Look who is buried under Maslow's pyramid!

 

There has been, as far as I can tell, no canonical study of how and why certain ideas – psychoanalysis, Abraham Maslow’s theory of needs, gestalt therapy – infiltrated into the precincts of that most American of sciences, organization science, and all its business school progeny, a long event that is co-eterminus with the eruption of the business school on the university campus.  The ultimate American utopia is the corporation – those of us on the reservation outside of it just think of ourselves as the dreamers of the better future. But inside those corporate walls, that future is manufactured wholesale. And what is a future without a psychology? And what good is psychology if you can’t manipulate it to market goods and services?

In 20th century America, war, organization and information systems formed the sinister matrix to which our best guides are still the great dark codexes: J.R., Gravity’s Rainbow, Flow my tears the policeman said. Randall Jarrett’s tailgunner glosses not simply the belly of the state at war, but the great human product of the 20th century, organizational man.

Maslow’s career, to be read properly, must be read by the flickering light common to incendiary bombings and the vast, flawless labyrinth of neon lights that track the corridors of skyscrapers and of insane asylums.

Early in his career, Maslow’s major research concern was what he called dominance. In a paper from 1937, The Comparative Approach to Human Behavior, he wrote:

“The writer some years ago was confronted with the problem of the relationships between dominance behavior, sex behavior, and social behavior. The attempt to study this problem in humans directly turned out to be a failure. The multiplicity of theories, the variability of concepts and of terminology, the sheer complexity of the problem itself, the impossibility of separating the superficial from the fundamental, all combined to make the project a baffling and even possibly an insoluble one.”

This is a rather odd methodological statement. Why should we posit special relationships between the behaviors he lists – or even take those behaviors (such as dominance behaviors) as given? Especially as, on his own account, there is a ‘variability’ of terminology and theory.

Dominance, here, is certainly the dominant pre-occupation. The paper suggests that the problem is one that we all know from the sciences – the problem of being ‘objective’. Maslow’s suggestion that we can get there by an indirect route – namely, comparison with the less ‘baffling’ behavior of primates – and so disentangle the bloody bonds of human behavior was, of course, in the post-war period amply taken up. Yet the method seems to make headway sideways, for what could make the behavior of primates less baffling when the original baffle is in the cultural construction of the terms of the problem?

“It is just this situation, e.g. complex of similarities and differences, that makes it possible for the psychologist to set up experiments in which the main variable factor is the relative presence or absence of cultural influence. If these cultural influences can be controlled out by experimentation which involves groups of humans and infra-humans, there is then promised an improved possibility of achieving greater understanding of what our primate inheritance may be.”

What could ‘control out’ cultural influences mean, applied to the highly culturally specific notion of experimentation? Maslow here is participating in the social sciences paradigm that seeks the ultimate Other – the Other who functions, paradoxically, as the silent parameter, void of all ‘cultural’ properties – for instance, the property of having a first-person status – and at the same time as the template for the social sciences subject.

 

The zeroing out of cultural influences to get to the nub of the subject – this was Abraham Maslow’s project in the pre-war years, but he had to deal with people, who seemed puzzlingly culturally bound. His biographer, …, in po-faced prose, puts the problem in terms of those humans who are, well, women.

“As Maslow’s research progressed through late 1935 and early 1936, he noticed a frustrating pattern. While women high or moderate in dominance-feeling were usually cooperative in submitting to the embarrassing interviews 0 some een volunteering after hearing about Maslow – almost none who seemed low in dominance-feeling volunteered or completed the interview. Low-dominance women frequently refused to continue wit the interview despite hours of patient reassurance. Maslow sometimes pleaded with them to cooperate “for the good of science”, usually to no avail.”

 

I challenge anybody to read those sentences and not laugh.  I am reminded of the paintings Alice Neel was doing while Maslow pleaded with “low-dominance” women to complete his questionaires. In particular, the painting of Joe Gould, who is shown with sitting naked, his penis exposed, while two other endowed figures, their penises drooping majestically, stand on either side of him.

Maslow turned, then, to  animal studies to overcome his own frustration. But he returned to the human, thinking that he could bar entrance to disturbing cultural influences by actually welcoming them, aiming for the dead center of normality in which the cultural and the natural would achieve an equilibrium.

Under Maslow’s pyramid one can find a sacrificial victim – just as major structures were often built, according to legend, over the body of someone sacrificed to the gods. The gods, here, of dominance. Thus, his research was directed towards understand ‘normal’ female sexuality. To get behind this problem, Maslow, curiously (the curiousness is the absolute blindness to his own cultural subjectivity) culled out Lesbians, Catholics, blacks and all women who came from families whose fortunes were not in the upper 5 percent of the American income percentile from his research set. He interviewed the resulting selection of women, all students at Columbia University, and concluded that the dead center for which he had embarked had finally been hit. And thus he was able to pursue a problem he articulated in a journal jotting from 1960:

“the 2-fold motivation of women (1) to dominate the man, but (20 then to have contempt for him, go frigid, manifpulative, castrating, and (3) secretly to keep on yearning for a man stronger than herself to compel her respect, & to be unhappy, & unfulfilled & to feel unfeminine so long as she doesn’t have such a man.”

From experimenting on animals to the ghastly postwar obsession with the frigid bitch – this is, of course, the dark side of what appeared, in the sixties, to be a humanizing program. The social structure should satisfy the needs of the people – isn’t that really what marketing is all about? Contemplating Maslow, we understand why the center did not hold in the sixties – cause it was such a damnable place. Look around at the cultural war against women, among others, and you can see that we have not gotten past the Maslows of this world.

 

Pity, that.

Greed's Bad Sister

When you read conservative and libertarian economists, you will inevitably, at one time or another, run into an interesting paradox: the envy paradox. While greed among this type is the good bad emotion, and has been since Mandeville pointed out the virtue of the vices in a system of markets, envy is the wicked sister, the bad bad emotion which we must shame. The reply, when one criticizes some billionaire, often rings this chime: you are envious!

Myself, I'm envious as hell. And you can't take the truth (I'd shout back, Jack Nicholson style).

Envy is just justice on a bad hair day.

Prima facie, the diabolization of envy and soft focus on greed makes little sense. If you dub envy “aspiration”, hey presto, it becomes a virtue. Sell the sports car, sell the high end restaurant, use the envy - this is 101 Marketing. The Horatio Alger striver, realizing that capitalism is the best of all systems and the thing to do is to swim upstream and rescue the bankers daughter, is mucho applauded – while the woke Horatio Alger union organizer or (heavens) community organizer who aspires to a more equal society by, say, limiting the amount of wealth possessed by the wealthy, using the democratic tools at hand, are falling for the bad bad emotion of envy.

It is a curious twist. Even more curious, though, is the economists blindness, on a massive, ideological scale, to the economics of envy in capitalism.

In part, this is due to a cute little twist among the neoclassicals. For various ideological reasons, and to keep their models of consumer preference from looking like a child's notion of how babies are born, one thing has to beclear: advertising is an epiphenomena that has no effect on the market. When J.K. Galbraith pointed out that this is to laugh, the neocons got together and agreed that Galbraith was a poopyhead.

Their ludicrous position comes out of a deeper, structural ludicrousness about preferences and the sovereign consumer. Advertising does count - as pure information. These people, I should remind you, pretend to tall us about the economy.

In any case, in the real world, unfortunately, it is not envy of the working class expropriators that rules, but envy as a driver of, for instance, creating fan bases for parity products. Wipe out envy and where is the housing market going to be? And how are we gonna sell pepsi, or SUVs?

Whenever you see an economist who is quite comfortable with greed and the most egregious forms of human exploitation suddenly become all Ten Commandments about envy, you have caught a glimpse of the ideology of the beast. The apologists of capitalism can’t help themselves.

The Great wrong place

 

In his famous – and to my mind famously wrongheaded – essay about “mysteries”, W.H. Auden wrote:

“Actually, whatever he may say, I think Mr. Chandler is interested in writing, not detective stories, but serious studies of a criminal milieu, the Great Wrong Place, and his powerful but extremely depressing hooks should be read and judged, not as escape literature, but as works of art.”

We have long accepted not only Chandler but every motherfucker who writes as writing works of art. Art is a category,  not a laudative. The reason that this passage sticks with me is the naming of the Great Wrong Place.

I have often felt like I have spent a considerable portion of my life  in the Great Wrong Place, and that it didn’t have to be like that. This is why, I suppose, I am so fascinated by seedy stories of crimes and misappropriations during the Cold War, and the entire history of that encounter between two bad options, squeezing us, the inhabitants of our various Great Wrong Places, into slots that we did not chose and knew were not optional.

The Cold War is over and now we live through its shredded supplements – oh, how recently the Great Global War on Terror died, to be replaced by the Putin wars! And meantime, Chandler’s mean streets have been gentrified – but the mean is there, as plain as ever, and when it is pointed out, the books in which it is pointed out are banned in the libraries of Florida and Texas. Naturally.

Within the crime statistics, you can find the corpses of so many choked revolutions. But how many revolutions can the cops and their bosses choke?

Surely a puzzle for some crime novel detective.

A valedition: the party dress

 

She bleeds all in her dress on the back seat of the taxi

Home from the bone

Another good girl dawn

 

Even in my Emily Dickinson silence

I can always hear the click click click

Of the bitch about to pounce.

 

Although I dream of sitting among the big cats

Don't you know

I’m low

in the zoo order

from maneater to shrew.

 

Later, at the dry cleaners, the man says

the dress would the multitudinous seas

incarnadine. Too bad, I sez

 

It was one of my favorites

.-Karen Chamisso

In what language do we read faces?

Often, when you read the conclusions of the psychologists in the U.S. or the Anglosphere in general, you come away feeling that psychologists treat English, or at best English and a few other European languages, as a sort of universal blueprint to feelings. Thus, in a famous study of facial expressions and emotions, Paul Ekman claimed that the Fore group in New Guinea recognized and categorized facial expressions in the same way as Americans, according to some universal menu of emotions.

This research has often been criticized, and anthropologists seeking to replicate Ekman’s work claim that the Fore responses they get are different. Ekman, as a matter of fact, did not speak either the Pidgin or the Fore language. However, he didn’t seem to feel he had to: like many English speakers, he felt his native language endowed him with all the psychological knowledge he would need.
I don’t think this is true. For it to be true, English would have to be an unusually hypercognized medium.
I take that term from Robert Levi’s paper, Emotions, Knowing and Culture [1984], where he proposed two axes for analyzing emotions on the sense making level – that is, not as private experiences, but as experiences that enter into the public domain. On the one hand, he speaks of hyercognition – “Hypercognition involves a kind of shaping, simplifying, selecting, and standardizing, a familiar function of cultural symbols and forms. It involves a kind of making “ordinary” of private understandings.” In contrast to that stands hypocognition – “Hypocognition forces the (first order) understanding into some private mode.” Citing his own work on “sadness” among Tahitians (Levy claims that, while there are words for severe grief and lamentation, there are “no unambiguous terms that represent the concepts of sadness, longing, or loneliness… People would name their condition, where I supposed that [the body signs and] the context called for “sadness” or “depression”, as “feeling troubled” pe’ape’a, the generic term for disturbances, either internal or external;…”) Levy writes that these are some “underschematized emotional domains”, and that these are hypocognized. “One of the consequences of hypocognition is that the felt disturbance, the “troubled feelings,” can be interpreted both by the one who experiences them and by others around him as something other than ‘emotion’. Thus, the troubled feelings that persist too long after the death of a loved one or those that occur after some loss that Tahitian ideology holds to be trivial and easily replaceable are in the village often interpreted as illness or as the harmful effects of a spirit.”
My notion is that English and the Anglophone culture also underschematizes certain emotional domains. For instance: ease.
Ease is an odd word entirely. The etymology goes back to old French “aise”, which is translated as comfort. As the Mashed Radish blog on everyday etymology points out, how “aise” emerges is an unsettled question among etymology mooks.
“Skeat, Weekley, and Partridge conclude that aise, formed from aisance, is from the Latin adjacentia, literally “something nearby.” You can quickly spot the English adjacent. According to Baumgartner and Ménard, “something adjacent” is connected to “the free space next to someone,” which produced an idea of a “nice location” and more generally, “wellness” and “recreation.”
Some, like Norwegian scholar Sophus Bugge, proposed that aise is ultimately from–here it is again–ansa, “handle” of a jug or jar, say. This ansa had a secondary sense of “opportunity,” so the record states, and may have evolved to asa on the roads of the Roman empire, later evolving into French’s aise.”
The dictionaries do an odd thing with ease – they tend to define it by what it is not. It is not disquiet. It is not difficulty. The military drill phrase – at ease – seems associated with this notion of adjacence – of elbow room. But the expanded, positive notion of ease – of ease as an emotional state – seems only to peep through the grid of English, to suggest itself, as though it were hypocognized. To be stressed seems to be the English norm. Ease – now what is that mood or feeling? It comes with a spatial proposition – at – unlike, say, sadness. One does not say one is at sad, as one says one is at ease.
Ease is, however, dreamt of. To be “at ease” doing something – to have that emotion that you don’t have to do the thing you are doing and that you are doing it from that center – seems to elude the Anglophone consciousness, which reaches out for other terms, like zen. Hence the zen of tennis, or the zen of cooking where the agent is centered – a spatial term again. The ease of tennis or cooking – that would be an odd locution. One would be ill at ease with it. To use Ekman’s vernacular of facial expressions, which one would be ease?Is it a smile? Is it a sexual thing, a lazy thing?
Last night I was getting groceries at the Franprix, and chose to get in the line for a cashier, rather than in the machine lines. The boy – I thought of him as a boy, although he must have been a late teen – who was checking out customers had a long face and what looked like a vacant stare and a slightly open mouth. I at first “recognized” this as dope-face – the face of a dope. A dummy, an incompetent. But as the line moved forward I realized he was doing fine. He was dealing with the old woman and her coupon-y thing just fine. He was sorting through the groceries and ringing them up just fine. The dope-face, I thought, was something he should work on – make himself do a work-face.
But as I was walking home, it struck me that the dope-face was my problem, not his. Perhaps I had been seeing a face of ease. A feeling I, with my varied stresses and worries, just did not recognize.
Recognizing facial expression with the notion that maybe we are subjects in a society that, as do most or perhaps all, hypocognizes certain parts of our emotional activity, is perhaps related to a mass of everyday problems.
Maybe faces are harder to read than we assume.

what is wrong with Von Mises (Ludwig, not Richard)

 

I ain’t satisfied at all, at all  with Jonathan Rée’s London Review essay on Hayek. An essay in the form of a review, the classic LRB format.

Ree starts out wrongfooting from the moment the runner is off his mark: in the first graf:

“We s​ocialists like to hark back to better days, when ideals shone bright and principles stood tall: equality, fairness, democracy, internationalism, mutuality, jobs, education, food, housing, medicine, pensions, peace, friendship and love. But there is one strand of the tradition we prefer not to think about: the idea of putting an end to the wasteful chaos of capitalism by implementing a comprehensive economic plan.”

“We socialists” here puts Ree on a definite side, from which he can pretty much cut away at socialism. This is the timehonored neoliberal stance of all the socialist parties that tossed themselves in the garbage in the post-Wall period – the French socialists, the Italian Olive tree, the English Labour party. In fact, of course, globalization has been largely the effect of trade treaties by political entities implementing comprehensive economic plans in order to get going with that Ricardo-ist de-industrialization of the heartland. They’ve been piecemeal and are heavily tilted towards capital and away from labor. As for those plans that put away the wasteful chaos of capitalism, may I remind you, ladies and germs of the jury, of the past three years of responses to the pandemic? In a piece that avoids history – you know, of business cycles and wars – and confines its biographical details to marriages and books, this is what you get.

Von Mises – and not the good one, Richard, but the bad one, Ludwig – gets a pretty sweet treatment. Take for instance this graf:

“Socialists as Mises imagined them were no more than reactionary fantasists, trying to stuff the genie of capitalism back into a medieval bottle and imagining they could hang on to modern prosperity while banishing the free markets that make it possible. He made the case with flair, and one of his jibes – about socialists who talk about ‘paths to socialism’ without saying anything about ‘socialism itself’ – still hurts. He chose, however, to confront the socialist ideal directly. There wasn’t much to go on: Engels’s Socialism: Utopian and Scientific had put a damper on speculation about socialism-as-such. But Mises found a convenient example close at hand, in the work of Otto Neurath, who was, like him, an Austrian economist-philosopher, but otherwise his complete opposite. In 1918, Neurath had run the Office of Central Planning in the shortlived Bavarian Soviet Republic, and he would go on to work in social housing and adult education for the socialist administration of ‘Red Vienna’.”

That mention of Neurath’s planning for the “shortlived Bavarian Soviet Republic” could be paired, and should be paired, with Ludwig von Mises own position as an advisor for the Austrian governments that led Austrian into the crash. But first: about Neurath’s economic activity, incidentally, one might ponder one of his great contributions to economics: making economics legible to the masses.  Let me boost this bit from  Robert J. Leonard’s essay, Ethics and the Excluded Middle: Karl Menger and social science in Interwar Vienna:

“ In 1924 Neurath set up the Social and Economic Museum of Vienna (SEMV), with funding from the Viennese municipal government, some trade unions, and social insurance funds. Using the "Vienna method" of pictorial statistics, this center exhibited statistical information on social and economic change to the workers of Vienna. Pictorial symbols were used to overcome literacy barriers and stimulate the interest of the uneducated, who would probably never have set foot inside a museum otherwise. By demonstrating clearly to the Viennese working class that infant mortality rates were falling in the poor ghettos, but not as quickly as in the wealthy enclaves, or that the Social Democratic municipal government had made great strides in the provision of housing and education, the museum's pictorial statistics were both a constituent element of Neurath's empirical sociology and an endorsement of a particular politics. The most important of the SEMV's informative graphic art came from the chisel of Gerd Arntz, Neurath's chief designer from 1928…  Amtz used simple forms-in his case black-and-white woodcuts and linocuts-to protest against socioeconomic conditions, and this simplicity appealed to the sensibilities of Menger and many socially progressive moderns.”

Neurath, now there was a genius, who has inspired one of the best philosophical minds in the business right now, Nancy Cartwright.

But I digress.

What was Mises doing during the “interwar period”? The Journal of the History of Ideas has a special issue, edited by Quinn Slobodian and Niklas Olsen, on von Mises (Spring, 2022), which is propelled by a fact that Ree doesn’t mention: Mises has become the figurehead for a paleo-conservative movement with its center at the Mises Institute in Auburn, Alabama – a movement that combines racism, suspicion of international institutions, rabid support for the gold standards, and a generally contemptuous attitude towards democracy.

Does this mirror Mises own positions?  He was employed by the Vienna Chamber of Commerce, and it was a position that exactly fit his talents.  lent his support to an austerity regime and continuing the gold standard. Von Mises became famous outside of his little circle by writing an article, in 1920, that attempted to show that socialist economies would be de facto inefficient: by denying themselves markets, they would deny themselves the tool that made for price searches. Prices made capitalist economies what they were: machines tending towards the greatest level of efficiency.

You can read a lot of commentary about this essay, translated as: Economic Calculation in the Socialist Commons. Most of that commentary, however, misses how ballsy it was to make these claims for capitalism in 1920. 1920! In 1919, annual consumer prices in Austria rocketed up 149 percent. By 1922, the inflation rate had reached 2,087 percent. Mises calmly explaining the efficiency of the market made price system in the midst of these numbers is rather like Doctor Pangloss explaining all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds in the Lisbon earthquake.  The market was entirely unable on its own to stop the inflation – although undoubted, after mass starvation had crashed demand, the prices might have gone down.

Ah, but these are mere figures and human lives – it is not the fictitious free market! Austria came out of the inflation by the usual international measures, overseen by that non-market entity, the League of Nations, which devolved the currency making power to a monopoly bank – basically, making Austria institute a central bank – and implementing export-oriented policies while cutting the budget. This, of course, is not called central planning, because central planning is supposedly done by radical lefties instead of Capital. But of course, this is how Capital speaks – and it does not give a fuck about the free market, save as a rhetorical figleaf.  The loans made to the government found a ready market among the bond dealers, and Austria’s crown stabilized with relation to the dollar without the “free market” having much to say about it.

In the arguments around the socialist price question, much forgetting is necessary to get started. The Soviet Union, with its image of planning – which we know from extensive research created an ad hoc bureaucracy of rent-seeking – is considered the true empirical refutation of the planners. But the planners don’t need a perfect central planning authority – they just need to show that planning of one type or another, by private enterprises, sets prices, and that consumer choice is not the determining factor. In actuality, in the branches in which prices can most effortlessly be compared by consumers, the movement towards monopoly is actually advanced, as smaller enterprises can’t compete until you have a small number of price makers. On top of this, of course, there is the planning level of the official state – which produces money and borrows money. We can see central planning everywhere we look in actual capitalist conditions. This is, incidentally, why the Mises-ites hate the central banks – because the central banks represent the reality of Capital. Central Banks are the waking up – free markets are the wet dream.

Well, this started out as a bitch against Jonathan Rée, and lets leave it by dissing, again, his notion that the fall of the Soviet Union and all that jazz showed that central planning is dead.  Which is why he thinks that Von Mises has made a brilliant argument here:

“Planners in a socialist state could probably sustain the manufacture and distribution of standard consumer goods, he said, at least for a while (as in certain wartime economies), but they would be flummoxed when faced with choices about long-term investment. If they wanted to build a new factory, for example, they would need to evaluate thousands of options ranging over labour, plant, materials, location, transport and likely demand, many of them untested and all interacting far into the future; but without the guidance provided by prices in a free market they would be groping in the dark, and stumbling towards miseries unknown since the middle ages. Some socialists might relish the prospect, persuading themselves that wealth corrupts and poverty breeds virtue; but if they meant what they said about constructing a ‘rational economic system’ they would have to swallow their pride and recognise that economic rationality is impossible without free markets.”

The guidance provided by prices in the free market? This might be the silliest picture of the actually existing practice of firms in the capitalist economy one could draw. The reason factories were not being built in Austria in the 1920s was precisely because there was no guidance whatsoever from prices in the “free market”. This is true in good times and bad. A price is a compromise between different institutional forces – not the pearl in the fictitious oyster of a market that can’t exist on any but the smallest scale.

ChatGPT, Perceptual absorbance and machine dreams

 

I am a great admirer of Wolfgang Schivelbusch’s “History of Train

Rides: on the industrialization of space and time in the 19th century.” It is through Schivelbusch’s history that I grasped a social force that has continued up through ChatGPT: that the “modern era” is defined by a series of perceptual shocks and absorbances. Schivelbusch began researching the early response to the train and found that the speed at which trains travelled had a definite effect on the sensorium of the early riders.

In the twentieth century, instruments were often dubbed the “extensions of man”. It is against this organic notion that Schivelbusch writes, since his sense of the industrial complex sees “man” divided up into different specializations: here’s the customer, here’s the conductor; here’s the coalminer, here’s the economist; here’s the victim of the accident, here’s the insurance company.

The power of steam was distributed over a number of industrial branches - perceptual shock and absorbance is detectable in all of them. The early users of steamboats were impressed by the way these boats could proceed in straight lines, as opposed to the continual manoeuvring of sailboats against and with the wind and the tide. The Titanic was by no means unusual as a boat disaster: the day before June 16, 1904 – Bloomsday – the General Slocum caught fire and sank in the New York City harbor, killing 1,000 some people, an event that is submerged in the stream of all events in Ulysses. However, the Titanic making its straight line into an iceberg bore mythic proportions in relation to the original marvel of the steam engine, its disregard for “eotechnics”, as Schivelbusch puts it. The railroad train is an even more obvious monument to the end of a certain seemingly timeless perceptual reign. As writers of the time commented, the passengers on a railroad train were cut off from a former primal assumption: that travel and distance over land can be measured in animal exhaustion. Going at some ten to fifteen miles per hour, the passengers on a coach could very well see that the miles travelled equalled the animal energy expended. This was absolutely not the case with the railroad. Mechanical exhaustion was of an entirely different order. And this order was in disjunct with the perception of speed.

After quoting a Saint-Simonian, Constantin Pecqueur, about the railroad’s ability to “bring the provinces to Paris”, Schivelbusch notes:

“The idea that a French provincial city would find a place on a Parisian street communicates with the fact that the alteration of spatial relationships through the speed of the railway train is not a simple process of the ‘shrinking’ of space, but a double one of the shrinking and expansion of space. The dialectic of the process is that the shrinking of the temporal dimension brought about by transportation is, as well, the expansion of transportable space. The bringing together of the nation and the metropolis appears, inversely, as the expansion of the metropolis… The epoch of the suburb, that countourless growth of the once enclosed cities, into the countryside begins with the railroad.”

Schivelbusch’s book is what I turn to when I read about some great new technological leap. The current leap – the ChapGPT – is being processed in terms of a perceptual shock that will, of course, lead to a perceptual absorbance, in the same way we have absorbed the death of the camera and the birth of the phone camera. The noticing, here, is particularly acute by academics, who are well aware that mechanisms that automatically write text are going to be jumped on instantly by students. In fact, anybody who thinks about it knows that teaching is based, very much, on automatism – you teach primary kids the alphabet, reading, adding, multiplying and dividing so that as they go on in life they will absorb these things as a second nature. That a machine can reference another machine – Google – find relevant references (a carrying out of Grice’s program of implicature) and organize these things in texts is not a real leap. It is, at most, an after leap from the skip-rope of algorithms we already all know how to do. My gmail offers me replies for emails, and I can imagine a whole correspondence of “yes” and “no” between my email and a correspondent in which neither of us actually look at the email.

A nightmare is still a dream. We are long past the point in which our environments are not half machine dream. Is this a bad thing?

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