Conventional economics looks at purchases like these as consumption. However, there is a completely different way of thinking about them. What they really represent is a large-scale investment in capital goods that increase the still largely unmeasured value of their prosumer output. Today, in advanced economies, an inventory of capital goods found in an ordinary worker’s homes might include a washer, dryer, dishwasher, microwave, refrigerator, gas or electric range, air conditioner, toaster, coffeemaker and possibly a blender or juicer, plus tools for making simple repairs, extra electrical extensions for new wiring and the like. To which we must now add computers, videocam, Personal Digital Assistants (PDA) and a vast array of other digital tools that enable D-I-Yers to invest in the stock market, buy a home, trace a long-lost relative or make customized greeting cards. Digital tools make it possible for anyone with minimal geek skills to make one’s own movies, TV shows, albums, books and even radio programs. It has suddenly become affordable to create your own entertainment. It is the do-it-yourself dream…And this digital-entertainment thing is only getting bigger. Critics of “rampant consumerism” who deride the purchase of such items (although their own homes are likely to include many of them) fail to grasp their significance. These are not material expressions of greed but rather investments in prosumer power—the ability to do more for oneself and one’s family, while in fact withdrawing, at least partially, from the marketplace. In that sense, they are the opposite of consumerism. They allow us to accomplish many tasks outside the marketplace that we would otherwise have to pay others to perform, and to do things that are, in fact, unpurchasable.

If the money spent on all this do-it-yourself technology—in home improvement, auto repair, gardening, computing and digital creation—were aggregated rather than toted up piecemeal, we would find an enormous sum that, at least in part, represents not consumption but investment—the capital investment prosumers make to add value to the wealth system. And if we now add up the hours spent using all these tools, kits and supplies, and hypothetically assign to each of our unpaid hours some minimal hourly wage—we arrive at even larger totals that might well stagger the statisticians—and our conventional assumptions about how wealth systems operate. The boundary between paid and unpaid work, between measured value turned out by producers and the mostly unmeasured value turned out by prosumers, is a misleading definitional fiction. On one side we have the money economy, on the other the non-money economy. However, it takes both to make a contemporary wealth system—and it is the wealth system as a whole that needs to be understood by anyone planning for the future. Prosumers move back and forth across this fictional line as though it were not there. Thousands of small businesses around the World actually originate when prosuming hobbyists begin to sell what they have previously made only for themselves or for their friends and neighbors. When Don Davidson of Wilton, Connecticut, was in his mid-fifties, he began thinking about what to do after he turned sixty and retired from his job as associated publisher of Ladies’ Home Journal and Woman’s Day. He had always maintained a well-equipped workshop and spent weekends doing woodwork. So it was natural to think of turning his woodworking skills into a part-time post-retirement business.

The only thing wrong with the plan was that the business grew into a successful full-time family enterprise, employing his two grandsons as well. Across the country in Plano, Texas, Neil Planick raced slot cars as a hobby. With the help from the city’s small-business development center, his hobby morphed into Neil’s Wheels Model Car Speedway. What we see here are prosumers developing and testing skills and interests that, after a time, are converted into marketed goods and small businesses—another input of value into the money economy. Prosumer-initiated companies are not always quite so small and specialized. Consider the Hollywood agent—a high school dropout—who grew up, became a theatrical agent and wound up in the 1960s discovering Simon and Garfunkel and representing them and other top musical stars like Diana Ross and Marvin Gaye. Inspired by his Aunt Della, he began baking as a hobby, handing out cookies to friends and family. “It reached a point,” he says, “where people would not say ‘hello’ when they saw me. They’d say, ‘Where are my cookies?’ Everybody told me I should go into the cookie business,” he recalls, ‘but I didn’t take it seriously at the time.” When he finally did take the idea of a business seriously, Wally Amos launched Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies, now one of the best-known brands in the United States of America and pioneering force in the gourmet-cookie business. And even that is “small potatoes.” Prosumers have not only turned hobbies into business. They have also launched or helped launch entire industries. Twenty-five years ago, sophisticated computer games and simulations were primarily made and used by the military. According to J.C. Herz and Michael R. Macedonia, writing in Defense Horizons, they “evolved in a focused, formal, hierarchical environment as contractors built specific, costly applications on powerful workstations. By contrast, commercially available computer games at the time “were fly-by-night affairs—floppy disks in Ziploc bags, peddled by enthusiasts.”

However, as the article explains, civilian gamers employing small, inexpensive computers rather than military supercomputers soon formed online communities and began collectively modifying, adapting and improving the commercial games, many devoted to military strategy. By the end of the 1990, we learn, “nearly every strategy and combat game on the market came with a built-in level editor and tools to create custom characters or scenarios.” In short, the commercial games encouraged prosumers to customize, complexify and enrich them. The result today: “In terms of innovation, the commercial game industry remains leagues ahead [of the military] because of the player base, a highly motivated, globally networked, self-organizing population of millions, all striving to outdo one another.” Prosumer innovation in the non-money economy thus helped spawn today’s USD198.40 billion computer gaming industry, which is projected to reach USD339.95 billion by 2027. The computer gaming industry is an industry bigger, it might surprise many to learn, than Hollywood’s movie business. Now, as we know, in the United States of America the idea of rights has penetrated most deeply into the bloodstream of its citizens and accounts for their unusual lack of servility. However, without it, we would have nothing, but chaotic selfishness. That is why we feel people’s rights should be respected. This scheme represented a radical break with the old ways of looking at the political problem. In the past it was thought that a man is a dual being, one part of him concerned with the common good, the other with private interests. To make politics work, man, it was thought, has to overcome the selfish part of himself, to tyrannize over the merely private to be virtuous. Locke and his immediate predecessors taught that no part of man is naturally directed to the common good and that the old way was both excessively harsh and ineffective, that it went against the grain.

They experimented with using private interest for public interest, putting natural freedom ahead of austere virtue. Self-interest is hostile to the common good, but enlightened self-interest is not. And this is the best key to the meaning of enlightenment. Humans’ reason can be made to see one’s vulnerability and to anticipate future scarcity. This rational awareness of the future and its dangers is enough to set the passions in motion. In the past humans were members of communities by divine commandment and by attachment akin to the blood ties that constitute the family. They were, to use Rousseau’s phrase, “denatured.” Their loyalties were fanatic and repressive of their natures. Clear reasoning wiped that slate clean in order to inscribe on it contracts calmly made with expectation of profit involving the kinds of relations found in business. Calculated work is the sum of the walls of one’s offices and factories: “Think”; for he was addressing himself to men who were already working. Americans are Lockeans: recognizing that work is necessary (no longing for a nonexistent Eden), and will produce well-being; following their natural inclinations moderately, not because they possess the virtue of moderation but because their passions are balanced and they recognize the reasonableness of that; respecting the rights of others so that theirs will be respected; obeying the laws because they made it in their own interest. From the point of view of God or heroes, all this is not very inspiring. However, for the poor, the weak, the oppressed—the overwhelming majority of humankind—it is the promise of salvation. The moderns built on low but solid ground. Natural man is entirely for oneself. One is numerical unity, the absolute whole which is relative only to itself or its kind. Civil humans are only a fractional unity dependent on the denominator; his value is determined by his relation to the whole, which is the social body.

On who in the civil order wants to preserve the primacy of the sentiments of nature does not know what he wants. Always in contradiction with oneself, always floating between his inclinations and his duties, he will never be either man or citizen. He will be good neither for himself nor for others. He will be one of these men of our days who lack motivation and success. He will be nothing. As the largest category of terms that people use to describe their television viewing relates to its hypnotic effect, we sked three prominent psychologists, famous partly for their work with hypnotism, if they could define the TV experience as hypnotic and, if so, what that meant. I described to each the concrete details of what goes on between viewer and television set: dark room, eyes still, body quiet, looking at light that is flickering in various ways, sound contained to narrow ranges and so on. Dr. Freda Morris said, “It sounds like you are giving a course outline in hypnotic trance induction.” Dr. Morris, who is a former professor of medical psychology at UCLA and author of several books on hypnosis, told me that inducing trances was really easy. The main method is to keep the subject “quiet, still, cut down all diversions and outside focuses,” she said, and then to “create a new focus, keep their attention and at a certain point get them to follow your mind. There are a great variety of trance states. However, common to all is that the subject becomes inattentive to the environment, and yet very focused on a particular thing, like a bird watching a snake.” So you mean,” I said, “that the goal of the hypnotists is to create a totally clear channel, unencumbered by anything from the outside World, so that the patient can be sort of unified with the hypnotist?”

She agreed with this way of putting it, adding that hypnotism has power implications which she loathes. As a result she uses her first session with patients to teach them how to self-hypnotize, reducing her power over them. “I don’t use tricky signals to set them off anymore, or get them to look into my eyes. That encourages their giving power to me; however, I am sorry to say that most doctors do not encourage self-hypnosis. I guess they want the power. If they were ready for it, Dr. Ernest Hilgard, who directs Stanford University’s research program in hypnosis and is the author of the most widely used texts in the field, agreed that television could easily put people into a hypnotic state. He said that, in his opinion, the condition of sitting still in a dark room, passively looking at light over a period of time, would be the prime component in the induction. “Sitting quietly, with no sensory inputs aside from the screen, no orienting outside the television set is itself capable of getting people to set aside ordinary reality, allowing the substitution of some other reality that the set may offer. You can get so imaginatively involved that alternatives temporarily fade away. “A hypnotist does not have to be interesting. One can use an ordinary voice, and if the effect is to quiet the person, he can invite them into a situation where they can follow his words or actions and then release their imagination along the lines he suggests. Then they drift into hypnosis.” Dr. Charles Tart, professor of psychology at the University of California at Davis, author of several best-selling books on altered states of consciousness, told me, “Hypnosis is probably the closet metaphor as a state but I do not know if I could equate it [with television watching]. Hypnosis is a state where you destabilize the ordinary state and then eventually get people into an altered state where they will follow a particular stimulus input much more strongly and with much less critical reflection than they would normally; there is certainly a lot of comparability there.”

Dr. Tart explained that the way you induce any altered state of consciousness is by: disrupting the pattern of ordinary awareness, and then substituting a new patterning system to reassemble the disassembled pieces. He said this applied to any altered state of mind, from drug-induced alteration to Sufi dancing or repetitive mantras, and, he said, it could also apply to television. Morris said that since television images move more quickly than a viewer can react, one has to chase after them with the mind. This leaves no way of breaking the contact and therefore no way to comment upon the information as it passes in. It stops the critical mind. She told me about an induction technique called “confusion,” which was developed by a pioneer in hypnotism, Dr. Milton Erickson. “You give the person so much to deal with that you do not give one a chance to do anything on one’s own. It is fast, continuous, requiring that he try to deal with one thing after another, switching around from focus to focus. The hypnotist might call the patient’s attention to any particular thing, it hardly matters what. Eventually, something like overload is reached, the patient shows signs of breaking and then the hypnotist comes in with some clear relief, some simple instruction, and the patient goes immediately into a trance.” The more I talked with these people, the more I realized how very obvious the process was. Every advertiser, for example, knows that before you can convince anyone of anything, you shatter their existing mental set and then restructure an awareness along lines which are useful to you. You do this with a few very simple techniques like fast-moving images, jumping among attention focuses, and switching moods. There is nothing to it.

Morris described a formula she learned in medical school in which the hypnotist builds “attention, involvement, emotion, and expectation,” which are at last relieved when the hypnotist’s instructions come through. Repetition over time reinforces the instruction, like the hypnotist’s posthypnotic suggestion. Jacques Ellul, in his classic book Propaganda, describes the process of influencing a large number of people at once by using virtually the same formula of dissociation and restructuring, especially through the media, which automatically confines reality to itself. Some version of this same method appears in all power relationships where one person attempts to dominate the awareness of others. A preacher shatters your ordinary reality and then, in the midst of dismay and confusion, substitutes another, previously organized system of perceptions. A political leader attempts to do the same. To the degree that the audience or congregation or patient is separated from prior connections or grounding, the task is made easier. We have described how Werner Erhard systematically disassembles all connections to increase focus on his version of reality. Reverend Moon requires all followers to give up every Worldly connection and all possessions, turning them over to him. The he replaced the “Moonie’s” lifestyle with a new one that consists of virtually nothing but repetitive sayings, repetitive games and repetitive foods until all of life assumes the condition of a mantra. This clears the mind for Moon’s instructions, and if you have ever met a “Moonie,” the word “trance” is a mild way of describing his or her condition. People who have left the Moonfold invariably describe leaving as “waking up,” “breaking the power” and so on.

The hypnotic method can work not only in the intimacy of dark rooms with flashing lights where a voice is speaking soft instructions; it can operate wherever the ingredients are appropriate. It is simpler to hypnotize someone in a confined space where external reality is removed. It is also simpler when the wider context is already disassembled, leaving the subject in confusion. One explanation that we have heard of for the phenomenon of powerful tyrants is that with the social and economic conditions in post-Weimar Germany so out of control, the singularity of his voice, amplified by radio and microphones and supported by the rising cheers at rallies under klieg lights turned upon forty-foot symbols of “disharmony,” itself became a nationwide resolution of disorder. A clear channel of clarity out of confusion. Reassembly out of disassembly. One can draw parallels with the U.S.A. today. In a confusing society, with grounding lost and expectations sinking, we have the television itself as the guru-hypnotist-leader, opening a clear channel into surrogate clarity. Always constant. Whatever the changing images on the screen, there is always light, flickering upon our retinas. Whatever the changing words, there is always the even tone. Whatever he says, the voice of Walter Cronkite remains constant, reassuring, unconcerned. Whatever the action, the gestalt continues, program after program, one program merging into the next, images following images, the wider World a distant shadow. There is no need to do more than follow the images, hear the voices, watch the cycle of realities building and then resolving, program after program. However, if I had hoped for some way of proving from my interviews that TV is hypnotic, I could not.

 

“About the only way you can tell is someone is hypnotized,” said Morris, “is if they can do some of the things hypnotized people do…if they get lost within the hypnotist’s imagery, then we say they are hypnotized. There are no physiological measurements for it.” I came away from these interviews realizing that hypnosis is nothing special. It happens in many of the life’s experiences—from lullabies in the crib to theatrical productions to television. Hypnotism functions wherever circumstances produce that singular, clear channel of communication. To the degree that it exists with television, it is a one-way channel—the set speaking into the mind of the viewer. As you know, artificial intelligence gave rise not only to the idea that the human brain is a type of computer but to the sense that human language is the output of one of the algorithms running inside that computer. A new breed of computational linguists forms the natural language that people speak and write reflects the operation of the computer inside the human mind that performs all linguistic operations. One possible method for describing a grammar is in terms of a program for a universal Turning machine. What made the computationalist theory so compelling was that it came wrapped in a seductive penumbra of technological newness. It offered a mechanic clarity, replacing language’s human messiness with a clean internal computer. By reverse-engineering the way people talk, you could discover language’s underlying code, which you could then replicate as software. Have you notice some therapists are a lot like computers, and you may think that you are connecting with them, but here is what is going on some times?

Rogerian therapists pretended, in their conversations with patients, to have no understanding of the World. For the most part, they simply parroted their patients’ statements back to them in the form of banal, open-ended questions or comments. Knowing that the naivete was a pose, the patients were free to attribute to their therapists all sorts of background knowledge, insights and reasoning ability. The Rogerian persons, has a crucial psychological utility. It suggested that the program’s vacuity masked some sort of real intelligence. It is easy for computer programmers to make machines behave in wondrous ways, often sufficient to dazzle even the most experienced observer. However, as soon as a program’s inner workings are explained in language sufficiently plain to induce understanding, its magic crumbles away; it stands revealed as a mere collection of procedures, each quite comprehensible. The observer says to oneself, “I could have written that.” The program goes “from the shelf marked ‘intelligent’ to that reserved for curious.” Yet people become emotionally involved with the computer, talking to it as if it were an actual person. They would, after conversing with it for a time, insist, in spite of explanations, that the machine really understood them. Even people who know artificial intelligence as just computers become seduced. After a few moments of using the software, one young lady asked her professor to leave the room because she was embarrassed by the intimacy of the conversation. Therefore, it becomes clear that extremely short exposures to a relatively simple computer program could induce powerful delusional thinking in quite normal people. Computer programs can play a valuable role in actually treating the ill and the disturbed.

With a bit of tweaking, one could create a therapeutic tool which can be made widely available to mental hospitals and psychiatric centers suffering a shortage of therapists. Thanks to the time-sharing capabilities of modern and future computers, several hundred patients an hour could be handled by a computer system designed for this purpose. There could be the development of a network of computers therapeutic terminals, something like arrays of large telephone booths, in which, for a few dollars a session, we would be able to talk with an attentive, tested, and largely non-directive psychotherapist. Scientists have been astonished to discover the people who “talked” with computer programs had little interest in making rational, objective judgements about it. They wanted to imbue the computer program with human qualities—even when they were well aware that the computer program was nothing more than artificial intelligence following simple and rather obvious instructions. Some psychiatrists believe that a therapist is in essence a kind of computer. A human therapist can be viewed as an information processor and decision maker with a set of decision rules which are closely linked to short-range and long-range goals. In simulating a human being, however clumsily, voice interactive computer programs encourage human beings to think of themselves as simulations of computers. What is it about the computer that has brought the view of man as a machine to a new level of plausibility? To understand the effects of a computer, you have to see the machine in the context of humankind’s past intellectual technologies, the long succession of tools that, like the map and the clock, transformed nature and altered man’s perception of reality.

Such technologies become part of the very stuff out of which humans build their World. Once adopted, they can never be abandoned, at least not without plunging society into great confusion and utter chaos. An intellectual technology becomes an indispensable component of any structure once it is so thoroughly integrated with the structure, so enmeshed in various vital substructures, that it can no longer be factored out without fatally impairing the whole structure. The computer was not a prerequisite to the survival of modern society in the post-war period and beyond; its enthusiastic, uncritical embrace by the most “progressive” elements of America government, business, and industry made it a resource essential to society’s survival in the form that the computer itself had been instrumental in shaping. The role of computers has expanded beyond the automation of governmental and industrial processes. Computers have some to mediate the activities that define people’s everyday lives—how they learn, how they think, how they socialize. What the history of intellectual technologies shows us is that the introduction of computers into some complex human activities may constitute an irreversible commitment. Our intellectual and social lives may, like our industrial routines, come to reflect the form that the computer imposes on them. What makes us most human is what is least computable about us—the connections between our mind and our body, the experiences that shape our memory and our thinking, our capacity for emotion and empathy. The great danger we face as we come to experience more of our lives through the disembodied symbols flickering across our screens—is that we will begin to lose our humanness, to sacrifice the very qualities that separate us from machines. The only way to avoid that fate is to have the self-awareness and the courage to refuse to delegate to computers the most human of our mental activities and intellectual pursuits, task that demand wisdom.

Now speaking on the human condition, the Vatican II turned this World upside down, and hundred of thousands of nuns bailed out. First of all, it eliminated their specialness by declaring that “all members of the Church had received an equal call ‘to the fullness of the Christian life and the perfection of charity,’ simply by virtue of their baptism.” Despite their vocation, it appeared that nuns were like any other devout Catholics, cherished but not unique. Moreover, Vatican II reaffirmed their exclusion from the priesthood, which remained a males-only preserve. How, then, were nuns, celibate, sacrificing, and dedicated to God’s work, different from other pious but noncelibate Catholic women? Apparently, they were not. The Council nullified the basic ideological foundation for eighteen centuries of Roman Catholic religious life. Following Vatican II, radical changes swiftly transformed convents. The dress code changed and nuns began to look like other conservatively garbed women. They were sent to colleges and universities to study and mingled with whomever they wished. Often they lived in small groups or even alone, without a mother superior. Later, holding one of the interesting and responsible jobs by then available to educated women, nuns earned salaries they had to surrender almost in their entirety to their orders, which dictated the minutest details of their living allowances. The World, too, was changing. Increasingly, the feminine mystique had new outlets for its energy: educational opportunities, career paths, jobs in industry, social freedom. The birth-control pill’s liberating effect on woman cannot be overestimated, even for some Catholics who defied their Church’s teaching in the cause of controlling their own bodies.

With priestly ministry still closed to Catholic women, convents no longer represented upward mobility—which, they saw, was widely available in the outside World. And as traditionally Catholic educational and medical institutions secularized, those drawn to lives of service could fulfill their goals outside holy orders. The respect they could formerly take for granted eroded, as critics attacked them for their collective wealth, accused them of smugness, and questioned their commitment to social problems. Against this backdrop of two changing Worlds, post-Vatican II Catholicism and reformist mainstream society, nuns and potential novices had to evaluate their lives. As they do so, the bleeding began. So did the drastic reduction in the number of new recruits. The consequence of both these processes has been the radical change in nunly demography, as aging sisters have come to represent the largest segment of their orders. Of Canada’s thirty-six thousand Catholic nuns, 57 percent are over sixty-five, and of these seniors, more than half are older than seventy-five. A mere 1.4 percent are under thirty-five. These days, five to six times more nuns die than enter as novices. One of many implications of the bleeding that affects younger nuns is financial: with resources drained by the needs of a top-heavy senior membership, working nuns’ salaries are an important consideration in collective survival. Furthermore, the security that nunhood once represented is increasingly problematic: Decades from now, how will their impoverished orders maintain these women in their old age? Many nuns who left in the initial stages of the bleeding cited problems with their vows of celibacy and obedience as the main reason for their decision. (Today, those in the outward trickle are more likely to point to the finances. They resent relinquishing of their salaries to superiors who then infantilize them by doling out personal allowances.)

As always, sexual chastity itself was seldom the motive behind a woman’s decision to commit to the spiritual life. Rather, it was an integral, inescapable part of the religious vocation, often easiest with which to deal. Its costs—childlessness and singleness—seemed worth its rewards: a privileged position in the Catholic Church; honor to the Earthly families left behind; educational, vocational, and professional opportunities; relief from financial worries. After Vatican II, these rewards for taking the veil largely evaporated. Laywomen, too, could be educated and respectably employed, even in Church service, and could hold prestigious positions within the parish. Why, then, through a vow of celibacy, sacrifice the joy of marriage and motherhood, to say nothing of the erotic pleasures of the flesh? In the two decades after Vatican II, many nuns concluded there was no longer any valid reason to do so. “Celibacy was an issue for me,” reported an apostate nun explain her decision to leave. “I missed male companionship.” A second fell in love with a Jesuit for whom she conceived “an intellectual attraction, an emotional attraction, a comradeship of souls and physical attraction.” Typical reasons that, after the 1960s, outweighed celibacy’s payoffs for the devout nun and contributed more than a few drops to the bleeding. Since Vatican II and the revolution of pleasures of the flesh, over three hundred thousand nuns and two hundred thousand priests Worldwide have formally renounced their sacred vows, including celibacy, and defected. Half a million men and women, former religious, are now integrated, with varying degrees of success, into the World. For a great many, celibacy had become the great stumbling block to their personal and spiritual mission.

It can be hard for people to carry out all the obligations of spirituality and be married, have children, and, at the same time enjoy leisure and freedom. Nevertheless, quite a number find it possible to do so. If real effort is made, and if it is accompanied by earnest prayer for Divine assistance, the higher self will see that the way gradually becomes easier. It is true that many inhabitants of monasteries and converts allow the fear of pleasures of the flesh to become dominant. However, this is certain not true of the philosophic mystic. The latter knows that unless an individual feels strongly impelled to discontinue physical relations, abstinence may do considerably more harm—mentally and physically—than spiritual good. Therefore, the general attitude toward pleasure of the flesh should be one towards acceptance of the Law of Chastity. Otherwise it is probably certain disciplines and ethical standards that must, naturally, accompany it. You know, I am learning to and I preach celibacy, but I also think that Dr. Freud may have been on to something about have the repression of intimate passions can be bad for some. After reading some thoughts from nuns and principals on the topic, it is clear that celibacy can greatly disturb some people and turn them into animals. The key is letting it be a choice you are okay with, and if it is not, then walk away from your job, fall in love with a legal adult, and get married. That is what the Law of Chastity is about anyway. Preserving yourself for marriage. The animal nature must be controlled by the higher Will. Meanwhile, meditation may help by mentally retracing premarital or even extramarital experiences of pleasures of the flesh, but to see them this time from the ugly and repulsive side, with all the sordid little details and low principles, the risks and confusions, the futility and disappointment that mark the end, and thus get the other side of the picture. This kind of meditation is to be analytic and reflective. It is intended to create certain associative thoughts which will immediately manifest themselves whenever the desire itself manifests. Some attach too much importance to physical asceticism such as fasting and not enough to following out the evil consequences of the desire of pleasures of the flesh by repeated thoughts and imaginations, until they are etched into one’s outlook. Do not strain the eyes of the spirit in order to penetrate the darkness which may hide the meaning from you.

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