The Silicon Jungle

First things first: I know it's not Monday. Unfortunately, our internet problems persist and may do so for a while, so I figure if I'm going to try and keep up with the blog, I might as well post while I'm currently able to do so. Onward.

The term "concrete jungle" is often used to describe the feeling of wilderness that can accompany the modern cityscape. The phrase came into particular use when skyscrapers and other huge structures became the dominant feature of the American city in the early 20th century. The irony of the phrase is, of course, that if it's made of concrete, it is man-made and should therefore feel familiar and safe, but it doesn't.

The same concept was used in Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. Sinclair, a socialist, was concerned with the "plight of the lower-class", and wanted to show the reader that then-modern folk in a then-modern setting (late 1800's modern) could live lives that more resembled a lack of civilization rather than progress toward it.

And of course, Axel Rose relied on the same metaphor for his inner-city tour guide song, "Welcome to the Jungle".

So I was in the bathroom this evening, trying to enjoy a rare moment of "don't have to do anything" but only being able to muster a kind of "oof; I think I'll sit down" sort of thing. I started talking to God, asking for some kind of attitude adjustment so I could deal with all the stuff that happens. Computer problems, car problems, house problems, complicated financial issues.

"Is this how Americans suffer, Lord?" I asked. And you know, maybe it is.

Example: I have a computer and the internet. That enables me to do many, many things that couldn't be done by ancient Romans, medieval peasants, or my own grandparents. But that doesn't mean my life is automatically better. It's not the mere invention of new technology that makes it useful, but the responsible use of it. And it's all too easy these days to slip into irresponsible use. And of course we have so much, but every new addition brings a huge number of potential problems.

How much work productivity is lost these days from employees pissing around on the internet beyond what could be normally expected? It's not that they're bad employees, it's just that the tool at their disposal is too easily abused. But how many farm hands two hundred years ago shirked their duty with the help of a steel plow? How many civil war-era American parents ignored their children at night so they could play with the new cotton gin?

Personally, my internet use is about 50/50 in terms of proper usage. For example, I can do my job in a way that I otherwise wouldn't be able to do without it. Then again, I spend a good (meaning bad) amount of time playing video games I never would have had access to just ten years ago.

And then when things happen like the internet going down, it makes you think: all this calling techs on the phone, dismantling computers, pulling wires, replacing them, writing, erasing, and rewriting programs, repeat, repeat, repeat, all so I can use the internet for . . . what? If it never existed, I could still have found a job doing something else.

Now of course, I'm not anti-technology. I'm not the Abacus Peasant, after all. It's just that there's a kind of law of diminishing returns that comes into play. So, for example, 50 years ago I would have had the same phone problems, but none of the benefits of the internet. But 150 years ago I would have the same internet benefits as 50 years ago (meaning none), but none of the phone problems.

Of course I wouldn't have the phone benefits either, and that's the problem with the whole "wouldn't it be nice if we all rode horses" argument. There really have been great advancements, and I'm one of those that believes God is generally in favor of them. He allows us to share in His creative process, but unlike Him we face the challenge of having to master all the things that we create. That doesn't mean we shouldn't create them, but it does mean we should expect complications and choose wisely when we create, or when we accept new creations.

Of course the ultimate goal is to "regress" in some areas when we've moved beyond the need for a particular step on the tech ladder. We used to read books out under the old cherry tree. Then we decided to play video games in the living room. Now we can play video games out under the old cherry tree, and when our batteries run out we can catch up on that reading. Or, you know, we could still start out with the book.

What it all comes back to for me, though, is that I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy. I like the new ways, but I like the old ones too. The result is that many of the steps we currently have to work with feel alien to me, and so despite their man-made origin they can make me feel like I'm lost in the woods.

And here's the ironic part -- our progression is so fast now that cutting corners has become the norm in many things, because we know the next step is right around the corner anyway and the current one will be old and abandoned soon. It's expected that there will not just be bumps and bruises, but sizeable ones, and we accept it because we know it's only temporary and something better will come along soon and we only have to deal with this for a few years. People buy new video games knowing they'll have to download a patch to correct problems almost immediately. We get new computers knowing we'll be paying for upgrades in a matter of months. New cars might last us ten years if we're lucky.

The result is that even the experts aren't so sure what they're doing anymore. They may not be lost in the woods, but they aren't the forest rangers, either. That fact just heightens the sense that all this is a kind of liberty, and as that crackpot Jefferson said (correctly), the price of liberty is eternal vigilance.

In our culture and in our own lives, we need to observe carefully how we deal with technology and its impact. That sounds trite and obvious, and of course we have to deal with the annoying tech calls every so often in order to get the simplified work schedule/excessive video gamage. But it's important to think trite and tired old concepts over every now and again: like technology, they might be annoying but we've grown to need them.

And in this case, we should be careful not to confuse technological advancement with civilization; a barbarian with a computer is still a barbarian.

Well. That was on the "serious reflection" side of things. I promise that my next post will be about something ridiculous, stupid, and/or inane. Until then, inspired by the idea of a barbarian with a computer, here's a bunch of squirrels with lightsabers:














And a Nintendo Wizard




















And Jesus on a dinosaur