I don’t think much about computers. The occasional question crosses my mind – like, if they can build or program a machine which can beat Gary Kasparov, why can’t they deal with the year 2000 problem?
But, on the whole, I just get on and use the thing without thinking about it. Except when things go wrong. It’s much the same as I do with the other bits of technology which have transformed my life, such as the dishwasher and the video.
I was having to think about computers, having decided that mine needed replacing. And since I’m scared of walking into a store and having my ignorance displayed to a teenage sales assistant, I decided to sit down with Mike.
Mike is one of those gurus who advises companies on their use of IT. Being able to pick his brains for the price of a beer seemed like a bargain.
He started by asking me what I use my PC for. The answer came down to three things: I use it to write – rather more efficiently, though not necessarily more effectively, than I had with my old typewriter. I research – without having to traipse down to the library or to rely on inevitably out-of-date reference books. And I communicate – without having to stand in line to buy stamps.
Mike told me I sounded like most of his clients. They use technology to improve the way they do the things they had always done, rather than thinking about the new things they could do. We needed to think about how technology was shaping society and work out our responses from there. ‘The most interesting point was about not traipsing down to the library any more,’ he said.
‘Think about it. The library of Alexandria was a unique repository of knowledge in the ancient world. People traveled for months and years to have access to it and to sit at the feet of the scholars who kept it. Then came printing and centers of learning multiplied. But now you can sit at home and access knowledge from anywhere in the world.’
After a pause, he added: ‘We have moved from the age of collective technology to the age of dispersive technology.’ Mike sat back, seemingly satisfied. Since I couldn’t see how this would help me save face when the teenager went on about pipeline burst caches and EDO Ram, I didn’t respond.
With a little prompting Mike continued. ‘Collective technology brought people together through the construction of networks. Networks to distribute gas, electricity and water and to collect sewage; networks for transportation like railroads and streetcars; networks for physical distribution. And coming together brought choice. People who lived in cities had more choice – choice in the goods they consumed, in the work they did, in the way they spent their leisure time.’
But now, according to Mike, technology is dispersive. You don’t have to live near a concert hall to listen to music or to what the concert promoter has chosen; you put on a CD and listen to what you like, when you like. You don’t have to be on a trading floor or plugged into the ticker to get up-to-date financial information; you can get it whenever you want and you, not some editor, decide what it is you want. You don’t have to be on the mailman’s route to keep in touch; satellite technology means you can communicate from anywhere. The railroad doesn’t decide where you can go to and when you can leave; you get in your car and go where you want.
‘But surely there is a movement against the car and towards public transportation?’ I suggested.
‘The internal combustion engine may not be perfect,’ he replied, ‘but it points in the right direction. And many of its problems arise because we try to use it in an environment which was part of the collective age. Cities represent a huge investment from the collective age and we may have to subsidize public transportation to keep them going. But people will move away from the cities and the problem will disappear.’
Mike claimed there’s only one thing that’s keeping us wedded to the technology of the past – we don’t have an economic, free-standing source of energy. There are moves in the right direction, such as solar energy, and other sources will doubtless be developed, but as long as we are tied to the power lines, we shan’t see the full benefits of the new technology.
On that note, Mike stood up. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said, finishing his beer. ‘Just think about what I’ve said.’
And think about it I did as I steeled myself to face the kid at the computer warehouse.
I didn’t really see where Mike’s dissertation had got me. Except to make me think about three things.
First, sitting at the feet of a guru is a very different experience from digging up knowledge in cyberspace. Secondly, the issues facing us in the millennium are more than a potentially expensive software glitch. And thirdly, maybe I should buy a laptop.
