Technology and Morality

December 31st, 2019

Photo by Michael Gos

By Michael W. Gos

Canyon Lake Dam, Texas

One drive that every Texan should experience is going north out of Gruene along River Road. It is a narrow strip of pavement in the trees and in most sections, it runs right up next to the Guadalupe River. In fact, as you move north, you cross the river several times. About 16 miles above Hueco Falls and what is called the “First Crossing” (the crossings are numbered from north to south), you come out of the valley and then everything opens up. At the top of the hill, there is a large dam. Behind it—Canyon Lake.

I know Canyon Lake is loved by most Texans, but I can’t help thinking that anyone coming up the River Road after such a beautiful drive can only find it an eyesore. And the dam itself…well, that is even uglier. After that drive along the river, the sight of the lake is way beyond disappointing.

But then, I tend to have a problem with dams in general. I understand that without them, Texas would have very few lakes. But for every dam we see, a part of a river is lost. John Graves wrote a masterpiece about this loss in Goodbye to a River, a story about a long canoe journey down what used to be the Brazos River in the final days before it was wiped out by a series of flood control dams.

Some would argue that dams are as good as, and maybe even superior to, open rivers for a number of reasons, many of them valid. They do indeed create lakes. Lakes are playgrounds for people in multiple ways: fishing, power boating, swimming. . . . We usually see them as fun. I get that; I grew up on the shores of Lake Michigan and spent thousands of hours at the beach. But power boats are noisy and smell bad. Artificial beaches usually have less than ideal sand and tend to be small. And is the fishing really any better than it was in the river that was sacrificed? Driving the River Road and seeing all the people on tubes and the fishermen on the banks and in canoes, I have to think, if you can’t have fun on the river, you’re just not doing it right.

Of course, proponents claim there are other benefits to dams. In the western United States, the lakes they create serve as reservoirs that provide water for cities. But is that really a good idea? Most of the evils in America today are centered in the cities. Call me a whack job, but anything that lets them survive, let alone grow, is problematic.

Finally, there is the flood control issue. That’s a big one here in Texas. Yes, the new lakes hold lots of water, but in really heavy rain events, the lakes fill up. The powers that be are then forced to let some of the water out . . . quickly. Open the gates after heavy rains to protect the dams and you get Houston after hurricane Harvey.

But we’re not really talking about dams here at all. In reality, we are looking at the issue of acting before considering all the ramifications of our actions. Politicians specialize in this kind of behavior which results in what we today call “the law of unintended consequences.” We act before we think. And then we pay the price.

This can be scary. Consider for a moment the topic of genetic modification. Yes, by playing with genes, we can create better plants. We know that much. But what are the effects of eating “altered food?” We are guessing, and hoping, that there are no negative consequences. But only time will tell.

And then there is the issue of designer babies. Today we have the technology to choose such traits as sex, eye and hair color. Thankfully, we don’t do that much . . . yet. But what will we “select for” next? Athletic ability? Intelligence? Social skills?

Do we eliminate all genetic disorders? That would increase our lifespans. A good thing, right? Will the longer lifespan cause an even greater population explosion? Will those genetic alterations introduce new issues, new diseases? Are we creating super-humans? Is that okay?

Technology is power; that is undeniable. Our power over nature tempts us to make decisions and take actions without thinking through, or maybe even having the ability to know and fully understand, the consequences of those acts. We do it because we can.

As early as 1954, Martin Heidegger warned us of another problem that technology posed. He claimed it carries a serious, potential danger in that it exerts control over us through its mediating effects. That is, the technology controls what we can and can’t do. Look at the invention of the pocket calculator, for example. One unforeseen effect is that today, many students lack a mastery of the simple math “facts,” such as times tables. They can’t do long division, fractions or decimals. Take away the calculator and they are helpless. Even more obvious, the invention of digital clocks has left us with a generation of students, many of whom cannot tell time on a traditional analog timepiece. Does that surprise you? If so, you haven’t been around a lot of young people lately.

Heidegger says that as a result, technology can limit authenticity of our experience in, and of, the world—the experience that defines life and gives it meaning. The most prominent example of this is, of course, the cell phone.

On the surface, the cell phone (and other social media) appear to be bringing us together—making us more connected to friends and family. We can talk or text from anywhere, at any time. But as Heidegger predicted, the device has exerted a control over our lives and governs how we interact with people. In essence, it is separating us. Look around any restaurant. People are not talking to each other as family and friends but rather have their noses buried in their phones. We are the most disconnected society ever.

One of the most important decisions we as a society will have to make in the near future is about cloning. Dolly, the first cloned sheep, was created in 1996. Just last month we heard of the first pig-monkey created in China. How long before we can do this kind of thing with humans? Will there be unintended consequences? We know about the problem of replicative fading (the degeneration of DNA that accompanies repetitive cloning). What other surprises await us?

Certainly, we need to be concerned about the problems we create when we make and use technology without thinking through the consequences. But I think there is still a more serious aspect we need to consider; that is the issue of morality. The question we need to be asking ourselves regarding technological advances is, “should we?” Is it the “right” thing to do?

When it comes to our use of the new technologies, we are like children. We get excited about the possibilities, overlook potential problems, but most of all, we don’t bother to ask if this is the moral thing to do.

Our power over nature has exceeded our ethical maturity. That is a dangerous place to be.

Vacations

November 1st, 2018

By Michael W. Gos
King Ranch, Texas

We learn a lot of valuable lessons from our parents. Work hard. Don’t tell lies. Never punch out a moose. And most of those lessons serve us well in life. But we also learn some, shall we say, “less helpful” lessons. One of those is about vacations.

We were spending a bit of time on the King Ranch. For me it has always been a place with a two-fold draw. First, of course, is the historic angle. It was the largest ranch in America and it still is the most famous one today. Most of us have heard the stories of “Captain” King and how the ranch got its start. He bought the first grant (15,500 acres) at just under two cents an acre and then grew the ranch into the 825,000 acres it is today. Imagine, a single ranch larger than the entire state of Rhode Island.

King Ranch gave us the first American cattle breed, the Santa Gertrudis. King’s cowboys (the kinenos) also worked with the mustang horses they found roaming the Wild Horse Desert and through steady improvement of the breed, the ranch became famous for quarter horses and thoroughbreds. In 1946, they even had a Triple Crown winner, Assault, who is buried there at the ranch.

But there is also another, far more important reason I love this place. Out here I can just sit for a while in my boots and cowboy hat and feel like I belong. This place suits me. I wouldn’t mind just staying here for a few days, or months, hanging out in a small cabin and just spending my days ambling around the back forty. In many parts of the ranch there is no cell phone service. I could drive here (with a cooler of beer, of course), park my Jeep somewhere where I can’t see it, and just do whatever felt right at the moment. For a month of so, I would hope to see no signs of the 21st century urban world at all. That is my idea of the perfect vacation.

My wife wants to take a trip to Italy. I am okay with that. I’d love to see the art and architecture of Rome and Florence. Like everyone else, I’d like to do the gondola ride under the Bridge of Sighs in Venice. But I don’t want to do a two-week Grand Tour. I want to experience life there. Tuscany might be a good home base, but I’d want to live there for at least a year. Clearly, I am not—and never will be a tourist by nature; I am a vacationer…a long vacationer.

Unfortunately, that is often not how it turns out for me. More commonly, when it is vacation time, there are flights involved. I don’t particularly enjoy flying even under the best of circumstances. Even worse than the flight itself are the airports. Parking issues, hauling heavy luggage, long hours sitting and waiting, and eating very bad, over-priced food are all less than pleasant. And then, of course, there is the ultimate depravity: security. Every time I enter an airport I think about that morning, sitting nude (well, bottomless anyway) for a half hour on a cold metal chair in a tiny “room” at the Hobby Airport security area, my cell phone confiscated while the screeners were off somewhere doing something with my knee brace. It was beyond unpleasant. None of this matches my idea of a fun way to spend some time off.

But that is just the start. Once you get to your destination, there is travel from the airport to the hotel. Do you go through the hassles of renting a car or do you look for a shuttle? Then there is the hotel check-in process. Don’t even get me started there.

Of course, once at your destination, there are all the “sights” you came to see. The travel to them, the long lines and the fact that I am getting grumpier by the minute make this not only unpleasant for me, but for all around me. (Poor Jill. When you see her, give her your condolences.) And when it is all over, you return home exhausted and needing another week’s rest before you can even face the prospect of going back to work.

I do understand that many people have jobs that are not only unpleasant but also demanding in terms of their time and attention. Sometimes we just have to run away. Taking a week or two off and staying home is often not an option. Even if you can walk away from work (and most of us can’t), work will find you. The phone calls and emails don’t stop just because you are “on vacation.” No one cares, or even believes that you are truly “away from work.”

For many of us, our daily life is unpleasant enough that we will spend thousands of dollars and endure the inevitable indignities the travel industry forces on us just to be able to spend ten or twelve days beyond the reach of those responsibilities.  Our lives have degenerated into 50 weeks of unpleasantness, or as Curley said in City Slickers, “getting knots in our rope.” Then we try to do all of our living in the two (or three, or four) weeks we call “vacation”.

This vacation business is tough, but before you say it is worth it, think again—you’re not going to get off that easily. Before you can leave on this vacation, you get the inevitable bonus of increased stress due to the need to get extra work done before your exodus. The whole time you are gone, you are entertained by worries about what a mess you will return to when it is finally over.

What I find most amazing is that this problem is ubiquitous. Somewhere along the line, it has become the norm.  What I described is not surprising to anyone; we all live it—and do it, willingly. You, and just about everyone you know, are doing it. How did that happen?

They say the best way to impose an idea on someone is to start when he is still a child. I suspect that is what happened here. We grew up seeing this vacation scenario as “the thing we do.” Just as brushing our teeth, sleeping at night or taking a bath are normal because they are what we grew up doing, this mode of vacationing is what we were taught was normal. Many of us never considered an alternative. I remember the novelty of the “staycation” when that word was first coined a few years ago. We found it interesting because “we never thought about that.”

Yes, some of those lessons our parents taught us turned out to be extremely valuable in life. But some are less helpful. At the top of that second list is the way we vacation. It sort of makes you question other things you were taught growing up.

But I still won’t punch out a moose.

Bay Area Houston Magazine