On holiday with technology

One of the main faults I can find with the human world is that true understanding can only be attained once you have sampled both ends of the stick. By this, I mean that it is only possible to comprehend something by experiencing its diametric opposite: how can we possibly appreciate our peaceful times without witnessing the horror of war and the abominable corruption that can exist within the human mind? The most recent period at which the British population was enlightened by this juxtaposition of war and peace was during the 1950s, when people busied themselves with street parties, a national festival and dancing. Mostly, however, they made babies. Lots of babies. The problem is that those babies have grown up to take the same stance as their parents, grandparents and great-grandparents: that war is viable as a 'last resort'. It is, however, only a viable 'last resort' if you have forgotten the terror and unhappiness it brings to both sides. If only the mistakes of the past were heeded. Humans are, however, blind and forgetful creatures who blithely march into the selfsame tragedies as their forefathers.

On second thoughts, I am being too charitable with the adjectives 'blind' and 'forgetful'; I think 'conceited' and 'arrogant' are rather more apt. The truth is that each successive society believes itself to be more technologically advanced than its predecessor and hence more able to manage the obstacles that come its way. The reality is that humans are as unfit to dominate as they ever were, and that technological advances exist only as a vehicle through which increased suffering can be inflicted on rival societies. It is a sad realisation when you find that many of the things you love and cherish came out of humanity's insatiable taste for blood of its own kind. The cavity magnetron, a necessity in the reheating of so many delicious ready meals, is just one example of an invention that emerged from this need to out-kill the enemy. We as human beings are therefore embroiled in the most terrible of paradoxes: while we are in possession of both the capacity to hate and the intelligence to act upon it, thousands of years of evolution mean that diplomacy is against our nature- humans are inherently selfish creatures. While we can identify the mistakes of the past, we lack the ability to apply the messages they hold to our own lives: our leaders look solemn enough on Remembrance Day but have few qualms about glibly posting our troops around the world for causes of little unilateral consequence at best and political expedience at worst.


I assure you that I am in no way misanthropic: I marvel at technology, especially platforms such as Twitter which grant autonomy to all, and I admire the many individuals who have each made immeasurable improvements to our lives. I simply believe that in this age of rapid technological change (in which, as the great Fry puts it, a month is a year and a year a whole decade) we have an opportunity to rectify our situation before we once again make the mistakes of the past. We can go one of two ways: the world will either become obsessed with observation or use technology to develop mutual understanding and bring about a new form of democracy. I sincerely hope that we do not adhere to the fluctuating pattern of the past (endless alternation between war and peace) and that in this instance, we will only need to lick one end of that metaphorical stick. We must learn that a technological capacity to do something does not necessarily make it the right course of action.

I will finish with a short anecdote from my history teacher. She too attended the school as a girl, and told us that no fewer than 32 years have passed since she sat in that same classroom and mocked Orwell's dystopian view of a future of telescreens and unhindered government observation. As the world develops and technology takes root, we must be mindful to let this new and exciting phase of human civilisation take the correct course. We still have time: Humanity is currently on honeymoon with Technology, its confidante, helper and friend.

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.
-Albert Einstein

By way of introduction

Hello, I am Rachel (well, i_am_rachel).

I lead a mundane life in a suburban village with rural pretensions. At the age of 11, I decided to attend a school situated half-way across the county, so I am now lumbered with a long and boring daily commute to school aboard a rickety double-decker bus. I love it though. I am currently 'enjoying' my final year at home with my dad (a 59-year-old balding man for whom true rebellion is writing letters of complaint to the poor souls at Essex County Council), my mum (whose sole source of worldly excitement is seeing whether the First bus service is running on time) and my younger brother (an XBox fiend and omniscient genius- in that order). The poor ergonomics of our house render the coexistence of the family and Sanity a perpetual impossibility: the latter has long-since been relegated to a solitary life at the bottom of the back garden.

This cosy life is, however, entirely subject to change. The shadow of university hangs low in the sky like a yellow skull, made continuously more ominous by both the passage of time and the influence of my boffin friends who are all on the Yellow Brick Road to Oxbridge. I was sadly not accepted to accompany them on this glorious path, so I am now waiting for lesser institutions to condescend to let me in. If successful, I shall be studying English Literature. You must understand that this comes as a huge disappointment to the parents, who are both in possession of PhD's, MSc's and all sorts of other impressive-sounding acronyms. Do remember that the Arts are for those who have failed to wire their brains for the glory of mathematics; in my family, BA stands for Bogus Academia.

So far, this has been a rather negative portrayal of my parents. I will now assert that they are loving, kind and generous, and they always attempt to involve me in their 'little discussions' about such inconsequential topics as the origins of the universe. My brother is similarly accommodating, and once spent 3 hours explaining the first chapter of 'A Brief History of Time' to me in return for my completion of one of his English essays (he views the subject as a worthless drain on his time).

In the time not occupied with eating, travelling on the said rickety old double-decker bus and sleeping, I do my homework. This may seem an unconscionably large amount of time to be dedicating to what is essentially an extension of school, but the awkward truth is that I AM STILL BEHIND. It is now that I should divulge the true meaning of 'homework': homework can encompass many things ranging from QI, Paul O'Grady on Radio 2, Radio 4, Twitter, Facebook, et cetera et cetera. This blog is my new homework and I shall very much enjoy completing it.

In addition to homework and the other aforementioned occupations, I have my 'hobbies'. The list of these was once long and expansive (ranging from high diving to trampolining), but it has now been whittled down to two principal activities: badminton and music. I am in LOVE with classical music, and I mean it. Once you discover it, there is no going back; it is an unstoppable voyage of discovery from that first, seemingly innocuous CD to the shamefully long bills sent from iTunes and Amazon on an almost monthly basis. I am a proud player of both the oboe and the cor anglais, and I devote a great many of my lunchtimes to the school woodwind ensemble. It is run by a fearsome but very friendly woman, whose talents far outshine the bleak setting in which she applies them.

And now to reveal my final indulgence: my iPhone. Like many other devotees, I think I would forget how to walk if I could not feel its reassuring presence in the pocket of my jeans. I am truly convinced that it has become an extension of my body.

So, this is me in a box. Thank you so very much for reading and I hope that you will revisit soon. Bye for now.


Rachel