Kline, Stephen J. (1985). What is technology.
Arguing for agreement on the meanings of the primary usages of the term “technology,” Kline believes such an agreement would clarify important concepts in the discourse of science, technology, and society such as “innovation” and the nature of “sociotechnical systems” (Kline, 2003, pp. 210, 212). Kline delineates four usages of the term “technology” that could be considered positioned at various points on a continuum between concrete (narrow) and abstract (broad).
The first and most concrete usage Kline describes is the one he considers most pervasive, that of “manufactured articles” such as machines or refrigerators, i.e. items created by humans or their technologies, as opposed to items such as water or stone, i.e. items existing naturally or independent of human activity. Kline suggests common terms such as “hardware” in the engineering vernacular or “artifact” in the anthropology vernacular express this usage.
The second usage Kline explains will be one of his two sociotechnical systems. Kline suggests the term “sociotechnical system of manufacture” to denote all the “elements” required to manufacture hardware, including humans, equipment, natural resources, and social processes and systems such as economic or legal frameworks (Kline, 2003, pp. 210-211).
The third usage Kline explains refers to “information, skills, processes, and procedures for accomplishing tasks.” He suggests terms including “knowledge,” know-how,” or “methodology” as expressions of this usage. Kline asserts this usage is equivalent to Ellul’s idea that any “rationalized methodology” could be considered technology (Kline, 2003, p. 211). In this sense, the usage seems to me similar to what practitioners in industry or business today refer to as “best practices,” or in other words, the commonly accepted optimal means to some end, although no sound theoretical foundation or rigorously accumulated evidence may exist upon which to base this common acceptance.
The forth usage Kline describes is the second of the sociotechnical systems and he describes it as “the basis of what we do with the hardware after we have manufactured it.” He suggests the term “sociotechnical system of use” as an appropriate expression of this usage. In Kline’s view, it is important to delineate the supporting systems that enable the application (deployment or implementation) of hardware after it has been created (Kline, 2003, p. 211).
Kline emphasizes that it is the combination of these two sociotechnical systems (manufacture and use) that has enabled our species, as an extension of our ancestral species, to “extend our capacities” to the degree that we have “materially affected our evolutionary path” (Kline, 2003, p. 211-212).
Two other important ideas Kline asserts are 1) humans are the only species that “purposely makes innovations” to its sociotechnical systems toward the aim of improving those systems, a characteristic clearly differentiating humans from animals, and 2) the human species’ improvements of its sociotechnical systems and thereby its extensions of its capacities is accelerating in magnitudes with an even increased acceleration noted since the early nineteenth century (Kline, 2003, pp. 211-212).
Gehlen, Arnold. (1983). A philosophical-anthropological perspective on technology.
Gehlen applies philosophical and anthropological perspectives to explore concepts relevant for defining technology, to analyze the human’s relationship to technology, and to discuss the past, present, and future consequences of both of these topics. In the first three parts of his essay, Gehlen explores a number of concepts that present both a rationale for the invention of technology and an outline of the form of its definition.
Regarding the invention of technology, Gehlen cites a number of authors in asserting the premise technology was and continues to be invented by the human species to augment its biological “organs and instincts” in order to survive and propagate in “any natural, uncultivated environment.” Gehlen notes he describes this concept of the “deficient being” in his work, Der mensch, but credits the concept to Herder (probably Johann Gottfried von Herder, a philosopher in the 18th century). It is important to consider also, in Gehlen’s view, the term technology “must refer to both the actual tools and the skills needed to create and use them which make it possible for this instinct-poor and defenseless creature” to survive and reproduce (Gehlen, 2003, pp. 213).
With this rationale for the invention of technology established, Gehlen moves on to describe Kapp’s concept of “organ projection” and the three principles it encompasses: “organic relief,” “organic substitution or replacement,” and “organic strengthening or improvement.” Focusing on organic substitution, Gehlen discusses the significance of humans’ substitution of inorganic materials for organic ones to improve technological artifacts (or tools), for example by substituting metal for wood or stone in crafting utensils or weapons. Among organ projections of the substitution type, Gehlen notes that perhaps the most substantial and important one developed relatively recently in human history, “namely the replacement of the organic power of man and beast with inorganic or stored and recovered solar energies: coal, oil, electricity,” and “nuclear energy” which have increased beyond comprehension the power and or energy available to the human species (Gehlen, 2003, pp. 213 – 214).
In part two of his essay, Gehlen’s discusses a few other concepts relevant to defining technology and humans’ relationship to it. First of all, he notes that Hans Freyer pointed out that since the beginning of the industrial age in the 18th century, the relationship of humans to technology can no longer be considered one in which humans determine the desired end (or objective) and then invent a means (or technology) to attain that end. Instead, technology “creates a kind of abstract ability” and it is only later that humans consider for what end the newly acquired technology may serve as a means. This is significant because it inverts the relationship between ends and means; the means (technology) becomes the end (human objective) and only later is a desired application of the technology pursued or discovered. This inversion, Gehlen interprets Freyer as arguing, elevates the “technological spirit” to the level of a fundamental “absolute” indicating humans’ “desire for controlling and interfering with nature, and for progress” has become the overarching aim. In some sense, it seems to me that here Gehlen (interpreting Freyer) is asserting that humans have determined presupposing technological advancement (or innovation) will bring progress (or, in other words, higher stages of evolution) is better somehow than presupposing it will not. Therefore, redistributing resources (financial and mental, for example) away from efforts to plan and determine worthwhile ends and toward developing superior means (or technological innovation) is the optimal method (or gamble) for ensuring survival and reproduction of whatever group is in control of those resources. This inversion, whether it occurs consciously or unconsciously, that elevates technology to the position of primary end (or purpose) provides a foundation for Gehlen to introduce his concept of the “superstructure” consisting of “reciprocal interaction” between various “spheres” (or disciplines or domains) such as natural science, industrial production, applied science, and technology, “along with the entire sphere of information.” The “superstructure,” according to Gehlen is the “primary difference between our culture and all previous cultures” and could be viewed as the foundational concept for what he argues should be a necessarily “general definition” of technology, a definition that is much broader in scope than the now insufficient idea of technology as nothing more than the practical application of scientific knowledge, that is, as nothing more than applied science (Gehlen, 2003, pp. 214-215).
In the final paragraphs of part two, Gehlen raises the question of who or what may be in control in this relatively recently dawned era of the technological “superstructure” composed of multiple subsystems (or disciplines or fields) reciprocally interacting. Without answering the question himself at this point, Gehlen cites Frederick Jonas in proposing we may be in an era “without a subject term or primary actor.” Going further, Gehlen seems to me to imply previous and current conceptions of agency assume agents are rational and that greater degrees of rationality could lead to greater degrees of agency, that is, to greater degrees of power and control by the agent. In this new era, however, the very meaning of rationality changes. Gehlen interprets Jonas to say that rationality “no longer signifies a control of relationships, but the optimal reaction to facts which are continuously changing due to the boundless stream of new occurrences – i.e. optimal reaction to the unexpected” (Gehlen, 2003, p. 215). Gehlen concludes part two of his essay by suggesting a consolation, if there could be one in dispensing with humans’ conception of themselves as the primary agents of the world, that perhaps this is the era in which humans could be grateful for being the “beneficiaries” of their loss of agency since the population of the human species has massively expanded over the past few hundred years. In other words, even while losing agency, the human species as not only survived, but at least in terms of biological reproduction, its numbers have increased (Gehlen, 2003, p. 215).
Approaching technology from another perspective in part three of his article, Gehlen references Hermann Schmidt’s law of the “objectification of human work” in three phases, with each phase distancing humans further from the work. In the first phase, the work is still determined, directed, and powered by humans, although tools are used to increase power and accomplish more. The human is still the subject (or agent) in this phase. In the second phase, the work is determined and directed by humans, but the operational power is provided by machines. And, in the third phase, the intellectual contribution of humans (determining and directing) is automated also such that the machines determine, direct, and power the work and the human is relieved (or deprived, if one prefers) of duty. According to Gehlen, it is important to recognize the passage through these phases is not intended by humans, but rather “this law operates, so to speak, behind the back, and extends throughout the whole of human cultural history.” Gehlen adds another dimension to this view of technology by mentioning how in 1940 his book Der Mensch was published and “described man as what one would now call a feedback system” (Gehlen, 2003, pp. 215-216).
The concept of feedback systems has a central role in parts two and three of Gehlen’s essay that central role continues into part four as Gehlen begins his discussion of the moral and ethical consequences of the concepts he has discussed thus far and of the various ways he has outlined the boundaries for defining technology. Essentially, Gehlen himself and also Gehlen citing Schmidt and others, seems concerned about the objectification of human work, about the apparent dissolution of the “epistemological gap” that existed when physicists, for example, could easily distinguish between the scientist (representing conscious subject) and nature (representing unconscious object), and about autonomous feedback systems existing and developing without humans controlling them. Moral and ethical questions begin to be raised that strike at humans’ image of the human, at “the belief in the value of rationality,” and at what constitutes “real technological progress.” In part four, Gehlen introduces the field cybernetics as he continues to question the potential future and desirability of a world in which humans have succeeded through modern technology in overcoming, more or less, the “natural, uncultivated environment” only to be confronted by the inevitable dangers of estrangement from work and agency already enumerated by Marxist ideology; although those now fully realized dangers are re-marketed as modern technological advancement (Gehlen, 2003, pp. 216-217).
In part five of his essay, Gehlen makes a few points regarding the “presently discernable human impact of the modern, technologically-created life-environment,” beginning by stating Max Weber’s work in 1908 had asserted civilization’s development already had transformed completely humans’ spirituality. The next point Gehlen makes is that humans have become existentially dependent upon the artificial environment they have created, that humans’ “physical survival presupposes undisturbed functioning of energy plants, water supply systems, communication and information systems, chemical industries,” and such to the extent that even though a limited number of humans may be able to survive still in a natural environment by producing all they require, humans living in modern urban areas are entirely dependent upon modern technological systems to survive. This is true to such an extent Gehlen raises the point he credits to Hannah Arendt that one must wonder whether these modern technological systems may “become part of our biological make-up” to such a degree that it may no longer be appropriate to classify humans among the mammalian species (Gehlen, 2003, p. 217). Elaborating further, he notes that Arendt cites Heisenberg to develop further the idea the now firmly established technological superstructure operating beyond “‘conscious human effort to enlarge material power’” may have become “‘a biological development of mankind in which the innate structures of the human organism are transformed in an ever-increasing measure to the environment of man’” (Gehlen, 2003, p. 218).
Gehlen discusses in part six of his article a few potential consequences on humans of the way technology has developed. First, he discusses the effect on humans of their recently developed existential dependence on the technological society or superstructure by describing how that dependence may insidiously replace what we have known as individual human interests (i.e. those thoughts, desires, or values that distinguish one individual from another) with the generalized interests of the collective society (i.e. those thoughts, desires, or values that all individuals have in common). Overall, it seems Gehlen laments the potential sacrifice of individual character and freedom for collective character and determinism. He says “it will likely be that the individual will feel only such needs as have a chance of collective fulfillment or which are guaranteed by law and are thus for the common good” (Gehlen, 2003, p. 218). Another consequence, according to Gehlen, of the way technological society has developed is humans increasingly live vicariously through the media and “such conditions are inseparably interwoven with the disadvantages of secondary experience.” By its nature, secondary (or mediated) experience is removed from reality since at least one layer of interpretation (or subjectivity) exists – the creator or recorder of the media – between the consumer and the reality represented in the media. In the end, Gehlen notes that even though these homogenizing and apparently deterministic forces resulting from technological advancement exist, the ultimate “mechanization of consciousness” is not a foregone conclusion since “it is counter-balanced to the degree that our intellectual life is renewed.” Finally, in another somewhat optimistic reversal in tone, Gehlen notes that it may be that currently universal or collective values represent an optimal balance such that “control of nature, both in technology and in the basic organization of society, and human propagation with social control catalyzed by this propagation, have reached a high level of mutual reinforcement” (Gehlen, 2003, p. 219).
Bijker, W. E. & Pinch, T.J. (1987). The social construction of facts and artifacts.
As the title of their essay indicates, Bijker and Pinch argue the facts and artifacts typically considered the results of science and the manifestation of technology should be studied from what they call an “integrated social constructivist approach to the empirical study of science and technology” (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 227). In their opinion, the traditional view that conveniently separated science (discovery of truth or knowledge) and technology (practical application of scientific knowledge) has been rightfully abandoned (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 223). They argue, however, this abandonment has not revealed the grander vistas that could be revealed if only various relevant disciplines (e.g. the sociology of science, the sociology of technology, or the history of science) and subdisciplines (e.g. innovation studies, the causes of belief, or the relationship between science and technology) would embrace and develop further the integrated social constructivist approach they espouse, an approach they propose may be best founded upon two clusters of “concepts and methods” developing within the sociology of science and the sociology of technology disciplines, respectively, at the time they wrote their essay: The Empirical Program of Relativism (EPOR) and The Social Construction of Technology (SCOT).
Before providing an overview of EPOR and SCOT, I would like to mention a few other points or concepts Bijker and Pinch discuss in their review of relevant literature exploring the sociology of science, the relationship between science and technology, and technology studies. Regarding the sociology of science, first they differentiate between the discipline’s earlier focus on “science as an institution” and on the “norms, career patterns, and reward structures” of scientists and its more recent focus on scientific knowledge itself, that is on the “actual content of scientific ideas, theories, and experiments” (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 221). Citing David Bloor’s work, Bijker and Pinch note a primary tenet of the “strong programme” in the sociology of science is the study of the “causes of beliefs” rather than the truth or falsity of those beliefs. When studied in this way, “all knowledge claims are to be treated as being socially constructed, that is, explanations for the genesis, acceptance, and rejection of knowledge claims are sought in the domain of social world rather than in the natural world” (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 222). When considered in this way, the privilege heretofore granted the epistemology of science is withdrawn and scientific knowledge is revealed as “merely one in a whole series of knowledge cultures” (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 222). Regarding the relationship between science and technology, Bijker and Pinch cite a few authors as they propose neither science nor technology is the progenitor of the other. Their perspective is science and technology each produce knowledge domains and each may be a means to be exploited or an ends to be pursued according to the situation. They view the relationship between science and technology itself as socially constructed and as a still fertile field worthy of further empirical study. Regarding technology studies, Bijker and Pinch distinguish the subdisciplines “innovation studies, history of technology, and sociology of technology” (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, pp. 223-224). In their view, none of these subdisciplines has gone far enough in studying the technological artifacts themselves (i.e. the technological content) and how that content whether successful or unsuccessful could be explained as “a social construct” susceptible to a “sociological analysis of belief” (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 225) or, I would add, to the social construction of the specifications of the artifact (i.e. technology).
Bijker and Pinch describe EPOR as an empirical approach to analyzing and explaining scientific knowledge (content) that can be divided into three phases that ultimately reveal the socially constructed nature of scientific knowledge. The first phase of EPOR establishes the socially constructed nature of scientific knowledge by demonstrating the “interpretative flexibility” of it, or in other words, by demonstrating scientific findings may be interpreted in numerous ways. Although in the sciences this initial phase of “interpretative flexibility” often ends with a general consensus among scientists regarding what is the truth, Bijker and Pinch argue that demonstrating there is a phase of “interpretative flexibility” is sufficient to “shift the focus for the explanation of scientific developments from the natural world to the social world” (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 226). The second phase of EPOR focuses on the controversy (disagreement or differences) revealed in the first phase and identifies the “social mechanisms that limit interpretative flexibility” and thereby dispense with the controversy as consensus is reached (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 226). The third phase of EPOR would identify relationships between the social mechanisms that caused consensus (or established the system of belief) and the general “socio-cultural milieu” (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 226).
The SCOT approach to technology studies, according to Bijker and Pinch, is one in which “the developmental process of a technological artifact is described as an alteration of variation and selection” and thereby leverages a “multidirectional model” that differs from the linear models that often ignore the unsuccessful (or abandoned paths) of technological development. In early sections of their essay, Bijker and Pinch note their opinion that in the sociology of scientific knowledge, there is a bias (or asymmetry, they say) toward studying only the successful paths of technological development. Bijker and Pinch argue, however, that using a multidirectional approach, an approach that studies both the abandoned and selected paths of technological development from differing perspectives, will yield a clearer understanding of the socially constructed nature of technology and of the different “meanings” assigned to technology by different social groups according to their unique perspective from within the broader sociopolitical milieu (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 227).
Winner, Langdon (1993). Social constructivism: Opening the black box and finding it empty.
Langdon Winner states the purpose of his paper as to examine contemporary work in the study of science and technology and to question its success in orienting “our understanding of the place of technology in human affairs.” To do this, he critically analyzes social construction, an at the time ascending “research strategy” gaining traction with scholars studying the history, sociology, and philosophy of science and technology (Winner, 2003, pp. 233-234), comparatively analyzes social construction in relation to some other research methods (Winner, 2003, pp, 238, 241), and proposes adding an evaluative dimension to studying the history, sociology, and philosophy of science and technology that could result in what he would view as a better, more active, politicized approach that could more concretely influence the role and impact of science and technology on the future of humanity (Winner, 2003, pp. 241-242).
In the first part of his paper following the introduction, Winner explores “the dynamics of change” in science and technology and describes how social construction as a methodology largely succeeds in overcoming what he views as the incorrect perspective of some scholars in sociology and the humanities which dismisses the “black box” of technology by assuming that “one need not understand anything about what goes on inside such black boxes,” that the “device or system” may be “described solely in terms of its inputs and outputs” and that a superficial understanding of black boxes as “instruments that perform certain valuable functions” is sufficient (Winner, 2003, pp. 234-235). In Winner’s view, scholars of science and technology have a responsibility at least to themselves and to their own effort to maintain scholarly relevance in a world increasingly influenced by technologies to “somehow gain a well-developed understanding of at least a representative slice of them” in order to avoid appearing too abstract and detached from reality. Another positive attribute of social construction cited by Winner is its debunking of the attitude he says historians and sociologists of science and technology had taken since the 1970s that elevated so-called scientific knowledge (or objective truth) over technology since scientific knowledge “deals with the fundamentals of human knowledge” whereas technology deals with the means toward attaining subjective (or relative) practical aims such as efficiently and effectively pursuing economic or political objectives.
As an alternative, social constructivists attempt, according to Winner, to develop “’more realistic’ models of their own” by applying “’the empirical programme of relativism’ commonly used in the sociology of science.” Winner’s description of the empirical program of relativism aligns with that of other scholars (Bijker & Pinch, 2003, p. 226) in explaining that EPOR denies the objectivity of scientific knowledge (or truth) by demonstrating how “’truth’ can be seen to emerge through a variety of social activities in which different social groups contend to establish their knowledge claims” (Winner, 2003, p. 235). One distinction Winner makes between EPOR and the particular variety of it social constructivists apply to the study of technology is the latter focuses more on the “’interpretive flexibility’ of technical artifacts and their uses,” which he explains as meaning various people (or interest groups) have various opinions about how to utilize the same technological artifact and the study of the reasons for those opinions may be a significant part of the overall process of understanding and resolving contentious views of technology and of reaching “points of closure” where the “fundamental process of innovation ceases.” Although Winner notes a general consistency among social construction theory and practice, he also points out some subtle distinctions in emphasis exist, for example the focus of Michel Callon and Bruno Latour on “actor networks” that “include both living persons and non-living technological entities,” and the focus of Bijker and Pinch on society as “an environment or context in which technologies develop” (Winner, 2003, p. 236).
Winner underscores another strength of social construction in researching the “dynamics of technological change” as its “clear, step-by-step guidance for doing case studies of technological innovation.” For those who practice it, Winner notes, it can yield a coveted scholarly case study rich in empirical detail identifying the various agents and factors influencing the “multi-centered, complex process” of technological development, including revelations of the “spectrum of possible technological choices” and this means social constructivists “emphasize contingency and choice rather than forces of necessity in the history of technology.” One further benefit of social construction highlighted by Winner is its usefulness in dissolving the “sometimes highly arbitrary distinctions between the social sphere and the technical sphere” which helps demand the attention of philosophers who can no longer dismiss technology as irrelevant to the “human experience” (Winner, 2003, p. 236).
In most of the first part of his paper, Winner focuses on and explains many of what he views as the valuable aspects of social construction. In the final few paragraphs of this first part, however, he pauses to urge caution against embracing social construction as the ultimate methodology for understanding technology since even social construction is socially constructed and may suffer from an “Oedipus complex” in relation to its intellectual ancestors: the criticism social constructivists have directed at “the whole range of thinkers who have written about the origins and significance of modern technology” may not give enough credit to the different, but still valuable contributions of “sociologists of technology like William Ogburn, historians of technology like Lynn White, and a variety of economists who have written on the economic correlates of innovation,” as well as others such as Martin Heidegger, “Lewis Mumford, Jacques Ellul, Ivan Illich, members of the Frankfurt school of critical theory, and any number of Marxist social theorists, not to mention Marx and Engels themselves” (Winner, 2003, p. 237).
Winner’s acknowledgement of the positive attributes and contributions of both the social constructivists and of some of the previous scholarly traditions the social constructivists criticize establishes a foundation from which Winner can 1) criticize what he views as the weaknesses of social construction, and 2) advocate for a scholarly position that would focus more on the societal consequences of technology and the responsibility of scholars to take clear positions regarding the advantages and disadvantages of specific technological perspectives and choices. Elaborating on these two areas is Winner’s concern in the rest of his paper. Beginning with part two, subtitled “technology and human experience,” Winner addresses what he views as three of the four major weaknesses of the social construction research methodology.
First, Winner argues a major weakness of social construction is its “almost total disregard for the social consequences of technological choice” even though, as Winner has already elaborated, the social construction methodology depends on the fundamental notion of competing social groups choosing (or deciding upon) their view of what would be the optimal developmental direction in a particular technological discipline and then advocating for broader adoption of the view they have chosen (or decided upon). The main point he argues is social construction is neutral and neutrality is a weakness. Although social construction empirically and effectively identifies and describes factors determining why certain technologies, certain implementations of those technologies, and certain “social constituencies are the ones that prevail within the range of alternatives available at a given time,” social construction does not even attempt to address what to Winner are the more important questions, namely those questions that ask what have been the consequences on humanity of the technological reality resulting from the social construction of technology. For example, Winner asks “what the introduction of new artifacts has done for people’s sense of self, for the texture of human communities, for qualities of everyday living, and for the broader distribution of power in society” (Winner, 2003, p. 237). Winner provides a couple of reasons why he thinks the social constructivist’s neglect addressing the consequences of the chosen directions in which technology has been developed. One reason Winner cites, but with which he disagrees, is the social constructivists believe the issues of technological consequences have been amply addressed already by “earlier generations of humanists and social scientists.” Another reason, in Winner’s opinion, is the social constructivists are primarily sociologists enamored with what they view as a powerful research method, one they have already applied with success to what they consider the loftier subject of the origins of scientific knowledge (or knowledge of the natural world). Energized by their success, these sociologists are eager to demonstrate further the power of the social construction research methodology and they have settled upon applying it to studying technology, a field they see as a sub-discipline of science anyway (Winner, 2003, p. 237).
Second, Winner asserts social construction suffers from the same “elitism” characteristic of some theories of “political pluralism” and “bureaucratic politics” in that it acknowledges and therefore empowers perceived “’relevant social actors’ who are engaged in a process of defining technical problems, seeking solutions, and having their solutions adopted as authoritative within prevailing patterns of social use.” Winner proposes the action of choosing who or what are the “significant” human or non-human agents and dynamics determining the direction of technological development necessarily excludes, represses, or suppresses those not chosen since the action of choosing is itself based upon perhaps unexpressed assumptions that may be rooted in “deep-seated political biases” that inform the contexts within which alternative technological solutions are presented and decisions about which among them is optimal are made (Winner, 2003, p. 238).
Third, Winner claims social constructivists ignore key philosophical contributions pertinent to technology studies, for example, Winner states “one of the key claims in philosophical writings is that if one looks closely, one sees basic conditions that underlie the busy social activities of technology-making” (Winner, 2003, p. 238). Elaborating further on this idea, Winner says there is “the possibility that the ebb and flow of social interaction among social groups may reflect other, more deeply seated processes in society,” processes one could argue are manifestations of “deeper cultural, intellectual or economic origins of social choices about technology.” To Winner, it appears the “social constructivists do not seek to reveal” these conditions or dynamics, perhaps because the social constructivists consider the conditions too abstract and therefore less amenable to their favored empirical methods (Winner, 2003, pp. 238-239). As one example, Winner cites Marx’s theory of how the “structural relationships between classes are fundamental conditions that underlie all economic institutions, government policies and technological choices (Winner, 2003, p. 238). As another example, Winner differentiates between what he views as the social constructivist’s simplistic conception of “autonomous technology” (or technological determinism) and the philosophers more nuanced conception of it. To the social constructivists, “autonomous technology” is nothing more than the “technological determinism” the social constructivists already have shown to be false with their “models of a dynamic, multicentered process of social selection” as the primary driver of technological change. To philosophers, “autonomous technology” is not concerned with “technological determinism,” but is concerned with the technological result of a process in which “as people pursue their interests, socially constructing technologies that succeed at some level of practice, they undermine what are or ought to be key concerns at another level.” In other words, some socially constructed technologies may result in unforeseen and undesired consequences for those very agents who constructed them. Therefore, “autonomous technology” has “nothing at all to do with any self-generating properties” of technological determinism, but has everything to do with “the often painful ironies of technological choice” (Winner, 2003, p. 230).
Fourth, Winner criticizes social construction for its intentional neutrality regarding the results of technological development. He proposes that what social construction claims as its highest achievement is also its lowest failure: EPOR become interpretive flexibility by way of exhaustive identification and analysis of the factors and dynamics of socially constructed technological development yields valued academic case studies with little or no impact on the realities of technology in human life (Winner, 2003, p. 239). From Winner’s perspective, this may be fine “in cases where social consensus is achievable;” however, when there are serious disagreements regarding technological choices that must be made, the results of which may be irreversible, Winner proposes the social constructivists add no value to the discussion since they “forbid” themselves on “methodological grounds” from taking an “evaluative stance” or from subscribing to any “any particular moral or political principles” (Winner, 2003, p. 239). If this is not enough criticism of social construction, Winner has more. He believes the neutrality of social constructivists in reality “amounts to a political stance which regards the status quo and its ills and injustices with precious equanimity” (Winner, 2003, 240). Alas, Winner concludes, social construction “appears content to define itself as a narrow academic subfield – innovation studies.” And from Winner’s perspective, this is too bad since the policy debates regarding the development and application of technologies as parts of human life in the decades before and after the turn into the 21st century certainly would benefit from the participation of “leading scholars of technology and society” if only those scholars had not “retreated into a blasé, depoliticized scholasticism” (Winner, 2003, 242).