Friday, 22 May 2015

Black Notebooks and Technological Fabrication

Heidegger's Schwarze Heifte ('Black Notebooks') were published in 2014 as part of his collected works. Many scholars have reacted to this and have given talks and conferences, written texts online and in academic journals, etc. The Chair of the German Heidegger Society resigned because of the contents of this new publication.

The English translation of the Schwarze Heifte is forthcoming. Meanwhile, scholars have translated passages by themselves and have read them in public in various occasions (such as here and here). The empirically ridiculous statements in the SH aside, the main theoretical problem is (as far as I can see from these very limited number of passages translated into English via the world wide web) the mind's relation to technological fabrication (or 'technologische Machenschaft').

As Zizek points out here, the true problem with Heidegger's anti-Semitic remarks is that it purports to be the logical consequence of a certain line of rigorous philosophical thinking. According to Zizek's interpretation (which sounds pretty uncontroversial given what the passage which he quotes actually is), for Heidegger, the horror that took place in concentration camps were the self-reference of the logic of modern technological fabrication. For Heidegger, the figure of the Jew is the embodiment of this logic, and thus the systematic and total dehumanization of the Jewish people in the Nazi concentration camps was a kind of material manifestation of a logical self-reference. The horrible implication of this conclusion is that, if the concentration camps were inhuman and demonic, then that is actually the inhumanity and demonicness of the figure of the Jew, for the latter is, according to Heidegger, the embodiment of this inhuman and demonic logic.

I think that the problem with Heidegger's line of thought here should be traced back to his way of characterizing the 'way of being' called technologische Machenschaft. The most pressing question here seems to be to be this: What is it in Heidegger's theory of technologische Machenschaft that transcendentally constitutes the figure of the Jew in such a way as to make the train of thought cited by Zizek appear plausible?

This is not an easy question, but I think that it sets the tone appropriately, as it were. For the time being, I will let it stay.

Meanwhile, a more naive question also arises in response to the excerpts from the Schwarze Heifte: Is modern technological fabrication really so inhuman and demonic? Although Heidegger is not one of those who fall prey to the paranoid thought that "machines are taking over humans," nonetheless the feeling that this is so motivates much of anti-technology statements and movements. The alternative to technology is, to put it clumsily yet straightforwardly, "stay human," which means to stay "rooted" in "nature" or in the "nation" and to try and "overcome" the automatizing process of not only electronic but also social technology, the latter being exemplified in modern bureaucracy.

One way of criticizing this paranoia is to look at the distinction between avant-garde and kitsch. At the emotional level, this distinction is precisely captured in the early Heidegger's thought of authentic and inauthetic being-towards-death: kitsch is inauthentic, falling prey, while avant-garde is authentic, anticipatorily resolute. Taking sides on this dichotomy does not work. The fault of authenticity is that the dimension of being-with (Mit-sein) is radically lacking, while the fault of inauthenticity is that it lacks individuality. I think the solution is pop. Pop is neither avant-garde nor kitsch. It is universal (pop speaks to everyone) and individual (pop has an element irreducible to general notions) at the same time.

Perhaps one way of theorizing about technological fabrication is to make the theory pop. Pop is often associated with commercialism and vulgarity, but this is a cheap and hasty move. There is no necessary connection between these. In fact, movements such as punk in music, Dogme 95 in film, and new academism in critical theory are anti-commercial, founded on an unambiguous rejection of vulgarity. So this is a place to start.

On the other hand, technological fabrication does become a serious problem from the point of view of universal welfare and basic rights. The robotics industry is right now aiming to sell robots to smaller businesses. Their rationale is that, by doing so, "human resources can be moved to those industries which allow them to produce more surplus value." Outside the context of economics, this idea sounds great: more humans freed from the toil of drudgery. Yet in the present economic and welfare system, it means a new layer of anxiety for the poor. Those who managed to barely survive by selling their unskilled labor at the minimum wage on the 'precarious' job market will no longer be able to find new work. In this sense, robots really are taking over humans -- or, to be more exact, robot developers and sellers are. (Although it is always also important to remember that the rich are not necessarily in a better state compared to the poor; the compulsion to amass wealth, as well as the injunction to enjoy, can easily lead the person into a vortex of anxiety and misery.)

It would be ideal if governments implemented new safety nets, perhaps a basic income system of some kind. However, this is clearly hoping too much, and it might even be possible to show that it is "logically" -- or according to the logic of private property, profit, investment, and debt, the logic of capitalism -- impossible. The alternative is for individuals to find a way to survive. One crucial issue is how to relate to gifts. There is an overproduction of basic necessities such as food, shelter, and pharmaceutical goods. The form of their distribution is through the capitalist economy, whose ideology is that what is "bought" is what is rightfully earned, while what is merely "received" as a "gift" is not. Buying and selling allows the parties involved to forget about the transaction, while a gift leaves an emotional trace which accumulates over time. Although on the surface the transaction may appear to be over, in reality the giver controls the given through his power to withdraw his gift and deprive his pet of basic necessities. The phenomenon is captured visually in Lars Von Trier's Dogville. The potential threat of being totally subjugated to the command of the giver haunts the given, and this illusion is the power of the gift. The question, then, is this: could there be a form of material transaction which is neither buying-selling nor gift-giving? Perhaps this?