Can a Bridge Be Biased?

It would seem that technology is purely a practical matter - something we design and implement to make life easier. Bridges, machines, transportation systems, or power plants are tools, right? Nothing could be further from the truth. Langdon Winner, in his classic text "Do Artifacts Have Politics?", challenges this naive perspective, showing that technology is not just a collection of wires and bolts but a complex mechanism of power that influences who uses it and how it shapes society.

He recalls the story of Robert Moses, the New York infrastructure architect who, in the 1920s and 1930s, deliberately designed low-hanging bridges on Long Island to prevent buses from passing through. The result? Only those who owned cars, mainly wealthy white residents, could access parks and beaches. The bridge, far from being neutral, became a clever tool of social segregation. Clever? It's more cynically sinister.

The same applies to other technologies. Mechanical tomato harvesters in California? Great for large agricultural corporations but a disaster for small farms and seasonal workers who lost their jobs. Computers and automation systems in factories? They can increase efficiency, but at the same time, they reinforce hierarchical structures of control over workers. And what about nuclear power? Winner suggests that its safe operation requires highly centralized management, which is no coincidence - only certain political systems can effectively oversee it. Sounds like a perfect plan for even more bureaucracy and centralization of power.

The technologies we choose and develop are not random - there are always specific interests, values, and power structures lurking in the background. Winner doesn’t argue that we should completely abandon the idea of progress, but he emphasizes that we must be aware of the consequences of our choices. Will we opt for decentralized, renewable energy sources that allow people to be more independent? Will we design cities that are pedestrian and cyclist-friendly instead of favouring cars? But traditionally, the progress is interpreted as SUV-filled roads and cities dominated by four wheels.

Moreover, the question of technology’s political nature isn’t just about infrastructure and large systems. Even everyday tools like smartphones or social media platforms can be designed in ways that reinforce control and hierarchy. Algorithms determining what we see online influence our political and social choices. Who controls these algorithms? Do we have freedom of choice, or are our decisions shaped by invisible technological forces? We can keep pretending we are masters of our fate and then wonder why our worldview so closely resembles what one or another social media platform has fed us.

It is also crucial to recognize that technological development often brings changes that are difficult to reverse. Once we commit to a particular model of energy, transport, communication, virtualization, networks, data storage, or backup systems, reversing these decisions can be nearly impossible or at least very costly in terms of the amount of any kind of energy and time. What seems like a neutral technological choice today may determine the future of society on a macro scale - or a company on a micro scale - for decades. And suddenly, we wake up in a world where “this is just the way things are” and “there’s no other way,” even though it never had to be this way.

Ultimately, technology is not just a matter of convenience or efficiency. It is, above all, a matter of politics. If we don’t think about who gains and who loses from the introduction of new solutions, we allow decisions to be made without us. So maybe next time you stand on a bridge, ask yourself: for whom was it designed? And more importantly - what kind of future are we building through the technological choices we make every day? Because if we don’t decide, others will - and we can be sure they won’t be acting in our best interest but in their own.