Middleduction (Belated Introduction)
June 7, 2011
“But what about earth and all the people on it?”
“Tut, tut. We can’t let mere sentiment intrude. This is Science.” K.W. Jeter Infernal Devices
I do not hate science or technology. I am not a Luddite (hell, the Luddites weren’t even Luddites according to the contemporary usage of the word). While I am attracted to the “no-shiny-object” policy of some members of the anabaptist tradition, I utterly fail at that discipline. Despite what some of my friends and family may say (e.g. “You’re the youngest 87 year old I know” ”Why don’t you join the 21st century” ,etc.), I am a product of my generation. The point of the preceding and proceeding posts is not, then, to utterly denounce science and technology, but rather to show in various circuitous ways that science and technological advancement have lost their anchoring in the seafloor of wisdom–that is culture, history, literature, and religion–and are floating about looking for some place to safely moor. Some of these posts will be more serious than others, but none are meant to be exhaustive. They are more like little flash-rants; too short to be called essays, too long to be written on a cardboard sign for a doomsday prophet to hold while standing on the street-corner.
It should be noted that during the course of the history of western civilization guardians of certain areas of wisdom have acted rather unseemly both toward science and to their own fields of study. Burning or even threatening to burn scientists at the stake is not usually the way to win friends or influence people. And, getting lost in the cobweb-filled labyrinth of 20th century literary theory, has not exactly given the study of literature the credibility and stature it needs in order to properly temper the more lucrative practical sciences.
So we find ourselves in a world where the academic study of humanities is all but dead. Art, music and literature programs are the first to be cut from public schools. Scientific and technological progress have either become ends to themselves, or they are the means of much more insidious and destructive forces, which seek to harness these advances for the purposes of greed and power-lust. And yet science and technology already do much to decrease suffering, and make the lives of all humans better. The potential to advance in this capacity is great, but science and technology cannot and will not do it alone.
++++
Part of a (Long) Series of (Short) Posts about Science and Technology
The Tragic Irony of Technology Coltan, cellphones and being connected
Singularity, Progress, and Darwinian Common Sense Artificial Intelligence and Sciencism
Middleduction A post that would have made a nice introduction
Science Fiction as Prophetic Witness or Scientific Gospel? (coming soon)
Technology and Language u r n 4 a gr8 time, lol (coming soon)
Creating the Problem in order to Fix It (coming soon)
More on Sciencism (coming soon)
Kierkegaardian Dread (coming soon)
An (agri)cultural Essay: Thanks Wendell Berry
April 24, 2009

I have been reading up on the well known and well honored agricultural and cultural thinker Wendell Berry. He is himself a farmer and a potent critic of what the federal government has done by way of legislation to undermine (he believes) the vital connection between agriculture and wellness, health and wholeness. I want to explore some of his critiques and assert that I agree with him: Rampant urbanization and denigration of the rural, has led to a dysfunctional cultural relationship of people to their food; that which necessarily sustains us all.
In Berry’s essay “The Body and the Earth,” Berry argues that “health” is best understood as “wholeness.” The healthy unity of life in its various parts; spiritual, relational, mental, physical – all of which are tied together via “culture.” That is, the lived way in which we construct our worlds. When one or more of these are neglected or inflated to an imbalanced proportion, other parts of life end up suffering from the disparity. People often speak of their life being “imbalanced,” but perhaps surprisingly, unless one is overtly obese or suffering from a painful illness, people do not often look to the food they eat as a possible reason why they are tired or depressed, spiritually inattentive or perennially bored.
This may be the symptom of highly compartmentalized lives that we often live in the city. We get up at home, we go to work, we head to school, we eat out, we go to church, and so our education, our living, our spirituality, our safety, our food; is all divided up to different locations, different times, different social crowds. All this divides our wholeness, our cultural unity, and especially in the age of “fast” and “diet” foods that allow us to speed along with the “important” things in life, we forget, with our concrete roads, our steel buildings, that even the most processed of fast foods had to come from a field somewhere even if it stopped at a factory along the way.
But the fields aren’t what they used to be. In order to provide the types of food to sustain a fast-paced urban society, effiency is the rule of the day. Which means that food is grown too much on fields which are depleted of their nutritional resources and even mildly (or not so mildly) poisoned by artificial fertilizers and pesticides which aren’t even spread anymore, but sprayed. And so “By dividing body and soul, we divide both from all else.” One might add, by dividing sustenance and life, we divide a part of life.
That which sustains life itself is marginalized to an afterthought in life. Where our food comes from, how it’s been treated and what it does for us is subsumed underneath the functional. Even if we like the taste of food, perhaps even taking pleasure in it, the real life connection between the field and the plate (or the box or the bag) becomes a mystery. Sacramentalized in the modern grocery store where we can have a pepper in December from Brazil, shipped on a freighter, coated in wax and “preserved” with an unripe picking and the spray of a wand.
This can only be seen if we decide not to view health as the mere absence of illness. A belief in this view of health can be strangely violent to our own bodies and their physicality. As if not-suffering somehow is rich enough not to need to be filled up by literature, music, relationships, sex. This is perhaps to be expected when art is now reserved for “artsy” people only and classical music is the weekend hobby of the rich. Instead people have entertainment. They listen only to “what’s on the radio,” not exclusively but while they drive; they dance in clubs, alone in the dark, to pounding music; they watch “reality tv” leaving their own lives shallow and tired.
What then of apples and oranges? Is it really right to connect the club and the farmer? Or is it a stretch? Berry says in another essay that the life of the farmer teaches an integrated life. One that doesn’t run on a clock but on intuition, lifelong learning, and endurance. It is not so much that everyone needs to move to the country (though I’m not always sure that’s not such a bad idea) and start feeding goats. But the knowledge of the rhythm of life that comes from being more deeply connected to creation and its pivitol role in providing the sustenance for life is not something to be dismissed lightly. Especially considering that it has only been the last several hundred years that we have moved past hundreds of thousands of years of essential connection to the earth.
So health must not be thought of in shallow and simple terms, as if it is just one more part of life. Rather health is the interconnectedness of the various aspects of living, related as a whole expressed by what we commonly call “culture.” Music is rich because cheese can be rich, and life can be balanced, as say a well aged India Pale Ale, food is life and life needs the circle completed.
.

Be it the gripping