“They’re just tools.”
I’ve added that one to my list of little sayings and expressions I resort to throughout the day in an effort to remind myself of what’s true and how I want to live.
“They’re just tools.”
Meaning, my tech devices aren’t my masters, meant to dominate and control. No, they’re just tools I can reach for to serve me in different ways when I need them, but otherwise I forget about them and live my life. Like a hammer. Or a spatula.
But are they?
Are they just tools?
Is it true, what I’m telling myself? Do I mean it? Do I believe it? Does it work to keep saying those words?
I’m honestly wondering. I’m beginning to think it’s wishful thinking. (Or wishful muttering.) As much as I say those words, is it naïve to think I can relate to these tech devices, which are little portals into vast ether-worlds, as mere tools I reach for on occasion and then set down and forget about?
I once wrote a whole essay on this subject. I should dig it up and dust it off. The way these devices loom like wardrobes into Narnia, and there’s no way you can be unaware of them, and not powerfully drawn to them. The phone, especially, of course, because it’s literally one-hand-held and pocket-sized. (And come to think of it, it doesn’t help that I have a laptop computer instead of a desktop, because that means the most powerful of all these portals is also portable.)
This is starting to feel like the wishful thinking I’ve lapsed into when it comes to my working at home. I can tell myself, I’m not really here at home, I’m at work, this home office is a separate non-home world, etc. And I can tell my wife and children that too. (“Remember, Dad’s not home right now. Live like I’m not here.”) But the fact is, everyone (including myself) knows I am here. And it’s silly to believe that saying those words will change that, and make us all think that way.
Whether it’s mind over matter, or mind over ether, sometimes it doesn’t work. There are some things our minds and mantras can’t be reasonably expected to accomplish.
So this is discouraging, honestly. This is a losing battle, isn’t it? It’s too much to ask, isn’t it, that there’s any way these devices won’t dominate and control.
I hate this.
Next day morning after ruminations…
I’m torn. On the one hand I tell myself, This is hopeless. Give up the fight. Tech wins. Wave the white flag. Surrender. On the other hand I tell myself, No, by saying these words over and over (“They’re just tools”) you are cultivating a mindset that will make a difference. Keep fighting. On the third hand I tell myself, No, you do have to fight, but this mantra isn’t the way: like it or not, you really do have to come up with rules and habits about your use of tech (where I keep my devices, when I shut them down, where I charge them, etc.).
This last approach may be most realistic. It’s simply not true to say, They’re just tools. Imagine Frodo saying to himself, over and over, “It’s just a ring.” Yeah, right, Frodo, just a ring. Keep telling yourself that. See how that goes. See if you believe it. See if that makes you treat it differently. Or what if I had a hammer (see above) that had the power with a particular kind of touch to turn things into gold. You gonna keep telling yourself “It’s just a hammer”? There’s simply a power in these things that makes them unlike any other items in your life.
Perhaps the solution is a combination of #s 2 and 3. That is, I make the new rules and cultivate the new habits, but I also keep telling myself “They’re just tools,” not as a denial of their true character (for this can’t be denied), but as a way of stating how I want to relate to them in spite of their true character.
Ugh.
And the fight goes on.