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“Utopia” is both literally and etymologically “not a place” [οὐ (ou, “not”) + τόπος (tópos, “place, region”) + -ία (-ía)]. Since utopia does not and can never exist, it follows that utopia is a relative place, a relative idea. What is the utopia of an aircraft bombs manufacturer? A contract with their country’s government that stipulates all that is made must be bought and an endless bombing campaign in another country that will keep their contractually bound customer buying. I suppose you are thinking that I am being as cynical and as I am dark in my example. But my point is so cold and flippant precisely to illustrate what a person’s utopia says about the beliefs and biases that underlie their idea of a “utopia.”
Dystopias are well-known as being allegorical or exaggerated expressions of certain phenomena seen in the real world that a literary critic asserts a writer to have wanted to explore, or sometimes even that a writer themself said was written to explore. To my mind, the utopia is the antithesis of the dystopia, not merely because it is the “perfect world” to contrast against the “terrible, miserable world,” but also because what it presents as solved problems versus what it omits mention of reveals the author’s own personal biases and blindspots.
For instance, Plato’s Socrates makes a telling admission about how he views the society of Ancient Greece when he talks about his interpretation of law (the abstract concept) and how it would function in his ideal society (his utopia). On page 37 of the pdf, he says “the law is not concerned with making any one class do outstandingly well, but is contriving to produce this condition in the city as a whole, harmonizing the citizens together through both persuasion and compulsion[.]” Ancient Greece was a slave society. While there were freemen and the exact proportion of freeman and enslaved people varied from one place to another, a significant proportion of labor was conducted by enslaved people. It was of course illegal for an enslaved person to seek their freedom. Plato was born to an aristocratic family, which surely meant he was waited on by enslaved attendants. Thus, the fact that he thought law in an ideal, utopian society would be for everyone together to be harmoniously raised up to their highest standard of being---always acting as they were supposed to (like not escaping)---and not for the domination of some over others is no great surprise. In fact, this "oversight" (kindly called) causes this perfect society turn into its opposite, at least for those opposed to slavery, namely the enslaved people themselves.
While in my example I talked about Plato, Thomas More's Utopia (the book that originated the word) explicitly features slavery, which most people today would agree has no place in anything claiming to be a utopia. Below is an illustration of Thomas More's fictional island of Utopia.
In Plato’s Republic, Plato suggests that the best rulers for an ideal state are philosophers who possess the most fundamental understanding of the world, making them suitable to govern the entire city. Such individuals are commonly referred to as philosopher-kings. Democracy, on the other hand, emphasizes the legitimacy of rule by the masses,which forms the foundation of modern politics. However, in Socrates' discussions, the so-called masses are identified as producers who indulge in various pleasures.
In Socrates' view, philosophers would not willingly take on the role of rulers for the city-state. Therefore, as a compromise, he suggests cultivating the philosopher-guardians to serve as rulers, constituting a less ideal political structure. Educated guardians, possessing qualities of selflessness and readiness to sacrifice their lives, are capable of maintaining order internally and defending the security of the city-state. Plato argues that the guardians of the city should be the finest men and women, and as such, they should not have private homes, land, or property that could corrupt them or cause internal strife. They are to share expenses, women, and children, and unlike ordinary citizens, they no longer have the naive and foolish conception of happiness driven by power and desire. Plato envisions that they would bring happiness to the city-state. He strips the guardians of any private lives, turning them into entirely public individuals. Therefore, in this "beautiful city," most people are "one-dimensional," either public or private.
As human, we require different dimensions of life—some private, some public, at times private, at times public. This is our nature and essence. We are both political animals and familial creatures; we need both public life and private life; we need rationality as well as desires and emotions. After 2500 years, the world has found that there is no sustainable monarchy because perfect monarchs are rare. There is also no uncorrupted aristocracy, as the so-called guardians are more susceptible to corruption due to their positions. However, democracy, as Plato described, is indeed dominated by the masses indulging in various pleasures, tending towards chaos. Currently, most countries adopt a representative democracy. Then, I cannot continue writing because I truly do not know what system would follow democracy. I lean towards small-size countries with democracy, because then the parliament can focus on a small range of issues and the interests of the public would be similar. The competitions among world of countries would be fierce, but a balance of power would prevent major conflicts. Of course, I’m rambling. Socrates Drinking the Hemlock,by Antonio Zucchi
When discussing Utopia, inevitably we are drawn to the question of the status of freedom and of security. Generally, there is a balance between these two forces that is constantly navigated in public policy. In order to have more freedom, one must accept a less secure world due to the nature of accessibility. In order to have more security, that accessibility is restricted for all, limiting the choices available in life. This balance is a conscious choice that every parent makes with their children, every organization makes with their information, and every state makes with their populations. The United States leans towards a free society with a greater acceptance of risk, while China, for instance, leans towards a more secure society with a restriction of some free thought and some individuality.
Naturally, in fiction, there is a desire for protagonists to “fight” against oppressive systems and yearn for a freer self, a freer family, or a freer society. This is an example of resetting this balance that has been skewed towards one trait more than the other. However, there are less instances of protagonists “fighting” against freedom to create a more secure world in the same way. Instead, such stories are framed in other ways. “The terrorists are about to bomb something; the heroic cop will stop them by any means necessary”. “The secret agent sees something that no one else sees, and thus must do whatever it takes to stop this threat”. Fear drives us in the direction away from freedom, and towards greater centralization of security.
These examples of increasing securitization are the result of our natural desire to feel safe. When the world becomes scary, whether through actual threats or perceived ones, we desire that safety above our freedom of choice. We believe that our bodies need to be preserved first, since without our physical selves, our ability to choose is meaningless. However, such implicit logic prioritizes the immediate while discarding the future. This thinking categorizes humanity’s greatest flaw: short-sightedness. We were built to survive, and we can cope with threats to that survival well when we can tangibly counter it immediately. And yet, this balance is skewed towards security when considering this flaw, since we take greater immediate comfort in feeling safe than in being free to choose.
Both of this week's readings hint at the potential for rulers or societal authorities to make good faith decisions that result in poor outcomes. In Plato's The Republic, Thrasymachus acknowledges that rulers may unintentionally establish laws that go against their best interest but are nevertheless adhered to by subjects. "The Machine Stops" illustrates that a system originally designed to protect citizens from harm and ensure longevity can, in reality, lead to their demise. Despite our presumed good intentions, the decisions we make today may cause increased harm in the future. As Carl Bergstrom put it last week, we have no way of knowing how our current internet use and information streams will impact collective behavior. Due to the bounded rationality of humans and the uncertainty inherent in decision-making, I advocate for the implementation of strict mechanisms to regulate emerging technologies and industries in society as well as to restrict the power of vested interests.
This is an important strategy for avoiding "dystopia" and minimizing existential risks like climate change. After the August 1945 bombing of Hiroshima, the government decided to begin development of the hydrogen bomb despite protests from scientists. Then, in 1958, scientists discovered that CO2 levels were rising due to the burning of fossil fuels, and companies in the oil and gas industry largely remained unchecked and bought out policymakers. In 2001, scientists found that the PFOA used by DuPont in their Teflon products was linked to cancer and birth defects. PFOA was an unregulated chemical at the time, and DuPont used it while hiding evidence of its danger to protect profits. Today, we are rapidly developing AI technology without safety and risk mitigation procedures in place to restrict firms. Will we repeat history?
Those entities responsible for making sweeping decisions on behalf of society should be subject to more intense regulation and monitoring. Though they may believe that their actions will translate to positive outcomes, this may not necessarily be the case. For instance, technology companies should be required to conduct red teaming, whereby people from outside the organization are responsible for identifying security weaknesses. By incorporating regulations upheld by non-vested interests, firms can continue to pursue rapid development while acting in the service of the greater good. Further, firms must be transparent with the general public and open to scrutiny. We must take proactive measures rather than reactive measures going forward or else we will find ourselves heading toward dystopia before we know it.
"The Machine Stops" by Forster shows the danger of over-reliance on technology, from which humanity is actually endangered by dependence. It leads to dystopia where there is an extreme loss of autonomy, creative potential, and human connection. This sense of world makes this possible where people depend wholly on a global, omnipotent Machine in order to survive, communicate, and entertain themselves. This parallels Plato's concerns in "Republic" about the need for balance, wisdom, and beingware of being out of touch with the natural world and truth knowledge.
Qualitatively, this is characterized by the degradation of human competency in critical thinking, problem-solving, and the intrinsic value of personal experiences and findings. It would qualify quantitatively in the universal prevalence of mental health disorders, decreasing physical fitness, and a diminished ability of society to face technological crashes or manipulations.
This risk would intersect with other existential risks such as environmental destructive, especially where the dependence on technology leads to increased consumption of resources and detachment from the realities and limitations of the natural world.
Plato's idea of the philosopher-king, a wise ruler whose governance bases on virtue and knowledge, presides over the development of those principles whose function is to lessen the risk of technological dependency. Such a concept is suitable for the modern world; it would promote leadership and decision-making in the realm of technology development and policy, informed by ethical considerations, the long-term well-being of society, and the fostering of balance between technological development and human values.
For instance, interdisciplinary think tanks that include philosophers, ethicists, technologists, and policymakers would help establish the guidelines and frameworks that guide the rightful integration of technology into society. This would include sustainability, proper use of AI, and the promotion of technologies that enhance rather than displace human interactions and experiences.
The educational system will have to be reformed in such a way that critical thinking, ethics, and emotional intelligence have been emphasized along with the STEM subjects that prepares them for a world in which technology supports human life rather than dictating it. This is analogous with the Platonic notion of educating the just and virtuous citizens and the warning indirectly communicated by Forster against the dictation of human life by technology.
In conclusion, to fight against technological dependency and loss of autonomy, society will have to employ a multi-pronged approach to integrate both ancient philosophical wisdom with modern technological caution. Through good leadership, collaboration with interdisciplinary colleagues, education reform, and a shift in the cultural paradigm, one may strive towards creating an environment where technology improves rather than diminishes the human experience.
I doubt I am going to be making any new observations that have not been covered by every poli-sci 101 class world over, but Plato's visions of dystopia and utopia in The Republic are very self serving. His characterization of leadership as an innate characteristic of the soul that can not be taught, proverbial gold mixed into your very being, and later advocacy for a republic form of government wherein leaders are raised up from birth explicitly for the position both stand to support a society where philosophers like himself are revered as the enlightened leaders and the rabble of society (including literal slaves at the time of writing) are kept away from the apparatus of leadership for their own good. However, paired with The Machine Stops, I found myself thinking about how all narratives of dystopia and utopia are somewhat self serving. The archetype of the dystopia, in essence, is the natural end point of the political perspective the author is in opposition too; the dark end of the slippery slope. As The Machine Stops shows, this characterizes many utopian narratives as well, burring the dystopian lead a warped vison of a perfect society as if to say "you may think this society is ideal, but look closer and see what I worry about." Both archetypes serve as rhetorical conduits for fundamentally political arguments. I think this same idea can be applied to narratives about the apocalypse. Even before the advent of the man made existential threat, human history is littered with apocalypse narratives with subtextual (or plain textual) messages about how society should be organized or how people should act within it. From Revelations to Ragnarok to nebulas ideas of "the revolution," history is replete with apocalyptic/psudo-apocalyptic narratives of society being overturned for its wickedness or immorality, punishing the damned and saving the righteous few who will build the true society thereafter. Like dystopia and utopia, its a fundamentally political archetype that accelerates political alignment past a natural end state and all the way to the destruction or redemption of society. In the post-nuclear era, where existential threats are no longer confined to narrative devices and instead pervade our daily lives, I think it is worth evaluating how our narratives of the apocalypse have changed and how they have stayed the same. The popularity of post-apocalyptic narratives, showing life and society after the end, and the dearth of true one-and-done apocalypses narratives I think is one indicator that these narratives are still fundamentally about politics before the end. As before, they are narratives about the types of societies that bring about ruin, and if whatever comes after will fall into the same pitfalls or learn from past mistakes. We always like to think that the world ending would be some sort of societal reset from which our own views will rise triumphant. Same as it ever was.
In "The Machine Stops," we encounter a profound existential crisis that mirrors some of our contemporary dilemmas and almost certainly projects our future ones. Forster's work reflects on how "The Machine develops - but not on our lies. The Machine proceeds - but not to our goal". Here, Forster captures the essence of a historical trajectory where technological progress, once a means to human ends, becomes an end in itself. The Machine's development diverges from human needs and desires, illustrating a profound disconnect between human aspirations and technological advancement. If this were truly to be our future, it seems we would have lost control over our own creations.
The centralized, omnipresent Machine represents a form of governance where control is ceded to that one entity. It's a critique of a political system that values efficiency and uniformity over individuality and freedom, leading to a society where "it has robbed us of the sense of space and of the sense of touch; it has blurred every human relation and narrowed down love to a carnal act". This dehumanization and loss of personal agency in the face of systemic control mirrors contemporary concerns about our surveillance, data privacy, and ultimately the erosion of personal liberties.
Although it's pretty clear, at least in my view, that the super intelligent horizon poses a lot more existential threat than benefit, many see technological advancement as an unalloyed good, a pathway to utopia. While others, like I and many others in this class, see it as a road to dystopia, where human values and connections are lost. I think the unmitigated optimism stems from framings that might consider technology not as an autonomous force but as an extension of human agency and values. The issue is in our strive for technological superiority and competitive advantage, we will never stop improving and getting closer to the Machine level of super intelligence. I think this leads to necessitating a reevaluation of our relationship with technology.
Ethically, the crisis in the passage raises questions about our responsibility to future generations - what kind of world are we creating and leaving behind? Religious interpretations might view this as a modern Tower of Babel, an overreach that defies natural and divine orders. Against invites us to rethink our relationship with technology, not as passive consumers or victims of an unstoppable force, but as active agents shaping a future that aligns with our deepest values and aspirations.
Throughout all of history, one can identify an idea of a “Machine” that is feared. At one point it was the calculator, at other moments (and even still) it was the computer, and now it can be located in numerous technologies. Such a “machine” represents an extreme acquisition of power, attention, and focus. Forster’s “The Machine Stops” nicely reflects this fear and focus. I most appreciated its reflection of the existential fear around digital hyper-connection leading to extreme disconnection, “The room, though it contained nothing, was in touch with all that she cared for in the world” (p. 4). Everything in this environment is operated by different buttons that can acquire music, clothing, food and even communications with Vashti’s friends… sound familiar? The wording of this environment includes, “...all that she cared for in the world..” and this reminded me of the role and agency we have in such a dilemma in our value systems. Despite all the technology that surrounds us, we are able to determine our values as it was all that "she" cared for. However, rather than having agency and being active players, we tend to act in passive manners. This to me is at the core of the existential crises presented by technology. The lack of agency many take is reflected in Forster’s piece. Alone in her room, Vashti chats with friends and presses buttons for entertainment or food. In her once description of the “outside” or “real” world, she communicates that there are, “No ideas here” (p. 9) and closes the blinds. The subtle presence of agency, and lack of acting on it throughout the piece effectively reflects the existential crises we are in related to passivity. If only Vashti aimed to find ideas and not be fed them, maybe she would have greater desires. I wonder what you all think of the role of passivity in the technological existential crises we face, is it at the center of it, or a symptom of it?
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Article "The Humans of ‘WALL-E’ Were Probably Better Off Without Him" by Jon Negroni
Upon reading The Machine Stops, we witness what a future could look like in front of our eyes: a uniform lifestyle with all immediate needs taken care of. Comfort is the name of the game. Risks don't need to be taken when a robotic machine can take care of any problematic issues offhand.
As we have studied before with AI and the gradual spread of information, there is a natural human incentive of curiosity. Curiosity to learn about the world, harness our own individual goals, and fulfill our potential desires for years to come in the future we set ourselves to experience. And all that hard work should culminate in something that we should feel happy about, right? It SHOULD bring that joy and prosperity that The Machine does for our characters in the text. However, I believe that the end goal of comfortable living, as shown throughout The Machine, only limits human potential and creates a problematic future with no self-control.
By subjugating oneself to something that can solve any problems, the critical thinking that has defined human achievements for generations in society is not necessary. A future where a human is unable to see solutions is not one that allows for beneficial societal practices. Problems are solely reliant on the leader that can bring the proper solution - the control - of the machinery that is automated to run smoothly. But as referenced through the text, gambling internal self-control for something that is "expected" to work as it should leaves all freedom of choice at the doorstep. By giving away something as priceless as that skill of control, the future is held in the arms of something out of our grasp.
I believe a middle-ground solution could be to seek comfort and resources to help promote our goals of success, but maintain curiosity through the lack of some available resource. The Machine has shown what happens when we have everything we could ever need - but some things cannot be achieved through machinery. The first thing that comes to mind is human connection/emotion, something that is difficult, if not impossible, to replicate. Automation does not solve all problems - some things can still be met through human to human bonding. Regardless of the proper solution, the notion that comfort is not a finish line that breeds prosperity is extremely important. There are layers beyond success, especially in regards to the human condition in an ever changing technological landscape.
Just because robots can do something better doesn't mean humans can't also bring their own style of thinking!
One thing that struck me about The Machine Stops is how the dystopia the bulk of humanity finds itself in applies to the bulk of humanity. In general, I think this is how we tend to think about whatever final shape society takes: good or bad, everyone is in the same boat. But, when has that ever been the case? Ignoring the idea that many instances of utopia and dystopia are highly hierarchical, and thus intrinsically unequal, to imagine a world in which one system manages to govern all of humanity is an extremely unrealistic assumption. To further imagine that all of the world experiences this massive benefit or extreme exploitation equally is still more difficult. We've talked in class about how many of the existential threats we have covered threaten certain groups, generally smaller third-world nations, disproportionately relative to how much they contribute to the problem. I think this consideration is inevitable even if we wish to speak of creating a perfect society rather than destroying the one we have. Is one singular perfect society meant to encompass all of humanity's cultural and regional differences? Or, is some dystopic nightmare not going to exploit certain areas earlier and more destructively than others? I think that some part of the world will nearly always exist on the fringes, suffering more than anyone else even if that suffering is not great compared to today.
One example that comes to mind is in 1984. When describing the current state of the world, it is mentioned that certain parts of Africa, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia are constantly being fought over by the major powers so that the population there can be used essentially as slave labor to keep the rest of the regime going. Now, the Proles in 1984 certainly don't live good lives, but they noticeably are not living in completely desolate, war-torn areas doing back-breaking labor under visible threat of immediate and brutal violence. Even in the most terrible world Orwell could imagine, exploitation is unequal. I think that speaking of utopia and dystopia is very worthwhile and extremely fascinating, but I think treating these concepts as a true universal poses a great threat to areas that historically do not reap the same benefits from "progress" as the rest of the world. I worry it promotes a "they'll be fine in the end, so why help them now" mindset, or something akin to it, which is terrible enough on its own before realizing that they may never be fine in the end, and that is by design.
The map of the world in 1984 that I reference, in which much of the poorer regions of the modern world remain disproportionately exploited even in the dystopic society of the setting. The beige territory currently represents well over a third of the world's population.
The lessons of E.M. Forster’s short story, The Machine Stops, and the selections from Plato’s Republic intersect and have lessons for today. Both revolve around an allegory of a cell or enclosed place but authority has divergent relations to the cell in the two texts. In The Machine Stops, authority places people in cells. In Plato's Republic it tries to free people from them.
Both texts have rulers oriented to impersonal ends, but the Machine in The Machine Stops doesn't truly serve the people. In Book One of the Republic, Socrates introduces the idea that a ruler should not rule according to what is advantageous to them but rather according to the interests of the people over which the ruler rules. In The Machine Stops by E.M. Forster, the machine is the ruler. At first glance, the machine coheres to Socrates’ model of ruler, because the machine aims to serve the interests of the people. By nature, it does not have its own interests. However, it takes serving the interests of the people to the extreme, in a way that violates the peoples' interest. The main character, Vashti, thinks that previously society had been confused, the functions of the system, “had used it for bring people to things, instead of for bringing things to people.” (5) This simple phrasing speaks to a larger truth about authority and technology. Authority and technology work best when it helps people go places, whether in the form of an intellectual destination or in the form of social mobility. When authority and technology force people into places –- instead of helping people arrive at physical and intellectual destinations -- society can cease to function properly. At an extreme, can force people into cells of The Machine Stops.
Socrates’ ruler shares the Machine's orientation towards impersonal ends but differs because it aims to help people leave the proverbial cell instead of remaining entrapped in it. Socrates imagines the ruler someone who helps free people from the cave. The ruler helps people understand platonic ideals, ideals of intellectual forms (the “truth of fine, just, and good things”), and but also ideals that relate to forms of the physical world like the beauty of nature. Socrates notes that when people can see these things, there will be fewer factions, less fighting. It is a call for education. But is education just a call for education? Socrates suggests that this education is the basis of understanding what is beautiful, good, and just in society in order to better it. With a view towards these things, the people can participate in organizing themselves in ways that are beneficial to all. Far from forcing people into boxes, Socrates’ ruler can watch as people organize to follow better social systems for themselves. In terms of considering the future, and existential risk, pedagogy and research should be considerate to these broad philosophical questions of what is beautiful, what is good, and what is just. Without attention paid to these intersecting questions, our efforts to address one dystopian reality may create a different type of one. Still, the beautiful, the just, and the good should not adopt rigid definitions. I sense, this is also an aim of education. With an eye towards intellectual openness, one can understand how certain different forms of something can share similar qualities of an ideal or reach for an ideal in differing ways.
Allegory of the cave:
In Plato’s The Republic, Thrasymachus tells Socrates that it is just to obey rulers, but he also admits that rulers are liable to error; there are some rules that are made correctly and others incorrectly. When a rule/law is correct, we can see what advantages come out of it for the rulers themselves. When a rule is incorrect, we can see what disadvantages come out if such a rule/law. When thinking about or reading stories on utopia/dystopia, we are always drawn to questions of sacrifice of freedom, lives (literal and individuality), or knowledge in exchange for safety and security. For example, in The Machine Stops, Vashti details why being muscular is a demerit: there isn’t space for children with stronger physical compositions to run around and play because there are no more trees to climb, rivers to bathe in, and meadows or hills to play on. Most of all, people live underground now and fear being above the surface. In Fahrenheit 451, Guy realizes the government burns books to limit the information that people have about the world because it made people unhappy. Even games like We Happy Few, dive into the government mandated medication of “Joy Pills” to ensure that people are happy and forget unpleasant memories.
The risks above are the most reoccurring with dystopian narratives, but they don’t appear to be the most realistic outcomes right now because of how opinionated people are; people will always fight for their right to individualism and other freedoms as the world becomes more progressive. Something that I notice, however, is that preceding these intense rules tends to be some sort of disaster that shakes up society and the structures in place. These laws are intended to keep some semblance of peace. I wonder how likely it would be then for futures like the ones we see in dystopian fiction to play out. If we go back to Wallace-Wells’ concerns about human capacity to normalize catastrophe, we can either not imagine great disasters or we have hyper imaginations about disaster that can distract us from the current issues we face. Can governments enact these harsh laws and get away with it?
There are only a few ways that fiction (at least the fiction I've encountered) situates itself with respect to the contemporary setting of its author(s). When it tells a story about people living in the same world as, a very similar world to its author, or the past, we tend to call this literary fiction and award it the most prestige. But stories can also take place in wildly different worlds, or in worlds that have only a few differences (but still crucial differences nonetheless). We tend to call this type of fiction "speculative," or "science-" if the changes are particularly drastic or it takes place very far in the future. But no matter how drastic, the differences treated by speculative writers are almost always reflective of the anxieties of their time.
Margaret Cavendish wrote in 1666 what is widely considered to be the first science fiction novel, titled "The Blazing-World." In an age of exploration, she wrote about what insane things we might find in the as-yet-inaccessible regions of the world—she finds a portal to another society at the north pole, when people wouldn't even start trying to go there for at least another 200 years. In the utopian world she found there, absolute monarchy was the most effective way to rule a diverse populace. It makes us remember that her own king, Charles II, only attained the throne after being in exile during the Interregnum, a decade-long period of constant civil war in England.
For more than a century, much of our speculative fiction has been focused on technology rather than politics—though the two are often hard to separate. What will new technologies do to us? Can we maintain our human identities if these technologies appear to work against us, or even simply to be handed down from godlike beings such as aliens? One of my favorite works of speculative fiction, Ada Palmer's Terra Ingota series, draws sweeping conclusions from the advent of really fast intercontinental transit. Should we take literally the idea that if we were to invent really fast flying cars, the basic structure of human civilization (the family) would completely turn itself on its head, and the global leadership would become an incestuous cabal of devour Rousseauians? Probably not, but I believe that the function of science fiction is less to say anything specific about the consequences of small or large changes to society and more to be examples of the higher-order, longer-term thinking we should all be doing in an age when we are faced with truly revolutionary technologies. No one work of science fiction, utopian or dystopian, is sufficient to say anything. Instead we require a robust tradition of this kind of speculation to thoroughly analyze our present situation and the things that might cause it to change.
Forster's work in particular is really interesting because he is primarily a writer of literary fiction creating rich depictions of all aspects of early 20th century British life, and yet this short story has lived on as one of the most prescient instances of speculative fiction I can think of. What will technology do to us? Isolate us by pretending to connect us. And how!
The reliance of society on technology is a focus of many different pieces of literature. It is evident in The Machine Stops that not only do people rely on it, but they also idealize it. There are striking similarities in The Matrix as well where it looks like it’s a utopia in many ways until they are out of the simulation. In both worlds, there is a full dependence on this technology as the world is almost uninhabitable outside of it. They both clearly portray a world where this technology does not act as a complete replacement for human life as we know it. In The Machine Stops, the son says that what he sees and what he hears is like his mother, but not actually his mother. A simulation is hardly better than that. The interactions between individuals in a simulation are only genuine when you don’t realize it's a simulation. Even though the technologies in these worlds are powerful and enable us to escape the realities, they are both still portrayed as a dystopian society. Many of these technological applications have the potential to materialize and be perceived as advantageous additions to our lives. For example, social media already has many aspects similar to the Machine. You can’t properly see someone’s facial expressions from behind the phone, and you can get pinged from anyone from anywhere. So, at what point do these technological advances turn into a dystopian society?
Many technological advances are being made in fields such as medicine and agriculture, but they are unlikely to solve many of the larger problems we face. In most fiction, while the technological advances start positive, they soon turn into a dystopian society. We want these advancements to eliminate mundane and bothersome tasks. However, as we see in The Machine Stops, if we take away our basic functionality, we end up completely relying on the technology. While using technology can often be easier, some things are just not the same as seeing or doing things for yourself. In fiction, technological advancements often correlate with the lack of power for the individual. It comes in many forms, such as with the reliance on technology or even surveillance technology such as in 1984, but almost all of them take away the sense of individuality. Already, we have algorithms that send certain information that aren’t necessarily accurate at people who are likely to believe them. Many of our generation’s views are shaped by these social networks. The algorithm often checks your demographics, so that it can shape your views and take away your sense of individuality. It is important to have strong government regulations in place combined with good education to ensure that our sense of individuality and control is not compromised by technological advancements.
I thought that “The Machine Stops” connected well with the selection from Plato’s Republic. I thought that “The Machine Stops” created an interesting discussion surrounding the role of technology in our lives and the control we exercise and have the control to exercise over our – both individual and collective – relationships with technology. This consideration grows even more complex as we begin to consider new emerging technologies such as AI and our reliance on these. It is also interesting that the machine is worshiped as a ‘God,’ and then to see the machine start to die – “the Machine is stopping.” Is there a way for both “us” and the “machine” to survive? I also thought the concept of ‘homelessness’ as a form of execution was an interesting metaphor to explore. Reading this piece after the COVID-19 Pandemic was especially chilling, to think of us all isolated and quarantined to our own “cells,” yet still communicating insistently (probably more than pre-covid), via social media and Zoom. In the same vein as the short story’s characters’ fear of interacting face-to-face, so many people have developed these anxieties post-quarantine. Moreover, I think it's really interesting to analyze Foster’s use of ‘machine’ all the way back in 1909 and contemplate the ways in which understandings of this word have changed – or stayed similar – over more than a century. I also think Foster provided an interesting prediction into our relationships with technology, but also our growing dependence on and prioritization of safety.
Both readings presented different perspectives into the innate egocentrism/narcissism that accompany both utopian and dystopian exercises. I think it is interesting to consider the unpredictability and inconsistencies when considering different extremes of ideals.
As a society, we are captivated by the idea of utopia. Many of the novels and stories we read about growing up describe a society striving toward utopia that somehow devolves into utter dystopia (e.g. Animal Farm, 1984, The Giver, Divergent). Sure enough, “utopia” literally means “no place.” If the fictional utopias in literature can’t survive, how could utopias in the real world stand a chance?
As it turns out, no utopian society has ever existed. Utopias have certainly been attempted but have failed, such as in the case of Brook Farm, an attempted utopian community founded in 1841 in Massachusetts as an experiment in communal living and social reform, inspired by transcendentalist ideals and the desire to create a more harmonious and equitable society. Ultimately, Brook Farm lasted for only a few years before financial difficulties and internal divisions led to its demise.
The elusiveness of utopias begs the question: Are utopias even achievable? In short, I believe the answer is no.
In the famous thought experiment “The Experience Machine,” philosopher Robert Nozick presents a hypothetical machine that could simulate whatever desirable or pleasurable experiences a subject could want (reminiscent of The Machine Stops). He then asks, if given the choice, would people prefer the machine or real life? When I think about this question, my immediate reaction is “real life,” and many I’ve posed this question to have said the same. But why is this?
I believe it is for the same reasons that make a utopia impossible to achieve. Utopias strive to achieve utmost perfection in all aspects of society, creating ideal lives for its members. However, it is the highs and lows of life that make life worth living – the uncertainty and unpredictability of what’s to come that keeps us on our toes and makes us feel alive. If every day was perfect, would it really feel perfect anymore? If we were always happy, would we even feel happy anymore?
A person’s level of happiness adjusts to their day-to-day life. If happiness is all you experience, it becomes your baseline – an average to which you become used to and come to expect. A lot of this has to do with biology. Your brain adjusts to the chemical sensations that you feel, so if you receive constant dopamine rushes day after day, they will be felt less and less strongly over time (see graphic below). For example, when you receive a gift, you’ll feel a rush of happiness. But imagine you were to receive a gift every single day. The gift would fail to give you the same level of happiness it did on day 1 because you would become desensitized to that pleasurable feeling over time.
Happiness must be an above-average feeling, which implies that in a utopia, in order to stay happy, you must continually be stimulated to higher and higher levels to even maintain happiness. Here, you run into the issue that many drug addicts face. The never-ending pursuit of dopamine fixes makes you vulnerable because the higher you go, the more room you have to fall when the happiness wears off. Thus, as humans, we need to feel a range of emotions, both positive and negative, in order to feel grounded and human. A utopia, where everything and everyone perfect and happy, may actually be closer to a dystopia than we realize.
The Machine in The Machine Stops is powered by loneliness. By removing significant interpersonal connections and encouraging a culture of mindless "ideas", individuals housed in the machine are incapable of imagining a better future for themselves or for their peers. While Vashti has thousands of friends, a significant amount of whom she talks with regularly, their conversations are short and lacking significant emotional investment.
I found Vashti's predicament very similar to atomized individuals in totalitarian systems (as defined by Hannah Arendt in her book, The Human Condition). Arendt describes how individuals become "atomized" through the gradual breakdown of communal ties and interpersonal relationships in society. Some common mechanisms of this breakdown include a culture of consumerism or an overall disinterest in political participation. With no deep relationships with friends, family, or peers, the atomized individual has no choice but to emotionally invest in the system. Atomized individuals are easily able rationalize extreme ways of thinking or are willing to make extreme decisions when they have no alternative voices to turn to or otherwise ground themselves. Individual identities are so closely tied to the system that it is impossible to disconnect your sense of self from your adherence to it. All remaining relationships of an atomized individual are viewed through the lens of their relationship to the system, which easily enables individuals to turn on each other in a fruitless competition to best adhere to the system (or, in the short story's case, questioning whether someone is being blasphemous to the machine). Acts of rebellion are isolated to individuals who will immediately be outcast as personal failures or societal adversaries.
So what can be done to prevent atomization? I personally disagree with the framing of technology as an intrinsic driver of loneliness. While some popular uses of the internet like social media can make individuals feel less connected to society as a whole, global interconnectedness has allowed for the development of unique, sometimes tightly connected, communities that would not have otherwise existed. It can be hard to find concrete takeaways from many of these dystopian stories beyond a general message of "technology is bad", but I still think that we need to remain cognizant of technology's ability to isolate us. Encouraging the development of healthy interpersonal relationships, no matter the medium, should be important for us to maintain overall social cohesion.
Image source: Charles Platiau, REUTERS
#framing #salience #emerging
I am not worried about a metamorphosis into dys/utopia. (I agree, they are likely the same thing). Because of the chaos actively descending on us due to the myriad dooming sources we have looked at, our society is not likely to become more organized, unified, or cohesive in ways that facilitate this metamorphosis
In "The Machine Stops," Kuno remarks that the Homeless of Forster's world "are hiding in the midst and the ferns until [] civilization stops," waiting (presumably--he is cut off) to adopt many of the luxuries of the Machine's endless resources (23). Their dream, their utopia, is not "start[ing] the Machine again, tomorrow," but rather escape from the "ferns" (23). Today, we have abundant resources the world over, provided to a significant degree by our technology and automated tools. This fernless world they want sounds a lot like ours.
And why not? A lot of evidence points to the proximate decades that we live in now as the best ever for humanity. We are richer, live longer, and have more freedom than ever before. Pessimistically, though, in light of the encroaching sources of doom we have studied, it looks likely that, as far as utopia and dystopia are concerned, we live (or will live in most of our lifetimes) in the most utopian human society that might ever exist for a long, long time (100s to 1000s of years).
We have spent most of this class talking about our progression away from fortune and towards doom. Increasing greenhouse gasses, augmentation of AI throughout society, spread of nuclear fallout--these intrusive sources of doom accumulate towards the 'doomed' tipping point. However, the state of society and whatever changes occur within the complicated human ecosystem can't quite be categorized the same way. Contrarily, our global position near the summit of human experiences is subject to a type of regressive doom which negates the danger of rising dys/utopia like Socrates or Forster projects. Because the intrusive dooming forces we have discussed disrupt the provisioning, order, life, freedom, and cognitive ability of the globe, they are coming to slide us off of this apex and far way from the rigid organization of perfectly cared-for city guards or all-providing Machine. Dys/utopia is not a concern that I think is pressing because we are likely only to reduce our ability to achieve it, unlike all other growing existential threats that force us to reckon with our doom.
Our doomed-ness might not lie in the rise of dystopia, but actually the fall of our contemorary utopia
"The Machine Stops" serves as a reminder of the risks inherent in our technological pursuits. It compels us to reflect on the kind of future we are forging—a future where the existential crisis might not stem from what we lack but from what we have embraced without much deliberations and careful scrutiny.
This book chapter depicts a highly developed mechanical age where humans live underground in small, hive-like rooms, controlling their daily activities with various buttons and switches. They talk to friends and listen to lectures through visual discs, treat illnesses with medical devices, and travel across the globe in giant airships. This represents a paradoxical post-industrial civilization where humans worship the great machine yet are numbed by automated life, losing their desire to perceive the world and avoiding direct contact with nature, indulging in the illusions of a mechanical kingdom and gradually becoming slaves to the machine system. The main character Vashti’s announcement that "the Machine is going to stop" highlights the existential problem - with the machine that keeps civilization functional gone, what will become of humanity's fate?
Over a century later, the precision of Forster's predictions about human civilization's development still astonishes me, and this fundamental question from a hundred years ago still resonates. Forster's story prefigures the awe-inspiring all-mechanical civilization seen in "The Matrix" and the pervasive terror of Big Brother's dictatorship and the spirit of rebellion in "1984." I think that "The Machine Stops" is a warning bell in this digital era. In Forster's vision, dystopia is not marked by overt oppression but by the subtle, insidious surrender of human agency to technological convenience. This trade-off represents a significant risk: the diminishing of our capacity to live, feel, and think independently. The existential crisis arises not from the threat of external domination but from the internal erosion of our will to confront and engage with the real, natural world. Thus, the pursuit of technological advancement, while aimed at improving human life, can inadvertently lead to a state of existential void.
Dahmani, L., Bohbot, V.D. Habitual use of GPS negatively impacts spatial memory during self-guided navigation. Sci Rep 10, 6310 (2020). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-020-62877-0 This illustration from a study showed that humans suffered from diminished spatial memory due to usage of GPS.
It'll be a bit hard to draft this post without feeling like something straight out of Power -- in these readings, we see an ancient description of a 'utopia' -- one of philosopher kings with spirits of iron, bronze, silver, and gold -- accompanying an early 20th-century imagining of the Cave to its fullest, most perverse extent. Plato's Republic has been a formative cornerstone of philosophy, and has led a legacy that has shaped following utopian and dystopian fiction: Thomas More's 1516 Utopia -- the origin of the word itself -- features a state government with striking similarities to the Guardian-led city. This lineage, and the impact of the Utopian concept if not the popular knowledge of More's collectivist ideals, illustrate the power of fiction in perpetuating our imaginings of worlds to come, for better or for worse. Thus is the role of speculative fiction: we twist what we know to extremes, be they for good or for ill. A cursory Google search obfuscates the inspiration behind Forster's work, save for H.G. Wells stories such as The Time Machine, but a read of the story may illuminate (or I'm projecting) Forster's potential anxieties about the industrial era, colonization, urbanization, and mass media and communication. In the story, and perhaps even in this very conversation, no idea is original: it's an imitation of an imitation, 'first hand ideas do not really exist' (17) -- an allegory of the Cave just as much as the light hitting the eyes of both Kuno and Socrates' philospher-king.
And yet to call it "predicting" the internet feels intellectually lazy; like saying Plato 'predicted' the television or VR headsets. We create the world in which we imagine. Video calling is not evil because it's used in The Machine Stops, it's a progression of our methods to communicate and was seen as thusly logical even in 1909 - an idea not original to Forster, or Apple, or Kubrick, or Clarke. This common thread of imagination and the logical next step links stories to technological innovation, each continuously feeding one another -- just ask the inventors first inspired by Star Wars. This cyclical imagining cuts deeper when we imagine our dystopias as logical conclusions of the world in which we live. When Geoffrey Hinton spoke to the class, I asked a question -- one that I didn't budget enough time for, smashing it with another -- about what impact science fiction had on how people thought of the dangers of AI. He said, if I wrote my notes correctly, that they may not be thinking the way they do without depictions of AI -- HAL, Skynet -- and that scientists speaking out empowered others to do the same. Speculative fiction becomes paradoxically an empowering tool, a self-mandating prophecy, and a cautionary tale all in one.
This tweet always comes to mind when I think about the link of art and technology. In an extreme form and for a twisted audience, art has the capacity to inspire our own destruction. Roko's Basilisk, to this end, may be an interesting point to bring back up since we didn't discuss it much during the AI week. Dystopian fiction may exacerbate our doom, but let's face it -- utopian doesn't sell.
Having read The Machine Stops, what particularly struck me was what a thin line is drawn between utopia and dystopia. The initial portrayal of the world seemed to me like the realization of utopia, where technology has solved many of the traditional problems facing humanity. It seemed that no one worked anymore, either, and all time was devoted towards spreading ideas and developing the soul. Yet in the meantime, humanity pays a hefty price in exchange: a total loss of autonomy, creativity, and genuine human connection, without even knowing this loss. One could easily argue that if, like the inhabitants in the Machine, one has never known the original human condition, one could not miss it, creating a utopia. This utopia vision does hold for Vashti, who has lived all her life without any inconvenience.
Yet what Forster also highlights is the double-edged sword: that utopia becomes dystopia as soon as anyone rediscovers the need for freedom and diverse experiences, which was robbed in the dystopia world. What I especially appreciate about The Machine is that this piece delivered the two-sided nature of a fully artificial world, which is not always the case in dystopia fiction pieces; readers could tell in works such as 1984 and Brave New World that their lifestyles were distinctly limited and undesirable, while the lifestyle in the Machine truly has its positive aspects. Therefore, I think Forster does a much better job of depicting the fundamental vicinity between utopia and dystopia. The dystopia in The Machine Stops lies not in the ultimate demise of the Machine's inhabitants, but rather in the lives they led before, a life that was lived in constant irritation perhaps because of an innate, unidentifiable desire for direct experiences and the fulfillment of physical needs. In this sense, the demise of the inhabitants through exposure to poisonous air seems almost like liberation: they have at last found direct experiences in their void lifetimes.
A game called Fallout Shelter, where humans move to live underground after a nuclear crisis on the surface. Is this a utopia or a dystopia?
What is the end point of technology? Historical inferences on technology might allow us to understand our current circumstances better. One might argue that a technological singularity is inevitable. Humans would be entirely overpowered by an intelligence so powerful it cannot be compared to biological aims. The Machine Stops is a short story exploring some of these themes from a relatively modest time – the early 20th century. The Machine has control over life in this dystopian future. It is not that the Machine has totalitarian controls, but rather life has conformed around the Machine and survival is necessary through its powers. Once you frame technology through the lens of losing it, as The Machine Stops does, it is clear we have arrived at this terminal point. I propose a thought experiment: what would happen if there was a Carrington Event today? Power grids would go down, telecommunications disabled, and likely the internet rendered inoperable. Hospitals, schools, transportation services would all be frozen. But after all the repairs happen, what comes next? The Machine Stops attempts to infer into this reality, but I suspect leaves readers and scholars still wrestling with the question of connectivity. How attached are we to our technology? Could decoupling lead to meaningful changes? This response cannot remotely offer meaningful insights into this future. But contemplating it could be necessary for anyone interested in advancing the boundaries of human-technology relations. When Dr. Michio Kaku wrote Physics of the Future, he wrote the final chapter as a scientific forecast into the year 2100 and that offered a powerful way of thinking about innovation for its own sake. Imagine the potential of a paper that combines both foresight and apocalypse. Perhaps authors and futurists can collaborate in providing a modern interpretation of our relationship with mechanical creations. Can this offer any value for discussions on AI, climate change, misinformation, or global conflict? It remains to be seen but the artistic value can be dialogue provoking. Just as how this text is not an authoritative source on the matter, I am not providing concrete answers. This is a big question where wisdom will be found in the crowds of intelligent scholars.
In our class, we discussed various existential risks like nuclear weapons, AI domination, and climate change and explored potential solutions to mitigate these threats. Throughout our discussions, a recurring theme has emerged: the challenge of rallying governments or individuals to enact meaningful change. This difficulty largely stems from prioritizing short-term popularity over long-term prosperity among world leaders.
In Plato's Republic, we see Plato advocating for philosopher rulers with a deep understanding of the world. However, it is evident that today's leaders often lack this philosophical grounding. While many possess education, particularly in law or political science, specialization in one area does not guarantee a comprehensive understanding of the world. Philosophical education enables individuals to develop critical thinking skills essential for effective leadership. However, as argued in the book, the ideal ruler has to have philosophical values and be an educated person devoid of material possessions and power-seeking tendencies. This concept is largely opposite to the reality of modern leadership. Today's leaders often prioritize wealth accumulation and reelection, perpetuating short-sighted decision-making. A democratic system incentivizes leaders to pursue easily attainable short-term goals over complex, long-term solutions, as reelection becomes the primary concern.
The root of this problem extends beyond leadership, implicating the electorate as well. Voters frequently favor candidates promising immediate benefits, such as tax cuts, over those advocating for long-term initiatives like climate change regulations that could raise the cost of living in the short term. This preference for short-term gains perpetuates the cycle of short-sighted governance. Corporate lobbying further exacerbates this issue by influencing decision-making processes. Another effect if corporate lobbying can be seen in the image below, which depicts a meme reflecting widespread perceptions during the pandemic management. A prevailing sentiment suggests that corporations received the lion's share of the government aid efforts, leaving many individuals to struggle financially. This perception of prioritizing corporate interests over the well-being of citizens underscores a pervasive distrust in the political system. Consequently, it's conceivable that this distrust contributes to this preference for short-term solutions over long-term ones, as people may doubt governments' commitment to sustaining prolonged initiatives, especially when they work against corporate interests. Plato's ideal system is far removed from our modern-day democratic systems that have largely legalized and legitimized corporate lobbying. The existential risks we face regularly necessitate governmental actions that may challenge corporate interests, creating a conflict of priorities.
In conclusion, mobilizing action against existential risks would be much easier in Plato's ideal society, but our reality is far from it. Our current leaders prioritize short-term gains over long-term well-being, influenced by both personal incentives and corporate lobbying. While it might be hard to change our governance system to include more altruistic and capable leaders in the template of Plato's utopia, it might be more realistic to hope and fight for more educated, well-rounded voters who will not be fooled by short-term benefits and corporate interests.
Dystopia occurs when we think that we have already arrived in utopia. At least, when we do not notice that our condition is still far away from the ideal one which exempt us from worrying about our limitation. Dystopia share the similarity with utopia in that it is usually derived from an illusion that we are already in the utopia, when we take everything as satisfying, finding no need to change everything, and devote ourselves into the pure hedonism. Personally, I would rather believe that our life is built on endless brutality and tragedy. However, this attitude is not so prevalent today. It is rather regarded as an outdated religious pessimism. People are reluctant to leave the utopia they believe in. So dystopia and utopia a pretty much a twin of each other. It is just like that in the allegory of the cave, people are afraid of facing the light. The difference is that, our tangible world, which we could know from experience, is far less satisfying than “the Good” that Plato takes as the principle of the world outside the cave. I find the charm of dystopian literature in that the dystopia actually has features that we crave for, like a harmonious social system that free people from any confusion, conflict, or unease, or a mechanism that free people from mental suffering, but as the story proceeds, this utopian appearance is gradually stripped off, and reveals the reality that any utopia that people build on earth is actually a dystopia beneath the surface. So readers experience both hope and fear reading the books. This constant shift between hope and fear reminds us of how brutal and self-contradictory beings we are, and this is what I find to be the moral of this kind of story. I still want to recommend a Portuguese novel which I really like, and I hope it is not so irrelevant, since it is also a piece of dystopian literature. This novel written by Nobel-winning writer José Saramago is called Blindness in English (and it does have an English version and a movie with the same name). It tells the story about a modern city hit by an epidemic of “white blindness”. I feel that this novel has really predicted a lot of things happening during the pandemic, and it is the scariest novel that I have ever read, though the only thing scary in this book is the humanity itself. I am putting an image of fighting monkeys because despite all the technical forces we possess, we are not very different from these animals in our brutality.
Reply with your memo as a Comment. The memo should be responsive to this week's readings on Utopia and Dystopia from Jackie Feke, with 300–500 words + 1 visual element (e.g., figure, image, hand-drawn picture, art, etc. that complements or is suggestive of your argument). The memo should be tagged with one or more of the following:
origin: How did we get here? Reflection on the historical, technological, political and other origins of this existential crisis that help us better understand and place it in context.
risk: Qualitative and quantitative analysis of the risk associated with this challenge. This risk analysis could be locally in a particular place and time, or globally over a much longer period, in isolation or in relation to other existential challenges (e.g., the environmental devastation that follows nuclear fallout).
policy: What individual and collective actions or policies could be (or have been) undertaken to avert the existential risk associated with this challenge? These could include a brief examination and evaluation of a historical context and policy (e.g., quarantining and plague), a comparison of existing policy options (e.g., cost-benefit analysis, ethical contrast), or design of a novel policy solution.
solutions: Suggestions of what (else) might be done. These could be personal, technical, social, artistic, or anything that might reduce existential risk.
framing: What are competing framings of this existential challenge? Are there any novel framings that could allow us to think about the challenge differently; that would make it more salient? How do different ethical, religious, political and other positions frame this challenge and its consequences (e.g., “End of the Times”).
salience: Why is it hard to think and talk about or ultimately mobilize around this existential challenge? Are there agencies in society with an interest in downplaying the risks associated with this challenge? Are there ideologies that are inconsistent with this risk that make it hard to recognize or feel responsible for?
nuclear/#climate/#bio/#cyber/#emerging: Partial list of topics of focus.
For one session over the course of the quarter, you may post a memo that reflects on a film or fictional rendering of an existential challenge. This should be tagged with:
movie / #novel: How did the film/novel represent the existential challenge? What did this highlight; what did it ignore? How realistic was the risk? How salient (or insignificant) did it make the challenge for you? For others (e.g., from reviews, box office / retail receipts, or contemporary commentary)?