A timely critique beyond time itself
Any reading of Jacques Ellul today must be a rereading, even for those such as myself who came to Ellul late. By late I mean in this 21st century, when we are already obsessed by flying cars, Moon cities, robots, and enveloped by increasingly restrictive systems of political and corporate governance. The Technological Society written in the early 50s of the last century and first published in English in 1964, is a massive compilation of historical research and insight which has only gained credibility with each passing decade, as the acceleration of social, informational, and machine technique have amplified and confirmed Ellul’s, now almost quaint, data-points. Hence we can no longer read Ellul as social science or journalism, but only re-read him in the way one reads prophecy, as fact which can no longer be altered by a counter-thrust of collective free will, but only accepted with fear and trembling. What then? If a prophet, is Ellul a prophet of doom? Surprisingly, no, not at all. On the contrary, like the prophets of the Bible, one reads Ellul not to despair (despair can be had on the cheap, without any sociology) but to soak oneself in an objective analysis of the world and to hope, to hope that the labor of understanding will lead one to spiritual maturity.
It is the comprehensive nature of Ellul’s social criticism which evokes the initial, understandable, reaction of horror and disgust. Such a reaction would have been more likely in the mid-20th century than today when the intimate connection of social, informational, and mechanical technique seems patently obvious. Yet our mental reservation to such a comprehensive criticism persists. If all the institutions, techniques, and knowledge of modern society conspire toward an increasing tyranny over the human spirit, is there a remaining place external to the system from which to launch a counter attack? In Ellul’s estimation no such place exists. He considers all such counter-utopias to the deceitful techno-utopia as little more than psychological compensations and distractions. If he were an American he would have pointed out the obvious by using the phrase “sex, drugs, and rock and roll” but of course he was not an American, he was a 20th century French intellectual, and like all 20th century French intellectuals he was apt to put things in a way that Americans find irritating or at least very odd.
The Professor from Bordeaux
Other than the wine, Bordeaux has little name recognition among Americans. Yet Ellul’s regionalism (i.e., that he was not a Parisian) lends his social criticism the paradoxical universality which comes from an anti-national, anti-centralizing perspective. If we are searching for an optimistic end-game to the seemingly dreadful prophecies of Jacques Ellul, then his regional, and explicitly anarchistic focus is a good place to start. Obviously anarchism is an equivocal term. A professor of law, Ellul was hardly a violent, antinomian anarchist of the left. Still less was he an abstract, Aristotelian free-market anarchist of the sort espoused by American libertarians. He was just a practical person who wanted his friends and neighbors to be in control of their own lives, communities, and environments. Against this “act locally” incentive, it becomes easier to comprehend the “think globally” motives which generated his sociology.
The situation described in The Technological Society is not just global, it is so diffuse as to give the reader an impression of drowning in an alien ocean, an alien ocean which happens to be our own civilization. The sociological assessment of what Ellul calls technique (organization, information, plus “technology” in the common usage of material artifacts) is so comprehensive as to appear beyond remedy. In contrast, a political critique of left-wing domination might find its resolution in a conservative resurgence, and conversely a critique of right-wing hegemony might climax in a call for revolution. In contrast to these sorts of political paradigms there is no exterior ground from which to lay siege to the technological society. Technique is all-inclusive and centralizing, accelerating industrial power and putting itself at the service of ever larger systems of organization, which means ultimately the state itself. Or rather, human organization ultimately serves technique, the actual driver of modern history.
If Ellul were not a man of faith, this would indeed be a gospel of despair. It would certainly seem a prophecy of despair for those of us who have lived into a time when his findings have been verified beyond any possible doubt. Yet behind the elaborate sociological facade of The Technological Society is a tacit message of hope. Even though technique is comprehensive and autonomous, sociology itself, at least for Ellul, is undermined by epsitemological incompleteness. In other words, sociology, for all its importance, cannot be prophecy in the literal, Biblical, sense. The author of The Technological Society aims to make his readers uncomfortable by playing the card of historical determinism, but there are factors behind the game which the author recognizes as unknown. That said, Ellul’s determinism is well-intended and come by honestly. Like Barth, he was Reformed in his faith, and behind the drumbeat of monocausal technique perhaps there are some echos of Calvin’s dogmas. Closer in time, there was the influence of Marx, which Ellul no doubt picked up from the ubiquitous politics of the French left.
Yet Ellul was a theologian in his own right, and capable of going behind Marx and even Calvin, to the source of their ideologies and indeed of all Western thought, to the Hebrew prophets themselves. Anyone steeped in the prophets understands that the ideal of human progress cannot be abandoned just because the banner of “progress” has been perverted to uses which are both inhuman and unjust. Once the divine spark has been lit, we can no longer go back to a steady-state universe where the aeons roll on forever, perchance setting in the constellation of Pisces and rising again, a few millenia later, in the constellation Aries. We cannot return to Egypt, to the comforts of a hierarchical steady-state world. Rather, we must follow the cloud of the Presence, across the Sinai of history, even though it leads to a place that we know not, and whose prospect fills us with unease. For all his critique of technology, Ellul submits to these truths. The baby of human moral and even physical improvement cannot be thrown out with the bathwater of “progress” technological or otherwise.
Then…what is to be done?
Notoriously, Lenin asked this, the most basic of all questions, and eventually arrived at the worst of all possible answers, by instituting state tyranny in Russia after October 1917. A superficial reading of The Technological Society would seem to indicate Ellul’s equivalent response to be”Nothing!” i.e., quietism as an improvement over Leninism. But it is clear that Ellul both in his actions and his writings was not one to sit quietly on the sidelines. First of all, the suspicion of epistemological incompleteness cancels out the most literal consequences of socio-techological determinism. Ellul draws a very tight and detailed picture of the modern world but then hints that we can’t be entirely sure of its significance. In a world where causal determinism is overshadowed by epistemic incompleteness, even refraining from action is a kind of doing, and this can be seen in a twofold application of Ellul’s thought. What are the take aways here?
The first take away that even a naive reader will get from The Technological Society is that one should not worship technique. More than a take away, it is the basic price of admission, as it is hard to imagine that anyone who actually worshiped technology would even bother to read the book. Yet once one gets beyond Ellul’s readership and like-minded techno-skeptics the outlook is rather bleak. The belief in technology and organizational efficiency as solutions to the problems of humanity is at least as strong today (2026) as it was in the mid-20th century. Hard-core enthusiasts for salvation through technique are no longer limited to fans of optimistic science fiction, as they were in the last century, but have become articulated as well thought out ideologies such as trans-humanism which border on becoming theologies, and which generate, if not mass appeal, at least appeal to elites. Against this background, Ellul’s work gains increased relevance, as do the works of other techno-skeptics. Whether or not there be a call to action, there is certainly a call to education. I recently heard that university students booed speakers who praised AI during graduation ceremonies. Who knows, perhaps education is even returning to education?
The take away in the realm of action is not”resistance is futile” but something more like “don’t be stupid.” Ellul always billed himself as an anarchist, but his anarchism was analytical, not incendiary. His radical critique of technology, information systems and centralized organizations was intended to provoke thought, not a “burn it all down” mentality. The purposeful destruction of capital structures, machines, and…to be candid, people, would be instantly regretted if it were successful in restoring humanity to a pre-modern level of existence. Ellul didn’t think such a strategy would succeed in any event. What succeeds are pseudo-revolutionary acts of hedonism and self-indulgence, what Francophonic Ellul termed eroticism and jazz, but which Americans will recognize as “sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.” This kind of resistance really is futile, and of course serves to consolidate the control of the techno-state.
The main take away from The Technological Society is that history is not controlled by human beings, at least not by human societies democratically constituted. Who then is in control? Here Ellul doesn’t really tell us, except to say that technique is in control and driving modern history according to its own dynamic. This, it seems to me, is kicking the can down the road, and a somebody, not a something, must be doing the kicking. It appears that there are three possible someones, 1) a conspiracy of elite controllers governing the world though deceit, 2) a conspiracy of non-humans, spirits, aliens, or whatever one wishes to call them, governing the world possibly through human agents, and 3)a unified power directing the cosmos including humanity, this power being either impersonal (nature) or a personal Creator. Through hints in the volume as well as Ellul’s more theological statements elsewhere, it seems clear to me that he embraced the third alternative in its second, stronger, version.
So we are left with this comfort, that, yes history is not under the collective control of the human race, but it may be in the control of someone better than us. This doesn’t do much to satisfy our very human urge to action. Where did the broad democratic vistas of human destiny go, if human history is not in our hands? At least a partial satisfaction of the urge is offered to us by the professor from Bordeaux, even if only implicitly. Consider how he gets a great deal of millage out of something called Engels’ law (yes, that Engels, Karl’s buddy) which purports to say that quantitative increase beyond a certain point creates a qualitative change. Fair enough, just as we see ice turning into water, we see families turning into nations, and integrated circuits into artificial intelligence, a rough but understandable description of phenomena. The thesis of The Technological Society is that we have long since passed what is commonly called “the singularity” when the modern world passed out of human control, the point at which machines and organization passed the threshold of Engels’ law and became autonomous drivers of history. Of course, the stronger, theological thesis, is that history was never under human control anyway, but putting that aside let’s consider what the attitude of the professor from Bordeaux might have been regarding the possibilities of human action.
I am not an Ellul scholar but I know from a sampling of his many books and manifestos that he was a supremely engaged person. How could we know this just from a reading of The Technological Society, with its presumed determinism. If we contemplate Ellul’s individualism and Aquitanian regionalism we get a hint for the solution of this paradox. Individuals and communities are on the near side, not the far side, of Engels’ law. We have far greater freedom of action than that granted to the global community as it moves through history. This implies not only freedom, but an obligation to act responsibly.
More concretely, it would seem that responsible action is deeply connected to humility. The closer and the smaller we keep our actions, the more freedom we have to be effective agents for good. The farther afield we range into the heights of corporate, national, and global power structures, the more we court disaster when even the best our calculations, including those of our calculating machines, court disaster.
Yes, it turns out to be just as Ellul proclaimed, increased technique decreases human freedom. However there is a double message of hope, first, that what we do personally and in community can be meaningful and effectual. Second, that as the caravan of technology passes through the desert of human history, the cloud of the Presence will either alight upon it and make its garden bloom to the benefit of humankind, or perchance destroy it utterly. Or perhaps these are are not exclusive alternatives, and unforeseen events will occur that surprise us all. Whatever may be the case, it seems that the dream of human control over history is vain…and this may be a good thing. Fortunately we have books by the likes of old King Solomon and the modern, but not modernist, Professor of Bordeaux which alert us to our historically incorrigible vanity.
