(from Chapter 3)
Philosophical Reflection on Major Human Experiences

Question: What are the place of tools and of technique in your philosophical perspective on work?

Answer: Human work uses tools so to realize a perfect work, but tools are becoming more and more complex and more and more powerful nowadays, to the point that they sometimes seem to crush the human person. The first tools were for efficiency. The hand is prolonged in a tool. Today, human intellect or, let us rather say, human reason is being prolonged in computers. We are, therefore, in the presence of something entirely new at the philosophical level and, as regards human work, a sort of extraordinary amplification of reason. The philosopher must consider this with great attention. The computer, this new tool, prolongs calculation and it prolongs reasoning. What new thing does it do? What is gained? What is lost? We must pose these questions with respect to the use of all tools. For true artists, and for the artisan as well, it will always be the primary question: this "new tool" that is being proposed is fine, but what does it profit me? what does it detract from my work?" Indeed, an artist and an artisan know well that tools do not always bring something new and that sometimes they risk going too far as regards the seduction of their efficiency. A tool (any tool) operates or brings about an abstraction. And the more efficient the tool, the greater the abstraction. For example, when I use a ball point pen instead of a fountain pen, there is greater abstraction because a fountain pen allows personal relief (diversified features) in writing that a ball point pen no longer does. A ball point pen uniformizes, or makes uniform. It is more practical indeed; it is quicker. But one's handwriting loses its character. Generally, with a fountain pen, one has more beautiful handwriting, with character and detail; with a ball point pen all of that is reduced, and one's handwriting becomes uniform.

The first thing that one must do when using a tool (the philosopher must recall this) is to know whether this tool will bring something positively more or will detract from or diminish work. One may use a high speed train, for example. It is a marvelous tool, but what more does it bring me? The answer is easy, and advertising highlights it: rapidityŠone travels almost as quickly as on a plane and it is cheaper. Economically speaking the advantage is clear; but what do I lose? These questions nobody asks. We are in a world in which progress imposes itself in such a way that, were man to die, progress would continue....

Question: Because we no longer are looking at the human cost of technical progress?

Response: Exactly. And that is where we see that philosophers no longer play the role they ought to play.

Question: The biologist Jacques Testart, who had decided to stop some of his research on the embryo, observes exactly the same thing. We no longer pose the question of the human cost of our innovations, and there is human loss due to certain technological innovations that the world is applauding. With Jacques Testart, the biologist became philosopher and was crying, "stop"!

Response: Exactly. We no longer see. In this case, a biologist reacted before something immediate because he saw the results. He saw the losses and the results. And seeing them, he questioned and sought their origin. He observed that at a particular moment something occurred, a new tool was being used. The philosopher, to the degree that he is for man, must remind man that when he uses a new tool, he must always remember the finality of his activity. A tool must be an instrument at the service of a pursued end. If we measure the quality of a tool only by efficiency, we risk making works, making finished products, that no longer have the quality they had before. Man thereby progressively diminishes, for the fruit of artistic activity is one of the elements of culture. It is not the primary element for the primary element of a culture is always the ethical one. But the fruit of artistic activity intervenes tremendously because it is much more visible. When viewed from a slightly positivistic perspective, culture is reduced to efficiency and to art. If a tool is chosen, therefore, no longer in reference to the work to be made--to see whether, with this tool, one can make a more beautiful or better work that will allow man to grow-- but only in reference to efficiency, we are degrading humanity, for we are degrading the milieu in which humanity exists and we impede man to rise. A constant concern as regards culture is that of allowing man to rise, to build himself.

Question: Does the problem not come from having lost the notion which allows us to know what elevates man, what allows man to rise.

Answer: Yes, because we have lost the sense of finality. It is always the same thing. Let us take the very concrete case of a work of art. The more perfect a tool, the more we consider it the exemplary cause of our work in that, instead of only modifying the efficiency of the work, it determines its quality. And when a tool has cost a lot our major concern is that it bring in a lot. One invests enormous sums and so it cannot be destroyed. One must "safeguard" the investment, i.e. the tool, at all costs. This was seen, for example, with the invention of the Concorde airplane. The Concorde is a tool, but a tool that is so perfected that we consider it only for itself, and that is all. Everyone watches it go by.Š

Question: Is it our fascination with technique?

Answer: It is fascination with technique and fascination with tools. With computers there is a bit of that. We are fascinated by the quality of this tool and we no longer see anything but that. In addition, what it brings is visible. It brings rapidity. Rapidity is a quality of movement, but this movement must not be an end, must not be considered only in itself. This movement must remain adapted to the finality, the finality of the work which we wish to make. If this movement destroys the work we are pursuing, then the tool, obviously, becomes a negative thing.

Question: According to you, what is the fundamental critique that a philosopher can have, for example, with respect to computers?

Answer: A philosopher must show the limits of a computer. What is extremely interesting is to see that the more the subject matter a computer attains to is rich from a human point of view, the more the computer diminishes this human aspect, and thus the deep intention that the text bears. When it is only a question of calculation, the abstraction is already done, for calculations in themselves are not finalized, they are an end unto themselves, so to speak. And so, there, a computer can function very well, and indeed functions. But once we are before more human texts--philosophical, poetic, artistic texts--a computer can summarize (which is obviously very practical, it can save us time), but it does not respect the proper quality of the intention. It cannot respect it; everything is leveled because it entails a very particular abstraction.

What is important, then, is the "use" of the computer. One cannot condemn the tool, a tool which everyone finds wonderful and which, in fact, entails something prodigious. Professor Marois (who founded the Institute of life in Paris) was telling me once that they had invited the "high priest" of computers, the one who was at the origin of computers in the United States. This fellow presented what a computer is, and was then posed several questions, in particular the following: "Do you think that the computer will one day be the instrument that destroys humanity? Because it allows us to go much more quickly, is it with the computer that we will reach more quickly the end of the world?" The question was not a stupid one. The "pontiff" of computers was silent and then said, "Fifteen minutes of silence please (makes one think of the Book of Revelation [8:1]). For fifteen minutes, everyone maintained silence and reflected upon the question. And then with a grave tone of voice he responded, "The computer cannot respond to the question." The fifteen minutes of silence were useless if one realizes that a computer can only abstract, and add and subtract, and nothing more. That is why, placing a computer in the hands of children can be very dangerous, because it cannot "form" them. And the use of the computer for anything and everything as a sort of game, risks impeding healthy human formation with the labor that such formation inevitably entails. If one has never added, if one has never used numbers and has only used an instrument which calculates for him, after a while one no longer knows how to calculate, how to add. One will no longer know how to do these "gymnastics" of the mind that we all learned before and which were considered absolutely necessary. Learning to calculate is part of human formation; it cannot be suppressed.

Question: And so certain tools can diminish man?

Answer: I would say that they can amputate him or hinder his development. Let us take a few examples, very simple examples. We ourselves no longer know how to calculate today, we always use machines. We no longer walk, we use cars instead, etc. After a while tools amputate, and when they touch the intellect and human culture, they become very dangerous. The ancients considered mathematics and geometry to be part of the formation of man. Seeking shortcuts by using all sorts of intermediaries to arrive at quick conclusions seems dangerous to me. However, someone who is formed, someone who is truly wise and knows man's finality can use a computer. There is no problem. He will use it well, there where he knows the computer will not suppress something that is essential. A computer formalizes. It would be interesting to see the starting part of this formalization. What is measurable by computer and what is not? It is there that we can see exactly the areas where we cannot use a computer; but for that one needs a minimum of philosophy, a minimum of human philosophy, of anthropology, which knows man's finality, which knows why he exists, and how he is to reach his end, how he progressively discovers his true human finality--not only that of works (of art) but that of human friendship. This seems paramount to me.