|
A peer-reviewed electronic journal published by the Institute
for Ethics and ISSN 1541-0099 25(1) – June 2015 |
Book review: Chris Abel’s The
Extended Self: Architecture, Memes and Minds
Russell Blackford
School
of Humanities and Social Science, University of Newcastle, NSW
Editor-in-Chief,
Journal of Evolution and Technology
Journal
of Evolution and Technology
- Vol. 25 Issue 1 – June 2015 - pgs 53-55
Chris
Abel is an architectural theorist and critic with extensive knowledge of evolutionary
theory, cultural history, and the philosophy of technology. His new book, The Extended Self, is a scholarly study
of technology’s evolution and transmission. It addresses how we incorporate technology
into our everyday experience and even our conceptions of ourselves. Abel is
especially interested in patterns of urban life in the USA and Australia, two
countries that favor large, detached houses, feature urban sprawls that seem to
go on forever, and show a heavy dependence on motor vehicles for personal
transport. As he points out, many of us – many American and Australian
suburbanites – are obsessed with our cars, experiencing them almost as
extensions of our bodies.
Abel leads
us to reflect on our species’ love affair with technology. His insights may
help us create cityscapes, self-conceptions, and patterns of living that are
less ecologically destructive. Perhaps we can better understand just why we so
often choose homes that are distant from services and workplaces, necessitating
the use of privately owned motor cars. Why, in short, do we adore McMansions
and gas-guzzling SUVs? Why do we live – again, so many of us – in ways that
contribute to global warming and environmental deterioration?
Unfortunately,
The Extended Self delivers less of
this understanding than it seems to promise. Abel suggests that the practical
solutions are well known, but he never explains succinctly what they are. More
importantly, given his apparent objectives, he provides no explicit account of why
the (well-known?) solutions are resisted or how the resistance could be
overcome through better policy or improved public understanding. In these respects,
his book is disappointing.
Its
strength lies in its thoroughgoing investigation of larger issues. This includes
a wide-ranging, and intellectually deep, exploration of ideas relating to memetics
and the transmission of culture. That, in turn, provokes comparisons between
the mechanisms of biological evolution and those of cultural change and
influence. Abel handles all this with relish. It’s a confident scholarly
performance.
In the
process, he includes some fascinating analyses of specific issues. For example,
he sets the record straight on the exigencies of constructing square chambers
roofed by domes. In a well-known paper by Stephen Jay Gould and Richard
Lewontin, “The Spandrels of San Marco and the Panglossian Paradigm”
(1979), the
authors discuss spandrels as a metaphor for phenotypical characteristics of a
species that are byproducts of other features, rather than directly adaptive.
As Abel points out, however, this won’t do. In the absence of strong,
lightweight building materials that became available only recently, spandrels,
or something very like them, have an important architectural function. They are
needed to spread a dome’s load of weight. With masonry techniques from pre-modern
eras, it was not possible to erect a stable dome that touches walls or arches
at only four relatively narrow points (pp. 80-81). Abel’s response to Gould and
Lewontin does not, of course, prove that there are no characteristics in nature
that are mere byproducts. It does, however, weaken the power of the famous Gould-Lewontin
metaphor.
Unfortunately,
there also some errors and oddities in The
Extended Self, such as a reference to Gould as “Jay Gould” in one place (p.
78) and as “Stephen Gould” in another (p. 188) – with separate index terms for
each. As another example, one long endnote refers to the Conservative Party’s
election to power in Australia in 2013 (p. 317). For better or worse, however, no
such thing happened: no political party with that name, or anything similar,
has been registered by the Australian Electoral Commission for many years, let
alone held a parliamentary majority at either federal or state level. Abel is
thinking of Australia’s governing coalition of the Liberal Party and National
Party. This does, indeed, constitute a conservative bloc, and it was restored to
federal power in 2013. The intent of the passage is reasonably clear to anyone
who is familiar with Australian politics; nonetheless, the inaccuracy is rather
startling.
To be
fair, any complex non-fiction book will contain errors. Though some stood out
for me, The Extended Self may include
no more than most. A larger barrier to its success is its hyperacademic prose style.
The sentences are monotonously long, and their central points are multiply hedged
and qualified. There’s a conspicuous refusal to employ the simple word “I” –
combined with far too much resort to the passive voice. (Avoiding the passive
voice should not become a fetish, since there are many occasions when it’s
demanded. Its continual use can, nonetheless, suck the vitality out of English
prose.) The overall effect is to produce an authorial voice that sounds
detached, impersonal, and unfocused.
Too
typically, Abel’s sentences read like this:
Arguing
that extreme theories of fragmented or non-existent selves ignore the
psychological and social value of having a continuous focal point for the self
of some kind, however fragile its foundations might be, Andy Clark and David
Chalmers offer an alternative theory of extended minds which retains the
integrity of individual human agents while also embracing the extension of
personal powers by external devices – that is, external to the human body. (p.
56)
If
that sentence doesn’t faze you at all, then congratulations! In fairness, I am sure
that it can be followed with a bit of concentration. Nonetheless, its central
claim is so bogged down in situating and qualifying material that a reader can
become lost in just this one sentence. Stated more plainly, the central claim
is this: Andy Clark and David Chalmers
offer a theory of extended minds that includes a role for individual human
agents, while acknowledging the extension of our powers by devices external to our
bodies. That is a sufficiently difficult, challenging, nuanced thought for just
one sentence.
It
would not matter so much if sentences such as the one I’ve quoted were
exceptions, but they are not. Unfortunately, Abel piles up sentence after consecutive
sentence that tests a reader’s patience. I’m not blaming him in particular.
Academic publishers – and, indeed, the general milieu of academe – often encourage
this kind of writing. It’s a cause for regret, since it cuts off communication
with many readers who might otherwise benefit from exposure to academic ideas.
As
a bottom line: The Extended Self’s
subject matter is interesting and timely, and Abel’s coverage has much to
recommend it. His book is worth consulting and coming back to, perhaps
repeatedly: it’s an undeniably useful resource that consolidates much
information and captures much effort. Its style, however, creates a barrier to
accessibility. That’s a pity, but the problem goes beyond this book.
Note
All page
references are to Chris Abel, The
Extended Self: Architecture, Memes and Minds, Manchester: Manchester
University Press, 2015.