It's 2008, and we are more technologically advanced than ever before. We have meal replacements in the form of bars and shakes, in lieu of traditional courses. Mail is sent instantly across the country - across the world - all one has to do is press “send.” Cell phones have replaced letters, sitting in suits and pants pockets like babies. As soon as they vibrate, practiced hands reach in to tend to them. To pacify them from the latest text message. And there are cars now, souped-up with voice-activated call systems, GPS navigators, TVs, satellite radios, and places to plug-and-play the latest iPod and videogame systems. Everything comes with a side of technology, just like everything used to come with a pair of human hands.
Lots of people will tell you these technologies have enriched our lives. We have forms of entertainment people didn't have a dream for 50 years ago. We have the ability to communicate quickly and effectively as never before. Unlike 50 or even 100 years ago, we can talk to someone in Japan if we want to, and it would be not unheard of. Technology, it seems, has made our lives easier. Because of technology, most Americans have leisure time. Most Americans can work with computers, the clean and relatively simple alternative to hard labor. Compared with generations before, it is not as hard to work for a living. Or so it seems.
It is 2008, and I find myself wondering one simple thing: are our lives really simpler for technology, or are they more complicated? By being able to create and manipulate advanced technologies, are we free to live life? Or do they somehow keep us more strained and trapped than ever? It is 2008, and I find myself wondering, “If Thoreau were alive today, what would he say?” I doubt he would call us advanced, or even wise. Rather than try and free ourselves from the constraints of society and trying to pay for a life, we have become more imprisoned. To him, we would look like nothing more than dressed up indentured servants.
Just as in Thoreau's day when he accused man of being “a tool of his tools,” and chained to his possessions, we are no different. Technology may have made this servitude more pleasant - perhaps beautiful - but don't let sleekness fool you. The computers on our desks sit like dictators there, reminding us to punch in one more key; send one more e-mail; crank out one more line of code. We are no different than the store clerks in Massachusetts looking more like aesthetics, then human beings. And don't forget, our cell phones always need tending, checking, and recharging. Forget that, and dysfunction becomes your friend.
In the mid-1800s, when Thoreau was writing, he complained that man was working to earn a living, rather than living one. He railed against the idea that man should work for his life, rather than possess it. And man, according to Thoreau, is convinced he has no choice but to work, because in order to “have a life,” man must possess certain things. He must possess a house, a car, and things to fill up the house or decorate it that is better than what his neighbor has. Without these things, man is told that he is not really living. That he cannot possibly be comfortable with anything less. After all, how is he supposed to hold his head up high, with less than excess? He buys up the house, the car, and his knickknacks, and sets about enjoying them. But once he has them, he is not really enjoying them. He could not afford these things to begin with, and so he must earn them. So he works to pay for his life, with more items of convenience being added all the time.
“These things will make my life better,” the working man tells himself, “already, they have made my life more enjoyable.” He looks around, satisfied. Satisfied enough, to say he has them. They light his eye pleasantly when he rises in the morning to go off to work. Their sparkling and metallic grace is enough for him. He leaves with humility, remembering that they are the reason he works. They are the reason he will work until he can do it no more. For his things, he would gladly give up his life. He has not become the God of his things, but his things have become God of him. And though he should find issue with this, he does not. He goes about his day thinking about the things he possesses, thinking not one moment about grander ambitions or cultivating his mind and spirit.
The man says he doesn't particularly like working. If he didn't have to do it, he wouldn't. But working so hard won't last forever, he assures himself and others, he'll just work long enough to get the comfortable house and furniture and the knickknacks, and then he won't work anymore. He won't lift another finger. Yes, he will work just long enough to pay for these things, but that is all he will have. He will work long enough to die. He will be paying on his good life until he has no more life left. Until he realizes that he does not need to get a life to live a life, he will be trapped.
Man must have his independence. Thoreau knew this. On July 4th, 1845, he raised his cabin on Walden Pond. It was a demonstration of his freedom from capitalism-a freedom we could all have-if we were brave enough to live simply. So on this July 4th, 165 years later, you might take some time to think: What does this day mean to me? What will I do to declare my independence? From this day forward, how will I make my living?
