Over the last twenty-five years, I’ve seen many changes in the U.S. Changes in what people think is normal or good or should be. For a Japanese, whose home country takes a long time for any changes to occur, this has been quite remarkable. I know that as in physics, some of the changes may swing back in the other direction. However, I’m sure of one thing: our life will never become less digital. And this is not just in America. It is happening on a global scale.
My husband describes me as “anti-technology.” Well, that is not entirely true. I appreciate technologies that work for me, like laundry machines, dryers, and dishwashers. And then of course, there is the miracle worker that heats up my cold cup of coffee: the microwave! I don’t know how most technologies work, but I’ll take it when it makes my life easier. However, digital technology doesn’t always help me. It has a way of making my life busier, more restless, and more unfeeling.
When I saw one of my friends at my son’s school, she asked me,
“Did you see my email?” No, as I don’t check my email that often. It distracts me when I’m involved in an activity, so I only check my email when I’ve completed something. And this sometimes exasperates people whose digital orientation is a moment-to-moment checking.
I’m getting better though. I used to keep my cell phone off so that nobody could call me. This was fine with me, as I could check the voice mail and call him/her back, if necessary. But obviously, it didn’t work for my husband. He endured this for a long time before I decided that it was time for me to make that concession.
My reluctance to go digital got me in trouble a couple of times (well, maybe a little bit more) like missing a last-minute invite to brunch or an opportunity for a contracting assignment. But for me, it was a small price to pay in order to keep my life my own. But when my old cell phone lapsed into a coma, I reluctantly agreed to try my first smart phone. With it, at least in theory, I was able to check my email even when I wasn’t in my office. But I rarely did. The screen was too small to read messages comfortably. Writing in English wasn’t too bad, but typing messages in Japanese made my neck stiff. Recognizing that I hadn’t made much progress, my husband took the next step: he gave me a new smart phone with a larger screen, where I could adjust the font size. With this newer phone, I now have one foot in the digital world where most people have been for a long time.
Let me say this again, I’m not against digital technology. I just want to keep my life based as much as possible in the physical world. When I read a book, I want to touch a book made of paper. I love making dog-ears with pages, highlighting a section with an arrow when I want to go back and read it again later. I also write Japanese translations when I encounter a new English word. These things make me happy, because that book truly becomes mine, and I feel that my experience with the book is real. Can you do that in a digital book? Please say no!
It is true that I won’t fully embrace digital technology, because too much digital experience in a day tires me out. So, unless there’s a big game on TV, I insist that my family has dinner at the dining table. I enjoy talking with my family about their day and thoughts and feelings rather than talking about what’s happening on the TV screen. I like playing cards with them after dinner, playing tennis and ping-pong on weekends. The time we spend together without digital devices relaxes me. I also feel that I’m in charge of my life, rather than having digital technology running my life.
I know digital technology can deliver many good things. It can enrich our lives, advance science, and make it possible for humans to explore space. What I want to avoid is unwanted invasions of digital technology, like those automated sales calls!
Digital technology also has a way of slipping into our life unnoticed and changing it; for example, you don’t see un-smart phones in stores anymore. Digital technology integrates easily with commercialism and consumerism, which then has the power to change our personal lives. So, I want to defend the analogue way of life however and wherever I still can.
I also want to maintain an analogue way of thinking and feeling. It invites vagueness: some foggy areas or moments where we think we’re on the same page, but we don’t know for sure if that’s the case. The beauty of this vagueness is that it enables us to share the same experience without being too specific. Let me give you an example. When two Japanese say on a beautiful spring day,
“The cherry blossoms are beautiful.” “Yes, indeed.” They may be thinking about two different things, like “Wow, the sky is blue. I can play tennis tomorrow” and “It would be nice to have a party under the cherry blossoms”. They can still share the same experience of appreciating the fleeting beauty of cherry blossoms though, and connect to each other in some way.
Analogue life invites real experiences in life and vagueness, which in turn allows me to connect with other people. I imagine that it can also help us fall in love with something and someone, and can help develop friendship and communities.
I realize that I’m carrying an analogue torch that is feebly flickering. For one thing, I’m writing this essay on my computer. I haven’t held a pen long enough to complete a sentence since I don’t remember when. And, then I’ll upload this to my web site. So, I’m warming up to digital technology, hoping to get connected with someone out there.
What I’m really afraid of isn’t the technology itself; it’s of what I’ll become. A version of me who doesn’t know what I’m feeling, and judge people solely based on data. Then, I’ll miss the opportunity to get connected with others who may be different from me, and yet can share the same experience with. Such as looking out a window after work with someone who doesn’t agree with me, but when we see the setting sun’s warm light caressing everything it touches, we may sigh with awe,
“Ah …”