THE
GLOBAL TELEGRAPH AND A PRESIDENT WHO CAN’T STOP “TWEETING”
As
early as 1851, in The House of the Seven Gables,
Nathaniel Hawthorne has its protagonist reflect on the marriage of
electricity and the human nervous system, presaging the emergence of
the Global Brain.
“Is
it a fact — or have I dreamt it — that, by means of electricity,
the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of
miles in a breathless point of time? Rather, the round globe is a
vast head, a brain, instinct with intelligence! Or, shall we say, it
is itself a thought, nothing but thought, and no longer the substance
which we deemed it!" His
listener who is less taken with modernity, responds, "If you
mean the telegraph," said the old gentleman, glancing his eye
toward its wire, alongside the rail-track, "it is an excellent
thing, — that is, of course, if the speculators in cotton and
politics don't get possession of it. A great thing, indeed, sir,
particularly as regards the detection of bank-robbers and murderers.”
Hawthorne
goes on to suggest that this new technology would be ideally suited
to the back and forth of lovers:
… An
almost spiritual medium, like the electric telegraph, should be
consecrated to high, deep, joyful, and holy missions. Lovers, day by,
day — hour by hour, if so often moved to do it, — might send
their heart-throbs from Maine to Florida, with some such words as
these 'I love you forever!' — 'My heart runs over with love!' —
'I love you more than I can!' and, again, at the next message 'I have
lived an hour longer, and love you twice as much!' Or, when a good
man has departed, his distant friend should be conscious of an
electric thrill, as from the world of happy spirits, telling him
'Your dear friend is in bliss!'
As
the telegraph network evolved into what Tom Standage has called “the
Victorian Internet,” it never became the transcendent medium of
Utopian global intelligence, but was quickly turned to “first-level”
concerns of commerce, public safety, colonialism and war. Inventor
and mystic Nikola Tesla too, in a 1904 article on “World
Telegraphy,” had a vision of the earth “converted into a huge
brain” once the wireless telegraph could be connected to a “cheap
and simple device, which might be carried in one’s pocket.”
Today, Tesla’s dream is a reality, over
560-billion
text messages were
sent worldwide last
month (not counting
60-billion Facebook and WhatsApp daily
messages!), but
our new wired brain seems to be stuck in the most primitive level of
communicating: “this message is all about Me.” It’s
as if in the midst of our climb through the developmental stages
[described
by Maslow, Ken Wilber and Don
Beck (and my use of the Chakra model)], from concerns with personal
safety and control to true global interrelationships, from the
telegraph to telephone, radio to television, the Internet to Virtual
Reality and the Cloud, made possible by Cloud technologies, we’ve
cycled back to the security of simple Yes/No binary signaling!
I
believe that these mini-telegrams – short textual declarations,
free of nuance, without even
the perfunctory hellos and goodbyes, let alone the empathetic
responses, of telephone talk, reflect
the primary psycho-social
inner work of
individuation: discovering
the I – and presenting it to the world.
At
this stage of development, relationships are evaluated primarily in
terms of one’s safety and one’s gain.
In
Chapter One of Digital Dharma,
I called these wireless services “the telegraph of Aliveness.” I
connected RF-ID and texting to the coordination broadcasts of our
living cells, and suggested that this medium was the perfect voice of
adolescence: the time when kids start to push away and declare their
individuality, announcing and
reinforcing their ‘beingness’
to their peers, calling attention to their cleverness. Adults
usually grow out of this narcissism. When they don’t, in Maureen
Dowd’s words, “its as if your id had a typewriter.” And,
today, the
most prodigious user of texting, the loudest voice on Twitter, is the
President of the United States!
Clearly,
we are beset with existential challenges. Our choice is to embrace
them at the highest level of our consciousness, or drop back to
fear-based responses – and an embrace of the technologies that
amplify and reflect our
hunger to be seen and to feel safe, to
send out our He-Ne-Nee
call, or by “following” our pop star heroes, to join in the
safety of the (electronic) crowd.
I
ended Chapter One with the hope that these
messages connect us the Song
of Aliveness transmitted by
all Beings,
that we use them to give
voice to the planet itself as we extend digital sensors to the ocean
depths and the tagging collars of dwindling wild species. This
is still my view of the potential to live this aspect of our Digital
Dharma.
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