A Slowdown in the Technology of Haste

FROM the early days of the Republic, when Thomas Jefferson backed Inventor Eli Whitney's design for mass-produced muskets with interchangeable parts, public support for technological progress has been an American tradition. Out of this tradition has grown an obsession with speed, a consequence of the nation's great distances and the rush to cover them quickly, producing what Historian Daniel J. Boorstin calls "a technology of haste" that dates back to the pioneering steamboats of nearly two centuries ago. Add to those themes the national desire to win, to be first. A natural consequence was the historic landing of men on the moon, an event that meant to Eric Hoffer the triumph of the squares, to Norman Mailer the consummation of WASP values. But now, not even two years after Apollo 11, the nation seems to find that kind of victory somewhat hollow.

Such, at least, may be the reason the U.S. Congress has voted to kill the billion-dollar supersonic transport. Rarely before have the lawmakers denied funds for a program billed as essential to American primacy in the world. President Nixon observed last week, after the Senate had joined the House in ending further federal subsidy for the SST, that the congressional action "could be taken as a reversal of America's tradition of staying in the vanguard of scientific and technological advance." Says Paul Seabury, a Berkeley political scientist: "It is the first time in American history that a major technological innovation has been shot down."

Third-Rate. The SST went down despite just such warnings from its backers. "If you're talking about no SST," said Washington's Warren Magnuson just before the Senate voted, "you're talking about no American SST. You will be leading America down the road toward becoming a third-rate nation in aviation. We'll be running into a technological Appalachia around here if we're not careful." The vote was another blow to the nation's beleaguered aerospace industry (see BUSINESS). Afterward Magnuson put a brave face on what had happened--"this isn't a defeat, it's only a setback"--and said that it was the question of national priorities that did him in. "A lot of people talked about mass transit, the need for housing," he grumbled. "Hell, I'm for that, too."

The men who defeated the SST, however, felt that mass transit and the need for housing--and many other urgent domestic issues--far outranked the SST. Several of the House freshmen who unexpectedly tipped the balance against the aircraft said as much. Democrat George Danielson of California: "The need to solve other greater social and economic problems was the most compelling factor. The biggest issues are pollution, better housing, more educational opportunities and mass transit." Democrat Nick Begich of Alaska: "The people do not want this airplane. There are other human resources and public works projects that have a higher priority."

The Los Angeles Times, which supported the SST, admitted that the aircraft "became a symbol to a lot of people--a symbol of resistance to the so-called 'militaryindustrial complex.' a symbol of resistance to technological spoliation of the environment, even a symbol of distaste for President Nixon." Senator Adlai Stevenson III declared: "Congress has not been faced with an issue of such symbolic importance in many years." It was a rare occasion, notes TIME Senior Correspondent John Steele, for asking some fundamental questions: "Do we really need this? Is it so important to be first in every phase of technology? Are there other things we want and need from life instead? It is obvious to winners and losers alike that something new is afoot--a questioning of old values, old landmarks of progress, old priorities."

Genuine Advance? To John Burke, dean of social sciences at U.C.L.A., the defeat of the SST marks "a change in our civilization's idea of progress." If that is so, it has its dangers, for, as Boorstin points out: "We can't give up the exploring spirit. We can't legislate against progress. Our problem is to find ways of continuing to explore the unknown and still keep our lives decent."

The death of the SST need not be seen as a vote against exploring the unknown. It is not a triumph for the hysterical foes of all technology. For one thing, the SST was vulnerable to the criticism that it does not represent a genuine technical advance. Much of the know-how necessary to build a Mach 3 aircraft--in titanium metallurgy and engine intake design, for example--was already in hand from development of the X-15, the SR-71 and the B-70. Says Harvard Sociologist Daniel Bell: "The technology argument made no sense to anybody who followed it seriously. The

SST was not the kind of advance that the jet was over the prop plane."

Seen in that light, the fate of the SST represents a serious break with the compulsion to pursue any technological height only "because it is there." But that is not the same as turning against all progress; it means redefining progress. The new mood could lead to a new sophistication, a new selectivity about what kinds of technology are worth pursuing and at what pace. "Technological wizardry is not an end in itself," Arnold Toynbee observed recently. "It is desirable only if it makes for human welfare, and this is the test that any tool ought to be made to pass." No one can say just yet how firmly the U.S. will henceforth accept that standard, but popular sentiment seems to be moving toward it.

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