Morlock Elloi on Mon, 12 Feb 2018 05:59:19 +0100 (CET)


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<nettime> Just as rabid as the Unabomber, but safely on the winning side ...


Perhaps it's the extreme concentration of the industry that leaves most people unexposed to, let's call them core engineers. While everyone is aware of the tremendous impact of the technology, very few understand who the people producing it are. When some technology comes along, it's named after the corporation that produced it, but the general attitude seems to be that the corporation extracted it, through drilling rights or similar. This is not true. It was made by humans, hundreds of thousands of them. They are called engineers.
There is a disturbing sight in the San Francisco south bay, around late 
afternoon: thousands of MAGAf employees waiting for buses to take them 
to the dormitories. The disturbing part: they all look the same, like 
clones. Of course, it must be illusion, as they are of different races, 
ages and sex. But they all do look the same in a very eerie way (apart 
from being uniformly absorbed into their handsets.) It's the way they 
stand, the de-facto uniforms they wear, and the careful avoidance of eye 
contact with non-employee passers-by [there have been incidents when 
passers-by would challenge them - asking if they are clones, and the 
response was quiet re-grouping, like when you get too close to the ducks 
in the pond. There are also ongoing incidents of buses being shot at, 
but that's a different story.]
Another place where you can encounter them are various forums. What you 
will find there is extreme conformity and deference. While mostly 
younger adults, there is unbelievable sycophancy towards big 
corporations and support for the approved tools de jour. This is 
something usually seen in older workers, while the younger are expected 
to rebel and carve out new spaces. Not so. The extreme carving out is 
'Airbnb for dogs', and the rebels cast a bit of polite doubt in the 
latest crop of OS containers.
The article below casts some light on the issues that must be understood 
if you want to do anything about technology. It will involve doing 
something about the people that produce it. Is it going to be called 
class war or something else is TBD. I don't think it's a class war. I 
think it's a phenomenon that doesn't have a proper name yet.
The article is a mixed bag. The idea that the morality can be instilled 
by liberal arts education is frighteningly dumb and sinister, it 
legitimizes propaganda as the antidote for propaganda (and we've seen 
how it ends - safe spaces, trigger words and identity politics.) But it 
does unearth the problem.



(from https://thebaffler.com/latest/engineered-for-dystopia-banks )

Engineered for Dystopia

Engineering is full of authoritarians who, predictably, take all the wrong lessons from pop culture
Cathryn Virginia

Some of the first people to be called “engineers” operated siege engines. A siege engine is a very old device used to tear down the walls of an enemy city. Depending on the century and the army it might have had a battering ram, a catapult, or even a simple ramp that would let soldiers jump over the walls. Engineering has long had a reputation as a “war-built” discipline, to borrow a phrase from scholars Dean Nieusma and Ethan Blue. Masons and artisans built things. Engineers tore them down.
Nieusma and Blue, experts in the field’s pedagogy and history, 
respectively, note that engineering labor has not strayed far from its 
military origins. Engineers are trained to “plug into chain-of-command 
decision making structures that direct and constrain the input provided 
by individual engineers and engineering generally.” Engineering students 
are taught that this is the only way to organize their work. Engineering 
is a collective endeavor that needs a team and those teams are usually 
corporations. Or, at least, that’s the mentality that corporate-led 
engineering accreditation organizations have fostered over the years.
Unlike medical professionals who have a Hippocratic oath and a licensure 
process, or lawyers who have bar associations watching over them, 
engineers have little ethics oversight outside of the institutions that 
write their paychecks. That is why engineers excel at outsourcing blame: 
to clients, to managers, or to their fuzzy ideas about the problems of 
human nature. They are taught early on that the most moral thing they 
can do is build what they are told to build to the best of their 
ability, so that the will of the user is accurately and faithfully 
carried out. It is only in malfunction that engineers may be said to 
have exerted their own will.
Modern society as we know it is predicated on the things engineers do 
and make, which means that a critique of engineers is ultimately a 
criticism of how we manage everyday life. At least, that was the 
argument made by terrorist Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber, who, in a move 
that is uncharacteristic of most critics of technology, came down on a 
very definitive answer: death to engineers. Technology, Kaczynski 
concluded, will always limit freedom because technology requires 
predictable order to work properly. Kevin Kelly, the founder of Wired 
Magazine, largely agrees, stating in his 2010 book What Technology Wants:
The Unabomber was right about the self-aggrandizing nature of the 
technium. [“Technium” is Kelly’s patentable word for the “greater, 
global, massively interconnected system of technology vibrating around 
us.”] But I disagree with many other of Kaczynski’s points, especially 
his conclusions. Kaczynski was misled because he followed logic divorced 
from ethics.
Kelly’s objection is chilling: “Kaczynski confused latitude with 
freedom. He enjoyed great liberty within limited choices, but he 
erroneously believed this parochial freedom was superior to an expanding 
number of alternative choices that may offer less latitude within each 
choice.” He goes on to make a disturbing comment about Kaczynski’s 
current conditions in a supermax prison, calling it a “four-star 
upgrade” compared to a solitary cabin overlooking miles of national forests.
Throughout his book Kelly finds common ground with the Amish, Earth 
First! activists, and even skeptics of civilization itself, like Derrick 
Jensen. His argument is, in essence, that people terrified by technology 
are closer to the truth than most others; the only thing they get wrong 
is the median reaction to technocratic control: most people just accept 
such an arrangement. Unsurprisingly, Kelly is fine with this.
This is a common theme in Silicon Valley, and among engineers in 
general: their devotion is just as rabid as the Unabomber’s, but they’re 
safely on the winning side. Technology is ordering our lives and 
inflicting stricter, more authoritarian modes of control. For the modal 
engineer, this is a good thing. It brings order to entropy, limiting 
individual autonomy in favor of systems performance.
The false choices Kelly loves are the same ones adored by the likes of 
Matt Yglesias and Hillary Clinton. It is at the heart of the neoliberal 
political philosophy that refuses to die no matter how many times 
individuals in ostensibly democratic societies organize against it. 
Kelly is at least refreshingly honest when he admits that neoliberal 
choice rhetoric is actually based in a radial, authoritarian form of 
societal control. Freedom looks like picking your jail cell—or your ride 
sharing app, or your smartphone, or over-priced health care—not choosing 
from a much larger set of more politically relevant life choices.
It is only in malfunction that an engineer may be said to have exerted 
their own will.
Of course no reasonable person should have to choose between agreeing 
with Derrick Jensen or Matt Yglesias, and yet would-be engineers find 
themselves in such a position when asked to think politically about 
their own field. Neoliberals, whether they choose a right-leaning “there 
is no alternative” rhetorical approach or a center-left “end of history” 
narrative, do a good job of coming off as the reasonable option. This is 
especially true when there is a cottage industry of Silicon Valley 
people selling disconnection from their own devices. The Nicholas Carrs 
and Sherry Turkles of the world provide a puppet opposition that leaves 
political power intact while finger-wagging at teenagers and working 
people. It is this double false choice that makes any sort of radical 
critique of engineering come off as Luddite rambling. Stick a pin in 
that last point for now though, while I unpack the contours of 
engineers’ authoritarian proclivities.
It should be said that many people who choose the engineering profession 
are motivated by an earnest desire to help people. Many of the 
engineering students I have had the pleasure of teaching have been some 
of the most compassionate and politically astute people I have met. The 
particularly sharp ones are also, speaking generally, the ones who 
already feel ostracized from the professional community they have only 
barely met. They notice that the career fairs are dominated by military 
contractors and vigorously apolitical tech companies. They chafe at the 
needlessly imposed hierarchy and sacrifice-the-body-for-the-mind culture.
Without the baseline assumption that chaos reigns without imposed order, 
engineers would be tempted to ask if they are interfering by building 
something, rather than improving lives by default. This happens even in 
the more design-oriented classes that encourage creative thinking and 
open-ended problem solving. In one such class I worked with, students 
were asked to spend a semester working in teams to design an 
organization. Despite working independently on radically different 
projects, every single group made competition an integral part of their 
design. I don’t say this to sneer at my own students, I only bring it up 
because it is illustrative of how pervasive and deep this thinking goes. 
Even after everyone had shared their projects, none of them even noticed 
the shared competitive elements of their design until I asked them about 
it. Some defended competition as a natural sorting mechanism of quality. 
Others looked disturbed, having never noticed that they were reproducing 
an antagonistic dynamic they knew how to critique.
Engineers in league with lanyard-wielding means-testers are bad enough, 
but that predilection for control can go into even deeper, darker 
places. Diego Gambetta & Steffen Hertog’s unfortunately titled Engineers 
of Jihad, published in 2016, explores how and why engineers’ politics 
skew in this authoritarian direction. Despite the book’s baiting title, 
Gambetta and Hertog also show that engineers were vastly 
over-represented in the Nazi party, and the leadership of contemporary 
American and Russian neo-Nazi organizations. Osama Bin Laden was an 
engineer, but so was Aryan Nation founder Dick Butler and Sheriff’s 
Posse Comitatus leader Wilhelm Schmitt. The correlation is striking: 
“the overrepresentation of engineers occurs in vastly different social 
and economic contexts” and they show up in “many different unrelated 
radical groups.” Not only are engineers over-represented they “appear 
more firmly committed to their cause, as shown that they are less likely 
to defect from Islamist groups and by their commitment to the nascent 
Nazi movement.”
Gambetta and Hertog point to the potency of frustrated expectations as 
one of the main causes of engineers’ participation in right-wing 
extremist groups. Engineering requires precision and money to be done 
right—and neither of those things are easily found in war-torn regions. 
Spending years abroad studying in wealthy nations with the desire to 
bring prosperity to your homeland through vast public works, only to 
find someone has used your sacred knowledge to destroy it, can 
understandably breed resentment and anger.
What’s more concerning though, is the metaphysical similarity between 
authoritarians and engineers. They share an aversion to ideas, 
phenomena, and even people who do not fit into neat categories. It is 
this desire for a well-ordered world that comports so nicely with 
fundamentalist tendencies. Things work, be they bridges or societies, 
when all the components are predictable and behave the way they are 
told. Demanding recognition outside given categories, radically changing 
the environment a system must work in, and dismantling long-held 
practices and theories are equally frustrating for the aspiring dictator 
and the aspiring engineer. It is that tradeoff between latitude and 
freedom, as Kelly puts it, that is at the center of the 
authoritarian–neoliberal–engineer Venn diagram.
Freedom looks like picking your jail cell—or your ride sharing app, or 
your smartphone, or over-priced healthcare—not choosing from a much 
larger set of more politically relevant life choices.
What Gambetta and Hertog are not clear on, is whether engineering 
attracts authoritarians or makes them. Of course, the answer is probably 
a mix of individuals’ self-selection and the cultivation of the 
qualities that lead to the sorting in the first place. But if I had to 
choose which factor was stronger, my money is on the latter: that there 
is something about engineering pedagogy that encourages authoritarianism.
Some students are attracted to engineering’s style of thinking, but many 
are lured in by their opposite: the fun things (particularly American) 
grade school teachers call engineering: open-ended tinkering with 
electronics, playing with robots, and building things out of balsa wood. 
Quite often, these students are disappointed when they get to college 
and find themselves in a world of black-and-white schematics where there 
used to be colorful LEGOs. Nieusma and another colleague Michael Lachney 
have called this sudden change, noted by education experts, as exactly 
what it is: “a bait-and-switch.”
Those students who brave out the bait-and-switch still make up a diverse 
cohort but it is increasingly the case that the STEM fields are not only 
crowding out other subjects in curriculums, but are increasingly being 
lobbied for, to the disadvantage of other college majors. LinkedIn 
founder Reid Hoffman and Zynga co-founder Mark Pincus are pushing hard 
to get the Democratic party to run candidates who would support a 
universal free engineering degree. No other degrees, just engineering. 
In 2012, Florida’s Board of Governors, the cadre of Tea Party 
fundamentalists appointed by the Governor tasked with running the 
state’s university system, floated the idea of letting schools set 
different tuition prices for different degrees with humanities degrees 
being more expensive than those in STEM fields. Choices!
This all comes at a time where tech companies say they are embracing the 
liberal arts. Steve Jobs, towards the end of his short life and apropos 
of seemingly nothing except imminent death, decided to devote the end of 
a March 2011 keynote to a discussion of liberal arts and the humanities. 
“Technology alone is not enough.” A skeletal Jobs intoned, “It is 
technology married with liberal arts—married with the humanities—that 
yields us the result that make our hearts sing.” (The thing that made 
our hearts sing that morning, by the way, was the iPad 2.)
Most of the talk of the liberal arts in technology rarely goes further 
than justifications for letting the children of petit-bourgeois parents 
major in literature. I got a liberal arts education and it taught me 
that America is an apartheid state and capitalism is beyond reform. I 
doubt Jeff Bezos wants me to make an app about that. Tom Slee, in a 
recent Boston Review article covering two new books on the subject of 
liberal arts majors in Silicon Valley sees one of two possible options: 
“join together in harmony,” as Scott Hartley argues in The Fuzzy and the 
Techie or,—as Ed Finn prescribes in What Algorithms Want—develop a sort 
of checks-and-balances system between engineers and their critics. 
Hartley’s thesis sounds like more of the same. Finn’s idea would require 
establishing a political power base for critics and curators—and ever 
since the Gingrich-led Congress killed the Office of Technology 
Assessment in 1995, no such institutional power has existed in this 
country. Regardless, either scenario is unacceptable because engineering 
itself must change, not just its relationship to other fields or 
institutions.
The subservient role of the critical disciplines to engineering, has 
left the door open for a particularly robust version of hegemonic 
ideology. That is, without conscious training in more critical fields of 
study, engineers interpret media as technocrats even in the face of 
obvious satire. This means that when engineers take inspiration from the 
world around them, as we all do from time to time, they are unlikely to 
pick up on even heavy-handed warnings about technological avarice.
Stuart Hall, one of the founding fathers of Cultural Studies, famously 
observed that media is encoded with ideology, but then must be decoded 
by an audience to be meaningful. Audiences might accept a dominant 
frame, or they might provide a resistant reading and take away something 
very different than what dominant ideology would want you to think. One 
could decode fifties sitcoms as tales of feminist empowerment or 
interpret CSI as one long warning about the subjectivity of DNA evidence.
Hall and other Cultural Studies scholars, on the whole, assumed (or 
perhaps hoped) that resistant readings would skew toward the liberatory. 
Engineers have called that into question by ignoring the obvious 
warnings found in movies like RoboCop and Minority Report. The people at 
Axon (né TASER) have interpreted both of these movies as roadmaps for 
utopia, not obvious warnings of a path toward dystopia. Ava Kofman, 
writing in The Intercept, describes a company that is proudly dystopic 
in its corporation mission to bring surveillance and new forms of 
non-lethal weaponry (read: torture) to America’s streets.
“No longer is the question whether artificial intelligence will 
transform the legal and lethal limits of policing,” warns Kofman, “but 
how and for whose profits.” She points to Axon’s LinkedIn page and “a 
little-publicized Law Enforcement Technology Report released earlier 
this year” that are replete with science fiction references. The 
LinkedIn profile describes their headquarters as a fusion of Star Wars, 
James Bond, Get Smart, Star Trek, and Men in Black. The report goes into 
great detail about the business’s roadmap to developing RoboCop and 
Minority Report-style technology: predictive policing algorithms, 
exoskeletons, and facial recognition.
One need not graduate magna cum laude with a philosophy degree from 
Vassar to understand how profoundly dumb it is to compare your workplace 
to Get Smart or think that Minority Report is a tale about the benefits 
of machine-assisted policing. What, exactly engineers are resisting when 
they read these media is basic human decency. Someone at Axon must look 
at their TASER X26C with “Electro-Muscular Disruption technologies” and 
say, “wow that really makes my heart sing.”
Weapons dealers aside, we all are familiar with the way technology rags 
giddily compare any new gadget to those seen in science fiction, albeit 
with far less overt fascist day-dreaming. Flip phones were compared to 
Star Trek communicators. iPads and voice assistants have gotten similar, 
“It’s like you’re on the Enterprise!” treatments. Comparisons like these 
make it seem like we just so happen to be achieving, in fits and starts, 
some guaranteed future when, in fact, technologists really are aping 
television shows they saw as kids.
Brian Merchant, in his book The One Device: The Secret History of the 
iPhone, quotes Chris Garcia, the curator of the Computer History Museum: 
“The tricorder and the communicator are direct influences, and I’ve 
spoken to several innovators who have specifically cited Trek.” 
Similarly, the telecomm parts manufacturer Qualcomm recently declared a 
winner in its X Prize contest to see who could build a “medical 
tricorder” that could detect vital signs and a range of diseases. Robert 
Picardo, who played the holographic doctor in Star Trek: Voyager was 
there to hand out the giant ceremonial check and everything.
Engineers don’t merely attempt to reproduce what they see on screen 
verbatim (oftentimes mistaking dystopia for a product roadmap). They 
also produce their own source material that gets filtered through pop 
culture only to arrive back in reports and position papers. Back in 
2012, I co-authored an article with Arizona State University professor 
Joseph Herkert about the U.S. National Academy of Engineering’s report, 
Grand Challenges for Engineering—an immensely dry document save for one 
unexpected reference to Live Free or Die Hard, the fourth installment of 
the Bruce Willis Die Hard franchise. The authors of the report warned 
that the United States was in danger of experiencing the main plot of 
the film: a wholesale hijacking of the nation’s digital infrastructure.
Live Free or Die Hard began life as a 1997 Wired magazine article that 
describes the war games state actors play to prepare for cyberwarfare. 
The takeaway is summarized nicely in a quote from a professor from the 
Naval Postgraduate School: “We have spent billions in the last few 
decades on large, expensive aircraft carriers, strategic bombers, and 
tanks. The information revolution suggests nothing less than that these 
assets have become much more vulnerable and much less necessary.” The 
war machines of past aeronautics engineers are the unguarded targets of 
today’s software engineers.
The engineers are still operating the siege engines, but they are also 
the ones building things back up, all the while warning us of the new 
siege engines they’re building.
After ten years of writing and production both pre-and post 9/11 the 
article becomes a big-budget summer action movie. The final product, we 
argued, had a very clear message: If you care about cyber security, you 
had better do it the way engineers tell you to. Radicals who question 
the value of the system as a whole (represented in the film by the 
patently un-radical Justin Long) and nostalgic moderates that wish to be 
left alone (Willis’ John McLane) are actually just as dangerous to 
everyone’s collective livelihood as the terrorists themselves. Herkert 
and I concluded. “Conversely, the established order should be ready to 
sacrifice itself for the wellbeing of the younger class of knowledge 
workers that (literally as well as figuratively) hold the passkeys to 
our digital infrastructure.”
The engineers’ worldview and the fiction that is created as a critique 
to engineers’ creations forms an Ouroboros of destruction in the name of 
engineers’ own job security. Engineers’ work begets fiction, begets new 
engineering projects, begets fiction again, which in turn begets 
position papers about the possibility of it all going wrong. Each step 
requires additional funding, that cannot wait because the latest threat 
is already overdue. Charlie Brooker makes a Black Mirror episode about 
it, and then another engineer reads dystopia as a new product idea and 
so on. The engineers are still operating the siege engines, but they are 
also the ones building things back up, all the while warning us of the 
new siege engines they’re building. Perhaps, instead of such fictions, 
we should have more stories about engineers coming to terms with the 
consequences of their creations.
All of this might be less worrying if there was a robust and popular 
movement against this authoritarian engineering establishment that 
manufactures its own worst enemy. What we have instead are people who 
prescribe block chains and disconnection sleepaway camps. The former 
conflates encryption and privacy tools with confronting the corrupting 
influence of power. The latter clutch their pearls at teenagers and wax 
nostalgic about conversations and deep thinking.
When the TSA announced plans to require passengers to remove books and 
other reading materials my friend and colleague Nathan Ferguson shared 
the announcement on Facebook with the note, “this is why you need strong 
encryp— oh, wait.” The program was short-lived and only affected a few 
airports but the joke is telling nonetheless: privacy advocates have 
spent so much time hyping and developing encryption technologies that we 
are in danger of ignoring the politics that make encryption necessary in 
the first place. That 1997 Wired article bemoaned the fact that 
malevolent software was “easy to duplicate, hard to restrict, and often 
frustratingly dual-use, civilian or military.” The same can be said in 
the opposite direction. Every time a new privacy invention is produced 
under the auspices of individual privacy, that technology is no doubt 
also useful to the powerful entities that we want privacy from.
As for the pearl-clutchers, we would do well to interrogate their class 
allegiances. As I argued a year ago in an essay about Sherry Turkle’s 
body of work, critics who write about the importance of disconnection 
generally show “a dedication to a fairly conservative worldview where 
the pace of work and the environment in which it takes place should be 
set exclusively by bosses acting as wellsprings of morality.” Busy 
parents and lonely kids are often the biggest targets of invective for 
finding escapism or connection on screens while corporate bosses are 
celebrated for mild changes to governance structures so as to require 
in-person meetings instead of Skype calls.
Equally important is to reckon with the trends in our culture that give 
us people like James Damore, the former Google engineer who wrote a memo 
decrying Google’s diversity initiatives as a “politically correct 
monoculture that maintains its hold by shaming dissenters into silence.” 
He was quickly fired and —irony of ironies for someone that describes 
himself as “centrist with libertarian inclinations—has taken the issue 
up with the National Labor Relations Board. The memo’s contents should 
surprise no one with a cursory knowledge of Silicon Valley’s culture. 
And here I am not necessarily talking about the retrograde gender 
politics per se, but the science he brings to bear to defend his positions.
Rather than consult anthropology and sociology to study an issue that is 
distinctly social and cultural, the links that pepper his ten-page 
manifesto are mostly evolutionary psychology, cognitive science, and 
sociobiology. The very premise of his memo is that biology trumps 
society in the formation of individuals. This is an idea that is shared 
by both the reactionary right that has welcomed him as a righteous cause 
célèbre and the ostensibly liberal left whose popular views on society 
and individual behavior are pulled from similar fields. The mainstream 
liberal is fed a steady diet of Radiolab, The TED Radio Hour, Hidden 
Brain, Invisibilia, Note to Self, and Freakonomics Radio, all of which 
heavily favor the same sort of logic—humans behavior is largely 
determined by biology and best studied using statistical analyses using 
big data—that Damore used. Damore, like the Unabomber, only differs from 
the Silicon Valley consensus in that he has a different take on the same 
set of basic premises.
So what is to be done with the engineers who see their profession as a 
means of expressing care through building things? The first step is to 
cultivate that very mindset: building things as a form of care. 
Engineers need to think of their work as both a humble contribution to 
the ongoing social order but also as an imposition—as a normative 
statement with politics and consequences. This has to be done in the 
universities that confer engineering degrees and in the workplace. Such 
changes are already underway at Purdue University, where the School of 
Engineering Education hired Donna Riley as department head. Her work has 
been at the center of recognizing the political valence of engineers’ 
education and changing it for the better.
In times like these it is important to remember that border walls, 
nuclear missiles, and surveillance systems do not work, and would not 
even exist, without the cooperation of engineers. We must begin teaching 
young engineers that their field is defined by care and humble 
assistance, not blind obedience to authority. Without this crucial first 
step, organizing engineers’ labor in Silicon Valley and elsewhere may 
only yield counter-productive results. After all, police have benefited 
from some of the most powerful union representation and that has not 
proven liberatory for anyone. It is only after the engineering 
profession takes its place among other professions—ones that recognized 
their power and created systems of independent review and 
accountability—and comes to terms with its relationship to ethics and 
morals, can it be trusted to organize. Only then can we trust them to 
leave the siege engines behind and join us in building something new.
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