Paul
Goble
Staunton, May 17 – It is comforting
for many in the West to assume that what is taking place in Russia is something
unique and far from them, but in fact, Ilya Klishin, the editor of the “Dozhd”
site argues, what is happening in Russia as the result of Internet is happening
elsewhere as well but is obscured by the inertia of institutions more deeply
rooted in other countries.
In a commentary on the Colta.ru
portal last week, Klishin issues “a cry of despair” at the way in which the new
communications technologies have devalued judgment and reason and thus
destroyed the ability of many to distinguish between scholarship and astrology
and thus opened the way for “a new dark ages” (colta.ru/articles/media/7254).
Klishin begins by observing that the
two competing concepts of the end of the 20th century – Francis
Fukayama’s “end of history” notion and Samuel Huntington’s “clash of
civilizations” model, although they appeared mutually exclusive, in fact
reflected the entrance of the world into a new era.
“History in the form which we had
known came to an end; the clash of all against all began,” he writes. But the wrong forces have been blamed for
this: it was not the religious fanaticism of ISIS, the North Korean or Iranian
bomb, or “even the Weimar revanchism of Russia.”
These were “all symptoms; the cause
lay elsewhere,” Klishin writes. That becomes obvious if one returns to the
ideas of the two. Fukuyama argued that history had ended because there was no
antithesis to oppose the thesis of democracy and capitalism and thus any
developments would reflect “the archaic survivals of weakly developed
societies.”
Because of the absence of another
phase of the Hegelian dialectic, the Moscow commentator suggests, people became
interested “only in their way of life,” including televisions, cars,
supermarkets, clothes and more recently the Internet.
“In the course of 30 years, within
the memory of a single generation, we experienced a revolution comparable not
so much with the invention of the steam engine as with the fall of the Roman
Empire,” Klishin says.
Today, we know from our school history
textbooks that Rome fell in 476, but we also know that Boethius, who was born
four years after that, did not talk about it. If one reads his “Consolations of
Philosophy,” one might conclude that the empire was continuing, even though Rome
was experiencing a humanitarian catastrophe and his grandchildren became
barbarians.
We should recognize, Klishin says,
that people today “just like Boethius are blindly convincing ourselves that the
civilization of the Enlightenment intended to produce a bright future is alive
while in our forums – Internet forums to be sure – have long been grazing herds
of swine.”
“We are accustomed to view the
Internet and the social networks and gadgets connected with it as self-evident
goods and testimonials of the latest triumph of our technology. There was photography, the plane and the
atom. Now there is the I-phone. Each year something new: this as it were is
part of the logic of progress.”
The idea of progress, born only in
the mid-eighteenth century, led people to conclude that “the development of
technology is progress and progress is a good thing.” But that “simplified logic did not consider
one possibility: when the development of technology by itself destroys the
social system based on faith in progress.”
But that is exactly what the
Internet has done and is doing. By
making information so available and its cost so low, the Internet and related
technologies have destroyed the traditional distinctions between scholarship
and charlatanism and between education and emotional outbursts.
That in turn has destroyed the
traditional hierarchies of knowledge and means that “nothing has any meaning
any longer, except for smilies and likes,” and as a result, the medieval
wildness has overwhelmed logic, education and rational discourse, Klishin
argues.
This is perhaps most obvious in
Russia, but “what is happening in Russia now is not unique. It is simply that
in Western countries institutions are more deeply rooted and thus continue to
function by inertia,” much as Roman consuls and senators continued to act even
though Rome had fallen.
Because Russia was not able to find
itself “after the disintegration of the USSR, “the new global obscurantism
flourished a little earlier” than elsewhere, but only a little and only
different in degree not in kind.
“What is to be done?” Klishin
asks in the classic Russian question. One could “consciously limit the emission
of information” and thus raise its value and meaning and perhaps promote the
“digital detoxification” for a time. But taking that step, he says, “clearly
would be the last cry of despair before the new Dark Ages.”
“It is possible,” he concludes,
“that already our grandchildren having rechristened themselves will communicate
with one another with smilies while observing the execution of an elderly
teacher who offended the city astrologer or the feelings of believers. It is
not so important which.”
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