The Karen Crouse article about FINA’s decision to ban high-tech swimsuits sets forth several assumptions about Technology, which further reflect particular philosophies of technology. The first assumption the article makes is that the technology of polyurethane swimsuits directly enables athletes’ ability to win meets—more so than the athletes’ athleticism or talent. The board claims that the technology of polyurethane swimsuits makes swimming “easier,” as evidenced by the large number of records being broken because of the high-tech swimsuits. In short, it is the technology, rather than the human, who controls the ability to swim fastest and win meets.  Mark Schubert claims that the records set in the last year ought to be “stricken” as they were “artificially aided.” Salo also makes a comment that the suit has “devalued athleticism.” The swimsuit is further described as “encroaching on the sport’s integrity.” In this sense, the technology itself appears autonomous, as it seems to the “thing” winning the swimming meets. The assumption made here for technology’s deterministic sense is further evidenced by the board’s recognition of “technology’s slippery slope.” The FINA ban perfectly exemplifies Feenberg’s description of determinism, particularly the first position, in which technological progress is on a “fixed track,” which appears to be almost like a snowballing effect (654). We’ve read plenty of philosophers this semester who range on a spectrum of belief in technological determinism. On the most extreme scale is Heidegger’s philosophy that technological progress ends in the revealing of every possible resource, and we’re left with objectless, standing-reserve (and may ourselves becomes objectified, standing-reserve). Mumford’s philosophy is near this scale, as he believes the tool-making sense of technology is not only inherent in man, but so is the force toward mechanistic, autonomous production, including the Megamachine itself. Even Johnson’s chapter on technology from the system’s perspective implies that determinism is slightly unavoidable (because to suggest that progress doesn’t exist is naïve). However, he confirms that determinism ranges on a scale (as he’s fond of making scales) from soft to hard determinism. Heidegger and Mumford, as I’ve mentioned, would be “hard” determinists.

            The second assumption the article makes about technology is that some technologies (such as the nylon swimsuit) are better than others (such as the polyurethane swimsuit). This assumption is most evident in the comparison of these high-tech swimsuits to athletes using steroids. Steroids, which enhance your ability to be stronger, are clearly viewed as a “bad” technology. To put polyurethane swimsuits on this level equates them with other “bad technologies.” Of course, the comparison is not apples to apples—as steroids also have negative consequences on the body and are illegal. The swimsuits, on the other hand, do not have a negative, physical effect on the body and are equally available to all swimmers. Despite this, the committee, like many philosophers we’ve read, placed a value judgment on a particular kind of technology. This seems to align with the Luddism belief system. Glendinning directly connects some technologies as being good and some technologies as being bad, in his principle statement that “Neo-Luddites are not anti-technology” (604). However, he argues that the bad (i.e. destructive) technologies ought to be banned and the worthy technologies ought to be developed.  Winner echoes similar sentiments in his argument that we “weed out” the bad technologies, and only develop good technologies that are not only utilitarian, but also moral and socially sound.  In the process of banning high-tech swimsuits, the committee overlooks that fact that the swimsuit itself is a technology, just as shaving one’s legs, arms, or head is likewise a technology. Will they ban swimming caps? Will they ban goggles that help you see better? With this assumption, the only way to be “truly” athletic, in its naturalist sense, is to compete in the nude! Only then would the “natural” technologies, such as height and arm span and endurance, be put to test. The Luddite philosophy likewise seems to imply a nostalgia for older technologies, such as the nylon swimsuit. Thus, the FINA resolution perfectly depicts the Luddite call for a return to “simpler” technologies—technologies which are more natural and acceptable.

            The value judgment placed on this technology, as well as the comment mentioned earlier that swimming’s integrity is at risk, lead to the third assumption the article makes: technology is a moral issue. Ellul, in his article on “The ‘Autonomy” of the Technological Phenomenon,” both claims that technology is a moral issue (as well as political and ethical) and further laments that technology is not morally guided. He notes, “The autonomy of technology thus renders us amoral” (394). This morality of technology (or the need for morality and technology to align) is likewise noted by Jonas. His third theme argues for “the moral side of technology as a burden  on human responsibility” (191). The committee, in finding high-tech swimsuits to unethically aid athletes and to be “worse” than other swimsuit technologies, thus places not only a value judgment on these technologies, but offers a solution that is deemed morally acceptable.

            A few final assumptions, not directly stated in the article, are evident from the board’s decision. I’ve already noted that the article suggests that other swimsuits (such as the former swimsuits swimmers will be returning to) are not a technology and do not aid in the swimmer’s ability to compete. Further, shaving one’s body hair or wearing a swimming cap and goggles to aid one in swimming faster are likewise not technologies. However, the most glaring assumption that this article makes is an assumption for other sports’ technologies. Do we believe, then, that any technology that aids in one’s ability to compete athletically ought to be banned? In writing this, I first thought of football receivers wearing gloves to more accurately and regularly catch footballs, as well as the high-tech golf clubs and golf balls that have been recently developed. (To my surprise, a similar ban is taking place in the golfing industry as well: http://www.pgatour.com/2008/r/08/05/usga.rules/index.html.)  This larger assumption, the assumption that Technology is a scaled spectrum from good to bad or acceptable to unacceptable, which seems supported by society most, reminds me of Mitcham’s third “way” of being with technology: Romantic Uneasiness. This view toward technology is sometimes ambivalent and sometimes ambiguous. We like technology, but not all technologies are created equal. We deem some technologies better than others, and in placing a value judgment, we decide which technologies are acceptable and appropriate for us to use.

            On a final note, the assumptions about technology set forth in this article do not surprise me, given what we’re read in this course. However, I’m appreciative of a philosophical vocabulary with which to discuss these ideas. I feel more enlightened to look critically at what society suggests about certain technologies and how this reflects larger notions of technology in general.

final paper–final draft

An Annotated Bibliography

Laura Brandenburg

Applying Andrew Feenberg’s advocacy for subverting technological systems and Robert Johnson’s theory for user-centered approaches to the field of Composition offers an interesting perspective of teacher- versus student-centered classrooms. For Feenberg, technology is not inherently biased, meaning gears and object (technical elements) have no value. However, the way in which the elements are employed according to the social structure in play (in power) does have social significance. If we can change the social structure, we can change the way that technology is used to dominate those “below.” Likewise, Johnson’s theory disrupts the value placed on those system-centered approaches, which most thoroughly silence the users. His user-centered theory is an attempt to put control in the user’s hands, at least in a shared, democratic negotiation for artifact/tool development.

These two theoretical frameworks would undoubtedly foster a student-centered ideology for composition classrooms. However, regardless of the advantages and even practical applications these frameworks offer, they are not easily molded to composition as means to subvert teacher-centered practices. Despite Andrew Feenberg’s desire to democratize technology, which includes the technological “system” of education, perhaps composition classrooms cannot be run from the grass-roots, or student, direction.  While progressive composition pedagogy can emphasize students in the form of the so-called student-centered pedagogy, the results of this implementation for the last half century are more closely aligned with Robert Johnson’s “user-friendly” practice rather than a “user-centered” approach.

The following research attempts to first uncover the roots of student-centered approaches in the field of Composition and then reveal the problematic nature of these approaches on a practical, applicable level for composition classrooms. The first three sources might be considered foundational to defining and understanding student-centered approaches. The remaining articles support, at least in part, student-centered approaches; however, in some cases, such as the Prince article, the practical application of the student-centered approach is complicated. In most cases, I’ve also tried to problematize the difficulty of putting the author’s notion of student-centered theory into practice. The source of publication for the articles varies among journals; however, most journals have an education focus, such as Pedagogy or The Journal of Education. In addition, I tried to focus on publications that were related to the field of Composition, even if the publication published on other aspects of education. The two books I used for excerpted articles are devoted entirely to the field of Composition. The date of the sources ranges from the late 1990s to 2009, with the exception of Bruffee’s article, published in 1984, and Corbett’s article, published in 1991.   

Goggin, Maureen Daly. “Collaboration.” Keywords in Composition Eds. Paul Heilker and Peter Vandenberg. Portsmouth, Boynton/Cook Publishers, 1996. 35-9. Print.

Goggin’s entry in Keywords on Collaboration as a movement reveals the complexity of ontological and epistemological roots associated with the term. In pedagogy and in practice, writing has essentially had two schools of thought: writing as an individual act versus writing as a social act. Thus, Goggin notes that even within Composition, collaboration pedagogy may include multiple persons collaborating on single or multiple documents; whereas collaboration praxis takes the process one step further to argue that all writing is collaborative. The significance of Goggin’s article is the influence of collaboration as a theory on student-centered approaches. Goggin notes, “Although collaborative pedagogical techniques were at times invoked to support traditional teacher-centered classes, most often they were advocated as a way of disrupting traditional hierarchical power relationship between teacher and student” (36).

The significance of applying collaborative theory, as traced by Goggin, and process theory, as traced by Murphy [next annotation], is to reveal the roots of student-centered approaches in the field of Composition. Collaboration is noted as moving the student from “student” to “team teacher” (37). Or, as Bruffee puts it, collaboration is about “establishing a ‘poly-centered’ collaborative learning community in which the teacher moves to the perimeter of the action, once the scene is set” (36). In either case, the foundational aspect of this movement is to subvert traditionalist classrooms, just as Feenberg hopes to subvert hierarchical systems.

Murphy, Christina. “Process.” Keywords in Composition Eds. Paul Heilker and Peter Vandenberg. Portsmouth, Boynton/Cook Publishers, 1996. 192-5. Print.

Murphy’s brief chapter in Keywords provides a clear overview of the Process movement in the field of Composition. She describes it as a movement beginning in the 1960s and 70s, on the heels of Expressivists like Murray and Elbow, among others. Drawing on cognitive psychology, the emphasis for this movement was on writing processes, rather than the traditionalists’ written product. The movement was influenced by further development of social constructivism. Within the development of Process theory, Murphy notes that Bruffee and Berlin, among others, began to advocate “a social view of the writing process” (193). The activities associated with this type of socially constructed process writing reinforces collaborative writing and group interaction to build consensus and constructed knowledge. Further tangents of Process theory were interested in writing instruction that subverts hierarchies and power structures (i.e. teacher-centered classrooms). While the Process movement has been problematized in more recent scholarship, Murphy contends that “without the process movement, the issues of the decentering of teacher authority, the hegemony of social convention, and the social aims of discourse would not be accessible to contemporary theorists” (194).

Murphy’s brief description of this movement is essential to understanding the beginning of student-centered focus in Composition theory. Collaborative theory and perhaps post-process theory to an extent have reinforced student-centered ideologies. However, at the core of Process theory is the advocacy of student control of their writing processes, as a direct means to “decenter” the teacher’s role in the classroom.

Bruffee, Kenneth. “Collaborative Learning and the ‘Conversation of Mankind.’” College English 46.7 (1984): 635-52. Rpt. in Villanueva 393-414. Print.

Bruffee’s article provides readers with a history of collaborative learning, as well as an argument for its essential importance. Though the idea of collaborative learning wasn’t as well-known until the 1980s, the coined term “collaborative learning” was first a radically political practice against traditional education systems of the 50s, 60s, and 70s. Thus, collaborative learning was associated with political ideologies of democratization and disrupted power and authority structures. In the late 70s and 80s, it came to be known as an effective means for engaging students—through peer learning and de-centralized classrooms. Educators found that students, especially those struggling the most, were less likely to seek help from the teacher, but would readily ask for help and provide help from peers. In establishing the argument for de-centralizing classrooms, Bruffee notes, “Collaborative learning, it seemed, harnessed the powerful educative force of peer influence that had been-and largely still is-ignored and hence wasted by traditional forms of education” (638).

Bruffee traces a logical argument beginning with the premise that thought (that is, the act of thinking) is an internalized conversation. As such, we need to understand the nature of conversation in order to understand the nature of our thoughts. By this logic, he claims that understanding conversation, a largely social practice (and the ability of which separates us as humans), will require that we consider how conversing fits into a larger social community. Thus, “to think well as individuals, we must learn to think well collectively—that is, we must learn to converse well” (639). Bruffee then moves the logic of his argument to writing, in which he makes the similar connection between “thinking” and writing”—both of which are internalized practices, developed through external socialization. For Bruffee, collaborative learning is the “social context in which students can experience and practice the kinds of conversations valued by teachers” (641).

The significance of Bruffee’s article for composition pedagogy is tremendous. While collaborative learning is not necessarily synonymous with student-centered practices, the two are closely connected. The social constructivist pedagogy, founded mostly on collaboration theory, does aim at a de-centralized classroom, in which teacher is less authoritative and more peer-like in constructing and sharing knowledge.

Johnson, Anthony, et al. “Breaking with Tradition: Preparing Faculty to Teach in a Student-Centered or Problem-Solving Environment.” Primus 19.2 (2009): 146-60. Print.

The authors place educators at polar ends of a binary—either traditional (teacher-centered) or non-traditional (learner-centered). As such, they offer recommendations for overcoming the impediments of implementing non-traditional pedagogy in the classroom: resistance from students, administrators, and even the individual changing to a student-centered pedagogy.  Many students  may find student-centered approaches to be outside their perceptions of education. Also, students may resist the difficulty of critical thinking in favor of the “quick answer.” Administrators, on the other hand, might be resistant to curriculum changes and be wary of the training required for student-centered instructors. For the instructors themselves, changing one’s pedagogy requires deliberate loss of control and sense of “knowing,” as well as persistence to not return to the former pedagogical practices.

The authors then make recommendations for administrators and instructors, as well as suggestions for helping and supporting students with the transition. For administrators and instructors, the authors recommend, among other things, a strong, united system for planning and implementing new curriculum changes, as well as faculty groups who can share and rely on each other for further support. In addition, the authors recommend that the physical structure of the classrooms be rearranged to be student-focused. In terms of teaching strategies, the authors provide examples of group activities and student presentations that are generally successful. Finally, to support students, the authors suggest that, among other options, teachers encourage a “communal” classroom and allowing for peer teaching and peer revision.

One problematic aspect with the authors’ claims is that they create a binary, which doesn’t allow for 1) an approach between traditional and non-traditional (i.e. semi-traditional?) or 2) a variety of non-traditional approaches, which I believe exist. While their suggestions provide student-emphasis, the teacher still controls the activities and objectives—again suggesting that pedagogy can emphasize students, but it’s more “user-friendly” than “user-centered.”

Prince, Michael B. “A New Beginning in College Writing.” The Journal of Education 188.3 (2007): 1-27. Print.

Prince is one of few who claim that our student-centered approaches have failed in the last half century. These progressive approaches, which “foster emancipation without discipline, critical thinking without content, style without grammar, and writing without reading,” need a fresh alternative (2). Particularly, he distrusts the idea that to be teacher-centered means to be in opposition of student-centered. He criticizes process strategies, particularly in that the real writing that takes place for most academics draws on imitation of product (4).

As a result of participating in a large-scale implementation at Boston University, Prince makes three recommendations for changing composition practices that do not negate teacher-influence and still puts the student first. His first recommendation is that programs ignore any pre-placed assessment (high school GPA, SAT scores, etc.) for the student; instead, the university should conduct its own assessment of student writing. In doing so, programs will know whether the students need a remedial composition course, the first year writing courses, or a pass from all of it. The second recommendation is that programs increase the writing from one semester to the next. The first semester should focus on textual analysis while the second should include textual analysis and emphasis on research. Later courses, required within different majors, should emphasize the various writings in the discipline. Finally, as a return to the fundamentals of writing, grammar and imitation should become center-stage for curriculums.

Prince provides a valuable alternative to many of the other authors included here with his critique of the more problematic aspects of student-centered approaches. While his strategies are perhaps a mix of system-centered and user-friendly practices, what he recommends is far more realistic for being in the student’s best interest for learning.

Kain, Donna J. “Teacher-Centered Versus Student-Centered: Balancing Constraint and Theory in the Composition Classroom.” Pedagogy 3.1 (2003): 104-8. Print.

Kain’s article offers a substantial definition of both teacher-centered and student-centered pedagogies: “In teacher-centered approaches, judgments about appropriate areas and methods of inquiry, legitimacy of information, and what constitutes knowledge rest with the teacher. By contrast, student-centered approaches derive from constructivist views of education, in which the construction of knowledge is shared and learning is achieved through students’ engagement with activities in which they are invested” (104). While student-centered sounds “better,” Kain argues that practical constraints often require that the teacher “take-over.”Drawing on researchers who have showed the problematic aspects of student-centered approaches, Kain claims that not only our students unprepared to take full responsibility for their learning, but instructors are likewise untrained to implement such strategies. Kain recommends that instructors be carefully aware of the theory (process, social constructivist, expressivist, etc.) which they hope to put into practice. In doing so, expectations for students and teachers are made clearer. Because we don’t do this carefully enough, we assign papers that we think are “student-centered” because the student gets to choose what to write about or express him/herself in the process. But then we assess the quality of the papers from traditional methods. While Kain is not arguing in favor of either position, she simply points out that this contradiction defeats any possibility for balancing theory with practice. The way to create this balance, Kain suggests, is to balance our own expectations, goals, and responsibilities with the expectations, goals, and responsibilities of our students (108).

Kain’s approach is useful in that it problematizes student-centered approaches with more likely realities. However, she, herself, does not seem to be questioning the validity or possibility of student-centered approaches. Instead, she’s merely pointing to a cause for the failure of such approaches while likewise making a suggestion for improving the implementation of student-centered approaches. 

Brown, Kathy Laboard. “From Teacher-Centered to Learner-Centered Curriculum: Improving Learning in Diverse Classrooms.” Education 124.1 (2003): 49-54. Print.

Brown claims that the traditional, teacher-centered approach to learning is not working to meet the needs of diverse student populations in the 21^st century.  In defining both student-centered and teacher-centered approaches, Brown makes an interesting comment that both approaches “recognize the student as a key factor in improving student achievement” (50). However, the teacher-centered approach gives the instructors control whereas the student-centered approach puts students in control of their own learning.  Despite the defense for teacher-centered practices as being more easily assessable, Brown argues that learner-centered practices provide the opportunity to teach differing instruction methods, including alternative approaches to meet specific needs students might have. She clearly favors the learner-centered approach, making recommendations such as incorporating collaborative group activities and projects, which become possibilities for students to teach their peers. However, her assertions are still qualified, through the subtle emphasis she continues to give teacher-centered approaches: “In both approaches, teachers provide background data and content, and pose questions that students can use to create meaning” (53). As both of these approaches are similar in their foundations, she suggests a new approach “thinking-centered,” which is dependent on constant reflection of whether instructors are meeting students’ needs and assessment of how those needs are being met.

While I’m not entirely convinced by Brown’s “thinking-centered” approach, as this seems like a cop-out to the real issue, what I get from article is that there is no real practical way to have a student-centered classroom that is not at least somewhat dependent on teachers teaching. To me, that’s evidence that we can’t deny, at least in part, the expert-novice spectrum.

Heard, Matthew. “What Should We do with PostProcess Theory?” Pedagogy 8.2 (2008):283-304. Print.

Heard recognizes that post-process theory is difficult to apply to pedagogy, given the practical nature of the way composition programs run. However, while critiquing post-process as problematic and rarely practiced, he ultimately argues that it should be implemented in some form in the classroom. Post-process theory, while departing from traditionalist attitudes that are teacher-centered, builds upon student-centered notions of process theory to ultimately suggest that writing should be exercised, outside the containment of so-called writing processes. Heard models that ability of post-process to be incorporated into the classroom, at least in part, based on his own experience teaching a composition course.  Students’ writing projects were centered on a community organization of their choice, and Heard seems to have mostly mentored students one-on-one, rather than teaching any sort of skill set broadly to the class. His classroom activities consist mostly of group work, class workshops, and in-class writing assignments. For all assignments, students have a choice at their disposal to make the assignment relevant to them in some way.

While the notion of post-process is not directly considered student-centered, my application draws on the fact that Heard suggests post-process writing cannot be directly taught. Thus, the teacher is not only de-centered, but perhaps useless altogether. This, I think, is a fairly radical assumption. However, given that Heard still has to teach the writing discourse, such as audience and purpose, and given that he still has to teach, in some form, the writing mechanics, we cannot entirely remove “teacher” from the classroom. So again, we could consider this user-friendly and perhaps the closest to user-centered as possible, but the system and the top-down hierarchy still is in effect.

Palak, Deniz and Richard T. Walls. “Teacher’s Beliefs and Technology Practice: A Mixed Methods Approach.” Journal of Research on Technology in Education 41.4 (2009): 417-41. Print.

Theoretically, the use of technology encourages active student engagement and underscores the heart of student-centered pedagogy; however, the authors find that research has produced conflicting results as to whether teachers’ beliefs in student-centered pedagogy and their practice of incorporating technology actually results in involving students in practice. They conducted a mixed-methods approach to uncover whether teachers’ beliefs and practices with technology actually result in student-centered classrooms. The methods used include observational case study, interview, and a qualitative and quantitative survey. Their results suggest that teachers’ beliefs and technology practice do not reflect student-centered classrooms, even in cases where teachers believe in student-centered pedagogy. Thus, the incorporation of technology alone does not ensure student-centered engagement. They conclude that teachers ought to be better trained (rather than just equipped) for how to use their technological resources to encourage student-centered classrooms. However, their article does not provide any practical suggestions for how administrators or program directors should implement such training.

Palak and Walls’s research is extremely rigorous, so I find their results reliable. The application of this article, which seems tangential given its focus on technology, is that it not only further problematizes student-centered theory when put into practice, but it also fails (like other articles) to really display how a truly student-centered praxis is possible.  

Schuh, Kathy L. “Learner-Centered Principles in Teacher-Centered Practices?” Teaching and Teacher Education 20.8 (2004): 833-46. EBSCO. Web. 10 Nov. 2009.

Schuh suggests that teacher-centered approaches and student-centered approaches are often over-generalized as being either/or and placed on a binary. She argues, based on her observational research approaches to one classroom, that student-centered techniques can be incorporated into what is generally considered a teacher-centered classroom. Despite what appears to be teacher-centered strategies, some students surveyed suggest these strategies to be student-centered, showing a disconnect between what is theorized as student- versus teacher- centered and what is actually viewed differently from the actual students’ perspectives.

The instructor that Schuh studied appeared to her to be very teacher-centered, from his organized, structured classroom that commanded his attention from students and the organization of the desks in rows and columns to the teaching activities, all of which were first directed by him. However, the results of the survey given to students in the class show that most students perceive the instructors as providing learner-centered approaches. The author, through a deeper analysis, suggests that this is because of the numerous amounts of modeling and scaffolding that the instructor uses in his teaching methods. Thus, Schuh concludes that teacher-centered classrooms can be embedded with learner-centered principles, particularly in cases where the instructor values student opinions, encourages student response, and teaches principles through modeling techniques.

What interests me about this article is that the author contends that while learner-centered approaches are highly valued, they are often not practiced or are over-generalized as being possible. This article offers more of a spectrum than a dichotomy for teacher- versus student-centered pedagogies. The balanced spectrum, and the value of both techniques, is an important argument for my theory paper.

Corbett, Edward P.J. “Mutual Friends: What Teachers Can Learn from Students and What Students Can Learn from Teachers.” The Allyn and Bacon Sourcebook for College Writing Teachers. Ed. James C. McDonald. Boston: Allyn and Bacon, 2000. 1-9. Print.

In his 1991 article, Corbett claims that the educational system is not a one-way street, as is often presumed; rather, it’s a two-way street, on which teachers have something to offer students, but students likewise have something to offer teachers. Since the first of these two premises is generally accepted, Corbett only briefly notes that teachers are clearly the source of a certain amount of knowledge that needs sharing. Likewise, teachers often teach cultural and moral values beyond what students might get elsewhere. In order to understand what students can offer teachers, Corbett first shows that the “gulf” between students and teachers must be reduced in order for teachers to recognize the value that students offer—if not, we “diminish our effectiveness as teachers” (5). To do so, he recommends first, that we are more encouraging (if not demanding) of student conferences where we can get to know our students backgrounds, strengths and weaknesses, and second, that we imagine ourselves as beginning learners once again. In short, he suggests that students give teachers a new perspective (if teachers are willing to put themselves in the students’ position). Students validate us as teachers, but if we agree to consider the teaching from their perspective, they will also make us better teachers.

While Corbett’s article is slightly informal in its deliverance, I was struck by his adamancy that we learn from our students. At its basic foundation, this seems like the balance between student-centered and teacher-centered classrooms. Though we might not be able to put students in control entirely, this slightly “user-friendly” approach is a perfect composition application for considering the needs and perspectives of our students.

Straub, Richard. “The Concept of Control in Teacher Response: Defining the varieties of ‘Directive’ and ‘Facilitative’ Commentary.” College Composition and Communication 47.2 (1996): 223-51. Print.

Straub claims that despite the commentary theory that asks instructors to engage in “facilitative” commentary—commentary that engages with the text, is contextual, and is informative, instructors still view and approach commentary from a “control” standpoint. Further, we “value” facilitative, collaborative, student-based commentary as good and directive, authoritative, teacher-based commentary as bad (224). Straub believes that the good/bad dichotomy is problematic, even though he, likewise, values facilitative commentary. In short, the terms we’ve used to describe facilitative and directive are too broad. Looking at the commentary of instructors, he reveals how four types of commentary on the same instructor can be either/neither facilitative or/nor directive.

He concludes that we should not devalue all styles of directive commentary, just as we shouldn’t blindly accept all styles of facilitative. Also, regardless of the style of commentary, the teacher is imposing control; it’s just a matter of directly or indirectly interfering. The most important consideration, to Straub, is that we ensure that our commentary meets our teaching philosophies, and further, that we consider from the students’ perspective or students’ responses how students are perceiving our commentary.

While Straub’s article is focused on commentary, rather than writing or classroom strategies, I find this to be one other aspect of composition pedagogy that shows the need for a balance between student-centered and teacher-centered, as neither the facilitative nor the directive commentary styles, alone, are ideal and/or practical.

Johnson’s second part deals with the various perspectives of his rhetorical context: users, designers/makers, and systems/artifacts. In looking at each of these views, he ultimately shows the hegemonic view toward users and the difficulty his theory faces in developing a new ideology that is truly user-centered.

The first realm he looks at is from the perspective of the users. He shows how users have mostly been considered “idiots”—namely, users who either don’t know how to appropriately use a technology or who misuse the technology, despite “obvious” intentions by the maker. In revealing these attitudes toward users, Johnson then shows how the various user-knowledge can be and should be valued: user as practitioner, user as producer, and user as citizen. With these first two realms, especially, he shows examples of user knowledge, techne, or know-how knowledge that is essential to approaching technology and is often undervalued.

I have to admit that I can see where Spinuzzi gets his argument for Johnson’s portrayal of user-as-victim. It’s latent in his tone throughout this third chapter: “As a consequence, when we watch our car being towed to the garage or as we sit helplessly on the telephone help line, we often feel stupid. Users are not innocent in this enterprise of idiocy, though. Users themselves have in many ways allowed the construction of the idea of technological idiocy through an acquiescence to the knowing expert and to the acceptance of the idea that technology is just too complete for the ‘average’ person to understand” (45).

In the next chapter, Johnson looks at the view of users from the designer’s perspective. He follows the development of Human Factors Research, which is in some cases an attempt at user-focus, though probably not user-centered. The focus, he shows, is still on the system itself—as either being appropriately or inappropriately adapted by the user. While this is an attempt, sort of, to at least think of the user when designing—Johnson shows that the designer’s goals trump user’s needs.

In the final chapter of this section, he looks at technological determinism as a way to see that artifacts may themselves take control over user needs, as the artifacts become autonomous. In looking at technological determinism from various fields, Johnson shows that determinism is essentially unavoidable to some degree. He creates a spectrum (as he seems fond of doing) of hard and soft determinism. Sociologists, and social constructivists, deny determinism at all—falling outside the spectrum. But most historians and philosophers of technology fall between some portion of the spectrum, with very few being too far to the right or left. In providing evidence for technological determinism’s force, Johnson hopes to show the incredible power of the system itself that must be overcome in order for user’s needs to become central to technological development.

He concludes this section by placing technology in the same metaphor as language and rhetoric: both power and powerful. I really liked this addition to the metaphor, as it seems, like Feenberg, to not deny technology’s power, but to likewise attempt to subvert that power through a more democratic process (i.e. shared knowledge among users and designers and the renewed value of user-knowledge).

In the first chapter, Johnson describes the perspective of the user as “mundane”— a realm that is unexplored and more importantly, largely ignored. Because our western society is so system-centered and deceptively “user-friendly,” the voice of the user has become almost invisible. Using three examples (stories), he shows how technology and the use of technology are always contextual and dependent on the specific situation and perspective of the user. He concludes this chapter by suggesting that such a theory, which attempts to give agency and voice to the user, would be “user-centered.”

In chapter 2, he develops the idea of perspective from the user, which begins with the power of the knowledge of art (techne). Historically, this power is situated and confined to the system-designers; however, the user-centered theory hopes to shift this power away from system-designers and into the hands of users. After criticizing system-centered designs and incomplete/ineffective attempts at user-centered design, he introduces his own view, which, he claims, is truly user-centered, as the user is placed at the very center of the technological context—from designing to interface to user’s situation. He concludes the chapter by expanding on this view to include the complexity of rhetorical contexts—which include first, “learning, doing, producing”—the ways in which users interact with the system; second, “community, institution, discipline”—the next realm of those larger systems which affect technology; and third, “history and culture”—the outer context which affect and are affected by all that we do.

Part 1

In the introduction, Feenberg defines his argument: “the degradation of labor, education, and the environment is not rooted in the technology per se but in the antidemocratic values that govern technological development” (3).

In the introducation, he introduces theories we are well familiar with: substantive and instrumental. From these theories, he introduces the one on which he will build his argument—the critical theory, which attempts to look at the social context in which technology is developed and used. For the critical theory, technology is not neutral (as the instrumentalist argue), but neither is it totalizing. Its greatest affect is the way in which it shapes us by our decisions for its use. He introduces and criticizes the various interpretations of Marx and Marxism, in order to ultimately “glean” the good stuff: that we can democratize the use of technology by changing the sociopolitical context in which technology is developed and used. Though the USSR failed, he claims this is based not on the failure of socialism, but on the failure of USSR’s adaptation of the new order. Thus, if we can apply socialism to the very heart of what we do (develop and use technologies and technological systems), we can change the seemingly top-down, capitalist effect that technology currently entails.

Though he criticizes Marcuse and Foucault for not providing solutions to their introduction of power-laden problems, he ultimately builds on their theories of a society that is technologically dominated and power controlled.  At the heart of the hegemonic ideology (capitalism), which controls the way in which society operates, is the technical code for capitalism: efficiency, top-down control, and economic success. Using this discussion of codes, he shows how the technologies themself (such as levers and gears) are relatively neutral; however, they are adapted and used within the technical code to replicate the hegemony.

For Feenberg, the new goal for society is to subvert these technical codes, through resistance and change. He uses de Certeau’s discussion of resistance with small-scale tactics, in which the dominated uses the tools of the dominating in order to bring about resistance (84). The small tactical engagements are Feenberg’s hope for changing and democratizing the way in which technology is employed.

Part 2

In order to show how his theory for democratizing technology could work, he introduces the computer: a technology that is ambivalent and, as such, is open for hegemonic or antihegemonic uses. He shows how the computer can be developed and employed as a master machine that makes ‘machines’ of people. This very top-down approach is the cause for much resistance to computer use by individuals in society. However, he argues that the computer also has the potential for democratized, shared, equally contributing members to communicate and create knowledge (which is bottom-up or a more grassroots effect).

He discusses briefly the “myth” of artificial intelligence and shows how this theory has been disproved by those who can evidence than man’s brain is not always linear, though it is “computational” in some ways. However, what the AI debate brings to the table is a renewed awareness of human communication, which has, as a result, spurred the use of the computer for democratized or socialized purposes. He notes, “Considered as a communication medium, the computer is an environment for an increasing share of daily life. In this conception, computers are not “images of man” but domains in which we act and which shape us in return” (106-7).  Thus, he concludes that the computer can be used to mirror or replicate the technocratic order (capitalism) or it can be used to subvert that order through socialized use—depending on how we choose to use and view this technology (112).

He then uses a specific example of the use of the computer, and the Internet, in which we can decide to continue the hegemonic approach to education or democratize it through online education programs. Feenberg claims that the difficulty in determining what to think of online education resulted from two views about the computer: “Is it an engine of control or a medium of communication?” (120). He begins by showing how these online programs were first developed as an automation, which resembled top-down approaches and furthered the technical code for capitalism (efficiency, economic interest, etc.). As a result, many were resistant to its use, particularly faculty who feared their jobs would be replaced through the automating and deskilling of education. However, he shows that, in reality, the idea that teachers will be replaced by computer is dated. In fact, online education is simply another arena for education—one in which students have a greater share in the educational process than what is traditionally offered because instruction is “self-paced” (122). Also, students who might never have participated in the face-to-face classroom are more likely to engage in online education. The use of automation would never work because it will fail to deliver the essential need from humans: interactive communication. Thus, Feenberg notes that the key to success for online environments is not the replacement of faculty, but the full employment of good faculty to use online resources in order to fully engage in educating students in this new virtual classroom. That the ability to democratize education online exists proves, for Feenberg, that we can subvert technological systems (such as education) to bring about a more socialized use by those in the lower ranks.

I have to begin by stating that Feenberg is my favorite person we’ve read so far. He kind of takes a middle-of-the-road in terms of technological power or the power of technology systems—as neither being deterministic NOR neutral. But, he doesn’t do it in a “wussy” kind of way that just hedges for a fence-rider.  He does it in a way that is well supported and I completely agree with. [Does that make me bias?? J]

He provides strong evidence for how technology is inherently situated between social meaning and cultural contexts. He shows how technological development, particularly technological improvements, are not driven by the “goal” of the engineer, but by the meaning that is taken on through social use of such technologies—and then that technology is further mutable depending on other social and sometimes political advancements that are placed upon it.

I think his statement at the end of VI is particularly important to the rest of his argument: “What the object is for the groups that ultimately decide its fate determines what it becomes as it is redesigned and improved over time. If this is true, then we can only understand technological development by studying the sociopolitical situation of the various groups involved in it” (657). From here, he goes on to discuss particularly what the sociopolitical situations have been in the past and present (i.e. environmentalism, medical reform, educational reform, child labor reform, etc.) and what cultural groups (sometimes those which defy the hegemony) have been involved in the technological changes.

In the end, he refutes Heidegger’s essence of technology as being first, too encompassing of all technologies, and second, too dismissing of the fact that technology’s “essence” is juxtaposed with society, rather than separated from it. Thus, he argues for a democratic rationalization, one in which the cultural and social reform takes places at the working environment (in which technologies are employed), much like socialisms’ goal for marketplace reform.

Haraway’s overarching quest is to rid the world of dualisms (or dichotomies or binaries), which provides only a limited worldview, or even a singular worldview. Through her discussion of the cyborg, both literally and figuratively, she hopes to provide an alternative, multi-faceted view of the world—one in which gender is not present or necessary even. Breaking down the dualism of human/ animal, human/ machine, and physical/artificial, she shows how cyborgs envelope all dualisms. Technologies (or machines) are not deterministic, neither are they subservient. As cyborgs, we are the technology; we are the tools. As she notes, “the machine is in us… we are they” (444).

With this break-down, or deconstruction of dualisms, in mind, she reveals how cyborgs or a cyborg-perspective allow for the political aim to see the world from multiple perspectives. From the traditional political perspective, which strives for a singular coding system, she reveals the problematic nature of this common language quest, which both reflects the domination and control associated with the hierarchical systems and fails to see that a cyborg-reality does not manifest itself into singularity.

Through the cyborg metaphor, she hopes to provide a political and social reality, which breaks down all that is totalizing. She reveals that the technological progress of the twentieth century challenges our notions of binaries: “It is not clear who makes and who is made in the relation between human and machine” (442). As a crucial part of the process of technology, she ends with stating our responsibility to restructure our use of technological boundaries in daily life, through “both building and destroying machines, identities, categories, relationships, space stories” (445).

Marcuse begins by boldly asserting that society, industrial society, is totalitarian. Essentially, we are a mechanized, standardized society, both of which drive our political control: the technological organization (or Mumford’s “Megamachine”). He claims that we are basically slaves to the machine process, but this is somehow liberating for us. Not liberating in terms of being free from the totalitarian society—that is an “unrealistic utopia” (406).

He moves into this idea of one-dimensional  thought, showing how  machine processes like mass media and mass production because totalitarian tools that weed out the potential for individuality. He further states that the totalitarian, one-dimensional thought aspect drives “an advanced society which makes scientific and technical progress into an instrument of domination” (411).

The characteristics of an advanced society are evident in the strive for making technological consumption somehow rational, and also in the strive to contain the technological consummation within a particular domain, such as politics or other institutions.  When society advances to this stage of mass machine, it will have reached the height of the totalitarian state—the peak of domination. He concludes that, “Technological rationality reveals its political character as it becomes the great vehicle of better domination, creating a truly totalitarian universe in which society and nature, mind and body are kept in a state of permanent mobilization for the defense of this time” (412).

Heilbroner sets out to argue how “deterministic” technology is in shaping socioeconomic orders. He makes two broad claims. The first deals with the evolutionary nature of technology. To prove this, he shows that technological invention is simultaneous with the process of discovery. Further, there are not absences in technological inventions (what he calls leaps), and finally, technological production is predictable—all of his claims here point to the idea that technology follows an evolutionary pattern, rather than a random course. This pattern, he suggests, he dependent on the expansion of knowledge and the availability of materials appropriate to the technical expertise (400). For his second broad claim, he argues that technology has a direct effect on sociological and political factors in society.  He shows how technology affects not only the types of labor force (i.e. skilled, semiskilled, unskilled), but also it affects the hierarchical orders of supervision and coordination (401).

After proving his point for these two broad claim, however, he concludes that the determinism is more appropriate to what William James called “soft determinism” (401). In his third section he shows that while technology does affect socioeconomic factors, in a predictably, evolutionary way—technology is also in itself affected by social forces. First, technological progress is a social activity, meaning only certain societies are capable of certain technological innovations, depending on social needs and values. Also, technological progress responds to social forces and must be compatible with the those social forces. In his last section, he attempts to join these factors together, to show what role society (and history) have had on technology. Essentially, he argues that capitalism and the rise of market forces caused the development and expansion of technology. Likewise, he takes the position that science gave importance to technological progress.

He concludes that for technology to be solely deterministic, the outside socioeconomic factors have to be right—particularly high capitalism and low socialism. Otherwise, I’m assuming, he falls back on his stance for soft determinism.