© 2013 Miro Roman

statistics – Manuel Castells – The Information Age triology

From: End of Millennium

 

Finale

 

The promise of the Information Age is the unleashing of unprecedented productive capacity by the power of the mind. I think, therefore I produce. In so doing, we will have the leisure to experiment with spirituality, and the opportunity of reconciliation with nature, without sacrificing the material well-being of our children. The dream of the Enlightenment, that reason and science would solve the problems of humankind, is within reach. Yet there is an extraordinary gap between our technological overdevelopment and our social underdevelopment.

 

Our economy, society, and culture are built on interests, values, institutions, and systems of representation that, by and large, limit collective creativity, confiscate the harvest of information technology, and deviate our energy into self-destructive confrontation. This state of affairs must not be. There is no eternal evil in human nature. There is nothing that cannot be changed by conscious, purposive social action, provided with information, and supported by legitimacy. If people are informed, active, and communicate throughout the world; if business assumes its social responsibility; if the media become the messengers, rather than the message; if political actors react against cynicism, and restore belief in democracy; if culture is reconstructed from experience; if humankind feels the solidarity of the species throughout the globe; if we assert intergenerational solidarity by living in harmony with nature; if we depart for the exploration of our inner self, having made peace among ourselves. If all this is made possible by our informed, conscious, shared decision, while there is still time, maybe then, we may, at last, be able to live and let live, love and be loved. I have exhausted my words. Thus, I will borrow, for the last time, from Pablo Neruda:

 

For my part and yours, we comply,

we shared our hopes and

winters;

 

and we have been wounded not only

by mortal enemies

 

but by mortal friends (that seemed

all the more bitter),

 

but bread does not seem to taste

sweeter, nor my book, in the

meantime;

 

living, we supply the statistics that

pain still lacks,

 

we go on loving love and in our

blunt way

 

we bury the liars and live among the

truth-tellers.

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