Communication
without Control: Anthropology and Alternative Models of Information at the
Josiah Macy, Jr. Conferences in Cybernetics
Samuel Gerald
Collins
Towson University,
USA
scollins@towson.edu
The
characteristics of our digital world—algorithms, virtual reality, AI,
cryptocurrency, etc.—were largely formulated during the Josiah Macy, Jr.
Conferences on Cybernetics, held between 1946 and 1953. The concept of reducing
the world to flows of information is one of the legacies of these meetings,
with all of the alienation and ideological work that “the digital” has
perpetrated. Yet there were anthropologists at the Macy Conferences as well;
Margaret Mead and Gregory Bateson attended every meeting, and recent
scholarship (e.g., Geoghegan 2023) has shown how anthropological thought
contributed to the formation of our digital world through the reduction of
culture and social life to codes and feedback loops. Yet there were also
alternative models proposed during the Macy conferences, e.g., an embodied
model of information championed by Donald MacKay (Hayles 1999). This paper
looks to another alternative, one based in misunderstandings at the Macy
conferences themselves. In practice and in discourse, Mead and Bateson held
very different ideas about what “information” could mean—ideas diverging from
the “command and control” model that would predominate. Despite those
differences, though, the Macy conferees could communicate with one another and
even plan projects together. This is their model of information—communication
without reduction and without perfect understanding—interfacing rather than
dominating. Anticipating the work of British cyberneticist Gordon Pask, this
model of anthropological cybernetics opens the possibility of a communicative
informatics without control, where interaction can develop without reduction
and understanding without domination.
The Josiah Macy,
Jr. Conferences on Cybernetics (1946-1953) were borne on the a crest of Unity
of Science discourse in the United States, and sought to bring together the
social sciences with the physical and material sciences through the development
of a “new lingua franca” where, as Kline writes, a “universal language of
information, feedback, and homeostasis” could “model all organisms from the
level of the cell to that of society” (Kline 2020: 13). The meetings were
remarkable for many reasons, not the least of which was the active
participation of the anthropologists Margaret Mead and Gregory Bateson. It was
one moment where anthropologists would speak as equals to their hard science
counterparts in a nationally prominent forum. That was the promise of
cybernetics for anthropology–a place at the table to shape the direction of
scientific and technological development in the age of American empire.
However, in all
these endeavors, cybernetics failed. After percolating through multiple
disciplines and through popular culture, cybernetics–perhaps, as Geoffrey
Bowker has termed it, through a process of “legitimacy exchange”--lost currency
as scientific discourse (Bowker 1993). By the 1980s, very little in the
sciences and social sciences was being produced under the auspices of
cybernetics, and most new research (along with this paper) represents
historical analysis rather than new applications of, as Wiener called it, the
“the science of control and communications in the animal and machine” (Wiener
1948). In anthropology, there was very little mention of cybernetic theory in
anthropological work after the 1970s, even as anthropologists began to turn to
considering the digital life of the cyborg.
And yet, there’s
also ample evidence that cybernetics succeeded–too well, as it turns out. All
of the ideas that catalyzed the Macy Conferences: game theory (von Neumann),
neural nets feedback and circular causality (Wiener, Rosenbluth and Bigelow)
and information as a ratio of signal to noise (Shannon)–have led to the triumph
of the virtual and reduction of the world to digital flows of variously
commodified information. In no small part, we can credit the Macy Conferences
for a world where teaching is reduced to the digital delivery of content, a
world where AI agents proliferate in our lives, threaten our careers and prompt
our constant “Turing suspicions” that
the people with whom we digitally interact may be artificial agents instead. As
Bateson suggested later, “cybernetics” has taken on the association of
“control” at the expense of communication (Bateson 1991). It has become the
blueprint of our digital domination; whoever controls the information controls
the world.
And it was
successful in another, more covert sense. Geoghegan’s recent book, Code,
eloquently follows the break-up the Macy Conferences into its constituent
disciplines, with the triumph of information leading anthropologists down a
road to semiotics and structuralism, while circular feedback underlies the
continued popularity of Cognitive behavioral therapy (Geoghegan 2022). As a
potent, generative metaphor, “code” has structured the ways we relate to the
world and each other, but in ways that have ironically widened the gulf between
disciplines.
There were, of
course, alternatives expressed at the Macy Conferences. As many theorists
(including Gregory Bateson, Niklas Luhmann, Humberto Maturana, Franciso Varela
and others) have noted, second order cybernetics grows out of the unanswered
questions about the role of the observer in the system, while Hayles (1999)
looks to Donald MacKay’s more embodied understanding of information as an
anodyne to the digital’s hostility to the physical world of nature and bodies.
Yet, despite
Mead’s and Bateson’s prominence in the Macy conferences and to cybernetics in
general, there has been little explicitly anthropological about the ways our
digital lives have developed, even as anthropology has turned to the study of
those lives as objects of our research. But it’s not for lack of trying. The
Macy Conferences transcripts (however spotty and incomplete) show Mead and
Bateson engaging in the work of the anthropological gadfly–tempering the
strident parochialism of the Macy attendees with exceptions drawn from the
anthropological record. As Mead sagely notes to Lawrence Kubie’s universalist
proclamations on the role of the unconscious, “If you look at some other
cultures, you don’t necessarily find that same contrast” (Pias 2016: 426). But
the exception rarely derails the Mcy conferees who are, after all, busily
re-mapping the world in the context of the post-War US empire. So while Mead
and Bateson contributed commentary, central ideas (neural nets, information as
signal) escaped the Macy conferences as universals unhindered by ethnographic
exception.
Nevertheless,
there are unacknowledged anthropological contributions, and this paper concerns
one of them: the role of misunderstanding. At first glance, this is not a very
promising alternative–it seems antithetical to the whole point of the
conferences, after all. The lingua franca of circular information, circular
causality and neural nets was supposed to unify knowledge by describing
universal processes as characteristic of chemical reactions as they were of
human culture. And yet there were many misunderstandings. For example, Ralph
Gerard was, reportedly, “intensely frustrated by the perpetual tangents to
tangents that developed during a meeting and the rare satisfaction of
intellectual closure and completion of any line of thought or argument” (quoted
in Hayles 1999: 73). For their part, Mead and Bateson pilloried the obstinacy
of their fellow conferees in a 1976 interview with Steward Brand: “”So we used
the mode “feedback,” and Kurt Lewin–who didn’t understand any known human
language, but always had to reduce them to concepts–he went with the idea of
feedback as something that when you did anything with a group you went back and
told them later what had happened [ . . . .] So the word ‘feedback’ got
introduced incorrectly into the international UNESCO type conference where it’s
been ever since” (Brand 1976: 5).
This paper is
concerned with something I’m calling misunderstanding - not as the failure of
cybernetic communication, but as its precondition. Anthropologists play the
role here of not reducing things to her underlying code, but of facilitating
interaction between different ideas without introducing a third term. Perhaps
re-framing is a better word? After some examples from the Macy Conferences
transcripts, the paper develops an alternative model of communication
resembling Andrew Pickering’s emphasis on performative ontologies. I preface
this by noting that these exchanges are, in many ways, what critics of the Macy
Conferences found most irritating: the digressions and non sequiturs of
meetings that went frequently off the rails yet were still preserved in
transcription. Or, not all: Hayles notes that Teuber blocked publishing the
transcriptions of the final meeting in 1953, “noting that the discussions were
too rambling and unfocused; if published, he said, they would be an
embarrassment” (Hayles 1999: 76). This does not mean, however, that the other
transcripts were tightly focused.
Two examples:
In the 1949 Macy
Conference, Lawrence Kubie gives his paper, “The Neurotic Potential and Human
Adaptation.” Later discussion prompts Kubie to ascribe neurosis to all forms of
symbolic communication: “The capacity to communicate by means of language symbols,
and the capacity to become neurotic are very close together” (76). Mead, in her
capacity as anthropological elder, shifts the conversation to culture and
learning processes: “These expectations may be different from another culture
which expects another area of behavior to be subject to learning: in any given
society the particular acts, the particular behavior in which conscious and
therefore flexible learned behavior is to play a given role may vary” (76).
Kubie seems unsure of Mead’s point, and reiterates his initial claims, but this
seems to only draw out discussion to the possibility that autonomic responses
could constitute an unconscious, or that societal expectations for
communication constitute what we regard as neurotic. Eventually, a frustrated Kubie
continues trying to wrest the conversation back from culture and statistical
modeling to the primacy of the psychological. “I am puzzled here because I am
not quite sure how this confusion has arisen. Let me retrace my steps for a
moment” (80). A bit later, Kubie’s colleague, Henry Brosin, gives him “a chance
to catch his breath”--and we can imagine, perhaps, an apoplectic moment for the
orthodox Freudian (82).
Another example,
following on J.C.R. Licklider’s 1950 paper, “The Manner in Which and the Extent
to Which Speech and Can Be Distorted and Remain Intelligible.” Licklider’s
contribution is really a paper on sound engineering–with multiple graphs
illustrating sound clipping and frequency. Wiener brings up the problems of
translation between human and machine: “I
am considering, for example, the remote-control substations for
hydraulic power, where the power dispatcher has to get messages to the machine
and where the machine has to inform the power dispatcher about significant
facts. Now there again you have the same translation problem. (227)
Mead, however,
picks up the question in terms of human communication, and other conferees
follow with their own anecdotes. Can people communicate across languages in a
related family and across dialects? Her question: “I should like to get back to
the question: Is this translation or isn’t it? What is translation?”
(237). It is, Mead concludes, “a
question of framing. Some people frame all European languages together, so that
the idea of learning any Indo-European language is regarded as just another
language to be learned; the idea of learning Hawaiian or Japanese, however,
would be regarded as something quite different. What is translation for one
person is not translation for another” (237). Other examples follow, turning to
physiology, to psychology, to hypnosis, speech pathology, etc. Finally, with a
series of anecdotes about memorizing strings of characters through song,
discussion ends–some distance from the sound engineering where it began.
Discussion
Anyone who has
been to an academic conference will recognize these in these transcripts
characteristic verbal interactions: questions that are really comments,
critiques that are little more than self-aggrandizement. What makes them
different here is their relationship to the goals of the Macy Conferences. Each
of the concepts that fuels these cybernetic meetings–neural nets, feedback and
information–is taken up again and again by conferees, where conversation spins
them into unexpected and occasionally refractory directions. Attendees are
talking, but they are not moving towards a consensus. This would be a searing
critique of the Macy Conferences, if, indeed, the point was to create
consensus. But if achieving consensual understanding was not the point, than
what was?
A later example:
the second-generation cyberneticist Gordon Pask built an installation called
the “Colloquy of Mobiles” involving five robots (two “male” and three “female”)
rotating towards each other on the bases of lights and sounds. What marks this
off from other cybernetic machines, though, is its performative dimension. Pask
meant for humans to interact with the Colloquy. As he wrote, “the mobiles
produce a complex auditory and visual effect by dint of their interactions.
They cannot, of course, interpret these sound and light patterns. But human
beings can and it seems reasonable to suppose that they will also aim to
achieve patterns which they deem pleasing by interacting with the system at a
higher level of discourse” (Pask 1971, quoted in Pickering 2010: 359-360).
Eventually, human visitors to the Colloquy began using small mirrors to reflect
lights back to robots in order to evoke a response. Not “communicating” with
the machines in the sense of a shared message but interacting with the Colloquy
in order to produce light and sounds that the human visitors found pleasing.
Was the purpose
of the Macy Conferences to reduce the world to processes of information and
circular feedback? Or were there other more interactive and less dominating
alternatives?
Another moment in
the conferences, this one in the wake of Bateson’s 1952 paper, “The Position of
Humor in Human Communication.” By now, random asides are no strangers to these
proceedings, and many of the conferees take a moment to tell their own bad jokes.
John Bowman then suggests that humor could be produced in a machine using a
simple circuit: “A circuit of that type may have two stable states. If it is
put in any state, it will asymptotically approach one of the two stable states
and stay there. On the other hand, with the same components in slightly
different values of the circuit constants, it can oscillate” (548). To which
Bateson replies: “I am always prepared to say that an electronic buzzer is
laughing” (548).
Does Bateson mean
that both circuit and the human are laughing? Is he suggesting that laughter is
nothing but the oscillation of circuits? Or that it is the confusion of signals
resisting homeostasis? One of the legacies of the Macy Conferences has been precisely
that: the reduction of physical to the information that lies beneath. This is
also, as Geoghegan notes, the underlying mechanism in the reduction of social
and cultural life to its semiotic exchange. There are, however, other
possibilities. What if the “laughter” in the person and the “laughter” in the
circuit weren’t equivalent, after all? And what if the oscillation in the
circuit was not the oscillation in the neural stimulus? What if that was just
something we were calling laughter and oscillation in order to create an
interactive bridge between two dissimilar systems? This is certainly more
likely than Bateson becoming a reductive materialist, and moreover anticipates
the work of Gordon Pask and other second-order cyberneticists.
Figure 1
(Figure 1: Shows
two systems interacting without a) dominating each other; or b) being subsumed
under a third term)
This sense of
cybernetics acknowledges a world that is not reducible to defined quanta, yet
one in which we very much need to interact in order to live. And this is the
world of the Macy conferences, where conferees, perhaps, have little to show
for their efforts after 10 years of meetings and endless conversations. And yet
they still had those 10 years and endless conversations, despite their
intractable differences between their disciplinary homes. In what Mead later
summarized–rather unhelpfully– as ”microevoltuion,” “The conversation would
come to an end and be resumed. There would be freedom to talk and freedom to
listen, and the web of meaning would be woven as we talked, making a new
pattern before our eyes” (Mead 1964: 301).
In other words,
this cybernetics as a means of interaction across difference–however defined.
As Pickering writes, “the cybernetic sense of control was rather one of getting
along with, coping with, even taking advantage and enjoying, a world that one
cannot push around in that way” (Pickering 2010: 383).
At present, we
are living in just such a world, one where countless nonhuman and multiagent
systems seem to go their own way despite our efforts. Those agents may be
variously intelligent. With generative AI, we have agents that simulate human
conversation, so it is easy for people to (mis)understand their agency. Most
algorithms, however, toil in the background, running checks on our job
applications, checking purchases against credit history, touching up
photographs. Yet in all cases, it is not so easy to understand how multiagent
systems make decisions. Large language models, for example, are unable to tell
us which sources they’ve consulted in their replies, and text-to-mage
generation has notoriously surreal moments. We may describe those systems according
to a number of anthropomorphic metaphors, and, similarly, ascribe any number of
information processing functions to ourselves in return. But, to be clear,
neither of these is an accurate representation.
This is the world
we live in now, but it is not a “post-human” one in the sense of a reduction of
human life to manipulable flows of data. Instead, we find ourselves enmeshed in
interactive systems that can’t be reduced to information quanta–even if powerful
organizations strive to do so. Amidst these heterogeneous systems,
communication may be an impossibility; instead, coordination may be the optimal
outcome. The basis of that coordination is the questions: who defines the field
for interaction? Will everything be subtended to profit? State surveillance?
On the other
hand, we might strive towards making these systems explicable and more
predictable, more interactive, more responsive and more grounded in the
experiences of diverse communities: “Explainable artificial intelligence.”
“community robotics,” community-based design. Anthropologists are uniquely
poised to consider these networks of humans and non-humans as they interact
together to create their world. They are also uniquely positioned to insist
that non-human agents need not only serve the whims of capital, and that
rejecting information as “command and control” means opening up recombinatory
possibilities.
More than this,
what does it mean to interact with the multiagency around us as an equal
partner? What does it mean to describe the give-and-take of a horizontality in
cybernetics?
References
Bateson, Gregory
(1991). A Sacred Unity. NY: HarperCollins.
Bowker, Geof
(1993). “How to be Universal.” Social Studies of Science 23: 107-127.
Brand, Stewart
(1976). “For God’s Sake, Margaret.” Co-Evolution Quarterly (Summer): 32-44.
Hayles, N.
Katharine (1999). How We Became Post-Human. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press.
Kilne, Ronald
(2020). “How disunity matters to the history of cybernetics in the human
sciences in the United States, 1940-80.” History of the Human Sciences 33(1):
12-35.
Pias, Claus, ed.
(2016). Cybernetics: The Macy Conferences, 1946-1953. NY: diaphanes.
Pickering, Andrew
(2010). The Cybernetic Brain. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Wiener, Norbert
(1948). Cybernetics: Or Control and Communication in the Animal and the
Machine. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.