In “The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility,” Walter Benjamin considers the ways in which technological reproduction affects the significance of art. The authenticity of a work of art is established by “its unique existence in a particular place” (1053). Benjamin argues that this authenticity is degrades when art is subjected to technological reproduction. The reason for this is twofold: technological reproduction is more independent from the original (therefore, it can effectively change the manner in which the original is received), and technological reproduction can introduce the original into contexts that it otherwise would have been excluded from (hence, the exclusivity of the original is diminished).
The authenticity of an object creates what Benjamin calls the “aura” of that object. In one aspect, aura can be defined as “the unique apparition of a distance, however near it may be” (1055). The authenticity and aura of an object hold within them the object’s history. When one encounters a unique work of art, one unaffected by technological reproduction, such a work would be imbued with an aura, which held within it the work’s historical significance. A unique work of art is created by an irreplicable process, and disseminated by limited means. Hence, the object is inseparable from the historical tradition which brought it about.
By technologically reproducing a work of art, this aura becomes diminished. Such a transition in the reception of art belies “a perception whose ‘sense for the sameness in the world’ has so increased that, by means of reproduction, it extracts sameness even from what is unique” (1056). Hence, the uniqueness and exclusivity inherent in a non-technological work of art is foregone in favor of a reproducibility that tailors art to the masses. Where art was previously tied up in its ritualistic creation, technological reproduction severs this tie, freeing the work of art from its “subservience to ritual” (1057) and allowing its range of exhibition to reach the masses.
In reading this essay, I was unsure whether or not Benjamin approved of this change in circumstance. It appears at times that he laments the “destruction of the aura” (1055), and at other times celebrates the “emancipation” (1057) of art. Rather than take a moral stance upon whether or not technological reproduction is a beneficial change in our society, he merely outlines the consequences of this change, leaving its ethical value ambiguous. This allows the reader to appreciate such consequences for themselves, and decide what value to place therein.
In this spirit, Benjamin’s essay brought to my mind two examples of the effects of technological reproducibility outside of the realm of art. Specifically, I am inspired by the moment in which Benjamin attempts to generalize his thesis: “It might be stated as a general formula that the technology of reproduction detaches the reproduced object from the sphere of tradition. By replicating the work many times over, it substitutes a mass existence for a unique existence. And in permitting the reproduction to reach the recipient in his or her own situation, it actualizes that which is reproduced” (1054). My examples attempt to display the ways in which the effects of technological reproduction can be both beneficial and detrimental.
First, this brings to mind the effect of technological reproduction on the Protestant Reformation. The Reformation would not have been possible if not for the creation of the printing press. Mass reproduction of the Bible allowed for individuals to own copies themselves, whereas the handwritten copies of the past were hard to come by. By mass-producing the Bible, it became “actualized” for those who previously only had access to scripture through the rituals of the Catholic church. Hence, individuals were free to reinterpret the Bible, and to disregard the rituals to which religious practice had been tied for centuries. Here, in my opinion, is a great beneficial effect of technological reproduction, for its ability to equalize.
However, technological reproduction can be very dangerous as well, as can be seen in environmentalist Wendell Berry’s criticism of modern conservationism. Berry criticizes conservationist organizations for presenting their mission as one to protect the nation’s “scenic resources.” By the reproduction of nature imagery, we become detached from the traditions of land stewardship and ecological immersion that once defined our relationship to the land around us. These reproductions of nature imagery “actualize” the idea of a healthy ecosystem for us, even if we live in an urban landscape of cement and steel. “The appreciator of a place perceived as scenic is merely its observer, by implication both different and distant or detached from it. The connoisseur of the scenic has thus placed strict limitations both upon the sort of place he is interested in and upon his relation to it” (The Unsettling of America, 26). By reproducing scenic imagery of nature, we become disconnected to the rituals by which this nature survives. Needless to say, I consider this a detriment of technological reproduction.
I believe that it is pointless to ask whether technological reproduction is good or bad in itself. Rather, what is more valuable is to consider its affects, as Benjamin does, so that we may be able to direct it in ways that are best suited to its use. Where there are rituals that are harmful, let us throw against them the full weight of our technological-reproductive abilities! Where there are rituals worth preserving, let us keep technological reproduction far away, lest they be swallowed up by it.