“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

[secrets0stolen]

Great, great essay I just found. One of those things you appreciate if for no other reason that it gives us a chance to turn our assumptions upside down.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been thinking about a line by science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
We’re often told that when Europeans first invaded the Americas, various indigenous peoples perceived many European technologies or trappings—including big ships, domesticated horses, armor, guns, and so on—as magical or as sent from gods. Likewise today when we think about extant indigenous peoples encountering airplanes (or pop bottles falling from the sky), movie theaters, televisions, telephones, or other pieces of modern technology, we can sometimes believe—rightly or wrongly—that indigenous peoples continue to perceive these technologies as forms of magic, or as the work of gods (crazy or not). I’m not sure if this is always true—not only because I’m not indigenous and so don’t know their experience, but also because I’ve seen videos of indigenous peoples firing arrows at helicopters, which suggests they saw these helicopters not so much as being magical as being intrusive—but it does seem to me that it would make a certain amount of sense, in that when we—any of us—see something new, our first impulse is often to attempt to categorize this new thing according to our current perceptual framework. Of course. Until and unless one’s current perceptual framework is broken or otherwise abandoned (insofar as a perceptual framework can ever be fully abandoned), it will in great measure determine our interpretations of everything we see. So a person who believes in magic and who sees the divine in everything will quite possibly perceive new things within that framework, perceive them as magical, as manifestations of the divine. Likewise, a person who believes in capitalism will quite possibly perceive new things through the lens of how he or she can make money off of them. We see this latter all the time, as those who believe in capitalism—which sadly, is most people in this culture—will not only attempt to make money off of, for example, global warming (see the moneylust with which the capitalist press is describing the potential for profit as melting icecaps open a northwest passage as well as new oil fields), but will also in general project their greed and propensity to exploit onto the natural world. Or another example: nice people often perceive others as nice until their perceptual framework is smashed, and more hostile people often are quicker to perceive hostility. And another: if I believe nonhumans are sentient, I will, all other things being equal, be more likely to perceive some new action by a frog or tree or river as a sign of this other’s sentience, and if I believe nonhumans aren’t sentient, I will, once again all other things being equal, be more likely to perceive that same action as reinforcing my belief that these others don’t think. And so on. It’s pretty straightforward: believing is seeing, until something dramatic happens to shake my original belief.
There’s another way, then, to view the original contacts between the civilized—those who rely on the technology of machines—and the indigenous, who are generally considered by nearly everyone within this culture to be technologically backward (after all, they never invented chainsaws), and whose cosmologies are considered by many of the civilized to be based on superstitions, that is, based not on sound scientific principles, but rather on magical thinking, on such nonsensical actions as rain dances or conversing with plants, nonhuman animals, spirits, ancestors, and so on. Many of their cosmologies are based on what to the scientific mind would not be considered principles involving direct cause and effect. In short, many of the civilized look down their noses at the indigenous, and can say, voices dripping with either scorn or condescension and pity, “They believe in magic.”
I know that the word magic is used in this sense pejoratively, but what if we remove the implied insult and ask, what if these people are right? What if traditional indigenous people do believe in magic? And more to the point, what if Arthur C. Clarke’s statement, that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, is also correct? What are the implications?
Years ago Jeannette Armstrong went to northern Russia to stay with traditional indigenous peoples there. The people were hungry because the caribou had not shown up. Then one day one of the people in the village who was skilled in these matters declared the caribou were in a valley some distance away. Hunters set off, found the caribou, killed some to eat, and brought back food and skins. Jeannette asked the man how he knew where the caribou were, and he responded, “How do you know where your hand is?”
I have read credible accounts of indigenous peoples conversing with rain clouds, rivers, mountains, trees. I have read credible accounts of one indigenous culture—now driven extinct by the dominant culture—in South America where the members of their communities routinely shared dreams, by which I don’t mean they talked about their dreams on awakening, but rather that everyone in the community dreamed the same dream. How did they do this? And how did indigenous peoples discover that certain poisonous plants can be turned into powerful medicines through complex preparations (grinding, curing, boiling, skimming, and so on)? Was it trial and error, as some scientists suggest, or was it because, as the indigenous say about their own processes, the plant told the people what to do?
Or how about this: many traditional indigenous peoples were able to meet human needs while actually improving the health and biodiversity of the land where they lived (as do other wild beings, such as salmon, cedars, waxwings, grosbeaks, and so on).
Is that magic enough for you?
Jeannette told me another story of the indigenous. Early in the Zapatista uprising in Chiapas indigenous peoples from all over the world gathered for ceremonies. One ceremony took place in a school gymnasium. Jeannette noticed that at the start of the ceremony the lights hanging from the ceiling started to sway. She elbowed the person next to her, looked up. He followed her gaze, then nodded. As soon as the ceremony ended, the lights stopped swaying. Again she elbowed him, looked up. Again he followed her gaze. Again he nodded. Then he said, “And that is why they [the civilized] want to kill us.”
Is that magic enough for you?
But maybe it’s not magic at all. Maybe it’s just a technology sufficiently advanced to seem like magic to us. Oh, I’m not talking about any technology so primitive as to require gadgets. I’m talking about technologies involving songs, dreams, the interpretation of dreams, awareness of one’s surroundings, the ability to communicate with—which definitely includes listening to, believe it or not—one’s surroundings. How did that man know where the caribou were? Was it a lucky guess? Was it because he smelled something? Was it because he knew the caribou so well that he knew where they would be? Was it because the caribou gave him a dream? Was it because he had been taught by his elders how to interpret a dream from the caribou? Was it because he had been taught how to smell the air, how to listen to the wind? Was it because, as he said, he and the caribou are part of the same body? How had he learned to perceive this, and to work with it?
Advanced technologies—whether or not they involve machines—are complex and demanding. They must be learned. They must be supported by a communal infrastructure. They don’t just happen.
Think about it. You’ve probably seen an automobile. You may even have driven one. But could you make one from scratch? All by yourself? I know I couldn’t. For me to build a car—this piece of advanced technology—requires complicated mining, energy, transportation, and economic infrastructures in order to deliver the materials to my home. It requires the knowledge of how to form metal parts into necessary shapes (as well as the ancillary technologies, equipment, and infrastructure to form them), and then the knowledge of how to fit them together. It requires the proper tools to fasten them, as well as the fasteners themselves. It requires significant commitment and sacrifice on my part.

[secrets0stolen]

Continued...

Why should we not expect as much about these other technologies? Why, apart from ethnocentrism and arrogance, would we presume these other non-machine, “magical” technologies do not also require communal infrastructures? Why would we presume they wouldn’t require knowledge that has been passed down and built upon for generations, analogous to how the dominant culture has been building upon its knowledge for generations (except that many indigenous cultures are far, far older, with at least the potential then for older lineages of understanding and technology)? Why would we presume that to work with these technologies would not require years of training, sacrifice, dedication? Why would we presume they would not require tremendous precision? Many ancient figurines and paintings, for example, do not show people in random poses, but rather are precise instructions for exact positions people can assume in order to induce trance states, with different positions shown by different figurines and paintings yielding radically different trance experiences.
There’s a sense in which our magical thinking can be seen as efforts—however feeble and untrained—to reconnect to these ancient technologies, and the near-ubiquity of this impulse for magical thinking can be seen as a marker of not just our propensity to live in denial (although that propensity is certainly overwhelming, at this point), but rather as a marker of the strength of our ancient, embodied connection to these “magical” forces and processes.

[secrets0stolen]

Continued...

That’s one sense. There’s another sense, however, in which much magical thinking is not only lazy—how much less work is it to try to sing back the salmon than to remove a dam?—and not only is it a toxic mimic of real magic, it is grossly disrespectful of the complex technologies required to perform real magic. To say that people can merely “dial in” if they feel like it (and “if you can’t, no big deal”) is to say that anyone can operate these advanced and complex technologies, no commitment or knowledge (or effort) required. Would we say the same about constructing and flying an airplane? Would you want to ride in an airplane built and piloted by people with such minimal understanding and dedication? I wouldn’t. So why should we expect these dabblers to be any more successful at the technologies of “magic” than we would their equivalents if they dabbled in aeronautics or aviation? And why should we trust them any more?
Magic happens. It’s all around us. Sometimes it leaks into our lives. But these leaks reveal mainly the power of magic or the numinous, such that even those who know nothing about magic, who have no communal infrastructure to support it, and who have made no particular commitment to it (and in some cases are actively committed to worldviews that disavow it completely) can still perceive it, if only vaguely. To fully enter into relationship with these technologies requires a commitment as deep and broad and abiding—if not moreso—than the commitment required to fabricate machine-based technologies.
Of course the question arises: if indigenous peoples had (and some still have) such advanced technologies, how has civilization conquered nearly all of them (and will probably conquer the rest as soon as the civilized decide to steal the resources on these people’s lands)? Doesn’t that prove that the civilized have more advanced technologies? Isn’t that the general rule, that those with more advanced technologies generally conquer those with more primitive technologies?
Well, they do and they don’t. It depends on what you mean by technology, and it depends on what are the functions of your technologies. The question ignores the fact that different technological strains have different functions. A straightforward example should make this clear.
Let’s say you and I are going to be locked in a room where we will fight to the death. We each get to bring one and only one piece of technology to this fight. Would you rather have a relatively primitive 1873 “Peacemaker” Colt Single Action Army revolver (in perfect working condition with plenty of ammunition)—or if necessary, the even more primitive sword or club—or would you rather have what is supposed to be currently the world’s most technologically advanced laptop computer, the Macbook Pro (complete with a 2.6GHz Intel Core 2 Duo, next generation 802.11n wireless, gorgeous upgraded displays, wickedly fast NVIDIA graphics, and a beautiful 17-inch monitor)? If the laptop doesn’t seem likely to do the job for you, you can instead choose an Iphone. They’re pretty darn advanced. Or if you don’t think computers will help you, you could instead choose a bag of remicade, which is a highly technologically advanced medicine made of a combination of mouse and human genetic materials. It works wonders on arthritis, Crohn’s disease, and even ankylosing spondylitis. Or how about the most modern vacuum cleaner? A CD player? Microwave oven? No? I’m sure you can see that all of these technologies are far more advanced than a 135-year-old gun (and infinitely more advanced than a sword or club), so they should serve you better in your attempts to kill me, right?
I’ll take the gun, please.
The point is clear: to compare a gun to a CD player is to compare apples to oranges. The same is true when we compare this culture’s technologies to the technologies of many other cultures. Different technologies have different goals, and whether one person is able to kill another using some piece of technology is no indication of which person holds more technologically advanced tools. Nor is it an indication of which culture is more technologically advanced, more evolved, or, to get to the point, smarter. It might be an indicator of which has more technologically advanced means to kill, and it might be an indication of which culture has a greater propensity to kill, regardless of technology.
The fact that we even have to talk about this—the fact that a common belief is that one reason this culture has conquered most of the rest of the world is that this culture has more advanced technologies—says much about this culture’s relationship to technology, and what is the primary thrust and purpose of this culture’s technologies: it makes clear something we don’t often like to talk about, which is that the raison d'être of so much of this culture’s technology is conquest. This shouldn’t really surprise us, of course, since this culture is based on conquest (as Stanley Diamond famously wrote, “Civilization originates in conquest abroad and repression at home”); it could not be what it is without conquest; it could not continue without conquest; and as we’ll see over the next few years (because we live on a finite planet and there are fewer and fewer places remaining for it to conquer), it will collapse quickly without constant conquest and theft. So of course this culture’s technologies will be primarily technologies of conquest, of domination, of control (as George Draffan and I made clear in Welcome to the Machine, the function of a machine is to convert raw materials to power: this is no less true for this entire machine culture than it is for a particular machine such as an automobile or forklift). This culture’s economic system is based on conquest, domination, control, exploitation, theft, and slavery. This culture’s governmental systems are based on conquest, domination, control, exploitation, theft, and slavery. This culture’s religions are based on conquest, domination, control, exploitation, theft, and slavery. This culture’s epistemology (these days, science) is based on conquest, domination, control, exploitation, theft, and slavery (and if you don’t believe me, just ask Francis Bacon). This culture is based on conquest, domination, control, exploitation, theft, and slavery. So we’d be foolish to expect this culture’s technologies to follow a different path.
But other technologies, other epistemologies, other religions, other forms of governance, other economic systems exist, some of which are based on principles other than conquest, domination, control, exploitation, theft, and slavery. Some are based on long term (as in thousands of years) mutually beneficial relationships. In fact these other technologies, epistemologies, religions, forms of governance, economic systems, and so on, are quite natural, and until this culture began to destroy them, lasted far longer than this culture has.
I have a friend who lived for a time in northern Pakistan. While she was living in Hunza Valley, she had conversations with a ninety-eight-year-old-shaman who told her (amongst other things) that what we call magic isn’t magic at all, but in fact forces who have existed from the beginning of time and who can be harnessed, “but only if you listen and show respect.” My friend told me that “He compared his belief in these forces to things like this culture’s discovery of magnetic fields and electricity, saying if hundreds of years ago anyone had claimed that lights would turn on at the flip of a switch or that you could talk with someone thousands of miles away using a c-shaped utensil, people would think of it as ‘magic.’ The biggest difference, he said, between believers in science and believers in magic is that the former use the forces they harness to advance ‘the human project’ only, with no respect for the forces with whom they’re interacting, but rather an attitude that these forces should be bent to their will and made to ‘perform.’ . . . He told me that eventually these forces will tire of us and ‘bite us in the arse.’ He laughed out loud as he said this last bit. Practitioners of magic, on the other hand, mainly interact with the forces they understand to exist with a respect and awe for the forces themselves and with the understanding that these forces may or may not choose to respond. Further, the use of this ‘magic’ was not only for the benefit of humans but all ‘things which have spirit.’”
My friend dreamed of Hunza the night before we talked about magic. She told me, “I was standing outside my room looking at Rakaposhi (as I used to). I saw the peak change from white to grey and in my dream I was terrified. Usually when I dream of Hunza I wake up happy. But I realized that this dream was the peak letting me know its extreme distress. It needs our help. This culture is killing everything, and we need to stop it.”

[Elrond]

tl;dr: western tech is not ecological enough.