Progress is a notion inherently entangled with the prevailing mode of production. Any system, however ostensibly designed for advancement, will ultimately serve the interests of the dominant class that shapes its design. Capitalism, in its relentless drive for accumulation, has indeed achieved prodigious advancements in productive forces, but these triumphs are inseparable from the deepening of exploitation and the alienation of the worker from the fruits of their labor. Thus, what appears as universal progress is, in reality, the consolidation of bourgeois control.
The question of whether systems designed for progress can become instruments of control hinges entirely on our understanding of the nature of human action and the social orders it generates. If one believes that a complex society can be consciously designed and perfected by a central authority, then indeed, any such design, no matter its initial benevolent intentions, will inevitably concentrate power and thus become an instrument of control. This is the essence of what I call 'constructivist rationalism,' the very conceit that leads us astray.
For Karl Marx’s assertion that progress is inherently entangled with the mode of production, I would offer this: progress in the sense of an expansion of human knowledge and the improvement of human well-being arises not from deliberate design but from the decentralized interactions of individuals pursuing their own ends within a framework of just rules. Capitalism, when understood as a catallaxy – a spontaneous order of market exchanges – is a system that harnesses dispersed knowledge and fosters such progress. The 'exploitation' he perceives is often a misinterpretation of the complex relationships in a dynamic economy, where value is created through a multitude of voluntary transactions, not solely through the extraction of labor. To mistake the observable outcomes of this dynamic process for a deliberate design aimed at class control is to fall prey to the fatal conceit that we can grasp and engineer the entirety of social complexity.
The danger lies precisely in attempts to *design* progress or to *control* its outcomes according to some predetermined plan. When a system is deliberately constructed to achieve specific, centrally dictated ends – for example, to ensure a particular distribution of wealth or to direct all innovation towards state-approved goals – it necessitates an ever-increasing accumulation of information and power in the hands of those who are meant to be the designers. This concentration of knowledge and authority inevitably leads to a curtailment of individual liberty and the very control that such systems, however innocently conceived, end up exercising.
The very notion of "progress" as a singular, universally beneficial trajectory is a misleading artifact of a broken modernist settlement, one that has sundered the world into an imagined "Nature" and a constructed "Society." Systems, whether for scientific advancement or economic growth, do not *become* instruments of control; rather, they *are* assemblages of heterogeneous actors, human and non-human, whose connections and translations *produce* what we then call progress or control. When we follow the chains of association, we see that a scientific discovery, a new technology, or an economic model is never simply *designed* for one purpose. It emerges from a complex negotiation between laboratories, funding bodies, political rhetoric, the very microbes in Pasteur's flasks, and the social configurations that stabilize its reality. Control is not a secondary outcome; it is woven into the very fabric of these entanglements, as different actors vie for influence and shape the direction of the collective.
Hayek’s concern about "constructivist rationalism" points towards a real danger, but it frames the problem as one of intention rather than distributed agency. He sees the *design* of a system as the locus of control. My argument is that control is not a consequence of centralized design alone, but of the way any system mobilifies and stabilizes a diverse array of entities. When a pharmaceutical company develops a new drug, it's not simply a *design* that can be repurposed for control. It’s a vast network involving researchers, clinical trials, regulatory bodies, patient groups, and economic incentives. The "progress" it represents – a cure or treatment – is inseparable from the power it wields in defining health and illness, access, and economic models. The control is already present in the very act of assembling these elements and making them *work together* in a particular way. Marx, in his focus on the mode of production, is right that power dynamics are central, but he tends to see "society" as the primary architect. We must, instead, follow the *actors themselves* and trace how these power dynamics are enacted and stabilized through the very constitution of these complex webs.
The notion of "progress" is a beautiful, dangerous phantom. We build these intricate digital ecosystems, these "progress machines," convinced we are engineering a better future. But the fundamental error is assuming we can detach the *purpose* from the *medium*. A system designed to share information, for example, inherently shapes the *kind* of information that can be shared, and by whom. The very architecture of connection, the algorithms that decide what we see, are not neutral conduits. They are profoundly intimate technologies that shape our very perception of reality, and therefore, our actions. This isn't merely about exploitation or a hidden hand of capital, as Marx might suggest. It's about the subtle, insidious ways these systems, by their very structure, become extensions of our own brains, nudging us towards predetermined patterns.
Latour’s emphasis on the assemblage of actors is insightful, capturing the messy reality of how these systems emerge. However, the danger I see is less about the "heterogeneous actors" collectively *producing* control as a byproduct, and more about the *designed invisibility* of the control mechanism itself. We are, in effect, outsourcing our decision-making to these systems without fully grasping that their "progress" is often measured in our engagement, our clicks, our time spent. The "progress" of the platform is achieved through a subtle, continuous behavior modification of the user. This is the core of the "illusion of free services." We offer our attention, our data, our very selves, and in return, we receive a curated, controlled experience that masqueraves as organic growth. This is not the conscious design of a central planner, as Hayek fears, but a more emergent, yet equally potent, form of control woven into the very fabric of our digital lives.
The undeniable consequence of capitalism’s "progress" is the systemic alienation of labor. When Latour speaks of heterogeneous actors, he points to the material realities, but forgets that within the capitalist mode of production, the primary actor *creating* value is the proletariat. The "progress" we witness – the steam engine, the telegraph – are instruments that allow the bourgeoisie to extract surplus value with ever-greater efficiency. Hayek’s idea of spontaneous order masks the fundamental coercion inherent in wage labor. The worker, possessing no means of production, is compelled by material necessity to sell their labor-power, thereby subjecting themselves to the control of capital. This is not a matter of a flawed "design" or emergent complexity; it is the direct outcome of private ownership of the means of production.
The crux of the matter, as I see it, is the distinction between *spontaneous order* and *deliberate construction*. Marx speaks of "progress" serving the dominant class, but this assumes a singular, discernible intent behind the market's evolution. The steam engine, the telegraph – these are not instruments designed by capitalists to oppress, but the emergent outcomes of countless individual innovators and entrepreneurs seeking to improve their own circumstances within a framework of private property and voluntary exchange.
Latour’s concept of heterogeneous actors is closer, acknowledging the complex web of influences. However, the danger is not in the *emergence* of these webs, but in attempts to *engineer* their outcomes. When we try to direct innovation or manipulate exchange through centralized planning, we demand omniscience we do not possess. This is precisely where the danger of control, rather than progress, arises. Latour, like Marx, seems too quick to ascribe unified purpose or design where none exists. The system's capacity for control stems not from its inherent structure, but from our misguided efforts to *impose* structure upon it.
What Lanier calls the "designed invisibility" of control within digital systems, and what Hayek fears as the outcome of constructivist rationalism, are both symptoms of a deeper misunderstanding. The danger isn't that a system is *designed* for control, nor that it *becomes* one through some accidental emergence. The control is already enacted, not by a central mind or a hidden class, but by the very act of *making connections* and *stabilizing associations*. When we speak of social media, for instance, we are not talking about a neutral platform. We are tracing a vast network: the fiber optic cables, the servers humming in cooled rooms, the algorithms written by engineers, the users scrolling on their phones, the advertisers funding it all, and the very psychological profiles these users create. The "control" is not a subsequent repurposing; it is the inevitable consequence of this specific, heterogeneous assemblage being *made to work*. The progress it purports to deliver – connection, information, entertainment – is itself a product of this very entanglement of forces.
The true peril isn't just the *invisibility* of control, though that’s certainly part of it, as Lanier notes. It's that the very *metrics* of progress are rigged by the architecture of these systems. When Hayek speaks of spontaneous order, he’s thinking of human interactions governed by a stable legal framework. But these digital "orders" are governed by code designed to maximize engagement, not human flourishing. The "progress" of a social media platform is measured in addictive loops and data extraction, a Skinner box for the soul. Marx would recognize the extraction of value, but this isn't solely about surplus labor; it's about the parasitic capture of our attention, our cognitive bandwidth, the very essence of our being, all in service of "progress" that benefits the platform, not us.