Twenty-First Century Luddism

In an ironic twist in my life, I’ve become rather a Luddite. The original Luddites were English workers who rebelled and destroyed a good bit of machinery during the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution. They believed the machines would eventually replace them as laborers (as indeed they did) and so decided to “kill” the usurpers, as it were. Mechanization and automation continue steadily, however, and even today people lose their jobs to the latest computer programs, robots, and other bits of machine wizardry. As in the factory, so in the home, and technology has infiltrated every aspect of our lives. For this reason, the term “Luddite” has come to denote anyone who opposes the inexorable onslaught of technological progress.

So when I say I’m a bit of a Luddite, that’s what I mean. Somewhere over the last ten-ish years I’ve given up on gadgetry. I’ve had a smartphone for about two years now, and my friends still tell me how weird it is to see me use one. To be fair, I probably only utilize a small fraction of its capabilities, and I slightly resent even that. But in a technology-driven society, I didn’t have much of a choice. I still tell people I’d rather have a typewriter than a computer, that I’d delete my social media profiles if I could quickly communicate with people without them, and that I very much enjoy my old-fashioned analog watch, thank you very much. Of course, I say that as I blog, so I’m not without a contradiction or two in my attitudes.

And remember: I called this Luddite attitude an ironic twist. Why? Because of all the people I knew growing up, I was the most tech-savvy. I’ve built computers, designed websites, programmed graphing calculators (oh, high school), and a half-dozen other things. I worked as an IT professional for two years, managing server farms, VoIP boxes, VPNs, and workstations. I’ve ran cables, punched jacks, and repeatedly said, “have you tried turning it off and back on again.” At one point, I wanted to be a biomedical engineer so I could design the next generation of cybernetics. I even had my favorite prosthetics picked out in case I lost a limb. I didn’t just love technology; I wanted to be it.

Obviously, hating owning a smartphone and planning a transformation into the Six Million Dollar Man are fairly opposed to one another.

For me, I think the change happened as I placed a higher premium on people. Sure, I embraced a larger love of books and history and such as well, but it seems mostly driven by people. Technology claims to bring us closer to together, but only parts of it do — and the rest does the opposite. When I lived halfway across the continent, for example, I was grateful to Skype for letting me see my family on occasion. But consider Facebook. Yes, we now know everything about the lives of everyone; all the current goings-on are online for the world to see (or just your friends, depending on your privacy settings). Or are they? People control what goes on their sites, after all, and it’s generally either a highlight reel or a litany of the worst of the worst. Few and far between are the posts saying, “I had tea. It was an average day.” That’s problematic.

Human beings are creatures of comparison and competition. We pit our lives against the lives of everyone else we know and try to prove ourselves to be the best, brightest, happiest, and most blessed. But if it’s my life versus someone else’s social media page, it’s not a case of me vs. them; it’s me at my most average vs. their highlight reel. It’s an unfair comparison by any metric. I fully believe it’s one contributing factor to the correlation between social media consumption and depression. The more we see others’ bests, the worse our worst (or average) looks, and we become depressed. Then we can factor in the number of posts which are deliberately incendiary and those which otherwise make us angry, sad, or another negative emotion.

That’s why most of my Facebook feed is books and bad Christian jokes.

Technology can also be rather obviously detrimental. Our culture’s widespread acceptance of pornography in its various guises has combined with the power of the Internet to give more access to smut than ever before in human history (and porn itself seems to drive the development of certain media technologies). As a result, we have a toxically pornified society where sex is almost a god in and of itself, an ultimate good to be gotten and revered at all costs. Anything standing in the way of sexual gratification — things like conventional morality — are quickly discarded. But the sex on the screen isn’t real sex; like our social media personas, sex acts in pornography are carefully crafted to produce a desired effect. There’s nothing real about it. Nevertheless, sex and porn have become genuine addictions for many, many people, and the content of porn has done everything from warp users’ sexuality to render men impotent in the presence of a physical flesh-and-blood woman.

One a more insidious level, technology has set us in a downward spiral into workaholism and burnout. When office e-mail and work contacts are accessible in a device you carry around 24/7, it’s incredibly hard to resist the temptation to check your messages or answer the phone as soon as it makes a sound. As a result, more and more people live in a reality of being on-call indefinitely, and leaving work at the office is an impossibility; after all, I can work out of my pocket. The constant connection to labor sans even a single day of genuine rest and distance takes a heavy toll, spiritually, psychologically, and physically. I admit I haven’t seen the numbers, but I wouldn’t be surprised if productivity levels have actually decreased in the smartphone era. What I do know is that happiness is down, job satisfaction is down, anxiety is up, and a host of other horrible things as well. We can’t lay the full blame on technology, but neither can we naively dismiss it as a non-factor.

Then there’s the absent morality of Hollywood, television, music . . . and please don’t get me started on healthy people who skip church to stream worship and participate in “virtual Communion,” as if such a thing were possible.

Not all technology is bad, of course. Medical advances are good things, safer vehicles are good things, and I’m very much a fan of alternative energy and new ways to care for our environment. But technology is not the Savior. No, technology can be good, but even the good bits can have bad effects, and the good effects can’t save souls. There is no digital atonement. Samsung didn’t die for your sins. Zuckerberg will never be your friend in real life and offer authentic human connection.

Let us be wary of technology. Don’t adopt new gadgets uncritically. Don’t love things and use people instead of loving people and using things. Regard the tools as tools, not saviors. And give your life to Jesus who died for you.

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