And I see we’ve brought the rain with us. Some random thoughts and observations after nearly six days in the car….

* The Ramada Limited was the best deal going as far as lodging goes. Large room, indoor pool, nice continental breakfast, and free wireless, all for under $80.

* Though it seems counter-intuitive, it’s better to avoid the back seat when your children are upset. Oren did much better when we were ignoring him.

* Iowa has free wireless at their rest areas.

* Nebraska has tons of art at its rest areas.

* It is nearly impossible for us to climb without an extra hand.

* Denver is James Howard Kunstler’s worst nightmare. Every bit of open space (and there is a lot) is being converted to housing developments or strip malls.

* Boulder is expensive. I mean, really expensive.

Posted on 12 September 2006

Macht has an informative post regarding alternative Neocalvinist views on Ellul, specifically those of Egbert Schuurman, who found Ellul’s critique of Technique rather useful. Schuurman, in fact, sounds almost Ellulian/Illichian in his perspective:

It needs to be understood that contemporary technological development in alliance with economics fosters materialism, threatens Christian spirituality, and renders life, including cultural life, shortsighted and shallow. There is little sensitivity, consequently, for the actual threats.

Despite the fundamental differences between himself and Ellul (specifically on the nature of the Cultural Mandate and the state of Creation before and after the fall), Schuurman sees the web that technology and economics weave around us, and how easy it is to become trapped in it. Even worse, we may attempt to support the alliance through our theology. It is this point that brings me into this discussion. I am less concerned with the nature of the Cultural Mandate, or the state of Creation before and after the Fall (as Ellul focuses on in his essay on Genesis)–I am concerned with how we use technology, especially as it encroaches on every aspect of our lives. Perhaps a study of Illich’s Tools for Conviviality would be in order.

Posted on 10 September 2006

I have been working my way through Ivan Illich’s Deschooling Society on our trip. This is Illich’s most well known, and notorious, work where he outlines a vision for a society that does not include mandatory, publically-funded schooling. While I do not intend to review his ideas here, I will say there is a certain attraction to elements of Illich’s vision (particularly his concept of convivial institutions and tools), and I believe a deschooled society might (might) be more beneficial to those at the lower end of the social spectrum. What I would like to do is provide a concrete example of how his “learning webs” actually do work better than structured schooling.

I left college with two degrees, one in philosophy and another in writing. My philosophy advisor had always insisted I take up a “practical” degree, as he rarely recommended that his students pursue graduate work in philosophy (he did not actively pursue current philosophical trends, or even stay current in his area of expertise), and finally, by my senior year, his advice took root in me, and I gave up any intentions of graduate school. I even ignored my “practical” degree, and instead took a job running a rock climbing gym in Pittsburgh.

A few years later, I knew the work was a bit of dead end, so I reviewed my options. I considered graduate school in writing, but the thought of acquiring school debt was unattractive. A friend suggested that I consider picking up a book on computer programming. He was a mostly self-taught programmer himself, and he believed I wouldn’t have trouble picking up a language or two, and then finding a job (this was during the dot com bubble, so development work was plentiful). He passed along a few books about PERL, and I was on my way. He functioned as my “master,” as I would pepper him with questions via email, and he gladly answered my queries and provided further guidance in my reading. Roughly a year or so later, he thought that I knew enough to test the waters of employment.

Through the social network of the climbing community in Pittsburgh, I was offered interviews at two companies–both small start-ups looking to grow their staffs with junior level programmers who learn on the job. I received offers from both, and eventually settled on a company located just a few blocks from our Shadyside apartment. My boss was another self taught programmer (who did not even have a college degree) who was immensely brilliant and willing to tutor me and, more importantly, take a chance on me.

Nearly eight years later, I am still grateful for the opportunity. I remained with the company for two years (until they closed their doors when the bubble burst), and I stayed on another year or so with my boss doing contracting work for various local companies. Every moment was a learning experience, for both of us. What’s ironic is that I am more well-rounded than some people with programming-related degrees. That’s not to say that they do not know more about computer science that I do (the algorithms that drive data collections, for example), but as far as marketable skills go, I have a few more hats to wear.

So, what’s the point of this? I am beginning to suspect that for many people, white collar-types included, college does little to enhance your vocation. Programmers, certain flavours of engineers, accountants, business people–they would likely be better served by immediately joining the workforce in an appreticeship position. I am not advocating destroying the university, but I am curious if a degree is a necessary key for most every professional. Employers require a piece of paper that often speaks little of the graduate’s ability to do the given work, and we as a society consider college a necessary step in the growth of a young person (aside–you know you are getting old when you refer to college kids as young people), and an expensive one at that. Perhaps Illich is correct, and we should begin to re-assess at least elements of our educational system.

Posted on 9 September 2006

Dr. Koyzis has responded to my post concering his essay on Jacques Ellul’s Technique and the Opening Chapters of Genesis. He wonders why the sort of personal action that Ellul espouses is any better than institutional action, given the pervasiveness of sin in the world. Ellul, despite his protestations to the contrary, was Calvinist in many ways, including his views of humanity. We are sinful creatures, and every bit of our lives is caught up in sin. Inter-personal, face-to-face action is not less sinful that institutional action, but it solves particular problems that institutions carry with them. But let us look to Ellul’s perspective on this.

In his Presence of the Kingdom, Ellul examines very specifically at the Christian’s role in the world, and what Christian action should resemble. I’ve written previously regarding Ellul’s advice to the layman, so let’s examine what he has to say to the Christian intellectual. He perceives several problems with intellectual activity during the 20th century, but these can be distilled to two primary issues: the imposition of Technique upon intellectual endeavors, and communication that only speaks about humanity rather than to it.

The first problem was alluded to in the discussion of Koyzis’ initial essay–if the Cultural Mandate includes unlocking hidden potentialities in Creation (therefore viewing progress and Technique as part of the created world before Fall), what do we make of “backward” cultures? Are they less Godly because they are less advanced? Additionally, the imposition of Technique on the intellect (the “enslavement of the intelligence to technical methods” as Ellul puts it) becomes problematic for communication because communication now must occur along these technical lines. If we do not employ the proper intellectual technics, we are necessarily excluded from communication because of it. These narrow technical lines ultimately hinder the very intellectual endeavor they seek to empower.

More problematic for Ellul is the effect of Technique on communication. Communication, especially from and between intellectuals, has ceased to be personal. Ellul writes:

There has never been a time when people have talked so much about Man: there never was a time when so little was said to Man.

Worse, intellectual communication has ceased to have any anchor in the world–it is not based on concrete experiences and interactions. Ellul writes with an eye toward political intellectuals, those who formulate theory and policy, and it is here that the problem of non-personal communication manifests itself the most. Ellul’s remedy is focus intellectual activity and communication on what we know and what we experience–our neighbors, our family, our community. Only by knowing these can anyone expect to understand anything about the larger world. Hence Ellul’s distaste of political policies and programs, as they are often anchored in the abstract. Ellul begins with the little way (to borrow Dorothy Day’s phrase) and works outward.

So what of institutions, specifically the State? For Ellul, they will doomed to fail because they must work in the abstract, disconnected from the very people they seek to help (a result of his political work). Ellul would admit, I believe, that the State could do the work of God, but only because of God–it is He who orders those ends. But a focus on political policy and program would likely be fruitless for the Christian, as its work in the abstract necessarily removes us from the concrete work we are called to do–to be neighbors and live out our faith in a real way.

Posted on 6 September 2006

Day two of the Drive to Colorado is nearly over. We’re settling into a hotel room in York, NE as the last bits of daylight are swallowed by the night sky. We are certainly not setting any speed records–two days, roughly one thousand miles–but our pace is probably slightly better than I expected, and the Focus has provided acceptable gas mileage, especially given the rack mounted luggage box (small aside: gas is positively cheap in Iowa–roughly $2.30 a gallon–thanks to ethanol additives). The kids have been good, though Jen and I have spent a few spells wedged between car seats in the back seat. Seb has been entertained with paper and pencils, a huge stack of books, and a kids’ MP3 player. Oren has his moments of grumpiness, but overall he has been pleasant, and his ability to fall asleep in the hotel room while we are still awake amazes me.

We should arrive in Denver tomorrow, another five or six hours before us.

Posted on 3 September 2006

It is 12:45AM. I am leaving the office. I will spare the details of why I was there so late. I have not, in many years, worked so much in a single day (to best of my knowledge, it last came organzing competition at the climbing gym). I was tired, under-fed, and frustrated. I turned down several ride offers, mostly because I did really want to ride, despite the fact that I did not have a forward-facing light for my bike (being summer, the proper commuting light was at home, of little use for the 5:00PM ride home). Truthfully, the lack of light would not put me off. I love riding at night, and lately I’ve had little reason to do so. The weather was perfect, cool ahead of the remains of Tropical Storm Ernesto. It was a bit cloudy, but no matter. Still wonderful.

Off I went, blinky light and reflectors offering a small measure of comfort. The office sits at the base of hill, isolating a bit from the surrounding neighborhood. This, being the suburbs, meant that the hill lacks streetlamps. Once outside the orange cocoon of the parking lot lights, my eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden blackness. For a moment, I could see literally nothing. Then, slowly, the white lane marker can into soft focus. And nothing else. It’s quiet–just the chirp-chirping of crickets and the whir of rubber on the inky black road.

Once at the top of the hill, I am back into residential neighborhoods and the comforting light of the streetlamps. A few cars pass in the other direction, but not a single vehicle overtakes me. On the long, rolling straight of Mount Royal, I settle into the middle of the lane, enjoying the early warning advantage a car’s headlights give me. I have to bypass my usual route through the Pine Creek valley, as that stretch of road has no streetlamps. Instead I head through the business district of Shaler and soon I’m careening down the long hill into Etna. This, too, is poorly lit, so I feel my way, relying on the vague memory of potholes and cracks in the pavement. It works, and I am in Etna, heading toward the 62nd Street Bridge, and my bed.

The bridge is empty. Looking right, downtown blinks in the distance, the white glow of Heinz Field cast over the taller buildings (the Steelers played their final exhibition game). The traffic light at Butler blinks green, and I barely slow as I slide through the empty intersection. I chose the long way around, all the way along to Butler to the far side of Baker, and then it’s up, up, up the hill to my home and my bed.

Posted on 1 September 2006

I have, over the past two years or so (it’s amazing how time grows larger as you grow older–remember when six months was a long time?), settled into a rhythm with my daily activity. My bicycle has become my primary means of transportation whenever the family is not involved, and I cannot remember the last time I went to work via any other means. During that time, I’ve dabbled a bit in the black art of alleycat racing, and even tried my hand at proper racing at the Oval. Many of our climbing friends have slowly morphed into (or returned to being) cyclists, and several race on a regular basis. While there is certainly a draw to return myself, my short-lived career at the Oval reminded me that in order to excel, you must train–a lot.

I have become sparse at the climbing gym, in part because I would rather spend the time between and bedtime with my kids, and in part because I cannot muster the motivation to after 8:00pm, especially after my commute. This is not say that I don’t want to climb. I’ve enjoyed the (little) time we’ve spent outside thus far, and I’m looking forward to cooler temps for the fall. And I’ve been content to simply climb–not concerned about grades, or whether I fall–just moving over stone. Simple.

Anyway.

As of late, I have been interested in randonneuring–essentially, longer distance, unsupported cycling events. These range from facile, sub 115km populaires to the brutal 1200km of Paris-Brest-Paris. These events are not races, but simply tests of endurance and self-sufficiency where the rider must maintain a simple 10mph to finish the event within the time limit. Easier said than done, I suppose.

Today I caught wind of a populaire being held outside of Philly (apparently there are no randonneurs in the Pittsburgh area) in October, so we have a rather tenative plan to spend time with family there so I can get my feet wet. Ideally, such events could be a springboard for doing something a bit more ambitious, like the cross-state brevet that was held this Spring (Crushing the Commonwealth). But who knows, perhaps I’ll too much misery in so much time in the saddle. Only one way to find out.

Posted on 28 August 2006

I am currently buried under a mountain of work. Such is life, I suppose. At least I can look forward to a cross country trek in ten days.

There could be much bike riding in my immediate future. If all goes well, I should be at the track races on Friday night at the Oval. If you stop down, I’ll be the guy rubber banding off the back. There are also alleycats on Saturday and Sunday, though I am committed to volunteering for Sunday’s event. I’ve also taken a keen interest in randonneuring, figuring that I am, first of all, too lazy to train for proper racing, and too slow to be any good at it, so why not take part in events where you need to average no more than roughly 10mph to participate. This newfound interest also has me pondering a fall populaire (a sub 100 mile event with a fixed, unmarked course), but more on that when plans become more complete.

And, for your viewing pleasure, below is the cockpit of the Surly, as kitted for the daily commute and longer weekend rides.

Posted on 24 August 2006

Whilst poking around Flickr for photos of porteurs, I found Hen Waller, a blog from a couple in Portland attempting an urban homesteading existence, complete with chickens and a Wendell Berry-esqye sense of place and respect for the home economy.

Their escapades and musings are well worth a read.

Posted on 24 August 2006

David Koyzis has stirred the hornets’ nest that is the New Pantagruel editorial board with his his discussion of Jacques Ellul’s short essay Technique and the Opening Chapters of Genesis. Koyzis explains that Ellul, showing his Barthian side, believes that the created order of Eden did not include the development of what Ellul calls Technique–essentially the always-forward progression of technological means which, in Ellul’s words “eliminates or subordinates the natural world”–and therefore, while technology is not necessarily sinful, it is a result of the Fall. To a Neocalvinist like Koyzis, this perspective is flawed because in the Cultural Mandate (Gen. 1:26-28), God commands Adam to multiply (create society) and subdue the Earth (develop technological means). Technique, then, is a part of the created order, and therefore something to be embraced by Christians in an effort to use it glorify God.

Ellul was, much as his contemporary Ivan Illich, distrustful of institutions (schools and governments, for example) as vehicles for the work of Christ. Institutions would simply become corrupt over time (as a result of sin), and while there is also the possibility for reform, the cycle would repeat itself. Illich, more than Ellul, saw this clearly, even at work within the family. Relying on the State, or a school system, to change culture at best wishful thinking, and at worst rather dangerous. For both Ellul and Illich (and this is most visible in Ellul’s Presence of the Kingdom, true Christian action was the act of rolling up one’s sleeves and doing the dirty work of meeting the needs of your fellow man. For Ellul, this meant working with “troubled” youth and fighting for the preservation of the Frech sea coast. Christian action begins with a supple heart, listening for God’s call, and more often than not, when this call comes, the Christian is simply asked to act. Ellul offers no specifics, no policies, no programs (in fact, he says spefically such things can be antithetical to real Christian action)–simply the exhortation that the Church (that is, the body of believers) help those that need it. For the Neocalvinist, however, Christian action often takes the form of polciy and program. Government can be reformed (in the Christian sense) and used for the work of Christ. And (to get back to the point of Ellul’s essay) Technique, being a part of the created order, should be molded by Christian hands.

Reading Ellul and Illich over the past few months, and then reading this essay by Koyzis, has given some voice to the feeling that I am not really a Neocalvinist. While I’m not sure that Ellul’s Edenic vision is correct, I am also uncomfortable with the Neocalvinist faith in progress and the ability of institutions to do the work of Christ. That’s not to say that I am an anarchist who wishes to turn back the clock so we live in caves, or that we should seek to disband governments and school systems, but we absolutely must acknowledge that, living in a fallen world, that these institutions will fail time and again. And, while technological progress may discover latent possibilities in the created order (and this is our job, according to the Neocalvinist view of Genesis), such progress has often done much of the damage to culture and, more importantly, the state of our souls.

I am troubled, much as the tNP folks are, that some Neocalvinists so quickly dismiss thinkers like Ellul and Illich. I don’t expect Koyzis to suddenly embrace an Ellulian or Illichian view of the world (in fact, I reckon that Ellul and Illich would be against such discipleship), but he should be more open to the critiques of modern society that they offer instead of beating them down with the triumphalist hand of Dooyeweerd’s theory of differentiation. Yes, technology can bring about good, as can a government, or a school, but we cannot expect that these things will be completely turned back to God until this world passes away. To expect anything else would be an attempt to immanentize the eschaton. And while technology has in some ways made our lives better, this is a doubled-edged sword, as such progress often reduces the quality of our lives in other, less obvious ways.

So what of the Neocalvinist call to institution building? The goal of, say, the Work Research Foundation is good and proper, and the organization is geniunely trying to bring a Biblical perspective to how we view our jobs and vocations. But in the work, one must realize the limitations and dangers as well, namely that this is a fallen world, and sin cannot be escaped. Institutions will fail thanks to power struggles or corruption, just as they have in the past. Some may succeed, at least for time. Even if, as Koyzis contends, that family, government, and school were indeed part of the Edenic order, we can never hope to attain that on this Earth. So, do your work, but season it with the critiques of Ellul and Illich.

Posted on 17 August 2006