Critical Philosophy of Technology: The Basic Issues

Abstract

This paper proposes a framework for a critical philosophy of technology by discussing its practical, theoretical, empirical, normative and political dimensions. I put forward a general account of technology, which includes both similarities and dissimilarities to Andrew Feenberg’s instrumentalization theory. This account characterizes a technology as a “(type of) artefactual, functional system with a certain degree of stability and reproducibility”. A discussion of how such technologies may be realized discloses five different levels at which alternative choices might be made. On this basis, I argue that a critical philosophy of technology should analyse and assess the choices that have, and have not, been made in actual practice, and contribute to social experiments that aim at more democratic and more desirable alternatives.

Keywords:

• Critical philosophy of technology
• Alternative technologies
• Normativity and democracy
• Feenberg
• Primary and secondary instrumentalization

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge helpful feedback on earlier drafts of this paper from Philip Brey, Sally Wyatt, the reviewers of Social Epistemology, and the members of the research group “Philosophy of Science and Technology” at the Faculty of Philosophy of the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam.

Notes

[1] For some discussions of the tradition of critical theory, see Feenberg (1999), Veak (2006) and, in this issue, Feenberg (2008) and Van Diest (2008). For some rebuttals to the alleged inappropriateness of critiquing technology (for example, by Singleton 1998; Wynne 1998; Latour 2004), see Radder (1996, chaps. 5 and 8; 1998a, 1998b), Sterne and Leach (2005), and Mallavarapu and Prasad (2006).

[2] Since a critical theory of technology should go beyond a “philosophical reconstruction of ordinary practice”, it should not reproduce the dominant stances on which particular functions are “proper” and which are “improper”, as do Houkes and Vermaas (2004, 53–55). Such an approach would, for instance, a priori condemn as “improper” any attempt at democratic rationalization, such as the “hacking” of the French Minitel system in the early 1980s (see Feenberg 1995, chap. 7).

[3] Many recent technology studies focus on use or users (see, for example, Oudshoorn and Pinch 2003; Houkes and Vermaas 2004). It should, however, be clear that “the relevant aspects of the environment of a technology” include much more than just its use or users.

[4] In the same spirit, Koningsveld (2006, 216–227) distinguishes non‐material from material practices and administrative or managing sciences from technological sciences.

[5] In this respect, compare Albert Borgmann’s (1984) notion of the “device character” of modern technology.

[6] See also Henwood et al. (2001) and Wajcman (2004, 121–122), who rightly criticize the claim that what counts in our “digital world” is not material production but only information and communication.

[7] All too often, ethical accounts and critiques of technology lack an appropriate and convincing theory of technology. See, for instance, Keulartz et al. (2002) and my review essay of this volume (Radder 2004a, 15–17).

[8] In the fifth section I address the issue of how to establish who is this “we” and what they “wish”.

[9] A more restricted, yet worthwhile, alternative is the conscious non‐use of in principle available technologies. See Wyatt (2003) for a study of non‐users of the Internet.

[10] At a rather general level, one may operationalize the idea of different functions in terms of the notion of different sectors of technology (such as military technology, infrastructural technology, food technology, environmental technology, educational technology, etc.). I do not, however, assume that there is one and only one correct way to sectorize technology. Thus, MacKenzie and Wajcman (1985, 298) use the alternative categories of production, reproduction and destruction technology, but they also suggest the notions of control, energy, transport and information technology.

[11] By way of contrast, the 17th‐century Dutch mathematician and engineer Simon Stevin built a sailing‐car that had the capacity to carry 28 passengers and to achieve a speed of 40 kilometres/hour, which was an exceptionally high speed in those days. Unfortunately, this was possible only on the beach and even there merely under quite specific conditions.

[12] For a thoughtful approach, including several pertinent examples, see Woodhouse (2005).

[13] A detailed application of this normative framework to the case of agricultural biotechnology, especially in developing countries, can be found in Radder (1996, 153–167).

[14] See also Sclove (1995), Feenberg (1999), Hamlett (2003), Veak (2006), Brey (2008) and Van Diest (2008).

[15] See Marcuse (1968), Habermas (1971), Foucault (1979), Borgmann (1984), Winner (1986) and Haraway (1991).

[16] On the relationship between technology and power, see also Brey (2008).

[17] There is an interesting parallel between Feenberg’s distinction of functional constitution and realization and David Gooding’s account of the processes of reduction and expansion in scientific experimentation and computation (see Gooding 2003). Note that, in his contribution to this issue, Feenberg (2008) has expanded his theory by including two primary and two secondary cognitive moments. In my discussion, I will leave this addition aside.

[18] For this, see Veak (2006); see also Bos (2004, 33–39, 151–154).

[19] For more about the notion of non‐local patterns and about the view that (philosophical) theory is not meant to be a descriptive account of practice, see Radder (1986, 1996, 1997).

[20] More precisely, a necessary condition for having a function is to be able to perform the function in (at least) some spatiotemporal region of the actual world.

[21] Yet, even in this example, the trees may also be the result of a technologically administered forestry project.