presents allows for new ways of theorising complex technological
issues. Not only does
Challenging the Phenomena of
Technology allow us to conceptualise technology in a more nuanced
manner but it does so by incorporating usage and context. As Hayler argues in
his conclusion:
whilst we may catch an
object’s whatness in glimpses through coherence, all that we can truly rely
on remains the equipment’s ‘thatness,’ not what makes it what it is, but
simply that it exists to us at this moment as this thing [Hayler 2015, 233]
Hayler’s method allows him to capture traditional attitudes towards technology
whilst incorporating a temporal and contextual attitude that is key to our
emerging digital landscape. In doing so, Challenging the
Phenomena of Technology excels at historicising our technological
circumstances and is convincing in its argument that redefining our contemporary
definition of technology is important not only for scholarship but for
navigating the world.
Challenging the Phenomena of Technology is most
successful in its sensitivity to context and in surveying a number of crucial
questions that various disparate disciplines are addressing from different
angles. Hayler provides us not only with a specific set of proposals concerning
technology, but with an outline of some of the most pressing contemporary
debates and arguments being put forward in a variety of research areas. Challenging the Phenomena of Technology is important
reading for those in the humanities, cognitive sciences, philosophy, and digital
humanities. It is of particular importance for those researchers wanting an
exemplary account of how to tackle interdisciplinary concerns, and how to
address them sensitively by putting forward arguments that will provoke a wide
range of stimulating and productive responses.