Sunday, July 13, 2003
Fast, Cheap & Out of Control
posted by James
a documentary by Errol Morris
I should start by issuing the usual warning about spoilers, although I think in this case the spoilers are somewhat unusual. “Fast, Cheap & Out of Control” is a documentary, and while it is full of surprises, they aren't exactly plot twists. The “problem” is that it is a very thought-provoking movie. My fear is that if you watch it having read my ideas, it will affect the framework in which you organize your own thoughts, and perhaps stifle something really imaginative. So, go watch the movie, then come back and read the rest of this post. As a side note, it's a hard movie to find, be prepared for some frustration at your local movie rental.
The subject matter of “Fast, Cheap & Out of Control” seems rather eccentric and arcane at first. It's fun to watch naked mole rats climb over each other, but it doesn't seem to have much to do with the average person. I think that's a serious misunderstanding of the movie, though. Each specialist says many particular things about his own field, but the theme of the movie, the cohesive element, is that each specialist is really talking about us. The questions the movie asks us are simple: are we lions, or are we shrubs shaped like lions? Do we resemble more closely naked mole rats from Africa or robots from MIT? How have we become who we are, and which specialist knows our destiny?
Rolling in Feces to Smell the Same
the naked mole rats
The first thing we learn about naked mole rats is that they are special – their existence proves that mammals can live in what are usually considered insect societies. Their behavior is unwaveringly communal; if a mole rat is attacked by a snake, the others don't try to rescue it. Instead, they seal it off to protect the nest. Mole rats are viciously dedicated to the good of the nest, killing babies if it's necessary to prevent starvation. The entomologist contrasts this to human societies, which would rather starve than take such drastic measures.
The real comparison, though, comes when he discusses the way that mole rats identify each other. If a mole rat encounters another mole rat from another nest, it attacks it without hesitation. The rats presumably identify each other by scent, and this scent is inculcated by rolling in feces all the time. Baby mole rats beg for feces to eat.
The analogy, while not perfect, is clear. Perhaps mole rats are not so special. In human societies we use all sorts of arbitrary identifying behavior. The clothes we wear, the music we listen to, the way we talk, and countless other social norms are used to differentiate ourselves from the “other.” Even a little thought reveals that these standard are arbitrary, but nevertheless they are routinely attacked or defended with vehemence bordering on religious fervor. More importantly, they are used as subtle or not-so-subtle ways of invoking our fear of people from different “nests,” as when President Reagan fabricated a story about a “welfare queen.” Our willingness to ingest the most mediocre forms of pop culture suggests that we long for ways to connect to each other, often by establishing aesthetic standards to which we adhere in groups. This is not so far from the strange desire of the baby naked mole rats.
”Physically, There's No Way to Stop Them, Except to Bluff”
the lions
The contrast that we see again and again in the account of the lion tamer is between the magnificence and power of the lions and their humiliation at the hands of a relatively puny man. In the few encounters in which lions actually tried to fight him, the lion tamer sustained serious injuries. Nothing stood between the lions and the destruction of the lion tamer but their ignorance of their own power. Easily distracted by the four legs of a chair, the lions' overwhelming size and resounding roars stood in stark contrast to their utter lack of control of their lives. The mighty beasts wobbled around on barrels while the weak man strutted and cracked his whip.
This calls into question the barriers that we perceive. How many such barriers are artifacts of our psychology, and how many are real? Is it the case that a person freed from perceived limitations would be like a lion suddenly aware of its immense physical power? One shudders at the thought of past and future geniuses, plagued by self-doubt, giving up and falling far short of potential. On a broader level, what social goals are ignored because our institutions are hampered by blind spots and inherent prejudices?
”It's Just Cut and Wait, Cut and Wait”
the topiary gardens
Early in the narrative of the topiary gardener, we learn of a woman (the owner of the gardens?) who fell in love with one particular man. Having failed to marry him (for undisclosed reasons), she determined never to marry. This sort of rigidity and singularity of purpose dominates the portrayal of the topiary gardens. The shrubs are shaped into graceful animals and geometric forms through an extremely gradual process of growth and selective amputation. The fragility of the process is demonstrated by the weather's impact on the garden, and by the gardener's explanation of his preference for traditional rather than electric tools. One slip with electric shears, and an animal might lose its ear forever.
Here the analogy to human life is clear and painful. We begin our lives with a great deal of flexibility, like a shrub whose branches have not yet matured into their final positions. We gain our uniqueness by growing and then excising those parts of us that we no longer want. We lose our flexibility, so that our branches can no longer be re-shaped into a new form. By virtue of our specialization, our fragility grows. The accidents of life leave permanent scars that cannot be healed, and eventually we are broken by the elements.
”The Sort of More Radical Hypothesis”
the robots
The image that we get of robotics is one of a very practical engineering aesthetic, Roman rather than Greek, evolutionary rather than designed from the top down. Robots achieve complex goals by stringing together simple processes. They respond to the rules of the system in which they function, so that their explicit programming is not the sole determinant of their behavior.
The robotics specialist makes explicit comparisons among robots, insects, and humans. He seems interested in the mental processes with which we function, and his radical hypothesis is that we are simply the aggregation of thousands of simple mental processes handed down by evolution.
The implicit comparison is just as radical. Again and again we hear that robotics is not something that is done all in one step. Little tasks are analyzed and methods are found to get the robot to accomplish them. Individual robots are not aware of the global system in which they function, but its rules allow the system to work nonetheless. Complexity is achieved through the accretion of adaptations to specific problems.
The market system of economic organization closely resembles the world of robotics. Individuals don't intend to move thousands of tons of minerals from one place to another, they merely seek to fulfill their own demands by satisfying the demands of others. One thinks of a coffee grower in the tropics, who neither knows nor cares about the consumption patters of coffee in North America, but rather the price at which he can sell his product. Nevertheless, the price sends the correct signal; if North Americans are drinking more coffee, the price will tell the grower to produce more. The de-humanizing aspects of this process are well illustrated; a plan to launch thousands of robots at a planet instead of one big one (so that any one robot is dispensable) is voiced over an image of paratroops dropping onto a battlefield. The evolution of old concepts to serve new ends is aptly illustrated in the law of deodands (see Richard Posner, The Problems of Jurisprudence, p. 17). Deodands, or inanimate causes of death, were originally seized and destroyed. As the conceptual framework underlying this law dissolved, the law of deodands evolved to allow the seizure of a ship belonging to someone who had done damage to another person's property. The global system of legally regulated markets is advanced by incremental adaptations that work cooperatively only from a very distant perspective.
Intentional Confusion
I noted earlier that the question the movie poses is which account of humanity is accurate. Morris brilliantly suggests the possibility that all are valid by confusing us. He overlays the video of one subject with audio from another, so that an expert seems to be commenting on someone else's specialty. Concepts blur (e.g., the distinction between robots and insects), and points are taken up by different specialists at different times. Thus the entomologist describes the fascinating ability of a mole rat to change its role in the nest from worker to queen, while the topiary gardener notes the glacial rate of change in shrubs. In a movie about the ambition to understand the non-human world, Morris forces us to open our minds to a richer conception of humanity, despite (or because of) the contradictions he lays bare.
I should start by issuing the usual warning about spoilers, although I think in this case the spoilers are somewhat unusual. “Fast, Cheap & Out of Control” is a documentary, and while it is full of surprises, they aren't exactly plot twists. The “problem” is that it is a very thought-provoking movie. My fear is that if you watch it having read my ideas, it will affect the framework in which you organize your own thoughts, and perhaps stifle something really imaginative. So, go watch the movie, then come back and read the rest of this post. As a side note, it's a hard movie to find, be prepared for some frustration at your local movie rental.
The subject matter of “Fast, Cheap & Out of Control” seems rather eccentric and arcane at first. It's fun to watch naked mole rats climb over each other, but it doesn't seem to have much to do with the average person. I think that's a serious misunderstanding of the movie, though. Each specialist says many particular things about his own field, but the theme of the movie, the cohesive element, is that each specialist is really talking about us. The questions the movie asks us are simple: are we lions, or are we shrubs shaped like lions? Do we resemble more closely naked mole rats from Africa or robots from MIT? How have we become who we are, and which specialist knows our destiny?
Rolling in Feces to Smell the Same
the naked mole rats
The first thing we learn about naked mole rats is that they are special – their existence proves that mammals can live in what are usually considered insect societies. Their behavior is unwaveringly communal; if a mole rat is attacked by a snake, the others don't try to rescue it. Instead, they seal it off to protect the nest. Mole rats are viciously dedicated to the good of the nest, killing babies if it's necessary to prevent starvation. The entomologist contrasts this to human societies, which would rather starve than take such drastic measures.
The real comparison, though, comes when he discusses the way that mole rats identify each other. If a mole rat encounters another mole rat from another nest, it attacks it without hesitation. The rats presumably identify each other by scent, and this scent is inculcated by rolling in feces all the time. Baby mole rats beg for feces to eat.
The analogy, while not perfect, is clear. Perhaps mole rats are not so special. In human societies we use all sorts of arbitrary identifying behavior. The clothes we wear, the music we listen to, the way we talk, and countless other social norms are used to differentiate ourselves from the “other.” Even a little thought reveals that these standard are arbitrary, but nevertheless they are routinely attacked or defended with vehemence bordering on religious fervor. More importantly, they are used as subtle or not-so-subtle ways of invoking our fear of people from different “nests,” as when President Reagan fabricated a story about a “welfare queen.” Our willingness to ingest the most mediocre forms of pop culture suggests that we long for ways to connect to each other, often by establishing aesthetic standards to which we adhere in groups. This is not so far from the strange desire of the baby naked mole rats.
”Physically, There's No Way to Stop Them, Except to Bluff”
the lions
The contrast that we see again and again in the account of the lion tamer is between the magnificence and power of the lions and their humiliation at the hands of a relatively puny man. In the few encounters in which lions actually tried to fight him, the lion tamer sustained serious injuries. Nothing stood between the lions and the destruction of the lion tamer but their ignorance of their own power. Easily distracted by the four legs of a chair, the lions' overwhelming size and resounding roars stood in stark contrast to their utter lack of control of their lives. The mighty beasts wobbled around on barrels while the weak man strutted and cracked his whip.
This calls into question the barriers that we perceive. How many such barriers are artifacts of our psychology, and how many are real? Is it the case that a person freed from perceived limitations would be like a lion suddenly aware of its immense physical power? One shudders at the thought of past and future geniuses, plagued by self-doubt, giving up and falling far short of potential. On a broader level, what social goals are ignored because our institutions are hampered by blind spots and inherent prejudices?
”It's Just Cut and Wait, Cut and Wait”
the topiary gardens
Early in the narrative of the topiary gardener, we learn of a woman (the owner of the gardens?) who fell in love with one particular man. Having failed to marry him (for undisclosed reasons), she determined never to marry. This sort of rigidity and singularity of purpose dominates the portrayal of the topiary gardens. The shrubs are shaped into graceful animals and geometric forms through an extremely gradual process of growth and selective amputation. The fragility of the process is demonstrated by the weather's impact on the garden, and by the gardener's explanation of his preference for traditional rather than electric tools. One slip with electric shears, and an animal might lose its ear forever.
Here the analogy to human life is clear and painful. We begin our lives with a great deal of flexibility, like a shrub whose branches have not yet matured into their final positions. We gain our uniqueness by growing and then excising those parts of us that we no longer want. We lose our flexibility, so that our branches can no longer be re-shaped into a new form. By virtue of our specialization, our fragility grows. The accidents of life leave permanent scars that cannot be healed, and eventually we are broken by the elements.
”The Sort of More Radical Hypothesis”
the robots
The image that we get of robotics is one of a very practical engineering aesthetic, Roman rather than Greek, evolutionary rather than designed from the top down. Robots achieve complex goals by stringing together simple processes. They respond to the rules of the system in which they function, so that their explicit programming is not the sole determinant of their behavior.
The robotics specialist makes explicit comparisons among robots, insects, and humans. He seems interested in the mental processes with which we function, and his radical hypothesis is that we are simply the aggregation of thousands of simple mental processes handed down by evolution.
The implicit comparison is just as radical. Again and again we hear that robotics is not something that is done all in one step. Little tasks are analyzed and methods are found to get the robot to accomplish them. Individual robots are not aware of the global system in which they function, but its rules allow the system to work nonetheless. Complexity is achieved through the accretion of adaptations to specific problems.
The market system of economic organization closely resembles the world of robotics. Individuals don't intend to move thousands of tons of minerals from one place to another, they merely seek to fulfill their own demands by satisfying the demands of others. One thinks of a coffee grower in the tropics, who neither knows nor cares about the consumption patters of coffee in North America, but rather the price at which he can sell his product. Nevertheless, the price sends the correct signal; if North Americans are drinking more coffee, the price will tell the grower to produce more. The de-humanizing aspects of this process are well illustrated; a plan to launch thousands of robots at a planet instead of one big one (so that any one robot is dispensable) is voiced over an image of paratroops dropping onto a battlefield. The evolution of old concepts to serve new ends is aptly illustrated in the law of deodands (see Richard Posner, The Problems of Jurisprudence, p. 17). Deodands, or inanimate causes of death, were originally seized and destroyed. As the conceptual framework underlying this law dissolved, the law of deodands evolved to allow the seizure of a ship belonging to someone who had done damage to another person's property. The global system of legally regulated markets is advanced by incremental adaptations that work cooperatively only from a very distant perspective.
Intentional Confusion
I noted earlier that the question the movie poses is which account of humanity is accurate. Morris brilliantly suggests the possibility that all are valid by confusing us. He overlays the video of one subject with audio from another, so that an expert seems to be commenting on someone else's specialty. Concepts blur (e.g., the distinction between robots and insects), and points are taken up by different specialists at different times. Thus the entomologist describes the fascinating ability of a mole rat to change its role in the nest from worker to queen, while the topiary gardener notes the glacial rate of change in shrubs. In a movie about the ambition to understand the non-human world, Morris forces us to open our minds to a richer conception of humanity, despite (or because of) the contradictions he lays bare.
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