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Chris Groves
Have we learned yet what it means to live in a technological society? For well over a
century, our everyday lives have become increasingly suffused by advanced
technologies, from telecommunications and industrial chemistry through information
technology to the products of the life sciences — and now, nanotechnology. Our
relationships with the non-human world and with other people have been transformed.
Communications technologies bring the distant close to us, and consumer electronics
transport those closest to us far away. Engineered chemicals transform the materials
which surround us, eradicate unseen dirt, kill unwanted unicellular creatures, even (so
we’re told) keep us young. We have gained the ability to store unimaginable amounts
of information, and extend our collective capacity to remember — so long as the
fragile digital media we employ endure.
A technological society is one which surrounds its members with tools and devices
whose inner workings and potential for creating unintended consequences remain
mysterious — in effect, they’re so many black boxes. Since the 1960s, and the
revelations about DDT and Thalidomide, it has been apparent that the benefits and
costs of technologies are spread unequally across the world and between generations.
There have been protests against GM foods in developing countries, sparked by
concerns that the common heritage of farmers would be expropriated and turned into
a source of private profit by transnational corporations. Nuclear power brings
electricity to the homes of citizens of industrialised societies while successive
generations in countries like Niger and Namibia suffer the consequences of working
in, and living near, uranium mines. Living in a technological society is not just a
matter of living amidst all the black boxes; it is also a matter of understanding that
they connect to and modulate inequalities of power.
For nearly twenty years, nanotechnology has been hailed as likely to trigger nothing
less than a second industrial revolution. The ability to engineer matter at the scale of
nanometres, creating structures smaller than viruses and proteins, equal in size to
small molecules, would mean that we could (to use imagery employed in a brochure
issued by the US government back in 1999) “build the world atom by atom”. New
medical devices, smart materials, drugs, even interfaces that would meld organic life
and information technology, thus realising science fiction dreams of cyborgs — all
would be made possible. Commentators have embraced this vision enthusiastically,
even those who disagree with writers like K. Eric Drexler and Ray Kurzweil about the
feasibility of micro-scale, artificially intelligent robots based on nanotechnology (like
the “nanites” featured in I, Robot or the remade The Day the Earth Stood Still).
When such a future begins to look imminent, discussions of the effects on society of
the new technologies ensue. Questions arise as to the optimum balance between
benefits and risks, but also about how far the institutions that develop and manage
technologies can be trusted to safeguard against hazards. Although public awareness
of nanotechnology remains comparatively low, such questions are now to be
expected, just as was the case with GM technology. In January 2010 the House of
Lords Select Committee on Science and Technology produced a report that noted a
“regrettable” level of secrecy in the food industry around the current uses of
nanotechnology. They accompanied this observation with comments on how much
remains unknown about the potential of nano-engineered substances used in food
applications for harming human health and the environment. Yet the numbers of
“nano-enabled” consumer products continue to increase: in the USA, the Woodrow
Wilson Institute’s online databases include, at the time of writing, over 1000
consumer products from over 20 countries1. The philosopher Langdon Winner has
pointed out that technologies are a form of tacit legislation that can transform whole
societies. If this is the case, the relationship between those on the receiving end — the
citizens of nominally democratic nation states — and those who drive and manage the
commercial exploitation of new technologies perhaps needs more scrutiny.
It is evident that those behind the drive to commercialisation are convinced more
technological innovation — of whatever kind — is good for us. And here in Wales,
devolution may have made its contribution. In Wales, as in the UK, the 1970s, ‘80s
and ‘90s saw a general decline of traditional manufacturing industries, as global
corporations relocated production capacity to cheaper countries. Industry and
governments alike began to consider science and technology important. Companies
had of course long seen science and technology as a source of improvements to
production processes, and thus a source of profit. Governments now began to see
support for technological innovation as a way of making their nations more attractive
to inward investment. Consequently, the social value of science and technology was
increasingly described in the more nebulous language of banking. Investment in
technological innovation produced global “competitiveness”, or “flexibility” —
qualities which would help companies and whole nations to deal with the
uncertainties of a global economy, and which would trickle down (as prosperity was
once supposed to do). Investments in a “knowledge economy” would create a
“knowledge society”.
Talk of “knowledge economies” has revived again recently, following the financial
crisis. It has, however, long been a popular theme for officials from small countries
afflicted by a failing manufacturing base. Business parks in locations as far apart as
Wrexham and Neath Port Talbot attract biotechnology companies. Companies
working in nanotechnology, often linked closely with Welsh universities, have joined
them over the last decade. Efforts to build up coalitions of academia and business
within Wales have been the focus of significant efforts both from International
Business Wales and from the Welsh Assembly Government, with WAG keen to
spread the story that emerging technologies will be a source both of wealth and that
global elixir, competitiveness, in the future.
3
Royal Commission on Environmental Pollution 2008. Novel materials in the
environment: the case of nanotechnology. Norwich: The Stationery Office.
contains nano-materials, and if so, in what form.4 But concerns about whether or not
risks exist are only the beginning. Social science research (of the kind that led to the
Demos publication Governing at the Nanoscale5 in 2006) has shown that, when
members of the public are given the opportunity as part of “citizens’ juries” or similar
exercises to find out more about nanotechnology, certain worries recur, and “are there
any risks?” is not the foremost of these. Rather, people are concerned about whether
or not regulators and industry can be trusted to be transparent about what still needs to
be known before we can determine whether any risks do definitely exist. They are
sceptical as to whether the institutions can be trusted to manage hazards that do
emerge, and they doubt whether the development of these technologies will address
deep social needs, rather than simply “follow the money”, resulting in a plethora of
slightly different brands of nano-socks and toothpastes.
From this research, we might conclude that people have, to some extent, learnt what it
means to live in a technological society, recognising that the widespread use of high
technology turns new innovations and those who develop and commercialise them
into, pace Shelley, the “unacknowledged legislators of the world”. The institutions of
government are, however, perhaps lagging behind. Between 2005 and 2007 the UK
government invested a significant amount of money in a series of exercises to assess
what role “public engagement” could have in helping shape the future of
nanotechnology.6 These exercises, though undoubtedly valuable — particularly for
those who participated — suffered from a range of difficulties. Not much thought was
given to how public deliberation about the future of nanotechnology could feed into
either public policy or research and development, and also lacking was any explicit
vision of what engagement should aim to achieve. It is therefore particularly
disappointing that the UK Government’s recent nanotechnology strategy, Small
Technologies, Great Opportunities (published in March), made scarcely any mention
of public engagement.
The exercises also suffered from a lack of opportunities for industry to participate. If
the social contract between business, science and wider society is to be rebalanced,
then whether businesses are prepared to fully engage with the public is a serious
concern. Research done here at Cardiff University by BRASS on the attitudes of UK
nanotechnology companies (including several based in Wales) to corporate social
responsibility revealed several significant obstacles. Typically, companies view public
attitudes to new technologies as being determined by how far tangible consumer
benefits are expected, even if there is uncertainty about risks. Several interviewees
with whom we spoke used the example of the uptake of mobile phones to illustrate
this point, noting that next to marketing, communicating directly with the public came
a poor second in influencing attitudes. The continuing scepticism on the part of the
public as to the wisdom of developing GM food, however, may offer a counter-
example, one in which the social science findings I referred to above are borne out:
certain technologies, by their nature, lead people to doubt how reliable existing
private and public institutions might be at handling them responsibly.
If smaller countries like Wales are to play a role in developing emerging technologies,
then the politics of uncertainty that surround these technologies require citizens to be
technological citizens. And if we need technological citizens, then we need
institutions to support them — to help organise public deliberation to identify social
problems and priorities which may differ significantly from those identified by
4
Which? 2008. Small Wonder? Nanotechnology and cosmetics. London: Which?
5
http://www.demos.co.uk/publications/governingatthenanoscale
6
E.g. http://www.nanojury.org.uk.
industry and by technology strategists in government. These institutions will need to
make wide and deep public engagement an integral part of technological innovation.
They could draw on existing centres of lifelong learning, adult education, and the
cultural resources available through institutions like arts centres, the University of the
Third Age, and fora for discussion like science and philosophy cafes.7 They can build
on the role of the internet in providing access to information and discussion spaces, an
excellent nanotechnology-related example of which is the Responsible Nanoforum’s
Nano and Me website.8
Back in October, the UK business secretary, Peter Mandelson, stated that the country
needs “less financial engineering and more real engineering”. Whoever prevails in the
upcoming Westminster general election, the undoubted popular appeal of calls to go
back to “making stuff” may well encourage Assembly and Westminster politicians
alike to continue emphasising the social benefits of strategic science, and of helping
companies rush new discoveries to market. I have suggested, however, that there are
serious questions to be asked collectively, before we affirm that the pursuit of the
public good equals a knowledge economy plus a light regulatory touch. Who will
ultimately benefit from emerging technologies, and who may have to bear the risks,
should any emerge? And how should our unacknowledged legislators be held
accountable for the futures they are helping create?
7
See, for example, www.sciencecafewales.org/, and www.philosophycafe.org.uk
(of which the author is an organiser).
8
See http://www.nanoandme.org/.