Spring lingers in Alaska and the glaciers in the Sierras are
melting - bringing with the sense of possible doom as well as a reminder
that the technology that is the lifeblood of the modern world comes at a
distinct price. But while we might think that the hand-wringing that is
present in at least some circles about what we - and our machines - hath
wrought, this concern about the relationship between technology and human
history is in fact an old one, having been heard at least as a faint
strain in Western discourse since the classical world and - as the
readings for this paper suggest - rising to a chorus by the beginning of
the 20th century as the effects of the Industrial Revolution were
becoming all too clear.
The idea of technology and its effects cannot be separated from the
concept of work, for the purpose of technology, we are always told, is to
make us all work less. But this is demonstrably not true: We are all
still working as hard as we can. There are in fact are two ways to look
at technology and its relationship to work, at least if we are to follow
the standard Western dualism of considering the world in term of
oppositional structures. The first way is what might be called the
traditional Christian doctrine, in which work is a punishment for
original sin. Under this model, if Adam and Eve had simply resisted the
hissings of the serpent, then the human race would never have been
subject to the strictures of labor, and we would have lived eternal lives
of ease. The opposing model of labor, one that might in very rough terms
be described as Marxist, sees in the world of labor the defining feature
of our humanity - a humanity defined not by weakness or original sin or
the necessity to labor, but a humanity defined by its ability to work, by
the chance that each individual possesses of being able to find a
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