Take a quick look around and one notices, with a stubborn thread of nostalgia, how many old utensils have vanished or been swapped for the flashy gadgets of the modern era. What happened to the hand coffee grinder, one wonders, a tear glistening in the corner of the eye. What happened to that manual orange juicer, or to the bread bin with its shuttered lid? A guided tour of grandma’s apartment would be valuable not for the grandchildren but for the parents themselves, to show the relics of a past that once shaped daily life.
But the grandmother as guide — another craft that progress will soon sweep away — would seem to falter: what good is a passionate discourse about the virtues of those endearing old devices if the grandkids, and even the parents, keep their faces pressed to the screen of a phone: “Sorry, grandma, it’s just that I’m tied up with work.” Frying potatoes from Monday to Friday in oil rescued from a workshop, and work messages arriving on a Sunday at ten in the morning. The life of a helper in the background would feel out of place next to a glowing screen.
Progress in the modernization of infrastructure is not something to oppose lightly; it brings relief by clearing obstacles that once interrupted the path of growth. What would science be without these advances? What would medicine be without modern tools? Yet there should be a clear stance against letting private life shrink into a farce because of fancy gadgets: turning on living room lights through a phone app just to avoid lifting a finger. Three hours programming the cleaning robot to skim a corner of the bedroom, risking a hip misstep, while proclaiming, “I can’t live without the robot.” Perhaps what is needed is a touch more human judgment and a touch less dependence on clever devices.
The cry rises to the heavens: the classroom is full of screens and distractions, and many worry about a future where thinking and memory are sidelined by quick search results. Who would have guessed such a crisis? What use are reason, common sense, or memory if search engines do all the thinking for us? If the effort to craft a good novel is replaced by a shortcut offered by technology, the craft itself could fade. And if weddings are staged for the online audience rather than celebrated by those present, what becomes of true connection? If Instagram didn’t exist, would anyone bother to hold the ceremony in the first place? The spectacle risks becoming a theater of likes rather than a sincere celebration of union.
Too late now, the laments sound grotesque in this world and in this modern pageant of contrived intelligence.