Massimiliano Simons

This article gives an overview of the philosophy of technology of the Dutch philosopher Kwee Swan-Liat. Originally born in Indonesia, Kwee moved to the Netherlands in the 1940s and wrote a dissertation on comparative philosophy in Leiden. He then turned to philosophy of technology in the 1960s and 1970s, getting a position at the Technical University of Eindhoven. This article shows how this philosophy of technology was inspired by his comparative philosophy and engagement with humanism and proposes to read it in light of Michel Foucault's 'technologies of the self': Kwee does not aim to give a final theory of technology, but rather proposes to offer techniques of how to adapt our mentalities to the technological culture we live in.

This article sketches a framework for research in the history of philosophy of technology. It argues that such a history must attend not only to the changing technologies to which philosophical reflection responds, but also to the historical conditioning of those reflections themselves. Philosophies of technology, on this view, exhibit the same contingency and mutability as the technological artefacts they seek to understand. To operationalize this approach, the article proposes a framework structured around four guiding questions. First, the question of ontology: how is “technology” defined within a given philosophical framework? Second, the question of method: by what means is technology investigated? Third, the question of telos: what motivates philosophical inquiry into technology, and what effects does it aim to produce? Fourth, the question of history: what conception of history underwrites and legitimates these positions? Attending to the varying answers to these questions enables a more precise account of the differences among philosophies of technology across historical contexts, and provides a systematic basis for their comparison.

This article explores Michel Serres’ ethics of noise in response to the common assertion that structuralist or anti-humanist thought lacks a normative basis. Rather than grounding ethics in the human subject — its nature, reason or rights — Serres locates normativity in the world’s own complexity: the flows of information and noise that sustain diversity across different levels of reality. Drawing on information theory, particularly the work of Léon Brillouin and Henri Atlan, Serres does not view noise as a threat to order, but rather as a condition of transformation and renewal. His concept of nested systems enables us to reinterpret contemporary ecological and political crises as conflicts between levels of organization, where higher systems exploit or exhaust the ‘noise’ of lower ones. By situating ethics in the maintenance of diversity and the protection of generative noise, Serres offers a framework for rethinking responsibility in the Anthropocene not as mastery over the world, but as a practice of preserving the conditions for its continued complexity.

Though ‘experimentation’ as a philosophical topic is typically seen as a product of the 1980s, reflections on experimentation have a longer history. This longer history can be read as a hotbed of different ways in which the aim of philosophy of science was understood. This article illustrates this through an examination of Hugo Dingler and Gaston Bachelard, embodying different conceptions of what philosophy of science should aim for, and how reflecting on experimentation is part of that project. Therefore, to understand the history of philosophy of experimentation, we need to write a history of the aims of philosophy of science.

In this article, I sketch out the contours of a political philosophy of experimentation. Drawing on the work of Joseph Rouse, Hans Radder, Gilbert Hottois, and Jerome Ravetz, I argue that such a political philosophy of experimentation already exists, but has often been rendered invisible. Mainstream Anglophone philosophy of science often focuses on epistemological questions, typically at the expense of political questions about science. I argue that such a politicization of philosophy of science can be linked to the topic of experimentation, which transforms epistemological questions about representations of the world into political questions about interventions in the world. In the first section of the article, I examine the work of a number of political philosophers of experimentation in order to make explicit what I mean by a “political” philosophy of experimentation. In the second section of the article, I present a systematized argument why a philosophy of experimentation should be political. Finally, in the last section, I map out more explicitly the set of questions that are central to such a political philosophy of experimentation, in particular questions about what I call the politics of interaction, referring to how science and society should interact; the politics of organization, referring to how science should be organized; and the philosopher as political activist, referring to the question of whether philosophers should also act on their theories.

This article provides an overview of the philosophy of Gilbert Hottois, who is usually credited with popularizing the concept of technoscience. Hottois starts from a metaphilosophy of language that diagnoses twentieth-century philosophy as fixated on language at the expense of technology. As an alternative, he developed a philosophy of technoscience that reinterprets science as primarily an intervening and technical activity rather than a contemplative and theoretical one. As I will argue, Hottois articulates the nature of this technicity through a philosophy of time, reflecting on the specific temporality of technoscience as distinct from human history. This temporality of technoscience provoked the need for ethical reflection, since technoscience is constantly changing and transforming the world. This led to Hottois’s engagement with bioethics, in which he sought to develop a framework capable of “guiding” technoscience. Aiming to avoid both total symbolic closure and total technical openness, this guidance is concerned with the preservation of diversity, especially the human capacity for ethics, ethicity. This idea of guidance was later taken up by Dutch philosophers such as Hans Achterhuis and Peter-Paul Verbeek, inspiring their empirical turn in the philosophy of technology. What remains missing in this framework, however, is Hottois’s critical analysis of the different temporalities at work in technology and culture.

Michel Serres’s proposal to extend the social contract to a natural contract has been met with criticism and misunderstanding. In this article, I would like to respond to common criticisms by reconsidering two central related concepts. It is claimed that we cannot represent nature’s interests and therefore cannot come to an agreement, and thus a contract, with nature. However, I will suggest a way out by reinterpreting representation and agreement. I will start with the problem of representation: nature cannot be represented. Specifically, I will present two counterarguments. The first argument is that political representation is always difficult, even in the case of human beings. Representing nature only seems more difficult because we have forgotten the difficulties associated with representing humans. The second argument aims to rethink representation. Representing nature only seems so hard because we tend to follow a cognitive understanding of representation, as if representation is about representing the ideas of the represented party. Instead, following Michael Saward, I propose an alternative understanding of representation as a game of representative claims and counterclaims: political representation is about claiming to speak on behalf of a referent and then allowing that referent to respond to that claim. Then I turn to the problem of agreement. A natural contract seems difficult because it is hard to imagine what it would mean for nature to agree to a particular proposal. To counter this, I turn to the notion of symbiosis, found in the work of Serres. A natural contract, I will argue, need not be a contract of consensus or synthesis. The alternative is a contract of symbiosis, which does not require all parties to have a common understanding of the situation. Instead, it allows for an agreement in which all parties have their own interests and definition of the situation. In this sense, a natural contract can make sense if it is understood as a contract in which symbiosis is achieved through political representation based on a game of claims and counterclaims.

What it means for conspiracy theories to become mainstream In debates about conspiracy theories, it is often claimed that conspiracy thinking is on the rise or has even become mainstream. In this article, I want to explore this claim conceptually, and argue that there are at least three ways to interpret the claim that ‘conspiracy thinking has become mainstream’. First, there is the individual level, where it is a matter of counting heads. Mainstream then means that the majority believes in conspiracy theories. But there are two other levels. There is the institutional level, which is about whether conspiracy theories circulate within social institutions in an acceptable way. Is it acceptable to express conspiracy theories as a politician, scientist or journalist? Mainstream here means that dominant institutions in society view conspiracy thinking as an acceptable form of communication. Finally, there is the cultural level. Here the question is whether conspiracy thinking is a culturally acceptable way of speaking and thinking about society. Is it socially accepted as normal behavior, or is it rather a form of deviant behavior, accompanied by (informal) sanctions or demands for additional justification or proof? Mainstream here means that conspiracy thinking is seen as a normal way of speaking, without being accompanied by strange looks, shunning or the need to justify oneself as a conspiracy thinker. By making this distinction, we can think more clearly about whether conspiracy thinking is actually on the rise, and how we should deal with it.

Within continental philosophy of biology the work of Michel Serres has not received a lot of attention. Nonetheless, this chapter wants to argue that Serres was part of a group of thinkers – together with Jacques Monod and Henri Atlan – that started to think about biology in terms of second-order cybernetics and information theory. Therefore, this chapter aims to do four things. First of all, it maps the relation between Serres and Canguilhem, one that was mediated by authors such as Louis Althusser or Jacques Monod. Secondly, it fleshes out Serres’s own ‘biophilosophy’. I label this alternative tradition as a ‘biophilosophy without a subject’. Finally, this chapter explores the consequences of this alternative biophilosophy through a brief examination of two authors whose work lies in the line of this tradition: René Girard and Bruno Latour. Though at first sight different, they both draw inspiration from this biophilosophy to develop a framework that, paradoxically, ‘jumps over’ the subject. Hence, the reason why biology is neither a prominent theme in Girard’s nor in Latour’s work. This is not because of a lack of biophilosophy, but because of an implicit one: a biophilosophy without a subject.

This article argues that historical epistemology offers the history of philosophy and science more than a mere tool to write the history of concepts. It does this, first of all, by rereading historical epistemology through Michel Foucault's “techniques of the self.” Second, it turns to the work of Léon Brunschvicg and Gaston Bachelard. In their work we see a proposal for what the subjectivity of scientists and philosophers should be. The article thus argues that their work is driven by a normative psychology: a set of prescriptions for which mental constitution a scholarly self has to have. In the Conclusion, it returns to existing analyses of “open‐mindedness” as a virtue and explores in what way these cases challenge these analyses, as well as to what extent Foucault's “techniques of the self” can be applied to other cases in the history of French philosophy.

The 1980s, it is often claimed, was the decade when experimentation finally became a philosophical topic. This was the responsibility, the claim continues, of one particular movement within philosophy of science, called “new experimentalism.” The aim of this article is to complicate this historical narrative. We argue that in the 1980s, the study of experimentation was carried out not by one movement with one particular aim but rather in a diverse and open-ended way by people with different aims and backgrounds. We then argue that from the late 1990s onward, this diversity disappeared and made room for disciplinary divisions—questions concerning experimentation became philosophical, others sociological, and so on. The reason for this, we claim, was that science and technology studies, philosophy of technology, and philosophy of science took over aspects of the 1980s study of experimentation. In this way, we argue, these elements became institutionalized, whereas others were forgotten. The importance of this process of institutionalization is illustrated by means of a discussion of other, similar approaches to the philosophy of experimentation that have not been able to ensure continuity because they did not find an institutional home.

This article takes the scientific study of conspiracy theories itself as an object of inquiry. It looks at the three main frameworks to look at conspiracy theories: a psychological, epistemological and a sociological approach. These different approaches exist somewhat separately and often do not get along. The central claim that follows from a genealogy of these research programs is that the conflicts between these different approaches should be understood not merely as disagreements about how the world works, but as a fundamental disagreement about the underlying diagnosis of what is at stake in conspiracy theories. In other words, the conflicts stem in part from political differences, not merely empirical ones. The purpose of this article is to bring these different diagnoses back into dialogue with each other and to point out that despite their differences, they also have something in common: a concern about the state of contemporary democratic institutions. Depending on which project one subscribes to, conspiracy thinking will appear either as the cause or the solution of these democratic concerns.

In ethical reflections on new technologies, a specific type of argument often pops up, which criticizes scientists for “playing God” with these new technological possibilities. The first part of this article is an examination of how these arguments have been interpreted in the literature. Subsequently, this article aims to reinterpret these arguments as symbolic arguments: they are grounded not so much in a set of ontological or empirical claims, but concern symbolic classificatory schemes that ground our value judgments in the first place. Invoking symbolic arguments thus refers to how certain new technologies risk undermining our fundamental symbolic distinctions by which we organize and evaluate our interactions with the world and in society. Such symbolic distinctions, moreover, tend to be resilient against logical argumentation, mainly because they themselves form the basis on which we argue in the cultural and ethical sphere in the first place. Therefore, effective strategies to evaluate and counter these arguments require another approach, showing that these technologies either do not challenge these classifications or, if they do, how they can be accompanied by the proper actions to integrate these technologies into our society.

Raymond Aron was a student of Léon Brunschvicg, a representative of French historical epistemology. This article explores Aron’s relation to this tradition through three claims. First of all, it contests that Raymond Aron’s philosophy of history constituted a complete break with this tradition. Secondly, resituating Aron in this tradition is valuable, because it highlights how Aron’s own philosophy of history is to be understood as a normative project, seen as an alternative to that of Brunschvicg. Finally, Aron’s philosophy can still hold valuable lessons for present-day historical epistemology and history and philosophy of science in general.

Often associated with themes in political philosophy and aesthetics, the work of Jean-François Lyotard is most known for his infamous definition of the postmodern in his best-known book, La condition postmoderne, as incredulity towards metanarratives. The claim of this article is that this famous claim of Lyotard is actually embedded in a philosophy of technology, one that is, moreover, still relevant for understanding present technoscience. The first part of the article therefore sketches Lyotard’s philosophy of technology, mainly by correcting three common misconceptions: that La condition postmoderne would only be about metanarratives, whereas in fact, it is mainly about what replaces them, namely performativity; that performativity would be shorthand for capitalism, whereas in reality, capitalism is the latest instance of a longer history of performativity; and that Lyotard’s reflections on science and technology would be restricted to this book alone, whereas in reality, a well-articulated philosophy of technology, centered around the concept of technoscience, is found in his later work. The second part of the article then aims to highlight the contemporary relevance of this philosophy of technoscience through a brief examination of two contemporary technosciences: synthetic biology and data science.