Universality

Technology will become Universal

Throughout the 20th century and into the present one, broad American claims of what the world will be like, of what life will be like, of the “home of tomorrow”, the “world of tomorrow” and so forth anticipated the tenor of the claims offered by technorhetoricians. A look, for example, at the early 20th-century designs of Norman Bel Geddes shows a distinct vision of how things “will” or “should” be.  Similar expressions of techno-futuristic predictions find expression in the entire theme of the 1939 New York World’s Fair, the 1964 World’s Fair, and countless advertising and popular culture images (think of the Bell System’s much-touted Picturephone of the 1960s, as well as any number of assertions about the inevitability of household aircraft, personal jet-packs, and other Jetsons-like “modern conveniences”).

These images generally treat technological inevitability and universality as a widespread, inevitable force, and many claims about the future of technorhetoric have had a similar cast.  For example,  Danielle DeVoss and Richard Selfe and coauthors implied strongly in their 2002 essay that” Electronic communication across the curriculum” (or “ECAC”) will soon be a “necessary component of K-16 learning” (449). Even more broadly, Barry Maid in 2001 implied that computer technology will soon “… [be] accepted as part of normal life” (361). And Chris Anson in 1999 claimed that “Within a few years, the disparate channels of video, audio, and computerized text and graphics…will merge into a single set of bits sent back and forth along one electronic highway at lightning speed. Our equipment will selectively manipulate this information to produce various outputs” (265). These claims seem to imply a relatively positive, deterministic sense of technological inevitability—a technological blanket, covering large social and pedagogical areas.

Why is it important that we pay attention to these claims? Coming as they do from a long continuum of predictions of technological university, they are provocative and exciting.   Most of us, we would think, would assume that Barry Maid’s assertion is indeed a present fact, and that devices such as would generate the instantaneous, multivariate channels Anson describes, would be “right around the corner” (indeed, consider the current crop of Palm and Pocket PC handhelds—are these not immediately receptive of such channels?) To those for whom computers and writing is indeed “the world of tomorrow,” such assertions seem correct and inviting. Indeed, who in the computers and writing community, in his or her initial forays into the glossier and “cooler” technologies, does not feel a “this is the future” kind of thrill in the back of his or her mind? Such a technologically- deterministic view is attractive on a number of levels—it looks fun, it is relatively easy to understand, and it seems positive, good for all concerned, it ties into an ongoing cultural fascination with computer technology and its implied universal applicability to any educational venue.  Technological universality and inevitability are therefore seen by many as a “no-brainer.”  And why not? Everyone is doing it—aren’t they?  The world is on the Web—isn’t it?  Schools should naturally use all the technology they can get their hands on—shouldn’t they? The answers to all of these, though, is “it depends.”

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