Going Luddite
Contrary to the smug assertions of a grossly misleading ad campaign, my MacBook does not work. After nearly three months of use, it ceased to function almost altogether.
And so, for the past couple of weeks, I have been without a laptop. Accordingly, I have spent a good deal of time in the Cooper Library computer lab, and it has been a unique learning experience.
For one thing, I have learned that the library is open 24 hours most days of the week. I have not yet decided whether this is fantastic or creepy.
I have discovered the liberation involved in ditching Facebook. Surrounded as I am by peers who could easily be looking over my shoulder with scorn, I feel unbearably self-conscious spending more than five minutes at a time on “social networking.”
By minimizing my time in the world of profile pictures and needless narcissism, I find that I have more time to study, sleep and—call me old-fashioned—actually talk to people. It is a melancholy observation that, as our society creates more and more electronic interconnections, it severs its channels of genuine intimacy.
Not wishing to squander my waking hours in a basement breathing recycled air, I have cut back on my computer time in general. This means less procrastination and higher efficiency. And since I am wasting less time combating uncooperative software, I have had significantly less stress in my life.
In the midst of these revelations, I experienced a feeling that is by no means foreign to me: My inner Luddite was awakening. I’ll save you an ironic Wikipedia search by explaining that the Luddites were a group of 19th-century British textile workers who protested the encroachment of the Industrial Revolution on their livelihood. Today, the term is applied to anyone who resists technological progress.
I began listening to my mp3 player sparingly, and as a result, I have gained an appreciation of silence. I have looked out on dozens of people sitting in the same room, separated by mere feet but living as islands in their sonic microcosms.
Nowadays, I only turn on the lights in my room at night and when the sky is overcast. Even the blandest of textbooks seem more bearable when read by sunlight.
I have continued my boycott of television.
I have stopped driving my car, except when I leave Columbia. As it would turn out, a cross-town bicycle ride is every bit as therapeutic as it is cost-effective. I can’t give precise figures, but the gas mileage is outrageously high.
And so, by distancing myself from the comforts of the modern world, I have increased my efficiency, become more sociable, lowered my blood pressure, saved money and generally improved my academic experience—all promises of the electronic age.
No, I am not proposing an Amish revolt. No, I do not deny that certain aspects of technology have drastically improved our quality of life. I just believe that we need to reassess our dependencies.