Digital Humanities: Week 3 Reflection

My 7th-grade physics teacher defined machines as “anything that makes our lives easier.” At the time, I believed it, and frankly, I didn’t have a choice—I had to regurgitate the same statement on an exam a week later. But now, looking back, I find myself opposing that statement. Machines don’t necessarily make our lives easier; rather, they change the trajectory of our lives, which may be easier, harder, or entirely different from our previous state.

The fact that courses such as Computer Science Ethics, Artificial Intelligence, Digital Humanities, and so on would not have existed some decades ago shows that machines don’t instantly fix every predicament of the human condition. Instead, they bring about change and a continuation in our pursuit of goals, rather than providing a finial resolution.

I no longer believe that machines fix things; instead, I think they create new problems—some easier to deal with, others immensely complicated. I grew up in 2000s Ethiopia, which, in American terms, was the equivalent of the 80s. I was familiar with brick phones, early versions of Nokia, floppy disks, dial-up internet, pagers, and beepers. Back then, the main problem was how to create more connectivity and expose students to the outside world. When my father first brought home a giant system unit with Windows XP that could connect directly to our phone line at 512 KB/second, we thought education had been miraculously revolutionized. I believed I would never again worry about resources and materials, that I’d get the opportunity to practice my English and become competent globally.

While all of this was true, it also created a new set of problems. My parents began to worry when I discovered online computer games. They became concerned about what I searched for, what I watched, and what the internet had to offer. All over again, they found themselves grappling with what this machine meant in terms of how they were raising their child.

Innovation and technology feel like growing up—or like advancing to a new level in Candy Crush. After a battle, a problem, a solution, and a resolution, they unlock multiple new worlds of problems that wouldn’t have existed without the technology. It gives, but in its giving, it also takes away. You need it to surpass a barrier, but it’s always waiting for you with yet another finish line. And if somewhere down the line we finally manage to make a time machine, I will use it to go back to my 7th-grade self and explain how full of crap that physics teacher was.