This review has been accessed  times since July 6, 2001
Bowers, C. A. (2000). Let Them Eat Data: How Computers
Affect Education, Cultural Diversity, and the Prospects of
Ecological Sustainability. Athens, GA: The University
of Georgia Press.
Pp. 216
$18.95 (Paper)
ISBN 0-8203-2229-6
Reviewed by Bryan R. Warnick
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
July 6, 2001
The
costs of using computers in the classroom are various and
real. To his credit, C.A. Bowers has been one of only a few
voices in educational literature to cast a critical eye on
the uses and abuses of computers in the classroom. Although
now there are more voices joining Bowers in his criticism
(Clifford Stoll is an example of another prominent critic),
there are still too few. Indeed, I recently reviewed the
New York Times's archive of articles dealing with
technology use in education and found very few articles that
were anything but celebratory in tone. Given this lack of
critical discussion, the real costs of using computers in
educational settings remain almost completely untallied. In
his latest book, Bowers has gone a long way toward achieving
a deeper understanding of how using computers in classrooms
affects students as he places the computer in a broader
context of environmental and cultural degradation. This is
itself a service. In addition, as he develops his critique,
Bowers outlines a method that may be helpful in not only
analyzing the relationship between educational technology
and environmental destruction, but may also be useful in
looking at more general issues in education.
Bowers's
main thesis is that computer use reinforces the attitudes of
the Western Industrial Revolution, and that this, in turn,
leads to environmental corruption. His stance is fairly
pessimistic, and he seems to find only a little hope that
using computers as educational tools will yield anything but
negative consequences. Although I will be critical of some
of his more pessimistic conclusions, I believe Bowers's
focus on the cultural experience of computer use itself
is an important contribution to the study of technology
in education. His analysis deals with a topic that is
rarely broached in educational discourse, and Bowers's book
is timely in filling this lacuna of discussion.
In his
introduction, Bowers outlines some of the global
environment's most pressing problems: exploding
overpopulation, exhaustion of agricultural land and
fisheries, global warming, hazardous waste, and harm caused
by synthetic chemicals. These environmental problems,
Bowers argues, will be the major headache of the
21st
century, and they are already having a demonstrably
detrimental impact on human health. The first half of the
book, comprising chapters one to four, reveals the general
complicity of the computer in worsening environmental
problems; the remainder of the book examines this complicity
with specific reference to educational concerns. Bowers
attempts to end the book on a more positive note, exploring
ways of reversing the environmental and cultural damage
wrought in an environment of technological ubiquity.
Bowers, of
course, does recognize that computers have been used for
environmental action and cultural conservation, but he
quickly dismisses such activities as unable to justify
computer use in education. For Bowers, programs posing as
environmental learning software merely further the illusion
of computational neutrality with respect to the environment
that may deflect attention from the real problems inherent
in the learning technology. He reviews how the cyberworld
has been glowingly represented to the public by such writers
as Sherry Turkle (1995) and Howard Rheingold (1991). These
writers have praised the attitude of decentered subjectivity
encouraged by the computer, and the on-line community
creation made possible by the Internet. Bowers, however,
shows the darker side of these same attitudes and thought-
patterns. He argues that the subjective, decentered
attitudes hailed by computer enthusiasts as personally
liberating, are in reality culturally and environmentally
destructive, and reducible to a devil-may-care
individualism. He also adds to the list other attitudes
that are reinforced by computer use — moral relativism,
a disregard for “local” knowledge,
anthropocentrism, and other such demeanors — and shows
how these ways of thinking play a role in thwarting the
prospects of ecological sustainability.
As a
mechanism for how the computer reinforces these ecologically
unsound postures, Bowers turns to metaphor theory. Western
industrial culture is based on what he describes as certain
“root” metaphors that embody the culture's
assumptions about human beings and their place in the world.
The root metaphors of Western culture stem from the Book of
Genesis which, according to Bowers, “extols the
mythopoetic narrative that led to viewing men as dominant
over both women and the environment” (p. 27). By
looking at more recent history, Bowers traces our current
fascination with materialist, technological lifestyles back
to the birth of Modernity and its mechanistic view of life
processes. Of particular concern is the master narrative of
organic evolution which has served to spawn the social
Darwinism often supported by computer advocates generally,
and artificial intelligence enthusiasts specifically.
A culture's
root metaphors give coherence and unity to cultural systems;
they are an often unnoticed, though omnipresent, feature of
a culture's linguistic and ideological heritage. New
dimensions of experience are understood and structured by
analogic connections to these root metaphors. Thus, we
understand a new experience by relating it to the familiar
schema, or, in other words, by relating the new experience
to preexisting frameworks that organize the concepts of
mental life. With few exceptions, Bowers describes this
process quite clearly, although he is a little stingy in
providing evidence for these claims. He merely asserts such
important declarations matter-of-factly and moves on. He
does, however, seem to agree with the research of linguist
George Lakoff and philosopher Mark Johnson's work in
conceptual metaphor theory, although he mentions them only
to criticize them for not going far enough in explaining
what he calls “iconic” metaphors. While there
does seem to be support for Bowers's view, he does not find
it necessary to cite much of the relevant research.
How does
Bowers relate his theory of metaphor to computer use? Since
root metaphors pervade nearly every aspect of culture, these
metaphors structure both how a culture's technology is
formed and, later, how that technology is understood and
experienced. Thus, technology is a carrier of a culturally
specific set of values and world-views. The experience of
technology is an encounter with the cultural world-views
surrounding the technology's creation, and this experience
serves to reinforce that particular world-view and to
obscure any competition. The experience with a technology
strengthens certain attitudes while cloaking the possibility
of alternative ways of thinking.
For Bowers,
the attitudes that are reinforced by computer technology are
those of Western industrial culture, and as such are
attitudes that have grave implications for the environment.
Computers reinforce ways of thinking that favor:
explicit and decontextualized knowledge (data,
information, and models, with not clear authorship);
subjective judgement and individual autonomy; language as a
conduit of sender-receiver communication; subjective
experience of temporality, where the value of cultural
traditions and responsibilities to future generations is
individually determined; instrumental and subjective
morality; and human-Nature relationships dominated by
anthropocentrism. (p. 158)
As evidence for the claim that the experience of the
computer perpetuates these cultural attitudes, Bowers points
to the writings of enthusiasts of technology and science
that contain representations and endorsements of these
attitudes. On pages 29-33, he cites specifically the work
of Francis Crick, Howard Rheingold, Michael Benedikt, Sherry
Turkle, and Nicholas Negroponte. Bowers gives examples
where these authors describe and celebrate the positions
listed above.
Bowers pays
particular attention to how Western culture's individualism
has structured technology and how technology, in turn,
reinforces an sentiment of individualism:
With the exception of the near-total immersion of
virtual reality, the experience of self-other relationships
in cyberspace amplifies the culture of autonomous
individualism in various ways. The words, graphics, and
images of the screen represent decontextualized forms of
text that require individual interpretation and
analysis. (p.34, emphasis added)
In short, because the realm of cyberspace is
decontextualized from natural constraints, it is subject to
the individual will — everything is controllable by the
will of the solitary computer user. Since nothing is moored
to a preexisting context, everything may be rearranged
according to individual preferences.
Bowers is
surely right that the experience of the computer reinforces
an attitude of autonomous individualism. Other sources can
be brought in to further establish this point. The
experience of a computer-mediated environment is said to
facilitate the possibility of absolute individual creation.
Computer films such as Tron (1982) and more recently,
The Matrix (1999), portray computer users as
having magical powers within the computer world —
limits and boundaries are nonexistent and reality depends on
the whims of the user. Studies of the ethics of groups of
programmers, e.g., Hackers, repeatedly show a strong
individualism — an individualism that, it seems, has
been reinforced by exposure to cyberspace. Often, the
reason given for this attitude is similar to the reason
offered by Bowers: it is attributable to the malleable
nature of cyberspace. “Cyberspace represents,”
writer Scott Bukatman tells us, “a completely malleable
realm of transitory data structures in which historical time
is measured in nanoseconds and spatiality somehow exists
both globally and invisibly” (1993, p. 18). There is
an “absolutism of powers which are imagined to inhere
within an electronic reality” (104). Cyberspace is not
limited by the context of natural laws, as Joseph Weizenbaum
points out:
An engineer is inextricably impacted in the material
world. His creativity is defined by laws; he may, finally,
do only what may lawfully be done. The computer programmer,
however, is a creator of universes for which he alone is the
lawgiver. . . .[U]niverses of virtually unlimited complexity
can be created in the form of computer programs. Moreover,
and this is a crucial point, systems so formulated and
elaborated act out their programmed scripts. They
compliantly obey their laws and vividly exhibit their
obedient behavior. . . .[T]he corruption evoked by the
computer programmer's omnipotence manifests itself in a form
that is instructive in a domain far larger than the
immediate environment of the computer. (1976, p.
115)
Other testimony could be given, and it seems as though there
is a chorus of voices supporting the idea that the
experience of a computer, with its total subjection to the
individual will, reinforces this particular attitude of
individual supremacy. Thus, Bowers's description of the
attitudes reinforced by computer use, and the methods he
uses to explain this process of reinforcement, both seem
supportable.
But why
would these attitudes be troubling to those concerned about
ecological sustainability? Bowers answers this question in
his third chapter by arguing that the experience of
computers is the replacement of “local knowledge”
with data. He writes, “To digitize thought and
aesthetic expression is to abstract them from their
multilayered cultural and ecological contexts” (54).
In contrast, ecological sustainability demands an intimate
knowledge of context — a knowledge of place and of the
culture that has learned to live in that place. The
abstract computational impulse works against local
knowledge, that is, against personal familiarity with a
place's streams, grasses, soil, trees, weather. This is the
knowledge that becomes vital in directing responsible human
activity, such as intelligently situating a house, sewing
crops, and preserving plant and animal diversity. Bowers
continues:
Knowledge of place, when it is deeply embedded in
personal experience and understood as an intergenerational
responsibility, also includes knowing who were the earlier
inhabitants, their technology and economy, and the
mythopoetic narratives at the base of their moral community.
It also involves knowledge of immediate ancestors and what
they learned or failed to learn as they build their
community on the moral and conceptual baggage they brought
with them in their immigration. We receive this knowledge
through stories of their previous experiences with the land.
(p. 64)
The essential knowledge of how to take care of a particular
environment is learned from the people who have come to
grips with the demands of the land. Thus, the experienced
members of a cultural group, those who possess the
“elder knowledge,” hold the key to ecological
sustainability in any given region. This is the knowledge,
though, that is devalued by science and computers. It is
not easily abstracted, generalized, digitized, or turned
into data. The individualism reinforced by computers reacts
against cultural restraint. Computers, in demanding
abstraction and promoting individual autonomy, devalue
local, elder knowledge.
Certainly,
Bowers arguments are strong in many ways. Where Bowers goes
wrong, however, is in taking too limited a view of cultural
experience perpetuated by computer technology. One may look
to other sources for a more complete picture. As one fills
out the picture, it becomes clear the experience of
computational technology may not entirely lead destructive
environmental attitudes. As an example to a more complete
picture, I turn to David Bennahum's account of “coming
of age” cyberspace. He writes of himself and his
young, technologically savvy friends, that as they began to
use technology more and more, they:
were seeing individual objects as part of larger objects
that in turn formed a complex whole. The same kind of
thinking would be reinforced later as we discovered
computers, which came as both mechanical systems
(connections of printers, disks, monitors, and central
processing unit) and virtual systems (connections of
separate programs within an operating system) . . . . These
emergent systems, from ATARI-DOS to credit reports, medical
records, air-traffic control, video games, word processors,
font design software — all the infinite permutations of
what a digital computer can create — were certain
principles, a way of thinking. Paramount was the sense that
everything in the world was based on interlocking systems,
and systems of systems. This was reflected in the
architecture of computers and software. (pp. 37,
101)
This thought-pattern, what has been called “systems
thinking,” is commonly mentioned when the experience of
the computer is discussed. The computer, it seems, creates
a feel for how various components of a system fit together
into a larger, interdependent whole. Under Bower's own
method, we could say this experience creates a metaphor, a
metaphor of interconnected systems, which is then used to
structure the larger world. Under this metaphor, the world
is seen as a computer system — a complex whole that
depends on the interworkings of its various sub-systems.
One does not
need to think very hard to determine that this “systems
metaphor” may be profoundly ecological; it focuses on
relationships between essential parts and the larger whole.
Water, air, animals, cultures, and plants are all parts of
an interdependent system, and to make sound environmental
decisions one must recognize this interconnection among
parts. Computer use, by reinforcing the systems metaphor,
strengthens a world-view that recognizes this
interdependence, and thus contributes to understanding
ecological systems. In this regard, the computational
experience would seem to reinforce sound environmental
thinking. Bowers may still want to object, though, that a
metaphor which portrays the world as an interconnected
computer system is environmentally unsound because it
suggests that one can manipulate ecological systems like one
manipulates computer systems. Whatever the case, it seems
that the interplay of computational metaphors is complex,
and at the very least it appears that we should be cautious
about classifying these metaphors as wholly good or bad.
I am also
uncomfortable with granting Bowers's premise that the
attitude of individual autonomy is entirely destructive to
ecological thinking. This trait is destructive to
ecological sustainability because, for Bowers, an autonomous
individual is not subject to tradition, and cultural
tradition often contains the wisdom of how to live in
harmony with local environments. This might serve as a
reason to keep children away from computers in a society
where there does exist a tradition of ecologically
sustainable elder knowledge. But in 21st century Western
culture, there is little in the way of environmentally sound
“elder knowledge” possessed by the dominant
culture. The prevailing ideology is one of consumerism and
environmental exploitation. Now, it seems that in this sort
of world we would want students to be cultural rebels of
sorts, that is, to be autonomous people not sucked away into
the ideology of consumer culture. Thus, limiting the
formation of an ethos of autonomy may not be the best policy
if one wants to stay the tide of environmental destruction.
Environmental action is accomplished by political action.
To act politically is to act autonomously — to act
politically means to act, as individuals or as community,
and not to be acted upon. Thus, the ethos of autonomy
reinforced by the experience of the computer may be
beneficial to the environment in some ways, while at the
same time promoting destructive attitudes.
The second
half of Bowers's book deals more specifically with
education. Bowers complains, rightly, that the discussion
of computers in schools on both local and national levels
has been too narrow, and he specifically cites the lack of
discussion about cultural and environmental issues. Of
particular interest to educators is Bowers's attack on
constructivism in education (a constructivist approach is
said by many to be enhanced by computer technology).
Constructivism, which Bowers understands to be the view that
“students learn by actively constructing rather than
acquiring knowledge,” is both misleading and harmful.
It is misleading for Bowers because it ignores the fact
that, if children learn any sort of symbolic medium, like
language, they are being socialized into that culture's
world-view. Thus, by participating in a culture's symbolic
heritage, the student is not really constructing knowledge
but instead is being sculpted from the outside.
Furthermore, constructivism is harmful because, “The
emphasis on the child as constructor of knowledge appears to
support liberal assumptions about freedom, progress,
individualism, and an anthropocentric world” (148).
For Bowers, these views marginalize cultural ways of
knowing. These are controversial claims, indeed, and
whether Bowers is ultimately right or wrong (or right and
wrong), he has done the educational community a service by
asking new questions about a popular educational idea.
Bowers does
not focus entirely on the computer experience itself, and
does discuss some educational software. The titles that
come under his critical gaze include: Storybook Weaver,
DynoPark Tycoon, Oregon Trail II, SimCity 2000, SimLife
and Environmental Education Toolbox. Like the
computer experience itself, these software titles suffer
from the problem of being based on culturally specific
assumptions. Often these programs give primacy to a child's
subjective impulse instead of focusing on cultural or
environmental context (as in Storybook Weaver), or
they portray success in life wholly in terms of market value
and profit (as in DynoPark Tycoon) or in terms of
placing one's culture on a foreign land (as in Oregon
Trail II). Even the more environmentally-oriented
programs (such as SimLife and Environmental
Education Toolbox) suffer from serious flaws. Most
prominently these programs often give the impression that
complex systems can be scientifically managed; this attitude
is for Bowers part of the problem. Abstract,
decontextualized science is not the answer; cultural
knowledge gained while living in a place for centuries is
the answer. Thus, Bowers urges teachers who use these
programs to teach against them, that is, to examine
critically the assumptions that may work against ecological
sustainability.
At this
point, though, Bowers curiously seems to de-emphasize what
he had argued in the previous chapters. When speaking of
how to improve classrooms for ecological sustainability he
writes, “[One] approach would be to introduce a
comparative cross-section of culturally based ecological
practices into the design of educational software,” and
complains, “students' encounter with the thought
processes and values of educational software designers is
too often a source of miseducation” (p. 175). The
suggestion (and the complaint) here seems to be that
software could be designed in ways that promote critical
environmental reflection. The first section of the book,
however, argued that the experience of the computer
itself, apart from any software it is running,
undermines ecologically sound attitudes. Under this first
view, it would be impossible to eradicate miseducation at
the level of the software. But Bowers is probably just
being realistic here. Computers are not going anywhere, and
since they are not, it is better to work within the given
framework to undermine, as best one can, environmentally
destructive attitudes. A more radical view, though, which
more neatly follows from Bowers analysis, is the complete
rejection of computer technology in education as it
currently exists.
Bowers ends
his book with seven important points for educators. These
seven points sum up his major arguments. He argues that we
should be aware: (1) of the differences between Western
technologies and more ecologically sound cultures, (2) of
alternative approaches to technology when making democratic
decisions involving technology, (3) that further study is
needed on how modern technology changes culture and
commodifies relationships, (4) that a more complex view of
culture is needed than what is currently presupposed by
modern technology enthusiasts, (5) that technology affects
language and thought patterns, (6) that issues of justice
arise when technology and the nature of work intersect, and
(7) that we should understand how the computer carries
cultural assumptions that threaten diversity and
sustainability.
This is
sound advice. More importantly, though, it seems that the
main contribution of this book is moving the discussion
about technology in the classroom toward dealing with how
technology affects language, metaphor, attitudes, and thus,
the social world. Computers, Bowers helps us realize, are
themselves educators. Computers make moral, political,
cultural, and environment arguments, and it is time that
these arguments were discussed in the educational community.
Bowers has shown how such a discussion might proceed by
focusing on the arguments computers make in the domain of
ecology. But this is only one domain of human interest, and
the rest remains unexplored.
References
Bennahum, D. S. (1998) . Extra Life: Coming of Age
in Cyberspace. NY: Basic Books.
Bukatman, S. (1993) . Terminal Identity: The Virtual
Subject in Post-Modern Science Fiction. Durham, NC:
Duke University Press.
Lakoff, G., & Johnson, M. (1980) . Metaphors we live
by. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.
Rheingold, H. (1991) . Virtual Reality. NY: Summit
Books.
Stoll, C. (1999) . High-Tech Heretic. NY: Anchor
Books.
Turkle, S. (1984) . The Second Self: Computers and the
Human Spirit. NY: Simon and Schuster.
Turkle, S. (1996) . Life on the Screen: Identity in the
Age of the Internet. NY: Simon and Schuster.
Weizenbaum, J. (1976) . Computer Power and Human
Reason: From Judgement to Calculation. San Francisco,
CA: W.H. Freeman and Company.
About the Reviewer
Bryan R. Warnick is a doctoral student in Philosophy of
Education at the
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. His research
interests
include Philosophy of Technology, Ethics, and Philosophy of
Mind as these
disciplines relate to educational theory and practice. He
holds a B.S.
degree in Philosophy and Psychology from the University of
Utah.
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