ARTICLES
CYBERFEMINISM SPCL - WITH A LITTLE HELP
FROM OUR (NEW) FRIENDS?
By Caroline Bassett , 10 September 1997
Feminist / Posthumanist / Science
Featured in Mute Vol
1, No. 8 –
Cyberfeminism
Sadie Plant's writings have been instrumental in defining many of cyberfeminism's foundational concepts. Here,
Caroline Bassett takes one of her recent essays, On the Matrix: Cyberfeminist Simulations, as the point of
departure for a critical look at feminism's most recent progeny while Josephine Berry reports from the conference
Wired Women where some of cyberfeminism's more popular figurations were placed under the microscope.
What is cyberfeminism? Sadie Plant claims it is an absolutely posthuman insurrection the revolt of an emergent
system which includes women and computers, against the world view and material reality of a patriarchy which still
seeks to subdue them. This is an alliance of 'the goods' against their masters, an alliance of woman and machines.
It is a revolt of the chattels.
It also claims to be a revolt on a certain rather grand scale. At the opening to On the Matrix:Cyberfeminist
Simulations, Plant says that cyberfeminism and/or the complex systems and virtual worlds upon which it is based
have the capacity to undermine the "world view and material reality of two thousand years of patriarchal control."
Later in the same article she suggests this is already happening. "Tomorrow came" we are, she says, already
downloaded.
Cutting across the absolute certainty of this rhetoric of transformation though, is a surprising admission of
uncertainty. Plant freely admits that she is talking about an "irresponsible feminism", more than that, she wonders if
what she is talking of "is a feminism at all."
This uncertainty opens up certain questions about cyberfeminism. Crucially this one; does it amount to a politics, or
a technology? Is Plant talking about a possible feminist response to computerisation? Or is she rather
documenting/predicting a technologicallydetermined alteration in the condition of woman. An alteration which
woman should embrace because it is a change in their favour, but which they can do very little about.
Two themes in particular emerge as keys to unraveling the claims of cyberfeminism. First, it is useful to consider
how Plant locates cyberfeminism within debates around the subject. And, second, the arguments Plant makes
around the nature of selforganising machines.
PLANT + IRIGARY = ONE + ZERO
Cyberfeminism is only a new twist in a long love/hate affair between modern feminisms and technologies. From
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein onwards, feminism has found in technology an edge point. It is regarded as desirable,
treacherous, despised, but always as revealing of the condition of women, and as implicated in it.
In this sense cyberfeminism is part of the feminist tradition. But it also repudiates it. Plant's cyberfeminism emerges,
in fact, out of what she understands as the failures of earlier feminism more broadly out of the failure of the
Enlightenment. She doesn't want a reenchantment of the world.
Cyberfeminism, then, begins at the point when humanism is abandoned. Plant's analysis focuses on the French
philosopher Luce Irigaray's contention that for women a sense of identity is impossible to achieve since women
cannot escape the 'specular economy' of the male. An economy in which, through the controlling phallus and eye
(the member and the gaze) woman is always comprehended as 'deficient'. Woman is always "the sex which is not
one", the sex which always lacks the equipment to have one.
Given this analysis, the goals of earlier feminisms, those which have demanded for woman her place as the also
subject of history, her share of human domination over nature, are the wrong goals. Pursuing the "masculine dream
of self control, selfidentification, selfknowledge, and selfdetermination" as Plant puts it, will always be futile, since
"any theory of the subject will always have been appropriated by the masculine"(Irigaray).
The only possible politics for the sex which is not one, and can never be one, is a politics which takes as its starting
point the destruction of the subject.
The question then is how this work of destruction might be carried out. Irigaray's answers have always been
tentative. Plant is not so diffident. She has an answer. And it is, of course, selforganising technology; the
femaleness of the new species. Which is not a species but an emergence. And one dangerous to men.
Plant's contention is that selforganising technology; "a dispersed and distributed emergence composed of links
between women, between women and computers, computers and communications links, connections and
connectionist nets" can perform Irigaray's work of destruction (which is the grounds of possibility for new works of
assembly), because it provides space for woman to assemble herself with a little help from her (new) friends. Cut
loose from patriarchy, woman is now "turned on with the machines".(Do we want this?)
Man meanwhile, despite his Cartesian disdain for being 'earthed' is also enmeshed in cybernetic space, becoming
simply a 'cyborg component of a self organizing process beyond his perception or control'. From where Plant begins
with the necessity for destruction, infiltration, and corruption there is some joy to be had in finding Man caught in
the nets he spread precisely to consolidate his own position. (Perhaps we do want this.)
ESSENTIAL FEMALE MACHINES
This turn of events depends, of course, not only on a particular analysis of the position of woman. It also requires a
particular understanding of technology. And here, I think cyberfeminism falters.While Ecofeminism holds
technology as hostile to woman precisely because it understands that technological 'advances' represent a further
encroachment by 'man' upon 'nature' and 'woman', cyberfeminism, by contrast, asserts that complex systems and
virtuality work the opposite way around.
How so? For cyberfeminism, the new nature of new machines might be encapsulated in the notion of self
organisation; As Plant puts it "tools mutate into complex machines which begin to think and act for themselves".
These machines, being emergent, do not have origins to be faithful to. They twist beyond the specular economy.
And the particular twist they take is towards the 'female'. Computers do not represent an encroachment of logic, but
its confusion. Crucially then, the valence of technology has changed.
BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO SAY COMPUTERS ARE FEMALE?
Three claims Plant makes for technology 'as female' are these:
One. Like woman, computers are simulators, having no fixed identity, but rather performing as. Both are therefore,
using Irigaray's formulation, 'not one' but always multiple, being both nothing (zero) and everything/everywhere at
once. The nature of the computer and the nature of women converge.
Two. A second way in which the female is invoked is via a return to weaving, understood in On the Matrix, as an
authentic 'feminine craft' (certified female by Freud). Weaving, undeniably processual, comes to symbolise
elements of technology which cannot be explained in terms of domination and control (i.e. of man putting nature on
the carpet). Plant suggests this technology, always technically demanding, has sewn its crossstitches into the new:
"[f]emale programmers were to find connections between knitting, patchwork, and software engineering and find
weaving secreted into the pixellated windows which open on to cyberspace."Weaving is invoked as a celebration of
that which is/always has been female about a certain kind of technology. Plant's alliance between 'the goods'
females and female technologies, suddenly looks remarkably similar to the old 'cobwebs against bombs' tactics of
the weaving women of Greenham Common.
Three. Finally, Plant claims that only those at 'odds' with the masculine can access the plane of the new machines.
If new technology is not masculine, it is because some of its inventors were not either. She invokes Alan Turing, the
inventor of the Turing machine, the forerunner to the modern computer, who was forced to take oestrogen as
'therapy' after being convicted of homosexuality by the British courts. Turing's brain she says, "newly engineered
and feminised", produced the Turing machine.
As a matter of fact, it didn't. Turing invented his machine before he was prosecuted and certainly before his
'therapy' took hold (at least according to Alan Hodges' biography). But the factual error is less significant perhaps,
than the rather brutal essentialism evident here (Is a hormone really all it takes to 'be' a woman?)
Cyberfeminism claims to ride the new edge of technology, but it also rides a very old edge of feminism. Plant is
essentially essentialist; there is little in her account which suggests ways in which the category of the female might
itself be subject to mutation.
THE WHEN QUESTION
In another way too, cyberfeminism's conception of emergent/self organising technology is to be questioned.
Technology changed, says Plant, but can this be said to be equally true of computers, neural networks, telecoms
networks, nanotechnology (the latter of which could very easily read as an attempt at absolute, molecule by
molecule control of nature), biotechnologies, AI?
On the Matrix glances across an array of technologies, each one produced as 'proof' of "the change", each one
never precisely described. As a rhetorical strategy, blinding with science (or in this case technology) has surely
been (over)done. In addition, there is always a tension between contention and tense; "tomorrow came", says Plant,
but she admits that many of these technologies are still under development.
There is a problem then with cyberfeminism's understanding of technology. Plant's assertions about the long list of
technologies she invokes are, often, simply assertions.
More than that, they might be understood to reduce technology in so far as they characterise it as 'female'. Surely it
will never be enough to understand emergent technology 'as feminine', just as other technologies can never be
understood purely and simply 'as masculine'? This, paradoxically, is to deny the complexity of technology.
This conflict, between gender essentialism and technological transformation, is a faultine that runs through
cyberfeminism. It means that although cyberfeminism understands that everything has changed, in the end, it also
suggests very little has changed. Despite the rhetoric, cyberfeminism is not ambitious enough.
CONCLUSION
To return, finally, to the question of a feminism. Following the threads of Plant's arguments through On the Matrix, it
becomes clear, I think, that Plant never provides a definitive answer to the question: "technology or politics?" There
is always, in her work, a slippage from what might be effected through a politics practised by women, to what will
be effected by virtue of virtual (and complex) systems.
This slippage is the point for Plant who courts and develops ambiguity in her writing, consistently confusing and re
fusing distinctions between woman who is "turned on by the machines", and selforganising machines themselves.
Woman and machines, gathered under the same unvarying sign (the sign of the female the always multiple zero
set against the One a non binary opposition) are, as Plant sees it, elements of the same networks. In this
proliferating confusion, distinctions about who or what is doing what to whom distinctions that is, about what might
amount to 'doing politics' and what might amount to celebrating a technology, might seem difficult to draw. More
than that; they might even seem irrelevant. "As technology changes, woman changes", says Plant. Shouldn't that
be enough for us?
I don't think it is. Because it lets cyberfeminism off the hook. It makes certain claims to being an active, radical form
of politics; one adapted to posthumanism. But it also comes close to suggesting that the position of woman is
simply intrinsic to a certain form of technology.
In the moments, in which cyberfeminism relies not on humans (women) but on the emerging force of machines,
which she presumes are 'female', Plant seems to me to deliver us less to a politics than an eschatology; a hope and
desire for future things. In this way, despite the sound and fury, of cyberfeminism's (effective) rhetoric, and despite
the power and precision of its destructive moment (the destruction of the desire for a retooled Enlightenment), it
often comes close to a politics of quietism.
Sadie Plant, On the Matrix: Cyberfeminist Simulations In Cultures of Internet, (ed) Rob Shields (Sage, 1996)
Caroline Bassett <caroline AT cix.compulink.co.uk> is a freelance technology journalist, columnist for MacUser, and
a doctoral student researching hypermedia at Sussex University.