No matter how intense the desire to maintain a neutral discourse
and to report facts without attaching teleological conclusions
to them, it turns out that the language of family, probably more
than the language of science, machines, or even art, religion,
sports, and nourishment, involves our very existence. Where
should somebody place himself in order to maintain some degree
of objectivity? Probably at the level of the structural
analysis. Here, everything affecting the status of family and the
condition of morality appears as a network of changing
interrelations among people involved in the practical
experiences of defining what a human being is. It seems, at
times, that we relive experiences of the primitive past: the
child knew only his or her mother; women started giving birth at
an early age (almost right after menarche); children were on
their own as soon as they could minimally take care of
themselves. But we also build an ideal image of the family based
on recollections of the less distant past: permanent marriages
("until death"), respect for parents, mother cooking meals for
which the whole family sits down, father bringing wood for the
family hearth, children learning by participating, assuming
responsibilities as their maturity permitted. This idealized
image is also the bearer of prejudices: women's subservient
role, the authoritarian model passed from one generation to
another, frustration, unfulfilled talents.
So the paradox we experience is that of a primitive future: more
animality (or, if you want a milder term, naturalness) in
comparison to a civilized (or at least idealized) past. There is
no cause for worry, especially in view of the realization that
despite our success in labeling the world (for scientific and
non-scientific purposes), the majority of human behavior is
determined (as already pointed out) independent of labels. Taking
into account that the notion of permanency is related to
relatively stable frames of reference makes it easier to explain
why the high mobility of our age results in changes, both
physical and psychological, that undermine previous
expectations. Losing the discipline of the natural cycle that
affected human work for centuries, human beings freed themselves
from a condition of subservience, while at the same time
generating new constraints reflected in the nature of their
reciprocal relations. What does it mean to become used to
something-environment, family, acquaintances-when this
something is changing fast, and with it, we ourselves?
The Industrial Revolution brought about the experience of
labor-saving machinery, but also of many new dependencies. In
Henri Steele Commanger's words, "Every time-saving machine
required another to fill the time that had been saved." One
might not agree with this description. But it would be hard to
contradict its spirit by taking only a cursory look at all the
contraptions of illiteracy filling the inventory of the modern
household: radio, photo camera, TV set, video recorder, video
cassette player, WalkmanT, CD player, electronic and digital
games, laser disc player, CD-ROM, telephone, computer, modem.
The one-directional communication supported by some of these
machines affected patterns of interaction and resulted in
audiences, but not necessarily in families, at least not in the
sense acknowledged in practical experiences of family life. With
the two-directional communication, supported by digital networks,
human interaction takes on a new dimension. Choices increase. So
do risks.
Once the substance of one's experience is substituted by
mediations, even the rationale for communication changes, never
mind the form. Families separated by virtue of assignments
(war, business) at remote locations, or in pursuit of various
interests (sport, entertainment, tourism), exchange videotapes
instead of writing to each other, or focus on telephone
conversations meant to signal a point of reference, but not a
shared universe of existence and concerns. They discover e-mail
and rationalize messages to a minimum. Or they become a Web
page, available to whoever will surf by. All these
changes-probably more can be acknowledged-took place concomitant
with changes in our expectations and accepted values. With the
increased gamut of choice, attachment to value decreases. When
all emotions come from soap operas, and all identity from the
latest fashion trend, it becomes difficult to defend notions such
as sensitivity and personality. When love is as short as the
random encounter, and faith as convincing as reading a person's
palm or tarot cards, it is impossible to ascertain a notion of
reciprocal responsibility or the moral expectation of
faithfulness. On the other hand, when the need to achieve levels
of efficiency dictated by a scale of humankind never experienced
before and by expectations and desires in continuous expansion is
as critical as we make it, something is given up-or, to put it
the other way around, somebody has to pay for it. With the sense
of globality-of resources, actions, plans- comes the pressure of
integration of everybody into the global market, and the
expectations of consumption attached to it. Many-to-many
communication is not just a matter of bandwidth on digital
networks, but of self-definition, also.
The family used to reflect the perceived infinity of the universe
of existence., despite the family's finite and determined
internal structure. With the awareness of limited resources, in
particular those of the natural support system, comes the
realization that alternative practical experiences of life and
cooperation become necessary in order to generate new pragmatic
frameworks for increased efficiency and enhanced dynamism. The
indefinite expansion of what people want and the progressive
incorporation of higher numbers of human beings into the market
through which affluence, as much as misery, can be achieved,
results in the devaluation of life, love, of values such as
self-sacrifice, faithfulness, fairness. The moral literate
philosophers of the 19th century-Ralph Waldo Emerson, Thomas
Carlyle, William James-thought that the answer lay in our
recognition that the world is not only for enjoyment. One can
imagine a TV debate (interrupted by commercials, of course)
between them and the romantic proponents of the ideology of
progress-John Maynard Keynes, Adam Smith, David Hume. It's safe
to wager that the audience would zap over their literate debate,
while they would enjoy the illiterate 30-second spots. None of
the philosophers would establish a Web site, as none would be
terribly excited about the discussion forums on the Internet-not
a place for intellectual debate. Who would read their elegant
prose? To say more at this point would almost preempt the
argument: The family in the civilization of illiteracy
ascertains new forms of human interaction. It departs from the
expectation of conformity for a model that acknowledges many ways
to live together and, even more important, how we transcend our
own nature in this process. We might, after all, be much more
than we know, or trust that we could become.