What Walter Ong Can Teach us in our Technological Moment
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by Jacob Davis
When scrolling through comment sections on social media platforms, it can be hard to have faith in the potential of productive dialogue online. The feeling that productive online dialogue is futile is only natural when people seem to be constantly talking past each other. The dreams of online platforms as beacons of open and fruitful dialogue often appear now to be nothing more than fanciful illusions. A consistent feature of our futile dialogue online is the unconscious manipulation of language. We all implicitly understand the reality-building power of language, but spend too little time considering how that power is used. In these moments where connection seems unattainable, we must consider the power of language as a tool for negotiating meaning. Reflecting on the work of Walter Ong, a theorist who explored the intricacies and intimacies of negotiating meaning through language, can encourage us to build spaces where open dialogue and shared connection can flourish. While we have become more passively ignorant towards the manipulation of reality through language, Ong’s work pushes us to actively think about that power, challenging us to reconsider how and why we communicate.
Throughout his life, Walter Ong explored the challenges arising from technological advancements that have provided us with a dearth of context and an abundance of information. Ong argued that developments in communicative technology have fragmented information into smaller, more discrete parts in efforts to further fixity and precision. He feared that these preferences for increased accuracy might limit our opportunities and capacities for more open-minded, nuanced, and contextualized dialogue (83). Ong suggested that this digitization process was in many ways a method of coming to control the world, and with it, reality (71-74, 78). He critiqued this preference for efficiency and fixity, arguing for the importance of an hermeneutic approach focused on contextualization, interpretation, and application that would provide us the means for negotiating meaning in specific contexts.
Meaning for Ong was always negotiated in social contexts through our use of language and therefore could never be truly fixed (57, 92). If we fail to recognize the power that language is contextually imbued with, particularly to reify fixity, we risk becoming subservient to its manipulation. As such, while it is impossible to fully contextualize information, we should still strive to situate what we encounter as best we can in an effort to better apply it to current circumstances. This commitment compels us to acknowledge that the open negotiation of meaning requires our operation from a position of humility and care.
Although Ong critiqued the technological developments that furthered our focus on digitization and fragmentation in efforts to reinforce fixity, he nonetheless understood that these innovations have offered us the means to engage in the hermeneutic process he discussed: “Advanced digitization and advanced hermeneutic are both marks of our age” (18). In manuscripts compiled from his later years published under the name Language as Hermeneutic, he pondered whether the hermeneutic process could coexist and perhaps even thrive with the help of the wealth of information that digital technologies provide (201):
“Paradoxically, only through the vast amounts and the massive structures of knowledge which digitization makes it possible to achieve and to manage to a degree can the details for massive hermeneutic unification effort be dealt with, although digitization never fully accomplishes the hermeneutic. It only helps in certain ways to implement it” (92,93)
In our current information climate, the answer to Ong’s questions about the potential of digital technologies to improve or to hinder public discourse and the ongoing negotiation of meaning remains unclear. Returning to Ong prompts us to reevaluate the importance of language as a tool of negotiation rather than assertion in our technological moment, and, in turn, to reflect on the importance of relational thinking in a world that is becoming ever more individualized and isolated.
When trying to consider the tensions between digital technology and hermeneutics, we are easily drawn in opposite directions. On the one hand, the democratization of information online has provided the public with the potential to reconsider our dependence on certainty. Furthermore, perhaps recognizing the interconnected nature of our shared insecurity online can bring us together, mobilizing the public to participate in more open and caring dialogue that transcend the necessity of fixity. We can explore these perspectives with the work of Canadian thinkers like Astra Taylor and Dave Cormier. On the other hand, while we may be more connected online, it has come at the price of near-complete dependence upon the massive corporations that own the platforms we use, along with our data. If we allow these corporations to control our individualized algorithmic realities, we risk potentially foregoing the opportunities for open negotiation. These sentiments are illustrated in the work of Canadian philosopher Mark Kingwell and Greek economist Yanis Varoufakis. While these two perspectives are in many ways oppositional, I’d argue that both can be seen to arrive at the same conclusion: we must find ways to live in active uncertainty.
The abundance of information available online, while overwhelming, offers us extensive access, and with it, tremendous power. In his 2024 book Learning in a Time of Abundance, Dave Cormier offers a compelling argument for the importance of uncertainty in an abundant age. He reiterates many of Ong's concerns, questioning whether our communicative faculties may be mitigated by our technological environment: “If we don’t have to turn to the people in our lives but can just search the internet instead, do we lose a piece of our culture? We lost some of the in-between skills that are involved in communicating with one another” (54). Cormier’s belief, however, is that with a fuller understanding of our current climate, we can re-hone those “in-between skills”. He sees opportunities stemming from his belief in the untapped potential of the democratization of information, that “the gift of technology is the possibility of connection” (116).
The abundance of information online offers us the important opportunity to reckon with the limits of our own certainty. As Cormier recognizes, it can be incredibly difficult to reject the allure of certainty, particularly because the vast majority of documented human history is often seen as a process of establishing fixed truths (60). This is precisely why Cormier's argument for recognizing the inevitability of uncertainty and welcoming it with open arms is so necessary. In doing so, we can enter dialogue from humble and caring places, critically aware of the technological structures mediating our interactions while still recognizing the tremendous potential for connection at our fingertips. If we can acknowledge the structural and societal barriers to open negotiation of meaning online, perhaps we can subvert these tools to the benefit of the public.
This untapped potential for digital interconnection can likewise be seen, somewhat paradoxically, in the shared insecurity we all experience online. In Astra Taylor’s The Age of Insecurity, there is a call for all of us to “approach the future with humility–with a sense of curiosity rooted in uncertainty and the kind of caution implied by the phrase ‘taking care’” (278). While much of the book illustrates a bleak picture of the extensive insecurities people experience today and their structural causes, Taylor captures something powerful and uplifting in her ethic of insecurity through which the people may come together (50). People’s experience online is one of intense insecurity of various kinds: data mining, hacking, rampant disinformation, blatant bigotry. Our lack of control can lead us to passively accept the reins of algorithmic control so long as they keep us entertained. But it doesn’t have to (48).
We’ve known for a long time now that these platforms do not have our best interests in mind; if we recognize the shared nature of our distrust and concerns with platforms we are entirely dependent upon but don’t quite understand, we may likewise find a way to engage with one another in more humble, open-minded, and caring ways. While Cormier’s perspective showcases the value in shared uncertainty, Taylor shows us the value in shared insecurity. There is no shortage of instances where online platforms have been facilitators for collective action; perhaps the same convergence could arise around an effort to find means to partake in an active process of negotiating meaning. Insecurity easily breeds uncertainty, but it is from that place of insecure uncertainty that we may find ways to empathize and engage in open negotiation with one another (277).
As appealing as this hopeful vision may be, we must also reckon with the dangerous structural implications of the current technological moment. Our relationship with technology in many ways resembles a faustian bargain: while we have power that comes from our interconnected access online, those who own the platforms that mediate our connection to one another and our data essentially control our power. In his book Technofeudalism, Varoufakis describes how our online existence resembles that of serfs. We do not own the platforms upon which we depend, we do not control their algorithms and recommender systems, and we are concerningly subservient to their whims. He describes the development of personalized algorithms catered to us through the collection and proliferation of our information by these platforms as a means of keeping us docile (68).
Part of Varoufakis’ argument for why we have transitioned from capitalism to technofeudalism is that the decentralized, open market–an essential feature of capitalism–has been usurped in the digital age by individualized, closed markets (132,182). This is true not simply for material goods but for our engagement with information and, arguably, our interactions with other people online. Our online realities are not byproducts of an open market of perspectives, but rather of individually curated recommender systems that further fragment the public. While for some the centralized nature of communication online presents the potential for globally interconnected resistance, it can also be seen as a way in which we are all still dangerously subservient to the owners of these platforms and our data.
Varoufakis' argument regarding the structural limits to our communicative capacities online, is extended by Canadian philosopher Mark Kingwell in his book, Question Authority. Kingwell offers a concerningly accurate depiction of our current online climate: “The medium, in its programming for endless scroll, multiple clicks, and tallied followers, is not a facilitator–it is an engine of its own survival. We think we are in charge of the content, but the form is already our master. We are not engaged in debate, just relentless self-presentation” (174). Kingwell describes our addiction to our own conception of reality as “doxaholism”. While there is potential for dialogue online, Kingwell’s argument suggests that we aren’t coming to the table with an attitude that can promote truly productive communication because of our addiction to self-certainty.
In contrast with the more optimistic attitudes of Cormier, Kingwell paints a bleaker picture of our age of abundance: “given that the old fact-gathering machinery has been thoroughly democratized as the access to platforms itself, this makes everyone and no one a citizen journalist” (176). If we become the sole arbiters of truth for our own reality, negotiating meaning can be seen as entirely superfluous. The more authority we give ourselves, the less we need to listen to, let alone respect others. Moreover, if we are unable to recognize the self-cannibalized nature of content consumption online, we are in fact bound to become nothing more than what we behold.
While the perspectives of the theorists discussed differ, they all, in recognizing that we do not understand the extent of the power we possess online or the power of the platforms we depend on, call for the importance of caution. As we allow ourselves to become swept up in the spectacular online world (Debord 153), we often lose sight of the importance of this caution and uncertainty. The powerful allure of the spectacle has allowed techno-capitalism to thrive while the public has been kept docile, entertained, and fragmented (Debord 31, 136-138). The enticement of the spectacle is so compelling precisely because it indulges our doxaholism. Furthermore, this control over reality that technological advancements have offered us has fundamentally altered our conception of freedom. While Ong was skeptical towards digitization as a means to control reality, Canadian philosopher George Grant offered a far more scathing critique:
“It is the very signature of modern man to deny reality to any conception of good that imposes limits on human freedom. Nothing must stand in the way of man’s essence of freedom. Nothing must stand in the way of our absolute freedom to create the world as we want it. There must be no conceptions of good that put limitations on human actions” (LFN 55).
The belief that it is our right as humans to control reality has led to our construction and acceptance of individualized, spectacular realities online that directly interfere with hermeneutics; a process requiring the acknowledgment of limits. While human autonomy is the fundamental right to choose, it tends to be unconsciously misconstrued as simply the ability to say yes. Unsurprisingly, our indulgent culture justifies our passive acceptance of personalized, algorithmically driven realities. While saying no is often portrayed as passivity or inaction, in our hedonistic climate, abstaining can be a radical act of rejecting the control of spectacular certainty. To many, uncertainty may seem to inherently suggest inertia, but that is not the case; uncertainty, just like insecurity, is an attitude from which we can not only act with humility and care, but also find the means for collective dialogue and action.
Ong was hopeful that digital technology in the 21st century could contribute to the hermeneutic process, but he always stressed the importance of understanding the technologies we are using (Breakthrough in Communication, 16). In our online age, our uncertainty now applies both to the information we encounter and to the very platforms on which we do so. The only path forward, as the theorists discussed have shown, and as Ong had recognized, is through active uncertainty. Varoufakis’ perspective helps us recognize the extensive influence of the powers that be in shaping our realities and to maintain an attitude of active uncertainty online. Kingwell showcases the necessity of questioning the authority not only of others, but of ourselves if we hope to engage in productive dialogue. Cormier shares his perspective, noting that closemindedness inevitably derives from becoming too sure of our own conceptions of reality (152). Taylor makes a similar point, recognizing that if we may hope to craft paths forward, we must accept our own ignorance and uncertainty (277). Her ethic of insecurity focuses on this fundamental need for humility and care in our dialogue with one another.
While hermeneutics can be seen as disconnected from everyday life, Taylor highlights the innately human reason why the negotiation of meaning is so essential: shared connection. The more we are enmeshed within the spectacle, the more isolated we become, and the more we lose sight of the need for open dialogue or collective action (Debord 22). By escaping determinism and following the uncertainty shown in the work of these modern-day thinkers along with Ong, we may find the power in a society of active uncertainty. Ong understood that hermeneutics is by its very nature an endless process (47), requiring openness to one another and willingness to discuss in an effort to negotiate meaning contextually. In essence, hermeneutics is the endless ambition to connect on the innately human level of language, something that is made only more urgent by the hazards of our current technological moment.
Sources
Cormier, Dave. (2024). Learning in a Time of Abundance. John Hopkins University Press. https://learninginabundance.com/
Debord, Guy. (1967). The Society of the Spectacle. Zone Books. https://www.zonebooks.org/books/3-the-society-of-the-spectacle
Grant, George. (1965). Lament for a Nation: The Defeat of Canadian Nationalism. McGill-Queen’s University Press. https://www.mqup.ca/lament-for-a-nation--40th-anniversary-edition-products-9780773530102.php
Kingwell, Mark. (2023). Question Authority: A Polemic About Trust in Five Meditations. Biblioasis. https://www.biblioasis.com/shop/non-fiction/cultural-criticism/question-authority/
Ong, W. J., Zlatic, Thomas D., van den Berg, Sara (2017). Language as Hermeneutic: A Primer on the Word and Digitization. Cornell University Press. https://www.cornellpress.cornell.edu/book/9781501712043/language-as-hermeneutic/#bookTabs=1
Taylor, Astra. (2023). The Age of Insecurity: Coming Together as Things Fall Apart. Anansi Press. https://houseofanansi.com/products/the-age-of-insecurity?srsltid=AfmBOorSo1oODxSxoScYra-BiIGE_aOHPMMm3KKZL3TOBLfLhN7nJdfD
Varoufakis, Yanis. (2023). Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism. Penguin Press. https://www.penguin.com.au/books/technofeudalism-9781529926095