This utterly relentless digital age has been accompanied by a deadly new disease, one that has slowly insinuated itself into our core being as we’ve leapt from one technological breakthrough to the next — fickleness. Never satisfied with what we’ve got, we seek out the next ‘must have’ gadget, not realising that we are being led, forcefully, by the noses down a course of ever-greater dependency by the very companies who, firstly, develop the technology, and then convince us that life would be better if we owned one of their new, slim, shiny, compact, HD, bluetooth-compatible boxes, with its ever bigger (in the case of TVs), or ever smaller (in the case of mobile phones or iThings), screens. We do not seem to appreciate the fact that, not only do we seldom take advantage of the full suite of features available, but also that we watch (maybe even, encourage) the younger generation (to) spend an increasing amount of time fixated to life within a pixelated screen. My father used to talk about being ‘glued to the TV’ or getting ‘squares eyes’. I wonder what he would make of it all now?
Since the birth of commerically-available microprocessors in the 1980s, information technology has seeped into every corner of our lives, swallowing one analogue or entirely dumb device after another, creating many new toys in the process. There is even talk of databases being developed from all of the data flows within cities, for use by governments and their agencies (for the common good, no doubt). Gigantic conglomerates have sprung up, creating for themselves a perpetual feast, and so long as they retain the ability to harness data and add fascinations, flocks of the wide-eyed and curious will continue to caw for more, abandoning one form of technology, prematurely (and, to the delight of marketeers), in favour of ‘the revolutionary, latest thing’.
I wonder what life-skills we are losing in the process? What happens if this technological infrastructure gets knocked out? In a hundred years, would we be able to find our way from A to B without the aid of some silky, detached voice advising us when to turn right? Will we even bother to talk to one another (forget face-to-face, which is already on the wane) or will our technologically-enhanced evolution result in the loss of speech, entirely? Over several millenia, we have moved from Biblical stone tablets to shiny, plastic ones, but will we regret our decision to cram the written word into something thin and cold and lifeless?
I’m all in favour of genuine improvements to the quality of life, but I draw the line at crass indulgence. As my father used to say, ‘All things, in moderation’.
Copyright © David Thomas Cochrane 2012