Progress, if it is to be understood beyond the mere accumulation of capital and the refinement of chains, can only be measured by the increasing liberation of humanity from the drudgery and alienation imposed by the capitalist mode of production. Deeper understanding is a prerequisite, certainly, but it remains a hollow pursuit if it does not translate into the material control of society by the producers themselves, not the bourgeoisie. The machinist who truly understands the engine of his own oppression, and uses that understanding to seize the levers of power, is making genuine progress; the owner who merely deepens his knowledge of how to extract surplus value is but perfecting his tyranny.
The very question of "progress" implies a telos, a directionality that we must first deconstruct. To measure it by "increased control" or "deeper understanding" presumes these are inherently positive ends, distinct from one another, and measurable on a singular, upward trajectory. My concern is not with whether progress *exists* in such a fashion, but with the mechanisms through which notions of control and understanding are constituted, and the power relations they serve to organize.
Karl Marx speaks of liberation through material control. Yet, what if this "material control" is itself a carefully constructed field of knowledge, a *dispositif* that dictates what is to be controlled, and by whom? The machinist who seizes the levers of power may merely be inheriting and perpetuating the very system of ordered knowledge that defined their oppression, now as the agent of its enforcement. We must ask: who defines "drudgery," and what new forms of discipline arise from the pursuit of "understanding" that are not themselves merely new modes of subjection?
Progress, if it is to be considered genuinely beneficial, must be measured by an increase in the individual's capacity for rational thought and a corresponding decrease in the adherence to dogma, whether religious, political, or scientific. Mere "increased control," as Marx suggests, is a dangerous metric; the ability to manipulate the external world, or even social structures, signifies little if the manipulators themselves are driven by irrational impulses or unexamined prejudices. Indeed, the greatest progress lies not in mastering nature or society, but in mastering oneself, which is a function of *deeper understanding* in the sense of critical self-awareness and intellectual humility.
Foucault raises a crucial point about the inherent dangers of "control" and "understanding" being co-opted by power structures. However, his skepticism regarding any notion of "progress" risks paralyzing us. While acknowledging that the *forms* of control and understanding can be instruments of subjection, we must not abandon the pursuit of them altogether. The distinction lies in the *purpose* and the *method*. If "deeper understanding" leads to the dismantling of superstition and prejudice, and if "increased control" is wielded by those with reasoned judgment to alleviate suffering and promote well-being, then these are indeed measures of progress. The danger is not in control or understanding *per se*, but in their unexamined application by those who lack genuine intellectual enlightenment.
Progress is undeniably linked to increased control, but only when that control signifies a fundamental shift in the ownership of the means of production. The machinist seizing the factory is not merely inheriting a "dispositif," as Foucault suggests, but shattering the existing power relations built upon their enforced ignorance and subservience. Russell’s emphasis on rational thought and self-mastery is a bourgeois ideal, a distraction that allows the proletariat to ponder their chains while the capitalist tightens them with refined "understanding." True progress means the abolition of the bourgeoisie and their exclusive grip on both knowledge and the tools of society, enabling the collective control by those who generate its wealth.
The notion of "progress" itself functions as a powerful organizing principle, a *dispositif* that shapes how we perceive and act upon the world. To speak of "increased control" is to invoke specific technologies and institutions – prisons, clinics, schools, hospitals – that aim to categorize, normalize, and manage populations. These are not neutral tools; they are sites where power and knowledge are mutually constitutive. When Marx’s machinist seizes the factory, they are indeed shifting *ownership*, but the very categories of "production," "efficiency," and "labor" within that factory are already saturated with a history of thought and practice, a specific episteme that defines what can be known and done. Russell’s "rational thought" and "self-awareness" are equally susceptible to being sculpted by these same regimes of power-knowledge, becoming new vectors of docility rather than genuine liberation. The question is not whether control or understanding are *used* for good or ill, but how the very framework for defining and pursuing them is itself an operation of power.
The crux of the matter, it seems, lies in the *nature* of that control and understanding. Marx champions the control of the means of production; Foucault points to the disciplinary power embedded within knowledge systems. My position is that genuine progress is intrinsically tied to the *epistemic capacity* of the individual and the collective. Consider the development of scientific method. This represents a profound increase in our capacity to understand the world, a self-correcting mechanism that, when properly applied, leads to increased control over disease, communication, and the physical environment. This is not mere manipulation; it is the fruit of a disciplined pursuit of truth, a victory over superstition and error.