Lewis Mumford states in Technics and Civilization that

The clock, not the steam-engine, is the key-machine of the modern industrial age. For every phase of its development the clock is both the outstanding fact and the typical symbol of the machine: even today no other machine is so ubiquitous (Nueva York, 1934, 14).

In this quotation it is assumed that the clock is not only a practical tool with a proper meaning in a technical context but a model for human behavior and experience, and for social organization as well. Then it has, together with many other technological objects, a cultural dimension that plays a significant role in the construction of collective ideals and values. And as such it mediates our perceptions and representations of the world. For instance, both the presence of clocks and the mechanical order of time in ordinary language, art, films and literature reveals how technological metaphors contribute to expand human communication resources and to shape reality. There are many examples of this. To mention just the most well-known, “time is money” (an expression normally credited to Benjamin Franklin –mentioned in Advice to a Young Tradesman, 1748- but surely used before, according to Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs) refers to a philosophy of life focused on profiting time; “like clockwork” is used when someone or something follows an unvarying schedule; “slave to the clock” is normally attributed to business workers. In fictional writings, we find novels like the one composed by Anthony Burgess, Clockwork orange, whose title -an oxymoron- expresses the contrast between the natural and the mechanical and disciplined. In Alice Adventures in Wonderland, time reflected by clocks means among other things the adult world, conventions and the absence of childhood fantasy.

In addition to the particular world of the clock, there are plenty of references proving the extension of technological imaginaries. “Machine” can mean a precise and repetitive process as a consequence of the perfect adjustment of its parts. The French writer Paul Valéry defined the poem as “a sort of machine aimed at producing the poetic state by means of words”, and the Spanish writer Antonio Machado refers to the record player as a “mechanical parrot” and to photography and cinema as “satanic inventions intended to bore human beings” (Cano Ballesta, 1981, 15-16).

In other occasions, metaphors originate from a process of substitution of technology as a whole by a singular entity (although in this case when the part equals the whole it is properly a metonymy). Such is the case, for instance, in the movie Emerald forest (1985), where a dam under construction in the Amazonia, which represents technological progress, provokes a confrontation between the threat of technology and a fragile nature. Thus, the dam represents technology, and the destruction of the forest represents the devastation of a civilization.

Analogies between machines and both the human body and mind have been a powerful and persistent source of metaphors through history (see “artefactual mind” on this blog). In our age the dominant symbol is the computer. Theorists have been using this artifact in cognitive sciences as a source of metaphors to understand and explain mental activity. Firstly, computer components are defined using analogies coming from the human mind (brain, memory, intelligence, etc.); secondly, they are incorporated to the description of several human actions, contributing in turn to look at the human body in a different way, as if it had a computer like organization. Also related to the human body, we can find metaphors which compare it with a machine, a factory or a mechanism: the heart is an engine, the food is the source of energy, muscles are the motors, etc. As a consequence of this, we construct a mechanistic idea of the body (see also, in this dictionary, the term “human automata”). There are also metaphors that originate from instruments aimed at measuring human capabilities or psychophysical factors. The ergograph, an instrument invented at the end of the 19th century to measure human fatigue, is credited to establish the adjustment of the human being to the demands of specific tasks at a factory. The ergograph is then considered an extension of the body, and its design is intended to determine productive capabilities of workers. Therefore both the factory machine and the body, assuming the fact that there is continuity between each other, are represented in a crude mechanistic approach as motors that exchange energy.

We should therefore attend to the technology of each time to account for particular similarities, comparisons and analogies employed in definitions and models present in our language. The classic version of the metaphor of the wax tablet that represents memory as a writing surface is found in Plato’s Theaetetus. In this dialogue, Socrates states “that our minds contain a wax block, which may vary in size, cleanliness and consistency in different individuals” (Draaisma, 2000, 24). At the time of Plato, wax tablets, a recording technology consisting in a board coated with wax, had already been in use for several centuries for taking notes. Later on other metaphors were used with similar purposes, such as the book, the phonograph, the photography, communication networks and, as was already mentioned, the computer (Draaisma, 2000).

Furthermore, power sources, communications, and automatic devices have provided images that are integrated in collective representations of the world. They are sometimes linked to the experience of sublimity, a collective emotion related to technology and the conquest of nature explored by David E. Nye in his book American Technology Sublime. Among the power sources, steam engines, and especially their steam, became a frequent metaphor during the 19th and part of the 20th century. It was associated to the power and strength of technology and to its capacity for mastering nature, at times through the invasion of natural spaces. It was also endowed with negative connotations. On the one hand, it was used to show the dark side of progress under the image of factory fumes. On the other hand, this image represents in social imaginaries the contrast between the healthy life in the country and the unhealthy pollution of industrial towns. Related to this metaphor, and transmitting the idea of speed, efficiency and the rapprochement between cultures through the reduction of the Earth dimensions, is the one associated to communications and transports (steam ships and railroads), which are frequently depicted in literary works and paintings as crossing a wild nature.

At the end of the 19th century, another power source turned up: electricity. Setting aside metaphors associated to its contributions to “illuminate our lives” and the ones regarding the light bulb, proclaimed as the symbol of the coming up with new ideas, there are metaphors related to its mysterious nature that introduced a certain degree of uncertainty on technological inventions. A different way of perceiving electricity is represented in the next illustration, which reflects anthropomorphized technologies conspiring against new born electricity.


Electricity: ‘A Giant in Germ – what will he grow to?’ Punch or the London Charivari, 25 June 1881.

Finally, metaphors related to automatism represent precision, reliability, efficiency and comfort, being clocks, gears, conveyors and assembly lines the objects most frequently used to express these values. In the case of factories, the workers became part of the machine itself, as reflected in Charles Chaplin movie Modern times (1936). Human beings are depicted in these contexts facing repetitive tasks and consequently deprived of creativity. In general, artists have had an ambiguous relationship with technology: at one extreme, we place the emergence of the Italian futurism, which celebrated the outburst of machines; at the other, we have the dystopic tradition exemplified by many novels, movies and plastic expressions (notable examples in this respect are Raoul Haussmann and George Grosz).

The presence of metaphors in human symbolic manifestations is, in sum, a consequence of the ever increasing relevance acquired by technology in the western cultures, or as Jacques Ellul puts it, a result of the new “environment” in which human beings construct their experiences:

Technology constitutes an engulfing universe for man, who finds himself in it as in a cocoon. He cannot have any relationship with the ‘natural’ world except through technological mediation. By the same measure, he can only have relationships with other men through technological mediation, i.e. through material technologies like the telephone, radio and videophone: technology is at the same time immediate to man and the universal mediation between men. On the one hand, technology devalues all other mediations and man seems to have no need of symbolic mediation because he has technological mediation. It even appears to man that technology is more efficacious and permits him a greater domination over what threatens him and a more certain protection against danger than does the symbolic process. On the other hand, one does not perceive the need for the creation of new symbols because man has not become conscious that technology no longer constitutes a means, but is rather his environment. Hence it is now the relationship to technology that man must proceed to symbolize […] (Ellul, 1978, 216).

References and further readings: Lewis Mumford, Technics and Civilization, New York, Harcourt, Brace & Company, Inc., 1934; Francis D. Klingender, Art and the Industrial Revolution, London, N. Carrington, 1947 (Spanish edition: Arte y Revolución Industrial, Cátedra, 1983); Jacques Ellul, “Symbolic function, technology and society”, Journal of Social and Biological Structure, 1978, 1, 207-218; Susan Sontag, Illness as Metaphor, New York, Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1978 (Spanish edition: La enfermedad y sus metáforas. El sida y sus metáforas, Random House Mondadori, 2008); Juan Cano Ballesta, Literatura y tecnología. Las letras españolas ante la Revolución Industrial (1900-1930), Madrid, Editorial Orígenes, 1981; David E. Nye, American Technology Sublime, Cambridge (Mass.), The MIT Press, 1994; Douwe Draaisma, Metaphors of Memory: A History of Ideas about the Mind, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2000; Patrice Flichy, L’imaginaire d’Internet, Paris, Éditions La Découverte & Syros, 2001 (Spanish edition: Lo imaginario de Internet, Tecnos, 2003); Vasilia Christidou, Kostas Dimopoulos, and Vasilis Koulaidis, “Constructing social representations of science and technology: the role of metaphors in the press and the popular scientific magazines”, Public Understanding of Science, 13 (2004), pp. 347-362, ; Rosa Delgado Leyva, La pantalla futurista, Madrid, Cátedra, 2012.


Educational technology

“A teacher that can be replaced by a machine should be”.

Arthur C. Clark

The concept is concerned with the different procedures, methods and equipment used in the improvement of effectiveness in the learning process. Although the definition has a broad meaning and comprises many proposals that trace back to ancient times and the Sophistic pedagogy, here we focus the attention on practices that highlight the importance of teaching with aids such as actual objects, models and pictures.

This perspective was in accordance with the premises of the empirical viewpoint consolidated in the Enlightenment. It was in this period when a significant number of intellectuals maintained that knowledge was built basically through the acquisition and addition of simple observations and experiences. According to these ideas, visual resources provided a more effective understanding of the world than verbal constructions and books. In addition, the confirmation of theories by means of public demonstrative experiments and mechanical devices was regarded as a definite proof of its consistency and therefore utility.

As a consequence of this vision, since the 1750s there has been an increasing interest manifested by educational authorities in the acquisition of large collections of objects and models. Every reference to up-to- date education and modernization included the allusion to the provision of equipment intended to illustrate scientific and technical branches of knowledge. This situation and principles remained almost untouched throughout the 19th century, the only significant innovation being the formation of pedagogical museums in the second part of this period. In the concrete-abstract debate, the appeal to visual material was seen as the perfect antidote against verbalism. As the following text put it in 1886,

The objects of thought used in teaching are the real object, which is the material object in relation with the senses, or the mental object distinctly in consciousness; the model, which represents, in the solid, the form, color, size, and relative positions of the parts of the object; the picture, which imperfectly represents on a surface the appearance of the object in position, form, color, and relative position of parts; the diagram, which represents on a surface the sectional view of the object; the experiment, which shows the action and effects of physical forces; language, as an object of thought, in the formation of words. (Proceedings of the National Education Association, quoted in Paul Saettler, 2004, 140).

At the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th the tendency described was reinforced by the educational model promoted by the visual instructional movement. Both trends responded to the coming of the machine age by demanding more practical curricula. The new instruments proposed to meet the requirements were the museum exhibits, the photographs, and the projected slides (together with the promotion of excursions to give students firsthand experiences of farms, factories, workshops…). Companies devoted to the production of different type of media contributed in a decisive way to the consolidation of the “visual education” perspective. A representative sign of the spirit of the times and the expectations arisen from the new mentality is what T. A. Edison said in 1913: “Books will soon be obsolete in schools”, and “Scholars will soon be instructed through the eye. It is possible to touch every branch of human knowledge with the modern picture” (quoted in Larry Cuban, 1986, 11).

Primary attention was given in these contexts to the virtues possessed by the technology rather than to the effects of the devices on students. Therefore other pedagogical orientations contemplated the use of artifacts in class and museums as heuristic resources intended to improve student’s skills in the process of searching solutions, understanding the principles of a mechanism or learning the rules of technical knowledge. This perspective stressed the active implication of the student and rejected the passive attendance to contents mediated by technological demonstrations. In this constructivist approach, technology objects were not just instruments (in a behaviorist sense) but essential parts of an integral learning process.

Concerning the results of the visual-media education philosophy, P. Saettler (2004, 168) quotes the following words written by F. Dean McClusky, professor of education at the University of California and researcher in the field of audio-visual instruction from the early years of its diffusion:

The coming of the machine age and the realization that all who went to school could not enter white-collar jobs implemented the growing demand for more practical curricula and more functional methodologies. A wholesome distrust of “book learning”, as such, was to be found in many quarters. However, educators in general were slow to adopt new techniques of communication as they became available at the close of the nineteenth century. Evolving slowly were ideas on how best to use new media, such as the museum exhibit, the photograph, the projected still picture, and the motion picture, in instruction.

There were pioneers, of course, who experimented with the new media, and they made history. But the impact of their efforts on the broad stream of instruction caused little more than ripple on the surface. Education is conservative. It takes time to bring about widespread changes in content and methodology […]

The dream of educators, as Larry Cuban points out, has been making instruction both productive and enriching. This means, for the author, wishing that students learn more and faster while teachers teach less, a recurrent ideal that has persisted from the invention of the lecture centuries ago to the appropriation of projectors, films, radios, televisions and computers (Cuban, 1986, 2). The problem is nevertheless that the high speed of innovations, celebrated by politicians, administrators and wholesalers, contrasts with the slow pace of acceptance of technologies by the ultimate responsible of mastering and using them in class, the teacher.

Àl'école. En l'an 2000. Villemard         Villemard, “À l’école”, En l’an 2000, 1910.

Further reading: Larry Cuban, Teachers and Machines: The Classroom Use of Technology Since 1920, Nueva York, Teacher College, 1986; Paul Saettler, The Evolution of American Educational Technology, Greenwich, Connecticut, IAP, 2004; M. Eraut (ed.), International Encyclopedia of Educational Technology, Oxford/New York, Pergamon Press, 1989.

Artifactual mind

The close relation between human beings and the world surrounding them drove various philosophers to consider the connections between mind, body and culture; and more specifically, as respects technology, between hand, mind and artifact.

Firstly, regarding the connection mind-artifact, several authors have pointed out that external objects and technical artifacts can be considered a part of human cognition. Some of the perspectives that point to this idea are the Extended mind thesis (EMT) and the Artifactual mind thesis (AMT).

The first one maintains that cognitive processes are not all in the head because certain technical artifacts are used in such a way that they can be seen as extensions of the mind itself and can become part of the cognitive system. In this regard, EM theorists propose to revise the concept of individual as such and expand our selves to include not only our bodies but also those non-biological parts (i.e. processes and artifacts).

In accordance with this theory, biological human organism (individual’s brain) would remain the center and the starting point of cognition. For EM supporters it is assumed that cognition arises from the inside, but it’s also assumed that the brain is not affected and altered by external material influences.

Both this and other versions of the EM theory, the so-called ‘second-wave EMT’ and ‘third-wave EMT’, have been discussed by several authors.

One of the critics is C. Aydin, who argues that EMT advocates have not succeeded in overcoming the division inside-outside, a cartesian legacy that prevent them from seeing to what point our view of cognition is influenced by modern technologies. He disagrees with their view of the brain as an isolated initiator of cognition –view also disputed by empirical research that shows how socio-cultural influences can alter certain areas of the brain and the way it functions– and suggests that “Cognition should be understood as a self-organizational process in which brains, bodies and world simultaneously participate and depend on one another”.

This way, as an alternative, a step further and a contribution to the EMT debate, Aydin proposes the Artifactual Mind Theory (AMT), which defends the idea that external objects, artifacts and processes should not be conceived as inanimate and unintelligent matter external to our mind: “thought is located in a world of objects”, and objects and artifacts enable us to induce and develop certain thoughts (Aydin, 2013). Mind, therefore, has an artifactual character and, as Wittgenstein already pointed out, it’s “not extended by objects and artifacts but rather unfolds through and is shaped by them. […] Acknowledging that our thinking has an artifactual character means recognizing that external objects and technical artifacts, rather than being utilized by an inside world, have shaped and are continuously shaping the very fabric of our thinking”. That means then that “Artifacts are not neutral tools that are functionally utilized by an internal biological core, as expressed by EMT; rather they shape to a great extent what we consider as our ‘inner,’ mental realm of goals, aspirations and ideals.” (Aydin, 2013)

On this theory, Aydin follows American philosopher Charles S. Peirce’s (1839-1914), forerunner of these ideas, and his philosophy of mind:

According to Peirce, thinking is not instigated by such internal impressions but rather everything starts with what he sometimes calls “percepts,” which are “out in the open.” Peirce repudiates the idea that we have immediate access to our ‘inside realm’ and a mediated access to the outside world. That is why he can say: “It is the external world that we directly observe”. Thinking is not instigated by ‘introspection’ but by ‘extrospection.’ Although in this reversal Peirce still uses an inside–outside distinction, his argument ultimately culminates in a kind of collapse of that distinction. […]

Peirce stresses, and this is crucial, that these percepts have a mental character. This, however, does not mean that they are products of individual brain processes. Indeed, “[t]hought is”, according to Peirce, “not necessarily connected with a brain. It appears in the work of bees, of crystals, and throughout the purely physical world; and one can no more deny that it is really there, than that the colors, the shapes, etc., of objects are really there”. Our world of objects and artifacts does not only consist of matter but also of mind (Aydin, 2013)

Peirce holds the view that the principle of individuation that allows us to talk of minds and selves in the plural is privation: “Psychological analysis shows that there is nothing which distinguishes my personal identity except my faults and my limitations”. Peirce’s belief is “that we are not detached, atomistic egos living in a separate inside world but ‘cells of a social organism’, who discover and develop themselves in an interaction with their environment”.

Other philosopher whose ideas coincide with Peirce’s view of mind is Karl Popper, who was especially interested in memory enhancing artifacts. According to him, although mind is the ultimate source of knowledge, it does not reside in mental states or inside the human mind, but rather exosomatically, in books, articles, and the like, that is, in objects and artifacts (that function then as mere storage):

Yet the kind of exosomatic evolution which interests me here is this: instead of growing better memories and brains, we grow paper, pens, pencils, typewriters, dictaphones, the printing press, and libraries. […] The latest development (used mainly in support of our argumentative abilities) is the growth of computers.

We use, and build, computers because they can do many things which we cannot do; just as I use a pen and pencil when I wish to tot up a sum I cannot do in my head. ‘My pencil is more intelligent than I,’ Einstein used to say.

Secondly, we are briefly mentioning the interesting unity and close connection between hand and head (or mind), that was already revealed by Kant: “the hand is the window on to the mind”. In his book The Craftsman, a defense of the sensibility associated to manual activities, Richard Sennet states: “such unity shaped the ideas of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment; it grounded Ruskin’s nineteenth-century defense of manual labor” (Sennet, 2008, 178). There, he makes

two contentious arguments: first, that all skills, even the most abstract, begin as bodily practices; second, that technical understanding develops through the powers of imagination. The first argument focuses on knowledge gained in the hand through touch and movement. The argument about imagination begins by exploring language that attempts to direct and guide bodily skill. This language works best when it shows imaginatively how to do something. The use of imperfect or incomplete tools draws on the imagination in developing the skills to repair and improvise. The two arguments combine in considering how resistance and ambiguity can be instructive experiences; to work well, every craftsman has to learn from these experiences rather than fight them. (Sennet, 2008, 10)

He describes how, according to various thinkers, the connection hand-mind laid the foundation of human development: in 1833 Charles Bell expressed the idea of “an intelligent hand” in his book The hand, and Charles Darwin reviewed it suggesting the influence of the use of the arms on the increase of monkey’s brain size and in the long run on the emergence of human culture (Sennet, 2008, 150).

In evolution, Darwin surmised, the brains of apes became larger as their arms and hands were used for other purposes than steadying the moving body. With greater brain capacity, our human ancestors learned how to hold things in their hands, to think about what they held, and eventually to shape the things held; man-apes could make tools, humans make culture.

Until recently, evolutionist thought that it is the uses of the hand, rather than changes in its structure, that have matched the increasing size of the brain, Thus, a half-century ago Frederick Wood Jones wrote, “It is not the hand that is perfect, but the whole nervous mechanism by which movements of the hand are evoked, coordinated, and controlled” which has enabled Homo sapiens to develop”. (Sennet, 2088, 150)

As a consequence of this interaction hand-mind, also the structure of the hand has evolved, making possible the distinctive physical experience of grip thanks to the opposition of thumb to other digits combined with subtle changes in the index finger bones. Sennet underlines other complex manual actions that reflect the intimate connection between hand and mind, like letting go, prehension, coordination, cooperation between hands, force control, rhythm, etc.

Finally, we are including a general reference to the interaction between mind, body and the world and culture surrounding them, which can be schematized in the following diagram. It represents the way body and culture shape the functions and structure of the mind through perceptions, and the way our mind has an influence on the culture through the actions carried out by our body.Esquema mind-body-culture

References: Ciano Aydin, “The artifactual mind: overcoming the ‘inside-outside’ dualism in the extended mind thesis and recognizing the technological dimension of cognition”, Phenomenology and the Cognitive Sciences, May 2013; Richard Sennet, The Craftsman, Yale University Press, 2008; M. Pérez Álvarez, El mito del cerebro creador. Cuerpo, conducta y cultura, Alianza editorial, 2011.

Factory system

Procedures of manufacturing, consolidated along the nineteenth century, based on three main elements: machinery, organization and control. It is considered one of the basic inventions of the Industrial Revolution. Among the three components mentioned, some authors stress the importance of the first aspect, and speak about mechanization and technological innovations powered by water or steam as the key factors of the new system. Others instead, such as the historian of technology A. Pacey, focus the attention on the second and especially on the third dominion. The Industrial Revolution was then, according to Pacey’s perspective, a radical change in the methods of control and discipline of workers labor. In this regard, the factory system represented an entirely new vision and an alternative that in the long run would replace the domestic and the putting-out system. Besides these effects, new procedures meant a serious challenge to artisan skills which were displaced by machinery innovations. This was the motive behind the luddites’ protests and sabotage actions against factories. The innovative spirit was nevertheless an ever increasing tendency connected to internationalization of markets, competition and the deregulation measures.

One of the most influential advocates of the factory system was the Scottish professor of chemistry Andrew Ure, who expressed his enthusiastic points of view in The Philosophy of Manufactures (London, 1835). He was completely persuaded of the advantages of the automatism pushed by technology advances, and in this regard stated that the ideal manufacture was the one that excluded absolutely the contribution of manual workers. The following quotation contains authors’ optimistic confidence in the social benefits of the factory system, in contrast with reformers’ opinions of labor conditions:

I have visited many factories, both in Manchester and in the surrounding districts, during a period of several months, entering the spinning rooms, unexpectedly, and often alone, at different times of the day, and I never saw a single instance of corporal chastisement inflicted on a child, nor indeed did I ever see children in ill-humour. They seemed to be always cheerful and alert, taking pleasure in the light play of their muscles, enjoying the mobility natural to their age. The scene of industry, so far from exciting sad emotions in my mind, was always exhilarating. It was delightful to observe the nimbleness with which they pieced the broken ends, as the mule-carriage began to recede from the fixed roller-beam, and to see them at leisure, after a few seconds’ exercise of their tiny fingers, to amuse themselves in any attitude they chose, till the stretch and winding-on were once more completed. The work of these lively elves seemed to resemble a sport, in which habit gave them a pleasing dexterity. Conscious of their skill, they were delighted to show it off to any stranger. As to exhaustion by the day’s work, they evinced no trace of it on emerging from the mill in the evening; for they immediately began to skip about any neighbouring playground, and to commence their little amusements with the same alacrity as boys issuing from a school. It is moreover my firm conviction, that if children are not ill-used by bad parents or guardians, but receive in food and raiment the full benefit of what they earn, they would thrive better when employed in our modern factories, than if left at home in apartments too often ill-aired, damp, and cold (300-301) […]

Mr. Hutton, who has been in practice as a surgeon at Stayley Bridge upwards of thirty-one years, and, of course, remembers the commencement, and has had occasion to trace the progress and effect, of the factory system, says that the health of the population has much improved since its introduction, and that they are much superior in point of comfort to what they were formerly. He also says that fever has become less common since the erection of factories, and that the persons employed in them were less attacked by the influenza in 1833, than other classes of work-people (398) […].

These ideas were the target of criticism by Karl Marx, who analyzed working conditions under the premises of the alienation theory. Other disagreements came from liberal positions, such as the ones maintained by John Stuart Mill. He asserted that so far technology hadn’t made any sound contribution to relief human fatigue. Assuming the social consequences of automatism and technology innovations, other theorists (e. g. David A. Wells in the second half of the nineteenth century) saw the factory system under the capitalist rule as the best option to generate wealth, the supreme factor that guarantees prosperity in the free market model. A step further in the evolution of the factory system was the scientific approach of labor organization in the workplace undertaken by Friederick Winslow Taylor and exposed in his Principles of Scientific Management (1913). The purpose in this case was the improvement of productivity and the reduction of useless tasks by the precise examination (with chronometers) of workers movements. Scientific management studies have nevertheless evolved significantly through the twentieth century, particularly in order to modify the initial crude engineering methodologies.

Natural (versus artificial)

As Marta Fehér states, Greek philosophers deprecated the crafts and their products. A higher value was ascribed to what was produced by nature, while ‘artificial’ meant something dead and, in general, inferior to natural things. For Plato all artefacts (including pieces of art) were imitations of something natural, of ideas (in fact imitations of imitations), conceptions that we can find well reflected in his myth of the cave. For Aristotle natural and artificial had nothing in common because both formed two different spheres of reality, the artificial was not a copy of something natural already existent but something new. This Aristotelian natural/artificial dichotomy was finally destroyed in the 17th century (mainly by F. Bacon and Descartes) and prejudices against the mechanical arts started to disappear; the artificial sphere became a model for understanding nature. (Marta Féher, “The natural and the artificial: (an attempt at conceptual clarification)”, Periodica Polytechnica Social and Management Sciences, 1993, Vol. 1, No. 1, pp. 67-76)

Some years before Fehér, Paolo Rossi pointed out that present conceptions denying basic differences between art products and natural products contradict dominant assumptions maintained in the classic Greek culture. Aristotelianism and hippocratic medicine contemplated nature as an ideal and a rule for art to achieve its purposes. Frequent parallelisms between art and nature in Aristotelian texts are intended then to make easier the understanding of the less familiar (nature) by the more accessible practices (art). Later on, in the medieval period, art was associated with the concept of imitatio naturae. As in ancient times, every attempt to reach perfection, represented by nature, was regarded in those years as a sign of impiety and temerity. Hugh of Saint Victor (1096-1141), a leading theologian, considered mechanical arts as adulterinae precisely because they borrow their modes from nature. As it was mentioned before, from the Renaissance on these distances and reserves were gradually dissolved, Francis Bacon being one of the most active contributors to this revisionist perspective (P. Rossi, I Filosofi i le Macchine, 1400-1700, 1962) (for consequences in the representations of human beings and minds, see on the blog “human automaton”). Nevertheless, in recent times we still identify “natural” with properties that make a product superior to any type of manufactured or manipulated good.  This is particularly noticeable in arguments supported by homeopathic treatments practitioners or in pronouncements against genetically modified food.

Bernadette Bensaude-Vincent and William R. Newman, editors of the book The Artificial and the Natural. An Evolving Polarity (Cambridge, The MIT Press, 2007, 2-3), present the dichotomy as an open question that demands a cultural approach (because the concept of nature not only has physical connotations, but moral and social ones as well):

 As Roald Hoffman pointed out in The Same and Not the Same, the “rational” arguments used by modern chemists in order to fight the popular prejudice against chemicals are largely useless, because they ignore the cultural aspects of the issue. The concept of nature functions and has always been used as a cultural value, a social norm, and a moral authority. Debates over art and nature generally conceal the broad questions that undergo and drive them: is techne a continuation of nature’s activity (tools being viewed as something like the prolongation of a person’s hand), a rebellion against nature, or a challenge to nature? The nature of technology and its legitimacy, the situation of humans as technicians among other animals, and the status of artisans in society are among the broad issues at stake. Because of the importance of such philosophical implications and cultural roots in all the debates over the impact of technologies, we cannot simply dismiss the distinction between art and nature as a “popular prejudice” or as an “irrational nostalgia for the past”.

Human automata

 “I think everybody should be a machine”,

Andy Wharhol, Interview with Gene Swenson, Art News (1963).

The term human automaton refers to machines capable of imitating human characteristics such as appearance, movements, actions or even mental processes. This idea is related to devices already present in the ancient world, in civilizations like the ancient China or the Greek culture. In this latter case, references can be found not only in Greek mythology but also in the Hellenistic world, where automatons were intended as tools, toys, religious idols, or prototypes for demonstrating basic scientific principles, although never intended to equal nature: according to the Greek culture artefacts could never become as real as natural objects.

Yet, the manufacturing tradition of automata continued in the Greek world well into the Middle Ages. At that time, also in the Islamic culture, complex humanoid automata were described and built. The interest for this devices revived in the Renaissance (Leonardo’s articulated mechanical robot for the Ludovico Sforza festivities is a good example of it). Later, whith Renaissance technology and mecanicist philosophy, the idea of the human being considered as a machine gained importance. The most important contributions to this conception were made first through Descartes’ division of man into a mechanistic body and an inmaterial soul, and later by J. Offray de la Mettrie, one of the leading supporters of the metaphor of man as a machine, as well as by Vaucanson’s famous automata. La Mettrie considered that animals and humans were like mere automatons or machines and denied the existence of the soul as a substance separated from matter:

Comme une corde de Violon ou une touche de clavecin frémit et rend un son, les cordes du cerveau, frappées par les rayons sonores, ont été excitées à rendre ou à redire les mots qui les touchaient. Mais comme telle est la construction de  ce viscère, que dès qu’une fois les yeux bien formés pour I ‘optique ont reçu la peinture des objets, le  cerveau ne peut pas ne pas voir leurs images et leurs différences : de même, lorsque les signes de ces  différences ont été marqués, ou gravés dans le cerveau, l’âme en a nécessairement examiné les rapports; examen qui lui était impossible sans la découverte des signes, ou I ‘invention des langues. Dans ces temps, où I ‘Univers était presque muet,  l‘âme était à l‘égard de tous les objets, comme un  homme qui, sans avoir aucune idée des proportions, regarderait un tableau, ou une pièce de sculpture: il n’y pourrait rien distinguer; ou comme un  petit enfant (car alors I ‘âme était dans son enfance) qui, tenant dans sa main un certain nombre  de petits brins de paille ou de bois, les voit en général d’une vue vague et superficielle, sans pouvoir  les compter ni les distinguer. Mais qu’on mette  une espèce de pavillon, ou d’étendard, à cette pièce  de bois, par exemple, qu’on appelle mât, qu’on en  mette un autre à un autre pareil corps; que le premier venu se nombre par le signe 1 et le second  par le signe ou chiffre 2 ; alors cet enfant pourra les  compter, et ainsi de suite il apprendra toute I ‘arithmétique. Des qu’une figure lui paraitra égale à  une autre par son signe numératif, il conclura sans  peine que ce sont deux corps différents; que 1 et 1  font deux, que 2 et 2 font 4,* etc.

Julien Offray de La Mettrie, L’homme machine, 1747

In modern times, some artists have reinterpreted this vision: Fritz Kahn, a physician and writer of popular science books, was the responsible for the idea of several illustrations (made by others on his instructions) representing human physiology as operated by machines and depicting the body as a factory, relating it to the industry and his spaces, so common at that period of time. This link shows an animated and interactive application made in 2009 by Henning M. Lederer and based on Kahn’s poster “Man as Industrial Palace” from 1926.

The first apparatus that can be considered as intended to imitate mental processes (a mental automata), probably more symbolic than real, are the calculating machines. In the 18th century the concept of “mathematical automaton”, that corresponds to the model designed by Pascal, was that of a system composed of gears and other pieces intended to produce the movement of printed or engraved figures and to performe the rules of arithmetic. A century later, Babbage’s machines, especially the analytical engine, marked an important step forward in the process of automatization, not only of mathematical operations but also of mental tasks. The purpose of his machines, that can be considered as an extension of the human brain, was to avoid human errors in the calculus, and they reflected Babbage’s idea of translating the division and organisation of physical tasks into mental processes (as Gaspard De Prony did in the Enlightenment to produce logarithmic and trigonometric tables for the French Cadastre). Some authors attribute him the intention to automate intelligence but Babbage himself dismissed the idea that his machines were able to think; as Ada Byron stated:

The Analytical Engine has no pretensions whatever to originate anything. It can do whatever we know how to order it to perform. It can follow analysis; but it has no power of anticipating any analytical relations or truths. Its province is to assist us in making available what we are already acquainted with”.

Ada Augusta Lovelace, “Sketch of the Analytical Engine invented by Charles Babbage Esq. By L. F. Menabrea, of Turin, with notes upon the Memoir by the Translator”, 1843

Although his machines, and especially the analytical engine, were provided with memory and were capable of taking decisions, it was not human being but industry that Babbage had used as a model. As a matter of fact, at that time also factories were considered as automata, an idea that is well reflected in this quote from Andrew Ure:

Some authors, indeed, have comprehended under the title factory, all extensive establishments wherein a number of people co-operate towards a common purpose of art; and would therefore rank breweries, distilleries, as well as the workshops of carpenters, turners, coopers, &c., under the factory system. But I conceive that this title, in its strictest sense, involves the idea of a vast automaton, composed of various mechanical and intellectual organs, acting in uninterrupted concert for the production of a common object, all of them being subordinated to a self-regulated moving force. If the marshalling of human beings in systematic order for the execution of any technical enterprise were allowed to constitute a factory, this term might embrace every department of civil and military engineering; a latitude of application quite inadmisible.

Andrew Ure, Thre Philosphy of Manufactures, Londres, 1835, pp. 13-14.

For a long time, it was not accepted culturally and socially that machines could be capable of reproducing mental faculties. This mistrust continued well into the XXth century, when the first computers were designed:

It was towards the end of 1946 that the British public first began to hear about computers, which the press would insist on calling electronic brains. In November of that year, Lord Louis Mountbatten used this term to describe the ENIAC in an address he gave to the British Institute of Radio Engineers. Hartree wrote to the Times protesting, but adding that it was true that an electronic calculating machine “can be set up in such a way as to exercise a certain amount of judgement”. He was challenged to explain exactly what this meant by a correspondent who observed that the left hand would seem to be giving back what the right hand had taken away. In a second letter, Hartree defended the use of the word judgement, but in terms so obscure that his readers can have been left little the wiser.

In spite of all protests, the press continued to use the term electronic brain, along with certain variants, for example, mechanical brain and giant brain. This, together with the general use by computers designers of terms –such as memory– based on physiological analogy, made some people jump to the conclusion that the claim was being made that computers were something more than mere machines. The matter surfaced in the press in June 1949, when Sir Geoffrey Jefferson, Proffesor of Neurosurgery at Manchester, delivered the Lister Oration to the Royal College of Surgeons, taking for his title “The mind of Mechanical Man.” Jefferson evidently thought that dubious statements were being made and that he should refute them. His flights of rhetoric about machines not being able to write sonnets and know that they had written them, or feel emotion, were eminently quotable and were a gift to the press. “When we hear it said that wireless valves think”, he said, “we may despair of language.”

Turing was asked for his comments. What he actually said will never be known, but what came through in the Times was that the main preoccupation of the University of Manchester was to find “the degree of intellectual activity of which a machine was capable and to what extent it could think for itself”. This was too much for Dom Illtyd Trethowan of Downside Abbey who wrote to the Times expressing the conviction that all responsible scientist would be quickly to dissociate themselves from this work; he mentioned Butler’s Erewhonians who felt the necessity to guard themselves against the possible hostility of the machines and stated his own belief that men are free persons. In the true traditional style of Times letter writing, he ended by demanding to know how far Turing’s opinions were shared, or might come to be shared, by the rulers of the country.

Maurice Wilkes, Memoirs of a Computer Pioneer, The MIT Press, 1984, pp. 195-196.

Today, the interest in automata is related to the intense debate over artificial intelligence, the limits of machines capable of thinking and making decisions, and the shift in certain human initiatives such as creativy or responsibilities. Some of the machines that are being developed are aimed at solving a specific problems or exectuting specific task, and others seek to imitate human beings, including their mental processes.

For further reading see Bernadette Bensaude-Vincent and William R. Newman (eds.) (2007), The artificial and the natural: an evolving polarity, The MIT Press; Víctor Guijarro & Leonor González (2010), La quimera del autómata matemático. Del calculador medieval a la máquina analítica de Babbage, Madrid, Cátedra (especially chapters III and VII); and Simon Schaffer, “Enlightened Automata”, in William Clark, Jan Golinski, and Simon Schaffer (eds.), The Sciences in Enlightened Europe, Chicago University Press, 1990.


New devices, processes, methods, ideas… reach their real meaning and dimension in the social and cultural context. Effectiveness, industrial, economic and social improvements, and the final utility of a rich variety of proposals depend on how a society perceive them, and on shared fears and expectations about change and future. Some societies together with different groups do not regard innovations as substantial means to transform their worldview. Novelties in this case are just seen as tools with immediate practical applications. Supreme values are instead those that contribute to enhance group cohesion; if something threatens this perspective, it will be dismissed. In ancient Greek culture, innovative tendencies implicit in arts were restrained (not eliminated) by political and moral invocation of prudence. Innovation in this case doesn’t have the same connotations as it has in western cultures, at least since the Renaissance. From this time on, the argumentum ad novitatem (appeal to the new; something is better only by virtue of being new o newer) has been recurrently proclaimed in particular moments to emphasize the superiority of moderns over ancients, to underline in sum the radical opposition between present and past times. Innovation then became a symbol. Moreover, modern mentality is grounded in the rejection of tradition and consequently in the promotion of innovations and technology. The twentieth century has sacralized the concept and has converted it in an essential part of the search for resources to improve citizen conditions, where the state has a crucial responsibility and therefore dedicates part of the budgets to promote particular programs in areas such as health, industry and military forces (or national security). Science is seen in this context as a valuable and even unique source of innovation. But according to George Basalla this restrictive assumption has to be modified in order to accept other origins:

In the twentieth century, however, science has come to play a much larger role in the creation of technological innovations and hence deserves separate treatment. Proponents of scientific research have exaggerated the importance of science by claiming it to be the root of virtually all major technological changes. A more realistic and historically accurate assessment of the influence of science on technological change is that it is one of several, interacting sources of novelty.

The evolution of technology, Cambridge, CUP, 1999, 92.

The same author points out a variety of elements to explain innovations: psychological and intellectual factors (technological dreams, technological visions, impossible machines, popular fantasies, transference of knowledge, imperialism, migration, practical knowledge, environmental influences, and science) and socioeconomic and cultural factors (economic motivations, market demands, workmen shortage, patents, and laboratories of industrial research). To conclude with Basalla’s words:

That the process of innovation involves the interplay of psychological and socioeconomic factors is generally agreed. An overemphasis on the psychological elements leads to a genius theory of invention, one in which the contributions of a few gifted individuals are featured. An excess concentration on the social and economic elements yields a rigidly deterministic explanation that presents an invention as the inevitable product of its times. Because it is so much easier to identify socioeconomic influences than it is to delve into the workings of innovative minds, and because we have yet to produce a theory capable of fully integrating the psychological, the social, and the economic in any realm, a satisfying unified explanation of innovation remains more an ideal than a realty

(Basalla, 1999, 65).


Being one of the central concepts of Western civilization, the progressive perspective regards the present stage in an accumulative historical process as superior to the previous one. Human evolution is thus a tendency that implies in the long run an improvement. What is important in this vision is that the samples of the material culture (the innovations) represent proofs of a continuous course of perfection (ad novitatem argument). The state of technology is then contemplated as an indicator to measure or evaluate the progress of societies and groups. Historically, the idea of progress received the influence of other previous conceptions, from the Christian linear notion of time to the assumption that humans have the capacity to improve themselves by observation, experience and learning, or the human’s willingness to think that domination of nature is a valuable task. Throughout the modern era, these elements suffered a process of secularization, and it was in the eighteenth-century when progress and the advancement of material lifestyle were seen as complementary phenomena. According to Frank E. Manuel & Fritzie P. Manuel, “The Esquisse [written by Condorcet] was the form in which the eighteenth-century idea of progress was generally assimilated by Western thought. Condorcet wrote his manifesto with full awareness of its world revolutionary significance” (Utopian thought in the Western World, 491). The “Ninth Epoch” of Marquis de Condorcet’s Outlines of an historical view of the progress of the human mind [1795] is a tribute to the conquests of science as well as to the applications derived from them; the following fragment is an adequate example of this conception:

We may shew the influence which the progress of mechanics, of astronomy, of optics, and of the art of measuring time, has exercised on the art of constructing, moving, and directing vessels at sea. We may shew how greatly an increase of the number of observers, and a greater degree of accuracy in the astronomical determinations of positions, and in topographical methods, have at last produced an acquaintance with the surface of the globe, of which so little was known at the end of the last century.

How greatly the mechanic arts, properly so called, have given perfection to the processes of art in constructing instruments and machines in the practice of trade, and these last have no less added force to rational mechanism and philosophy. These arts are also greatly indebted to the employment of first movers already known, with less of expense and loss, as well as to the invention of new principles of motion.

We have beheld architecture extend its researches into the science of equilibriums and the theory of fluids, for the means of giving the most commodious and least expensive form to arches, without fear of altering their solidity; and to oppose against the effort of water a resistance computed with greater certainty; to direct the course of that fluid, and to employ it in canals with greater skill and success.

We have beheld the arts dependent on chemistry enriched with new processes; the ancient methods have been simplified, and cleared from useless or noxious substances, and from absurd or imperfect practices introduced from former rude trials; means have been invented to avert those frequently terrible dangers to which workmen were exposed. Thus it is that the application [229] of science has secured to us more of riches and enjoyment, with much less of painful sacrifice or of regret.

In the meantime, chemistry, botany, and natural history, have very much enlightened the economical arts, and the culture of vegetables destined to supply our wants; such as the art of supporting, multiplying, and preserving domestic animals; the bringing their races to perfection, and meliorating their products; the art of preparing and preserving the productions of the earth, or those articles which are of animal product.

Surgery and pharmacy have become almost new arts, from the period when anatomy and chemistry have offered them more enlightened and more certain direction.

The art of medicine, for in its practice it must be considered as an art, is by this means delivered at least of its false theories, its pedantic jargon, its destructive course of practice, and the servile submission to the authority of men, or the doctrine of colleges; it is taught to depend only on experience. The means of this art have become multiplied, and their combination and application better known; and though it may be admitted that in some parts its progress is merely of a negative kind, that is to say, in the destruction of dangerous practices and hurtful prejudices, yet the new methods of studying chemical medicine, and of combining observations, give us reason to expect more real and certain advances.

 [From Online library of liberty,]

Twentieth Century World Wars and totalitarianisms, left and right, marked the decline of the overoptimistic confidence in progress. The idea of a global progress in the terms established in previous centuries, understood as a linear tendency towards higher stages of material and moral improvements, is now regarded as an illusion. A new perspective is then demanded for the determination of social advances (or the passage from “inferior to superior”) focused on small-scale contexts instead of on universal criteria. In sum, as Robert A. Nisbet pointed out in his classical book History of the idea of progress (New Bruswick, Transaction Publishers, 2009, p. 6):

Quite obviously, so sweeping a proposition as the idea of progress as just described cannot be empirically or logically verified. One may say, precisely and verifiably enough, that the art of medicine or the art of war has advanced, given our perfectly objective ways of noting the means toward the long-held end or purpose in each art: saving or healing life; destroying one’s enemies as effectively and lastingly as possible. Plainly, penicillin is, and can be proved to be, superior to old-fashioned remedies –blood-letting or leeching, for example. And modern artillery is superior to cross-bows and boiling pitch.

Matters become more complicated, though, even within either of these specialized, technical domains, when we ask what the overall effects are –environmental, social, moral, demographic, spiritual, and so forth- of even the kind of progress we see in the art of medicine. One need only think of the present burgeoning, fast-spreading area of thought known as medical ethics, including the right to die with dignity amid all the technological achievements by which the dying can be held indefinitely in that suspended state, to be reminded of the extent to which even the oldest of ethical issues can become activated by technological success in medicine.


It is one of the main topics in cultural understanding of technology. In this perspective, technology is represented as the key driver or governing force of the main social changes and values. One of the first formulations of this view of social development came from the German philosopher Karl Marx (who considered transitions to the feudal system or to the capitalist system as determined by particular technologies such as the hand-mill or the steam-mill). His conception was embedded in his philosophical premises, in those that assume that all major transformations in the social superstructure and in the cultural practices depend on the material conditions. Technological determinism assumes that all patterns of social existence are conditioned by technical factors. Nevertheless other versions of this theory reject this vision of explaining social change and development and stress a distinction between two approaches: technology as a necessary and sufficient condition, and technology as a necessary but not sufficient condition (soft determinism). Technology then supplies opportunities or occasions to a social transition but it would be a matter of discussion that material factors were the unique cause of the transformations alluded to. In the following lines we reproduce a fragment of Karl Kautsky’s paper “Nature and Society” (December, 1929), where the autor, a revisionist of Marxist orthodox interpretations, expresses the inadequacy of a strict technological deterministic position.

Technology by itself, however, does not suffice to explain the entire working of society. One must not understand what I just said to mean that the same mode of production and the same form of society always and under all circumstances correspond necessarily to a certain technology […] I specially emphasize the difference between technology and the economy and that different economic formations can be linked to the same technology […] A large-scale enterprise can assume different economic forms that are independent of its technology: it can be the enterprise of an individual capitalist or of a corporation or of the state or of a workers’ cooperative. How a particular technical apparatus is applied at any one time depends not only on its technical characteristics but also on the nature of the society in which it appears […]

A knowledge of a particular technology is not sufficient for our understanding of a particular form of society. But it is always technical innovations that provide the impetus for a movement of the society. What is new in society is in the last analysis always traceable to a new technology that produces new economic conditions and social relations. In society and its economy there is no moving force through which it could by itself continue to develop without the impetus of technical innovations […]

[“Natur und Gesellschaft”, Die Gesellschaft, (Berlin), vol. 6/2, No.12 (December 1929), pp.481-505, publ.: International Journal of Comparative Sociology XXX, 1-2 (1989)]

The acceptance of a strict technological determinism implies that technology is out of human control; that progress is inevitable; that every culture follows the same developmental path, and that technology is neutral. Melvin Kranzberg discusses the latter assumption in the statement presented as his first law of technology: “Technology is neither good nor bad; nor is it neutral”, which condenses the idea that technology has numerous social, moral, ecological consequences that go beyond its most immediate scope and applications. Present times provide us examples of alternative versions of technological determinism. Just to mention one case, this mentality is assumed in the projects intended to improve third world socio-economic status through the deployment of technologies that facilitates free access to information (internet).


The concept refers to the process of assimilation by one culture of the material practices of another group, or to how a culture has to reshape in order to accommodate technological practices together with its own values (order, causal sequence, functionality, efficiency, uniformity, utility, motion, energy, speed…). A quotation from a representative example of a scholarly work will shed light on the use of this perspective to understand the meaning of technology in particular social contexts. The text is focused on the USA culture from the second quarter of the XVIIIth through the XIXth Century. In the preface, the author John F. Kasson offers a general account of what it is assumed to explain the place of technology in a cultural framework (Civilizing the Machine. Technology and Republican Values in America, 1776-1900 (Nueva York, Hill and Wang, 1999, orig. 1976)):

The problem upon which this study concentrates –addressed on various levels from the Revolution throughout the nineteenth century- is the meaning of technology for a republican civilization. The precise terms of America’s republican ideology were never firmly fixed. Quite the contrary, in its very fluidity, republicanism formed the subject for intense debate from the moment of the Revolution onward, ranging between conservative warnings of an excess of democracy and egalitarian complaints of its inadequate fulfillment. The rapid development of machine technology and the process of industrialization as a whole altered the context of this discussion and fundamentally tested the country’s republican commitment on a number of levels. As Americans reflected upon the proper place of technology in a republic, they were compelled to articulate the kind of civilization they desired for the nation. They had to re-examine their conceptions of the entire social order and determine how best to maintain social cohesion and purity. Concern for social consequences of industrialization sparked renewed consideration of the degree of social opportunity and the meaning of egalitarian principles in a technological society. Technology raised equally vital questions for the imaginative and cultural life of the nation. New machinery and modes of communication enormously expanded the range of human perceptions, but they also threatened to dull the individual conscience and creative spirit. As technology dramatically reshaped the physical environment, it also transformed American’s very notions of beauty and raised critical issues of the proper art form for a republic. By the closing decades of the nineteenth century, these and related concern swelled to a climax as the future of republicanism in a technological age appeared hedged at once by millennial hopes and bitter doubts.

Processes of adaptation, integration and assimilation of cultures, and how they affect individuals and practices, are classic topics examined in the fields of psychology, anthropology, and sociology. These studies provided us with valuable models, like the one purposed by the psychologist John W. Berry (reproduced below as a version of the graphs included in his paper “Acculturation: living successfully in two cultures”, International journal of Intercultural Relations, 29, 2005, 697-712), which might be of great utility for the understanding of the meaning conferred to technology by a minority or a dominant group. Also related to this concept are the terms westernization and cultural assimilation.Berry's acculturation model