There’s an afterword by writer Howard Rodman to one of his own short stories where he speaks to the idea of the arc of the technological change we experience in a lifetime. It’s a topic I’ve given much thought to over the years, and I was a little surprised to see some of my own ideas echoed in his words. Alas, it seems Rodman wrote his piece no later than 1967. My own thoughts are an echo of his, not the other way round.
I first remember exploring the idea when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon in July 1969. My grandparents, both born in horse-and-buggy days, lived to see that marvel. It was one of the first times my developing little mind was literally awestruck.
As passing years saw my grandparents grow slower, more rigid, more brittle, I sometimes interpreted this late life stage as an exhaustion of one’s ability to adapt to change. It wasn’t just their failing bodies they struggled to cope with. The developing technology of the day tortured them as well. I saw them cling to an increasingly archaic technological structure for its comfort and familiarity. Who needs cable when you still have gospel music and ball games on the AM radio, and all for free?
And of course I couldn’t help but contemplate the arc of my own existence. I was still looking forward to elementary school when Telstar, the world’s first communications satellite, was launched in 1962. Now we’ve had our eyes roaming the surface of Mars for a while; our yearning feet will surely follow. And I’m only in my early 60s. What, in the end, will I live to see technology achieve? And can I hope to bend my mind that far?
Rodman’s brief commentary brought in a second concept I’d also given some thought to, but only after encountering it in some sci-fi stories. It was a reflection on the powerful technological marvels we live with on an everyday basis and accept unblinkingly as magic: things like communications electronics, automobiles and computers. To envision, design and construct these technologies requires a depth of understanding that the ordinary citizen can’t even grasp, much less command.
Do you know how a cell phone works? Probably not. Who needs to? Even if you understood the theory of its function, could you build one from components? Probably not. At least precious few of us could. Can you explain to your toddler how his favorite cartoon transmutes from an outer space satellite beam to a picture in your living room? Even if you can, I’ll bet launching a communications satellite is well beyond your capabilities.
Rodman wove these two ideas together to end up reflecting on the astonishing distance we’ve managed to come as a species, not in spite of these problems, but perhaps because of them. Since the story he was commenting on was subtle, gentle and sweet, I choose to read his concluding words as optimistic. At least a little. Maybe that’s projection on my part, but allow me my comfort.
Here are Rodman’s words with no further commentary from me. You can decide for yourself about the optimism factor.
“…[T]he best of our civilization goes far beyond the comprehension of the ordinary of our citizens. The wonder is that there is so much civilization when so few are civilized.”