Global Dialogues

It was supposed to be the great equalizer, the tool that started in the hands of empire but exceeded its grasp and gave all of us the power to produce, promote, share, shine, curate, create, and advocate for ourselves and the causes we care about. Slipping the bonds of internal military communications, the advent of the digital age—from the internet itself to the myriad appurtenances that have grown in its wake—was (from its halcyon early days) rife with technotopian ideals and a touch of hubris reflected in the mantra of “move fast and break things” that cast progenitors as positive, dynamic forces in society.

It is probably safe to say that by now, however, the shine has begun to come off this narrative, if not altogether turning to a dull sheen or even an abrasive surface. The promises of the age of pervasive technology have fragmented into filter bubbles of polarization, dopamine-inducing design specs, infinite doomscrolling habituation, total surveillance metrics, scammers’ best friend, electoral sway, ingrained algorithmic bias, and constant temptations around all seven deadly sins. And this isn’t even to mention unrestrained AI or the mounting impacts on children and youth who are primary lifetime techno-targets.

Nonetheless, as my own kids might observe, this litany smacks of a classic “old man yells at cloud” motif. Despite all the hand-wringing rants about technology and what it has wrought upon our world, we have to admit at least two interrelated realities about this era. First, modern technologies of communication, conveyance, and convenience essentially have become indispensable to most people’s lives by now, and even with a strong personal penchant for detoxing or opting out, these are the waters in which we swim.

Further, and most annoying, for all of its dark shadows and gimmicky trends, technology is cool in many ways and has become an important part of how people construct their sense of self as projected to the world. Regardless of any qualitative assessment of whether all of this is a net good, the fact is that our ongoing participation in the realms of Big Tech makes the negative argument unappealing, overblown, and, at the end of the day, most likely moot. Of course, that doesn’t relieve us of the obligation to try to model and advocate for wise use and a healthy balance, nor to abdicate reining in the excesses of tech.

So to the ultimate question, namely whether we can resist the appeal of technological utopias, put me down as a definite maybe, leaning toward probably not. This conclusion brings me no joy, to be sure, and clearly doesn’t address the equally important matter of should we resist such eventualities (affirmative). Perhaps if we can decouple our lives from the technological web and reweave them into more natural and sociable ones, the transitional weaning phase might not seem so impracticable. And if all else fails, we can have our avatars do lunch in the Metaverse at the Matrix café, at least until Skynet takes over.

Randall J. Amster is a teaching professor, director of the environmental studies program, and co-director of the joint environment and sustainability degree at Georgetown University.