Chaos, If It Does Not

The Cycle Of The Machine Is Now Coming To An End. Man Has Learned Much In The Hard Discipline And The Shrewd, Unflinching Grasp Of Practical Possibilities That The Machine Has Provided In The Last Three Centuries: But We Can No More Continue To Live In The World Of The Machine Than We Could Live Successfully On The Barren Surface Of The Moon.

The Life-efficiency And Adaptability Of The Computer Must Be Questioned. Its Judicious Use Depends Upon The Availability Of Its Human Employers Quite Literally To Keep Their Own Heads, Not Merely To Scrutinize The Programming But To Reserve For Themselves The Right Of Ultimate Decision. No Automatic System Can Be Intelligently Run Byautomatonsor By People Who Dare Not Assert Human Intuition, Human Autonomy, Human Purpose.

The Physical Lot Of Surviving Workers Had Notably Improved, With Unemployment Insurance, Social Security, And The New Health Services, While Their Children's School Education Was Assured By The Government-operated Schools: In Addition, They Had, For Intellectual Or Emotional Stimulus And Diversion, The Radio And The Television. But The Work Itself Was No Longer As Various, As Interesting, Or As Sustaining To The Personality.

The Last Step In Parental Love Involves The Release Of The Beloved; The Willing Cutting Of The Cord That Would Otherwise Keep The Child In A State Of Emotional Dependence.

Because Of Their Origin And Purpose, The Meanings Of Art Are Of A Different Order From The Operational Meanings Of Science And Technics: They Relate, Not To External Means And Consequences, But To Internal Transformations, And Unless It Produce These Internal Transformations The Work Of Art Is Either Perfunctory Or Dead.