What phonographs and cinematographs, whose names not coinci- dentally derive from writing, were able to store was time: time as a mix- ture of audio frequencies in the
acoustic
realm and as the movement of single-image sequences in the optical.
Kittler-Gramophone-Film-Typewriter
That part goes to Thomas Alva Edison, a casting decision that Kitt- ler believes will appeal to a North American audience: "Edison .
.
.
is an important figure for American culture, like Goethe for German culture.
But between Goethe and myself there is Edison.
"57 Indeed, Kittler credits his sojourns in California-in particular, the requirement that he furnish Stanford undergraduates with updated, shorthand summaries of German history-with providing the impetus to focus on technological issues.
Much could be said about the history behind this alleged dichotomy be- tween the United States and Germany, or of the implied distinction be- tween technology and culture, but there can be no doubt that North American readers will find much of interest in Gramophone, Film, Type- writer.
They will, however, also find cause for irritation beyond the ques- tion of style.
In conclusion, we will briefly point to five particularly promis- ing or problematic issues for the North American reception of Kittler.
I. Back to the ends ofMan. After years of "antihumanist" rhetoric, a lull appears to be settling in. A spirit of compromise is afoot in the hu- manities, and "subjects" are being readmitted into scholarly discourse, provided they behave themselves and do not suffer any self-aggrandizing Cartesian or Kantian relapse. In the face of such imminent harmony, Kittler's rhetoric may seem like a throwback to the heady days of mili- tant antihumanism. His work no doubt invites the plotting of a historical graph in which the human being is reduced from its original function as homo faber to an accessory in a scenario of technological apocalypse, in which the "omnipotence of integrated circuits" will lead to a fine-tuning of the self-replicating Turing machine that relegates human ingenuity and idealism to the junkyard of history. Implicit in much of Gramo- phone, Film, Typewriter is the belief that "so-called Man" (der soge- nannte Mensch-a mocking phrase repeated like a mantra throughout
? ? ? XXXIV Translators' Introduction
the book) is about to disappear as a cognitive and self-determining agent (if such an agent ever existed) and be subsumed by the march of techno- logical auto-sophistication. We are faced with the Aufhebung of human processes into silicon microprocessors, the dissolution of human soft- ware into computer hardware, for if computer technologies, beginning with the earliest storage facilities, ultimately substitute for physiological impairments and extend the sensory apparatus, then technology's pros- thetic function could allow for the complete replacement of the human. Heidegger's notion of technology as Gestell, a supportive framing of hu- man being, turns out to be an entire Ersatz for human being. Further- more, it is not only a question of so-called Man disappearing now; He was never there to begin with, except as a figment of cultural imagina- tion based on media-specific historical underpinnings. To appropriate Max Weber's famous term, Kittler's work contributes in radical fashion to the ongoing process of Entzauberung, or disenchantment.
As we have already indicated, some of Kittler's rhetoric of epater l'humaniste bourgeois must be seen against the background of specifically German poststructuralist debates, but we would nonetheless invite read- ers to consider the possibility that Kittler, especially when viewed in con- junction with North American discussions of subject formation under electronic conditions, is highlighting a crucial point: that the question of the subject has not been answered yet, for as long as we are not address- ing it in its media-technological context, we are not even able to come up with the right question.
2. The stop and go of history. Not surprisingly, Kittler has been charged with a cavalier attitude toward the vicissitudes of historical change. Instead of tracing and assigning value to the agencies and contin- gencies that explain the unfolding transformation from one historical moment to another, his broad typologies tend "to obscure those subter- ranean disturbances that can build into a paradigm shift. "58 His descrip- tive and nonevolutionary model favoring sudden ruptures and transfor- mations at the expense of genetic causalities is derived from Foucault, but it takes on a certain edge because epistemological breaks are tied to tech- nological ruptures. The emphasis on discontinuity, however, is less prob- lematic than the obvious technological determinism. As Timothy Lenoir has noted, Kittler explicitly rejects any characterization of his work as
"'new historicism' or sociology of literature," opting instead to describe his project in terms that "frequently invoke McLuhan's deterministic me- dia theories. "59
? ? ? ? Translators' Introduction xxxv
Certainly, Kittler's emphasis on technological breakthroughs to the exclusion of other causative factors is indicative of a sometimes facile ne- glect of the dynamic complexities of development and evolution-tech- nological or otherwise. But there are important exceptions, most notably his ingenious description of the discourse network of r 800 as the conflu- ence of social practices, such as the role of speaking mothers in the social- ization of children, the publicly mandated methodologies of language ac- quisition, the training of civil servants, and the beginning of hermeneutic literary criticism, among others. The media environment of r 800, there- fore, particularly in the forms of writing and interpretation, is clearly seen as a historically specific contingency; it is not, as McLuhanites would have it, part of the makeup of the Gutenberg Galaxy by default. Media deter- mine our situation, but it appears that our situation, in turn, can do its share to determine our media. In some of his more recent essays, Kittler argues that the discourse network of r 800 itself prepared the ground for the technological developments associated with its successor: "Romantic literature as a virtual media technology, as it was supported by the com- plicity between author, reader, and hero, contributed itself to the subver- sion of the unchallenged monopoly of print in Europe and to the change of guards from image-based literature to the mass media of photography and film. "60 Here Kittler appears to retrace the well-known theoretical footsteps of Walter Benjamin, who observed that every historical era
"shows critical epochs in which a certain art form aspires to effects which could be fully obtained only with a changed technical standard. "61 At the risk of oversimplifying matters, we could say that Kittler espouses a type of technomaterialism that, albeit only on a formal level, bears some re- semblance to Marxism's historical and dialectical materialism. Out of the dialectical exchange between the media-technological "base" and the dis- cursive "superstructure" arise conflicts and tensions that sooner or later result in transformations at the level of media. At a given point in time, that is, during the discourse network of r 800, a widely used storage tech- nology-the printed book-forms the material basis for new, hermeneu- tically programmed reading techniques that enable readers to experience an "inner movie"; subsequently, a desire arises in these readers to invent, or at least immediately select, the new cinematographic technology that provides images for real.
3 . Arms and no Man. One element that may strike some readers as disturbing is Kittler's virtual fetishism of technological innovations pro- duced by military applications, spin-offs that owe their existence to mil-
? XXXVI Translators' Introduction
itary combat. Along with Paul Virilio and Norbert Bolz, Kittler derives a veritable genealogy of media in which war functions as the father of all things technical. In Gramophone, Film, Typewriter and related essays, he argues that the history of film coincides with the history of automatic weapons technology, that the development of early telegraphy was the re- sult of a military need for the quick transmission of commands and in- telligence, that television is a by-product of radar technology, and that the computer evolved in the context of the Second World War and the need both to encrypt and decode military intelligence and to compute missile trajectories. Modern media are suffused with war, and the history of communication technologies turns out to be "a series of strategic es- calations. "62 Needless to say, humans as the subjects of technological in- novations are as important as the individual soldier in the mass carnage of the First World War or the high-tech video wars of the present. If we had to name the book that comes closest to Kittler in this respect, it would be Manuel De Landa's eminently readable War in the Age of In- telligent Machines, a history of war technology written from the point of view of a future robot who, for obvious reasons, has little interest in what this or that human has contributed to the evolution of the machinic phylum. 63
But such a unilateral war-based history of media technology would not meet with the approval of all historians and theorists of communica- tion. James Beniger, for example, has argued that the science of cybernet- ics and its attendant technologies-the genesis of which Kittler locates in the communicative vicissitudes of the Second World War-is ultimately the result of the crisis of control and information processing experienced in the early heyday of the Industrial Revolution. In the wake of capitalist expansion of productivity and the distribution of goods, engineers had to invent ever-more refined feedback loops and control mechanisms to en- sure the smooth flow of products to their consumers, and more generally to regulate the flow of data between market needs and demands (what cy-
bernetics would call output and input). "Microprocessors and computer technologies, contrary to currently fashionable opinion, are not new forces only recently unleashed upon an unprepared society. " On the con- trary, "many of the computer's major contributions were anticipated along with the first signs of a control crisis in the mid-nineteenth cen- tury. "64 Building upon Beniger, Jochen Schulte-Sasse for one has taken Kittler to task for conflating the history of communication technologies with the history of warfare while ignoring the network of enabling con- ditions responsible for breakthroughs in technological innovations. 65
? ? Translators' Introduction XXXVll
4- Hail the conquering engineer. Kittler's work tends to champion a special class of technologists that made both the founding age and the digital age of modern media possible: the engineer. Edison, Muybridge, Marey, the Lumiere brothers, Turing, and von Neumann have left behind a world-or rather, have made a world-in which technology, in more senses than one, reigns supreme. And one of their fictional counterparts, Mynona's ingenious Professor Pschorr, even manages to "beat" Goethe and get the girl in the short story "Goethe Speaks into the Phonograph. " As we have mentioned, Kittler contrasts his "American" attitude to the purported technophobia of German academics, but it may serve readers well to point out that Kittler is speaking from a long German tradition of engineer worship reaching as far back as the second part of Goethe's Faust and including immensely successful science fiction novels by Do- minik and Kellermann, the construction of the engineer as a leader into a new world in late-nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century technocratic utopias (including Thea von Harbou's Metropolis), and, above all, the apotheosis of the engineer at the conclusion of Oswald Spengler's Decline of the West. 66 In turn, Kittler's somewhat quaint portrayal of the United States as a haven of technophilia also has easily recognizable German roots: it harks back to the boisterous "Americanism" of the Weimar Re- public that saw a Fordist and Taylorized United States as a model for overcoming the backwardness of the Old WorldY
5. Reactionary postmodernism? The Fordism of the Weimar Re- public was related to a cultural current that was to have considerable in- fluence on conservative and, subsequently, Nazi ideology. Labeled "reac- tionary modernism" by Jeffrey Herf, it was an attempt to reject Enlight- enment values while embracing technology in order to reconcile the strong antimodernist German tradition with technological progress. In spite of all the unrest and disorientation caused by the rapid moderni- zation of late nineteenth-century Germany, the reactionary modernists claimed that "Germany could be both technologically advanced and true to its sou1. "68 One of reactionary modernism's key components was to sever the traditional-and traditionally unquestioned-link between so- cial and technological proBress. No longer ensnared by the humanist ide- ology of the Enlightenment, the technological achievements of the mod- ern age could be made to enter a mutually beneficial union with premod- ern societal structures. Among the most important thinkers to contribute to this distinctly German reaction to the travails of modernization were Oswald Spengler, Carl Schmitt, Ernst Jiinger, Werner Sombart, and Mar-
? ? ? XXXVlll Translators' Introduction
tin Heidegger, some of whom figure prominently in the writings of Kittler and Bolz. To be sure, writing about the likes of ]Unger, Benn, and Hei- degger is anything but synonymous with endorsing the extremist political ideologies they may have held at one time or another. Nevertheless, read- ers of Gramophone, Film, Typewriter and Kittler's related essays might be left with the impression that in spite of all distancing maneuvers, Kittler seems to feel a certain reverence, if not for the writers themselves, then certainly for their largely unquestioning admiration of (media-)techno- logical innovations. Junger-who features prominently in "Film"-is a case in point: the way in which the workers and soldiers of his early nov- els and essays are dwarfed by productions and weapons technologies that dissolve their Innerlichkeit, or inner experience of being, into a spray of media effects is distinctly reminiscent of Kittler's poststructuralist erasure of the subject.
Of course there is a major difference: Kittler is as far removed as one can be from the traditional right-wing rhetoric of "soul," " Volk" and the "national body"; if these or related terms appear, they do so only as ex- amples of the crude historical conceptualizations of the growing connec- tivity and communication spaces established by modern media technolo- gies. But the question remains whether certain affinities exist that might suggest that some of Kittler's work be labeled a "postmodern" variant of the old reactionary modernism-most prominently, the determination to sever the connection between technological and social advancement, to jettison the latter in favor of the former and install, as it were, Technol- ogy as the new, authentic subject of history. What gives this approach an additional edge, however, is the growing awareness of the degree to which the French poststructuralists from whom Kittler takes his cue were them- selves influenced by these right-wing German thinkers. 69 (Naturally, Hei- degger comes to mind, but one should not underestimate Junger. ) But if it is true that the "antihumanists" of French poststructuralism owe a last- ing debt to Nietzsche as well as to the Weimar thinkers of the Right, then Kittler's media discourse analysis, with its insistence that media determine our situation and that our situation changed decisively during the Medi- engriinderzeit, exposes their intellectual origins as well as technological matrix that shaped them.
? PREFACE
Tap my head and mike my brain, Stick that needle in my vein.
-THOMAS PYNCHON
Media determine our situation, which-in spite or because of it-de- serves a description.
Situation conferences were held by the German General Staff, great ones around noon and smaller ones in the evening: in front of sand tables and maps, in war and so-called peace. Until Dr. Gottfried Benn, writer and senior army doctor, charged literature and literary criticism as well with the task of taking stock of the situation. His rationale (in a letter to a friend): "As you know, I sign: On behalf of the Chief of the Army High Command: Dr. Benn. "1
Indeed: in I94 I , with the knowledge of files and technologies, enemy positions and deployment plans, and located at the center of the Army High Command in Berlin's Bendlerstraf5e, it may still have been possible to take stock of the situation. 2
The present situation is more obscure. First, the pertinent files are kept in archives that will all remain classified for exactly as many years as there remains a difference between files and facts, between planned ob- jectives and their realization. Second, even secret files suffer a loss of power when real streams of data, bypassing writing and writers, turn out merely to be unreadable series of numbers circulating between networked computers. Technologies that not only subvert writing, but engulf it and carry it off along with so-called Man, render their own description im- possible. Increasingly, data flows once confined to books and later to records and films are disappearing into black holes and boxes that, as ar- tificial intelligences, are bidding us farewell on their way to nameless high commands. In this situation we are left only with reminiscences, that is to say, with stories. How that which is written in no book came to pass may
? ? ? ? XXXIX
xl Preface
still be for books to record. Pushed to their margins even obsolete media become sensitive enough to register the signs and clues of a situation. Then, as in the case of the sectional plane of two optical media, patterns and moin? s emerge: myths, fictions of science, oracles . . .
This book is a story made up of such stories. It collects, comments upon, and relays passages and texts that show how the novelty of techno- logical media inscribed itself into the old paper of books. Many of these papers are old or perhaps even forgotten, but in the founding age of tech- nological media the terror of their novelty was so overwhelming that lit- erature registered it more acutely than in today's alleged media pluralism, in which anything goes provided it does not disturb the assumption of global dominance by Silicon Valley. An information technology whose monopoly is now coming to an end, however, registers this very informa- tion: an aesthetics of terror. What writers astonished by gramophones, films, and typewriters-the first technological media-committed to pa- per between 1 8 80 and 1920 amounts, therefore, to a ghostly image of our present as future. 3 Those early and seemingly harmless machines capable of storing and therefore separating sounds, sights, and writing ushered in a technologizing of information that, in retrospect, paved the way for to- day's self-recursive stream of numbers.
Obviously, stories of this kind cannot replace a history of technology. Even if they were countless they would remain numberless and thus would fail to capture the real upon which all innovations are based. Con- versely, number series, blueprints, and diagrams never turn back into writing, only into machines. 4 Heidegger said as much with his fine state- ment that technology itself prevents any experience of its essence. s How- ever, Heidegger's textbook-like confusion of writing and experience need not be; in lieu of philosophical inquiries into essence, simple knowledge will do.
We can provide the technological and historical data upon which fic- tional media texts, too, are based. Only then will the old and the new, books and their technological successors, arrive as the information they are. Understanding media-despite McLuhan's title-remains an impos- sibility precisely because the dominant information technologies of the day control all understanding and its illusions. But blueprints and dia- grams, regardless of whether they control printing presses or mainframe computers, may yield historical traces of the unknown called the body. What remains of people is what media can store and communicate. What counts are not the messages or the content with which they equip so- called souls for the duration of a technological era, but rather (and in
Preface xli
strict accordance with McLuhan) their circuits, the very schematism of perceptibility.
Whosoever is able to hear or see the circuits in the synthesized sound of CDs or in the laser storms of a disco finds happiness. A happiness be- yond the ice, as Nietzsche would have said. At the moment of merciless submission to laws whose cases we are, the phantasm of man as the creator of media vanishes. And it becomes possible to take stock of the situation.
In 1945, in the half-burned, typed minutes of the Army High Com- mand's final conferences, war was already named the father of all things: in a very free paraphrase of Heraclitus, it spawns most technological in- ventions. 6 And since 1973, when Thomas Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow was published, it has become clear that real wars are not fought for peo- ple or fatherlands, but take place between different media, information technologies, data flows? Patterns and moin? s of a situation that has for- gotten us . . .
But no matter what: without the research and contributions of Roland Baumann this book would not have been written. And it would have not have come about without Heidi Beck, Norbert Bolz, Rudiger Campe, Charles Grivel, Anton (Tony) Kaes, Wolf Kittler, Thorsten Lorenz, Jann Matlock, Michael Muller, Clemens Pornschlegel, FriedheIm Rong, Wolf- gang Scherer, Manfred Schneider, Bernhard Siegert, Georg Christoph (Stoffel) Tholen, Isolde Trondle-Azri, Antje Weiner, David E. Wellbery, Raimar Zons, and Agia Galini.
F. K. SEPTEMBER 1985
? ? GRA MOPHONE, FILM, TYPEWRITER
? ? ? ? INTRODUCTION
? Optical fiber networks. People will be hooked to an information channel that can be used for any medium-for the first time in history, or for its end. Once movies and music, phone calls and texts reach households via optical fiber cables, the formerly distinct media of television, radio, tele- phone, and mail converge, standardized by transmission frequencies and bit format. The optoelectronic channel in particular will be immune to disturbances that might randomize the pretty bit patterns behind the im- ages and sounds. Immune, that is, to the bomb. As is well known, nuclear blasts send an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) through the usual copper ca- bles, which would infect all connected computers.
The Pentagon is engaged in farsighted planning: only the substitution of optical fibers for metal cables can accommodate the enormous rates and volumes of bits required, spent, and celebrated by electronic warfare. All early warning systems, radar installations, missile bases, and army staffs in Europe, the opposite coast,l finally will be connected to comput- ers safe from EMP and thus will remain operational in wartime. In the meantime, pleasure is produced as a by-product: people are free to chan- nel-surf among entertainment media. After all, fiber optics transmit all messages imaginable save for the one that counts-the bomb.
Before the end, something is coming to an end. The general digitiza- tion of channels and information erases the differences among individual media. Sound and image, voice and text are reduced to surface effects, known to consumers as interface. Sense and the senses turn into eyewash. Their media-produced glamor will survive for an interim as a by-product of strategic programs. Inside the computers themselves everything be- comes a number: quantity without image, sound, or voice. And once op- tical fiber networks turn formerly distinct data flows into a standardized
? I
2 Introduction
series of digitized numbers, any medium can be translated into any other. With numbers, everything goes. Modulation, transformation, synchro- nization; delay, storage, transposition; scrambling, scanning, mapping- a total media link on a digital base will erase the very concept of medium. Instead of wiring people and technologies, absolute knowledge will run as an endless loop.
But there still are media; there still is entertainment.
Today's standard comprises partially connected media links that are
still comprehensible in McLuhan's terms. According to him, one me- dium's content is always other media: film and radio constitute the con- tent of television; records and tapes the content of radio; silent films and audiotape that of cinema; text, telephone, and telegram that of the semi-media monopoly of the postal system. Since the beginning of the century, when the electronic tube was developed by von Lieben in Ger- many and De Forest in California, it has been possible to amplify and transmit signals. Accordingly, the large media networks, which have been in existence since the thirties, have been able to fall back on all three stor- age media-writing, film, and photography-to link up and send their signals at will.
But these links are separated by incompatible data channels and dif- fering data formats. Electrics does not equal electronics. Within the spec- trum of the general data flow, television, radio, cinema, and the postal service constitute individual and limited windows for people's sense per- ceptions. Infrared radiations or the radio echoes of approaching missiles are still transmitted through other channels, unlike the optical fiber net- works of the future. Our media systems merely distribute the words, noises, and images people can transmit and receive. But they do not com- pute these data. They do not produce an output that, under computer control, transforms any algorithm into any interface effect, to the point where people take leave of their senses. At this point, the only thing being computed is the transmission quality of storage media, which appear in the media links as the content of the media. A compromise between engi- neers and salespeople regulates how poor the sound from a TV set can be, how fuzzy movie images can be, or how much a beloved voice on the tele- phone can be filtered. Our sense perceptions are the dependent variable
of this compromise.
A composite of face and voice that remains calm, even when faced
during a televised debate by an opponent named Richard M. Nixon, is deemed telegenic and may win a presidential election, as in Kennedy's
Introduction 3
case. Voices that an optical close-up would reveal as treacherous, how- ever, are called radiogenic and rule over the VE 301, the Volksempfanger of the Second World War. For, as the Heidegger disciple among Ger- many's early radio experts realized, "death is primarily a radio topic. "2
But these sense perceptions had to be fabricated first. For media to link up and achieve dominance, we need a coincidence in the Lacanian sense: that something ceases not to write itself. Prior to the electrification of media, and well before their electronic end, there were modest, merely mechanical apparatuses. Unable to amplify or transmit, they nevertheless were the first to store sensory data: silent movies stored sights, and Edi- son's phonograph (which, unlike Berliner's later gramophone, was capa- ble both of recording and reproducing) stored sounds.
On December 6, 1877, Edison, lord of the first research laboratory in the history of technology, presented the prototype of the phonograph to the public. On February 20, 1 892, the same lab in Menlo Park (near New York) added the so-called kinetoscope. Three years later, the Lumiere brothers in France and the Skladanowsky brothers in Germany merely had to add a means of projection to turn Edison's invention into cinema.
Ever since that epochal change we have been in possession of storage technologies that can record and reproduce the very time flow of acoustic and optical data. Ears and eyes have become autonomous. And that changed the state of reality more than lithography and photography, which (according to Benjamin's thesis) in the first third of the nineteenth century merely propelled the work of art into the age of its technical re- producibility. Media "define what really is";3 they are always already be- yond aesthetics.
What phonographs and cinematographs, whose names not coinci- dentally derive from writing, were able to store was time: time as a mix- ture of audio frequencies in the acoustic realm and as the movement of single-image sequences in the optical. Time determines the limit of all art, which first has to arrest the daily data flow in order to turn it into images or signs. What is called style in art is merely the switchboard of these scannings and selections. That same switchboard also controls those arts that use writing as a serial, that is, temporally transposed, data flow. To record the sound sequences of speech, literature has to arrest them in a system of 26 letters, thereby categorically excluding all noise sequences. Not coincidentally, this system also contains as a subsystem the seven notes, whose diatonics-from A to G-form the basis of occidental mu- sic. Following a suggestion made by the musicologist von Hornbostel, it is possible to fix the chaos of exotic music assailing European ears by first
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 4 Introduction
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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? interpolating a phonograph, which is able to record this chaos in real time and then replay it in slow motion. As the rhythms begin to flag and "in- dividual measures, even individual notes resound on their own," occi- dental alphabetism with its staffs can proceed to an "exact notation. "4
Texts and scores-Europe had no other means of storing time. Both are based on a writing system whose time is (in Lacan's term) symbolic. Using projections and retrievals, this time memorizes itself-like a chain of chains. Nevertheless, whatever ran as time on a physical or (again in Lacan's terms) real level, blindly and unpredictably, could by no means be encoded. Therefore, all data flows, provided they really were streams of data, had to pass through the bottleneck of the signifier. Alphabetic mo- nopoly, grammatology.
If the film called history rewinds itself, it turns into an endless loop. What will soon end in the monopoly of bits and fiber optics began with the monopoly of writing. History was the homogenized field that, as an academic subject, only took account of literate cultures. Mouths and graphisms were relegated to prehistory. Otherwise, stories and histories (both deriving from historia) could not have been linked. All the orders and judgments, announcements and prescriptions (military and legal, re- ligious and medical) that produced mountains of corpses were communi- cated along the very same channel that monopolized the descriptions of
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Introduction 5
? The oldest depiction of a print shop, 1499-as a dance of death.
those mountains of corpses. Which is why anything that ever happened ended up in libraries.
And Foucault, the last historian or first archeologist, merely had to look things up. The suspicion that all power emanates from and returns to archives could be brilliantly confirmed, at least within the realms of law, medicine, and theology. A tautology of history, or its calvary. For the libraries in which the archeologist found so much rich material collected and catalogued papers that had been extremely diverse in terms of ad- dressee, distribution technique, degree of secrecy, and writing technique- Foucault's archive as the entropy of a post office. 5 Even writing itself, be- fore it ends up in libraries, is a communication medium, the technology of which the archeologist simply forgot. It is for this reason that all his analyses end immediately before that point in time at which other media penetrated the library's stacks. Discourse analysis cannot be applied to sound archives or towers of film rolls.
As long as it was moving along, history was indeed Foucault's "wave- like succession of words. "6 More simply, but no less technically than to- morrow's fiber optic cables, writing functioned as a universal medium-
6 Introduction
? Telephone lines, New York, 1888.
i n times when there was no concept o f medium. Whatever else was going on dropped through the filter of letters or ideograms.
"Literature," Goethe wrote, "is a fragment of fragments; only the smallest proportion of what took place and what was said was written down, while only the smallest proportion of what was written down has survived. " 7
Accordingly, oral history today confronts the historians' writing mo- nopoly; accordingly, a media theoretician like the Jesuit priest Walter J. Ong, who must have been concerned with the spirit of the Pentecostal mystery, could celebrate a primary orality of tribal cultures as opposed to the secondary orality of our media acoustics. Such research remained un- thinkable as long as the opposite of "history" was simply termed (again
? Introduction 7
following Goethe) "legend. "s Prehistory was subsumed by its mythical name; Goethe's definition of literature did not even have to mention opti- cal or acoustic data flows. And even legends, those oralized segments of bygone events, only survived in written format; that is, under pretechno- logical but literary conditions. However, since it has become possible to record the epics of the last Homeric bards, who until recently were wan- dering through Serbia and Croatia, oral mnemotechnics or cultures have become reconstructible in a completely different way. 9 Even Homer's rosy-fingered Eos changes from a Goddess into a piece of chromium diox- ide that was stored in the memory of the bard and could be combined with other pieces into whole epics. "Primary orality" and "oral history" came into existence only after the end of the writing monopoly, as the technological shadows of the apparatuses that document them.
Writing, however, stored writing-no more and no less. The holy books attest to this. Exodus, chapter 20, contains a copy of what Yahweh's own finger originally had written on two stone tablets: the law. But of the thunder and lightning, of the thick cloud and the mighty trumpet which, according to scripture, surrounded this first act of writing on Mount Sinai, that same Bible could store nothing but mere words. lo
Even less is handed down of the nightmares and temptations that af- flicted a nomad called Mohammed following his flight to the holy moun- tain of Hira. The Koran does not begin until the one God takes the place of the many demons. The archangel Gabriel descends from the seventh heaven with a roll of scripture and the command to decipher the scroll. "Rejoice in the name of the Lord who created-created man from clots of blood. Recite! Your Lord is the Most Bountiful One, who by pen taught man what he did not know. "ll
Mohammed, however, answers that he, the nomad, can't read; not even the divine message about the origin of reading and writing. The archangel has to repeat his command before an illiterate can turn into the founder of a book-based religion. For soon, or all too soon, the illegible scroll makes sense and presents to Mohammed's miraculously alphabet- ized eyes the very same text that Gabriel had already uttered twice as an oral command. Mohammed's illuminations began, according to tradition, with this 96th sura-in order then to be "memorized by the faithful and written down on primitive surfaces such as palm leaves, stones, wood, bones, and pieces of leather, and to be recited, again and again, by Mo- hammed and select believers, especially during Ramadan. " 12
? ? Writing therefore merely stores the fact of its authorization. It cele-
8 Introduction
brates the storage monopoly of the God who invented it. And since the realm of this God consists of signs that only nonreaders can't make sense of, all books are books of the dead, like the Egyptian ones with which lit- erature began. 13 The book itself coincides with the realm of the dead be- yond all senses into which it lures us. When the Stoic philosopher Zeno asked the oracle at Delphi how he should best lead his life, he was given the answer "that he should mate with the dead. He understood this to mean that he should read the ancients. "14
The story of how the divine instructions to use quills extended be- yond Moses and Mohammed and reached simpler and simpler people is a lengthy one that nobody can write, because it would be history itself. In much the same way, the storage capacities of our computers will soon co- incide with electronic warfare and, gigabyte upon gigabyte, exceed all the processing capacities of historians.
Suffice it to say that one day-in Germany, this may have already been the case during the age of Goethe-the homogenous medium of writing also became homogenous in the social sphere. Compulsory edu- cation engulfed people in paper. They learned a way of writing that, as an "abuse of language" (according to Goethe), no longer had to struggle with cramped muscles and individual letters, but rather proceeded in rap- ture or darkness. They learned to read "silently to one's self," a "sorry substitute for speech " ls that consumed letters without effort by bypassing oral organs. Whatever they emitted and received was writing. And be- cause only that exists which can be posted, bodies themselves fell under the regime of the symbolic. What is unthinkable today was once reality: no film stored the movements they made or saw, no phonograph, the noise they made or heard. For whatever existed failed before time. Sil- houettes or pastel drawings fixed facial expressions, and scores were un- able to store noise. But once a hand took hold of a pen, something mirac- ulous occurred: the body, which did not cease not to write itself, left strangely unavoidable traces.
I'm ashamed to tell of it. I'm ashamed of my handwriting. It exposes me in all my spiritual nakedness. My handwriting shows me more naked than I am with my clothes off. No leg, no breath, no clothes, no sound.
I. Back to the ends ofMan. After years of "antihumanist" rhetoric, a lull appears to be settling in. A spirit of compromise is afoot in the hu- manities, and "subjects" are being readmitted into scholarly discourse, provided they behave themselves and do not suffer any self-aggrandizing Cartesian or Kantian relapse. In the face of such imminent harmony, Kittler's rhetoric may seem like a throwback to the heady days of mili- tant antihumanism. His work no doubt invites the plotting of a historical graph in which the human being is reduced from its original function as homo faber to an accessory in a scenario of technological apocalypse, in which the "omnipotence of integrated circuits" will lead to a fine-tuning of the self-replicating Turing machine that relegates human ingenuity and idealism to the junkyard of history. Implicit in much of Gramo- phone, Film, Typewriter is the belief that "so-called Man" (der soge- nannte Mensch-a mocking phrase repeated like a mantra throughout
? ? ? XXXIV Translators' Introduction
the book) is about to disappear as a cognitive and self-determining agent (if such an agent ever existed) and be subsumed by the march of techno- logical auto-sophistication. We are faced with the Aufhebung of human processes into silicon microprocessors, the dissolution of human soft- ware into computer hardware, for if computer technologies, beginning with the earliest storage facilities, ultimately substitute for physiological impairments and extend the sensory apparatus, then technology's pros- thetic function could allow for the complete replacement of the human. Heidegger's notion of technology as Gestell, a supportive framing of hu- man being, turns out to be an entire Ersatz for human being. Further- more, it is not only a question of so-called Man disappearing now; He was never there to begin with, except as a figment of cultural imagina- tion based on media-specific historical underpinnings. To appropriate Max Weber's famous term, Kittler's work contributes in radical fashion to the ongoing process of Entzauberung, or disenchantment.
As we have already indicated, some of Kittler's rhetoric of epater l'humaniste bourgeois must be seen against the background of specifically German poststructuralist debates, but we would nonetheless invite read- ers to consider the possibility that Kittler, especially when viewed in con- junction with North American discussions of subject formation under electronic conditions, is highlighting a crucial point: that the question of the subject has not been answered yet, for as long as we are not address- ing it in its media-technological context, we are not even able to come up with the right question.
2. The stop and go of history. Not surprisingly, Kittler has been charged with a cavalier attitude toward the vicissitudes of historical change. Instead of tracing and assigning value to the agencies and contin- gencies that explain the unfolding transformation from one historical moment to another, his broad typologies tend "to obscure those subter- ranean disturbances that can build into a paradigm shift. "58 His descrip- tive and nonevolutionary model favoring sudden ruptures and transfor- mations at the expense of genetic causalities is derived from Foucault, but it takes on a certain edge because epistemological breaks are tied to tech- nological ruptures. The emphasis on discontinuity, however, is less prob- lematic than the obvious technological determinism. As Timothy Lenoir has noted, Kittler explicitly rejects any characterization of his work as
"'new historicism' or sociology of literature," opting instead to describe his project in terms that "frequently invoke McLuhan's deterministic me- dia theories. "59
? ? ? ? Translators' Introduction xxxv
Certainly, Kittler's emphasis on technological breakthroughs to the exclusion of other causative factors is indicative of a sometimes facile ne- glect of the dynamic complexities of development and evolution-tech- nological or otherwise. But there are important exceptions, most notably his ingenious description of the discourse network of r 800 as the conflu- ence of social practices, such as the role of speaking mothers in the social- ization of children, the publicly mandated methodologies of language ac- quisition, the training of civil servants, and the beginning of hermeneutic literary criticism, among others. The media environment of r 800, there- fore, particularly in the forms of writing and interpretation, is clearly seen as a historically specific contingency; it is not, as McLuhanites would have it, part of the makeup of the Gutenberg Galaxy by default. Media deter- mine our situation, but it appears that our situation, in turn, can do its share to determine our media. In some of his more recent essays, Kittler argues that the discourse network of r 800 itself prepared the ground for the technological developments associated with its successor: "Romantic literature as a virtual media technology, as it was supported by the com- plicity between author, reader, and hero, contributed itself to the subver- sion of the unchallenged monopoly of print in Europe and to the change of guards from image-based literature to the mass media of photography and film. "60 Here Kittler appears to retrace the well-known theoretical footsteps of Walter Benjamin, who observed that every historical era
"shows critical epochs in which a certain art form aspires to effects which could be fully obtained only with a changed technical standard. "61 At the risk of oversimplifying matters, we could say that Kittler espouses a type of technomaterialism that, albeit only on a formal level, bears some re- semblance to Marxism's historical and dialectical materialism. Out of the dialectical exchange between the media-technological "base" and the dis- cursive "superstructure" arise conflicts and tensions that sooner or later result in transformations at the level of media. At a given point in time, that is, during the discourse network of r 800, a widely used storage tech- nology-the printed book-forms the material basis for new, hermeneu- tically programmed reading techniques that enable readers to experience an "inner movie"; subsequently, a desire arises in these readers to invent, or at least immediately select, the new cinematographic technology that provides images for real.
3 . Arms and no Man. One element that may strike some readers as disturbing is Kittler's virtual fetishism of technological innovations pro- duced by military applications, spin-offs that owe their existence to mil-
? XXXVI Translators' Introduction
itary combat. Along with Paul Virilio and Norbert Bolz, Kittler derives a veritable genealogy of media in which war functions as the father of all things technical. In Gramophone, Film, Typewriter and related essays, he argues that the history of film coincides with the history of automatic weapons technology, that the development of early telegraphy was the re- sult of a military need for the quick transmission of commands and in- telligence, that television is a by-product of radar technology, and that the computer evolved in the context of the Second World War and the need both to encrypt and decode military intelligence and to compute missile trajectories. Modern media are suffused with war, and the history of communication technologies turns out to be "a series of strategic es- calations. "62 Needless to say, humans as the subjects of technological in- novations are as important as the individual soldier in the mass carnage of the First World War or the high-tech video wars of the present. If we had to name the book that comes closest to Kittler in this respect, it would be Manuel De Landa's eminently readable War in the Age of In- telligent Machines, a history of war technology written from the point of view of a future robot who, for obvious reasons, has little interest in what this or that human has contributed to the evolution of the machinic phylum. 63
But such a unilateral war-based history of media technology would not meet with the approval of all historians and theorists of communica- tion. James Beniger, for example, has argued that the science of cybernet- ics and its attendant technologies-the genesis of which Kittler locates in the communicative vicissitudes of the Second World War-is ultimately the result of the crisis of control and information processing experienced in the early heyday of the Industrial Revolution. In the wake of capitalist expansion of productivity and the distribution of goods, engineers had to invent ever-more refined feedback loops and control mechanisms to en- sure the smooth flow of products to their consumers, and more generally to regulate the flow of data between market needs and demands (what cy-
bernetics would call output and input). "Microprocessors and computer technologies, contrary to currently fashionable opinion, are not new forces only recently unleashed upon an unprepared society. " On the con- trary, "many of the computer's major contributions were anticipated along with the first signs of a control crisis in the mid-nineteenth cen- tury. "64 Building upon Beniger, Jochen Schulte-Sasse for one has taken Kittler to task for conflating the history of communication technologies with the history of warfare while ignoring the network of enabling con- ditions responsible for breakthroughs in technological innovations. 65
? ? Translators' Introduction XXXVll
4- Hail the conquering engineer. Kittler's work tends to champion a special class of technologists that made both the founding age and the digital age of modern media possible: the engineer. Edison, Muybridge, Marey, the Lumiere brothers, Turing, and von Neumann have left behind a world-or rather, have made a world-in which technology, in more senses than one, reigns supreme. And one of their fictional counterparts, Mynona's ingenious Professor Pschorr, even manages to "beat" Goethe and get the girl in the short story "Goethe Speaks into the Phonograph. " As we have mentioned, Kittler contrasts his "American" attitude to the purported technophobia of German academics, but it may serve readers well to point out that Kittler is speaking from a long German tradition of engineer worship reaching as far back as the second part of Goethe's Faust and including immensely successful science fiction novels by Do- minik and Kellermann, the construction of the engineer as a leader into a new world in late-nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century technocratic utopias (including Thea von Harbou's Metropolis), and, above all, the apotheosis of the engineer at the conclusion of Oswald Spengler's Decline of the West. 66 In turn, Kittler's somewhat quaint portrayal of the United States as a haven of technophilia also has easily recognizable German roots: it harks back to the boisterous "Americanism" of the Weimar Re- public that saw a Fordist and Taylorized United States as a model for overcoming the backwardness of the Old WorldY
5. Reactionary postmodernism? The Fordism of the Weimar Re- public was related to a cultural current that was to have considerable in- fluence on conservative and, subsequently, Nazi ideology. Labeled "reac- tionary modernism" by Jeffrey Herf, it was an attempt to reject Enlight- enment values while embracing technology in order to reconcile the strong antimodernist German tradition with technological progress. In spite of all the unrest and disorientation caused by the rapid moderni- zation of late nineteenth-century Germany, the reactionary modernists claimed that "Germany could be both technologically advanced and true to its sou1. "68 One of reactionary modernism's key components was to sever the traditional-and traditionally unquestioned-link between so- cial and technological proBress. No longer ensnared by the humanist ide- ology of the Enlightenment, the technological achievements of the mod- ern age could be made to enter a mutually beneficial union with premod- ern societal structures. Among the most important thinkers to contribute to this distinctly German reaction to the travails of modernization were Oswald Spengler, Carl Schmitt, Ernst Jiinger, Werner Sombart, and Mar-
? ? ? XXXVlll Translators' Introduction
tin Heidegger, some of whom figure prominently in the writings of Kittler and Bolz. To be sure, writing about the likes of ]Unger, Benn, and Hei- degger is anything but synonymous with endorsing the extremist political ideologies they may have held at one time or another. Nevertheless, read- ers of Gramophone, Film, Typewriter and Kittler's related essays might be left with the impression that in spite of all distancing maneuvers, Kittler seems to feel a certain reverence, if not for the writers themselves, then certainly for their largely unquestioning admiration of (media-)techno- logical innovations. Junger-who features prominently in "Film"-is a case in point: the way in which the workers and soldiers of his early nov- els and essays are dwarfed by productions and weapons technologies that dissolve their Innerlichkeit, or inner experience of being, into a spray of media effects is distinctly reminiscent of Kittler's poststructuralist erasure of the subject.
Of course there is a major difference: Kittler is as far removed as one can be from the traditional right-wing rhetoric of "soul," " Volk" and the "national body"; if these or related terms appear, they do so only as ex- amples of the crude historical conceptualizations of the growing connec- tivity and communication spaces established by modern media technolo- gies. But the question remains whether certain affinities exist that might suggest that some of Kittler's work be labeled a "postmodern" variant of the old reactionary modernism-most prominently, the determination to sever the connection between technological and social advancement, to jettison the latter in favor of the former and install, as it were, Technol- ogy as the new, authentic subject of history. What gives this approach an additional edge, however, is the growing awareness of the degree to which the French poststructuralists from whom Kittler takes his cue were them- selves influenced by these right-wing German thinkers. 69 (Naturally, Hei- degger comes to mind, but one should not underestimate Junger. ) But if it is true that the "antihumanists" of French poststructuralism owe a last- ing debt to Nietzsche as well as to the Weimar thinkers of the Right, then Kittler's media discourse analysis, with its insistence that media determine our situation and that our situation changed decisively during the Medi- engriinderzeit, exposes their intellectual origins as well as technological matrix that shaped them.
? PREFACE
Tap my head and mike my brain, Stick that needle in my vein.
-THOMAS PYNCHON
Media determine our situation, which-in spite or because of it-de- serves a description.
Situation conferences were held by the German General Staff, great ones around noon and smaller ones in the evening: in front of sand tables and maps, in war and so-called peace. Until Dr. Gottfried Benn, writer and senior army doctor, charged literature and literary criticism as well with the task of taking stock of the situation. His rationale (in a letter to a friend): "As you know, I sign: On behalf of the Chief of the Army High Command: Dr. Benn. "1
Indeed: in I94 I , with the knowledge of files and technologies, enemy positions and deployment plans, and located at the center of the Army High Command in Berlin's Bendlerstraf5e, it may still have been possible to take stock of the situation. 2
The present situation is more obscure. First, the pertinent files are kept in archives that will all remain classified for exactly as many years as there remains a difference between files and facts, between planned ob- jectives and their realization. Second, even secret files suffer a loss of power when real streams of data, bypassing writing and writers, turn out merely to be unreadable series of numbers circulating between networked computers. Technologies that not only subvert writing, but engulf it and carry it off along with so-called Man, render their own description im- possible. Increasingly, data flows once confined to books and later to records and films are disappearing into black holes and boxes that, as ar- tificial intelligences, are bidding us farewell on their way to nameless high commands. In this situation we are left only with reminiscences, that is to say, with stories. How that which is written in no book came to pass may
? ? ? ? XXXIX
xl Preface
still be for books to record. Pushed to their margins even obsolete media become sensitive enough to register the signs and clues of a situation. Then, as in the case of the sectional plane of two optical media, patterns and moin? s emerge: myths, fictions of science, oracles . . .
This book is a story made up of such stories. It collects, comments upon, and relays passages and texts that show how the novelty of techno- logical media inscribed itself into the old paper of books. Many of these papers are old or perhaps even forgotten, but in the founding age of tech- nological media the terror of their novelty was so overwhelming that lit- erature registered it more acutely than in today's alleged media pluralism, in which anything goes provided it does not disturb the assumption of global dominance by Silicon Valley. An information technology whose monopoly is now coming to an end, however, registers this very informa- tion: an aesthetics of terror. What writers astonished by gramophones, films, and typewriters-the first technological media-committed to pa- per between 1 8 80 and 1920 amounts, therefore, to a ghostly image of our present as future. 3 Those early and seemingly harmless machines capable of storing and therefore separating sounds, sights, and writing ushered in a technologizing of information that, in retrospect, paved the way for to- day's self-recursive stream of numbers.
Obviously, stories of this kind cannot replace a history of technology. Even if they were countless they would remain numberless and thus would fail to capture the real upon which all innovations are based. Con- versely, number series, blueprints, and diagrams never turn back into writing, only into machines. 4 Heidegger said as much with his fine state- ment that technology itself prevents any experience of its essence. s How- ever, Heidegger's textbook-like confusion of writing and experience need not be; in lieu of philosophical inquiries into essence, simple knowledge will do.
We can provide the technological and historical data upon which fic- tional media texts, too, are based. Only then will the old and the new, books and their technological successors, arrive as the information they are. Understanding media-despite McLuhan's title-remains an impos- sibility precisely because the dominant information technologies of the day control all understanding and its illusions. But blueprints and dia- grams, regardless of whether they control printing presses or mainframe computers, may yield historical traces of the unknown called the body. What remains of people is what media can store and communicate. What counts are not the messages or the content with which they equip so- called souls for the duration of a technological era, but rather (and in
Preface xli
strict accordance with McLuhan) their circuits, the very schematism of perceptibility.
Whosoever is able to hear or see the circuits in the synthesized sound of CDs or in the laser storms of a disco finds happiness. A happiness be- yond the ice, as Nietzsche would have said. At the moment of merciless submission to laws whose cases we are, the phantasm of man as the creator of media vanishes. And it becomes possible to take stock of the situation.
In 1945, in the half-burned, typed minutes of the Army High Com- mand's final conferences, war was already named the father of all things: in a very free paraphrase of Heraclitus, it spawns most technological in- ventions. 6 And since 1973, when Thomas Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow was published, it has become clear that real wars are not fought for peo- ple or fatherlands, but take place between different media, information technologies, data flows? Patterns and moin? s of a situation that has for- gotten us . . .
But no matter what: without the research and contributions of Roland Baumann this book would not have been written. And it would have not have come about without Heidi Beck, Norbert Bolz, Rudiger Campe, Charles Grivel, Anton (Tony) Kaes, Wolf Kittler, Thorsten Lorenz, Jann Matlock, Michael Muller, Clemens Pornschlegel, FriedheIm Rong, Wolf- gang Scherer, Manfred Schneider, Bernhard Siegert, Georg Christoph (Stoffel) Tholen, Isolde Trondle-Azri, Antje Weiner, David E. Wellbery, Raimar Zons, and Agia Galini.
F. K. SEPTEMBER 1985
? ? GRA MOPHONE, FILM, TYPEWRITER
? ? ? ? INTRODUCTION
? Optical fiber networks. People will be hooked to an information channel that can be used for any medium-for the first time in history, or for its end. Once movies and music, phone calls and texts reach households via optical fiber cables, the formerly distinct media of television, radio, tele- phone, and mail converge, standardized by transmission frequencies and bit format. The optoelectronic channel in particular will be immune to disturbances that might randomize the pretty bit patterns behind the im- ages and sounds. Immune, that is, to the bomb. As is well known, nuclear blasts send an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) through the usual copper ca- bles, which would infect all connected computers.
The Pentagon is engaged in farsighted planning: only the substitution of optical fibers for metal cables can accommodate the enormous rates and volumes of bits required, spent, and celebrated by electronic warfare. All early warning systems, radar installations, missile bases, and army staffs in Europe, the opposite coast,l finally will be connected to comput- ers safe from EMP and thus will remain operational in wartime. In the meantime, pleasure is produced as a by-product: people are free to chan- nel-surf among entertainment media. After all, fiber optics transmit all messages imaginable save for the one that counts-the bomb.
Before the end, something is coming to an end. The general digitiza- tion of channels and information erases the differences among individual media. Sound and image, voice and text are reduced to surface effects, known to consumers as interface. Sense and the senses turn into eyewash. Their media-produced glamor will survive for an interim as a by-product of strategic programs. Inside the computers themselves everything be- comes a number: quantity without image, sound, or voice. And once op- tical fiber networks turn formerly distinct data flows into a standardized
? I
2 Introduction
series of digitized numbers, any medium can be translated into any other. With numbers, everything goes. Modulation, transformation, synchro- nization; delay, storage, transposition; scrambling, scanning, mapping- a total media link on a digital base will erase the very concept of medium. Instead of wiring people and technologies, absolute knowledge will run as an endless loop.
But there still are media; there still is entertainment.
Today's standard comprises partially connected media links that are
still comprehensible in McLuhan's terms. According to him, one me- dium's content is always other media: film and radio constitute the con- tent of television; records and tapes the content of radio; silent films and audiotape that of cinema; text, telephone, and telegram that of the semi-media monopoly of the postal system. Since the beginning of the century, when the electronic tube was developed by von Lieben in Ger- many and De Forest in California, it has been possible to amplify and transmit signals. Accordingly, the large media networks, which have been in existence since the thirties, have been able to fall back on all three stor- age media-writing, film, and photography-to link up and send their signals at will.
But these links are separated by incompatible data channels and dif- fering data formats. Electrics does not equal electronics. Within the spec- trum of the general data flow, television, radio, cinema, and the postal service constitute individual and limited windows for people's sense per- ceptions. Infrared radiations or the radio echoes of approaching missiles are still transmitted through other channels, unlike the optical fiber net- works of the future. Our media systems merely distribute the words, noises, and images people can transmit and receive. But they do not com- pute these data. They do not produce an output that, under computer control, transforms any algorithm into any interface effect, to the point where people take leave of their senses. At this point, the only thing being computed is the transmission quality of storage media, which appear in the media links as the content of the media. A compromise between engi- neers and salespeople regulates how poor the sound from a TV set can be, how fuzzy movie images can be, or how much a beloved voice on the tele- phone can be filtered. Our sense perceptions are the dependent variable
of this compromise.
A composite of face and voice that remains calm, even when faced
during a televised debate by an opponent named Richard M. Nixon, is deemed telegenic and may win a presidential election, as in Kennedy's
Introduction 3
case. Voices that an optical close-up would reveal as treacherous, how- ever, are called radiogenic and rule over the VE 301, the Volksempfanger of the Second World War. For, as the Heidegger disciple among Ger- many's early radio experts realized, "death is primarily a radio topic. "2
But these sense perceptions had to be fabricated first. For media to link up and achieve dominance, we need a coincidence in the Lacanian sense: that something ceases not to write itself. Prior to the electrification of media, and well before their electronic end, there were modest, merely mechanical apparatuses. Unable to amplify or transmit, they nevertheless were the first to store sensory data: silent movies stored sights, and Edi- son's phonograph (which, unlike Berliner's later gramophone, was capa- ble both of recording and reproducing) stored sounds.
On December 6, 1877, Edison, lord of the first research laboratory in the history of technology, presented the prototype of the phonograph to the public. On February 20, 1 892, the same lab in Menlo Park (near New York) added the so-called kinetoscope. Three years later, the Lumiere brothers in France and the Skladanowsky brothers in Germany merely had to add a means of projection to turn Edison's invention into cinema.
Ever since that epochal change we have been in possession of storage technologies that can record and reproduce the very time flow of acoustic and optical data. Ears and eyes have become autonomous. And that changed the state of reality more than lithography and photography, which (according to Benjamin's thesis) in the first third of the nineteenth century merely propelled the work of art into the age of its technical re- producibility. Media "define what really is";3 they are always already be- yond aesthetics.
What phonographs and cinematographs, whose names not coinci- dentally derive from writing, were able to store was time: time as a mix- ture of audio frequencies in the acoustic realm and as the movement of single-image sequences in the optical. Time determines the limit of all art, which first has to arrest the daily data flow in order to turn it into images or signs. What is called style in art is merely the switchboard of these scannings and selections. That same switchboard also controls those arts that use writing as a serial, that is, temporally transposed, data flow. To record the sound sequences of speech, literature has to arrest them in a system of 26 letters, thereby categorically excluding all noise sequences. Not coincidentally, this system also contains as a subsystem the seven notes, whose diatonics-from A to G-form the basis of occidental mu- sic. Following a suggestion made by the musicologist von Hornbostel, it is possible to fix the chaos of exotic music assailing European ears by first
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 4 Introduction
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Texts and scores-Europe had no other means of storing time. Both are based on a writing system whose time is (in Lacan's term) symbolic. Using projections and retrievals, this time memorizes itself-like a chain of chains. Nevertheless, whatever ran as time on a physical or (again in Lacan's terms) real level, blindly and unpredictably, could by no means be encoded. Therefore, all data flows, provided they really were streams of data, had to pass through the bottleneck of the signifier. Alphabetic mo- nopoly, grammatology.
If the film called history rewinds itself, it turns into an endless loop. What will soon end in the monopoly of bits and fiber optics began with the monopoly of writing. History was the homogenized field that, as an academic subject, only took account of literate cultures. Mouths and graphisms were relegated to prehistory. Otherwise, stories and histories (both deriving from historia) could not have been linked. All the orders and judgments, announcements and prescriptions (military and legal, re- ligious and medical) that produced mountains of corpses were communi- cated along the very same channel that monopolized the descriptions of
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Introduction 5
? The oldest depiction of a print shop, 1499-as a dance of death.
those mountains of corpses. Which is why anything that ever happened ended up in libraries.
And Foucault, the last historian or first archeologist, merely had to look things up. The suspicion that all power emanates from and returns to archives could be brilliantly confirmed, at least within the realms of law, medicine, and theology. A tautology of history, or its calvary. For the libraries in which the archeologist found so much rich material collected and catalogued papers that had been extremely diverse in terms of ad- dressee, distribution technique, degree of secrecy, and writing technique- Foucault's archive as the entropy of a post office. 5 Even writing itself, be- fore it ends up in libraries, is a communication medium, the technology of which the archeologist simply forgot. It is for this reason that all his analyses end immediately before that point in time at which other media penetrated the library's stacks. Discourse analysis cannot be applied to sound archives or towers of film rolls.
As long as it was moving along, history was indeed Foucault's "wave- like succession of words. "6 More simply, but no less technically than to- morrow's fiber optic cables, writing functioned as a universal medium-
6 Introduction
? Telephone lines, New York, 1888.
i n times when there was no concept o f medium. Whatever else was going on dropped through the filter of letters or ideograms.
"Literature," Goethe wrote, "is a fragment of fragments; only the smallest proportion of what took place and what was said was written down, while only the smallest proportion of what was written down has survived. " 7
Accordingly, oral history today confronts the historians' writing mo- nopoly; accordingly, a media theoretician like the Jesuit priest Walter J. Ong, who must have been concerned with the spirit of the Pentecostal mystery, could celebrate a primary orality of tribal cultures as opposed to the secondary orality of our media acoustics. Such research remained un- thinkable as long as the opposite of "history" was simply termed (again
? Introduction 7
following Goethe) "legend. "s Prehistory was subsumed by its mythical name; Goethe's definition of literature did not even have to mention opti- cal or acoustic data flows. And even legends, those oralized segments of bygone events, only survived in written format; that is, under pretechno- logical but literary conditions. However, since it has become possible to record the epics of the last Homeric bards, who until recently were wan- dering through Serbia and Croatia, oral mnemotechnics or cultures have become reconstructible in a completely different way. 9 Even Homer's rosy-fingered Eos changes from a Goddess into a piece of chromium diox- ide that was stored in the memory of the bard and could be combined with other pieces into whole epics. "Primary orality" and "oral history" came into existence only after the end of the writing monopoly, as the technological shadows of the apparatuses that document them.
Writing, however, stored writing-no more and no less. The holy books attest to this. Exodus, chapter 20, contains a copy of what Yahweh's own finger originally had written on two stone tablets: the law. But of the thunder and lightning, of the thick cloud and the mighty trumpet which, according to scripture, surrounded this first act of writing on Mount Sinai, that same Bible could store nothing but mere words. lo
Even less is handed down of the nightmares and temptations that af- flicted a nomad called Mohammed following his flight to the holy moun- tain of Hira. The Koran does not begin until the one God takes the place of the many demons. The archangel Gabriel descends from the seventh heaven with a roll of scripture and the command to decipher the scroll. "Rejoice in the name of the Lord who created-created man from clots of blood. Recite! Your Lord is the Most Bountiful One, who by pen taught man what he did not know. "ll
Mohammed, however, answers that he, the nomad, can't read; not even the divine message about the origin of reading and writing. The archangel has to repeat his command before an illiterate can turn into the founder of a book-based religion. For soon, or all too soon, the illegible scroll makes sense and presents to Mohammed's miraculously alphabet- ized eyes the very same text that Gabriel had already uttered twice as an oral command. Mohammed's illuminations began, according to tradition, with this 96th sura-in order then to be "memorized by the faithful and written down on primitive surfaces such as palm leaves, stones, wood, bones, and pieces of leather, and to be recited, again and again, by Mo- hammed and select believers, especially during Ramadan. " 12
? ? Writing therefore merely stores the fact of its authorization. It cele-
8 Introduction
brates the storage monopoly of the God who invented it. And since the realm of this God consists of signs that only nonreaders can't make sense of, all books are books of the dead, like the Egyptian ones with which lit- erature began. 13 The book itself coincides with the realm of the dead be- yond all senses into which it lures us. When the Stoic philosopher Zeno asked the oracle at Delphi how he should best lead his life, he was given the answer "that he should mate with the dead. He understood this to mean that he should read the ancients. "14
The story of how the divine instructions to use quills extended be- yond Moses and Mohammed and reached simpler and simpler people is a lengthy one that nobody can write, because it would be history itself. In much the same way, the storage capacities of our computers will soon co- incide with electronic warfare and, gigabyte upon gigabyte, exceed all the processing capacities of historians.
Suffice it to say that one day-in Germany, this may have already been the case during the age of Goethe-the homogenous medium of writing also became homogenous in the social sphere. Compulsory edu- cation engulfed people in paper. They learned a way of writing that, as an "abuse of language" (according to Goethe), no longer had to struggle with cramped muscles and individual letters, but rather proceeded in rap- ture or darkness. They learned to read "silently to one's self," a "sorry substitute for speech " ls that consumed letters without effort by bypassing oral organs. Whatever they emitted and received was writing. And be- cause only that exists which can be posted, bodies themselves fell under the regime of the symbolic. What is unthinkable today was once reality: no film stored the movements they made or saw, no phonograph, the noise they made or heard. For whatever existed failed before time. Sil- houettes or pastel drawings fixed facial expressions, and scores were un- able to store noise. But once a hand took hold of a pen, something mirac- ulous occurred: the body, which did not cease not to write itself, left strangely unavoidable traces.
I'm ashamed to tell of it. I'm ashamed of my handwriting. It exposes me in all my spiritual nakedness. My handwriting shows me more naked than I am with my clothes off. No leg, no breath, no clothes, no sound.
