Gee, I am a complete Luddite when it comes to computers, I can

In the age of technology, where each day brings new advancements, there remains a vast gulf between those who embrace it fully and those who stand apart, bewildered by its complexities. Jonathan Shapiro, with a touch of self-deprecating humor, remarks, "Gee, I am a complete Luddite when it comes to computers, I can barely log on!" In these words, we encounter a reflection of modern life, a life where technology has become the overwhelming force driving progress, yet also an imposing barrier for those who have not been swept up in its current.

The term Luddite comes from a movement that arose in the early 19th century in England, named after Ned Ludd, a mythical figure believed to have destroyed machines that were replacing human labor. The Luddites were workers who, in the face of industrialization, resisted the rise of machinery, fearing that these inventions would rob them of their livelihoods and the simple dignity of labor. The Luddites’ story is one of fear and resistance, but also of a desire to preserve the way of life that they had known—a life that was rooted in physical labor, personal skill, and craftsmanship. In much the same way, Shapiro’s words reflect the disorientation and vulnerability that many feel in the face of technology. Just as the Luddites struggled with the power of the industrial revolution, so too do we grapple with the ever-advancing digital age.

Throughout history, the clash between technology and tradition has often sparked profound debate. Socrates, the ancient philosopher, famously expressed his doubts about the written word, fearing that it would diminish the memory and wisdom of the human mind. He believed that writing would lead to a loss of intellectual engagement, for people would no longer need to remember and think critically, but instead rely on external symbols. Even in ancient times, as new technologies emerged, there were those who felt disconnected or uneasy, uncertain of how these changes would shape the future. Shapiro’s humorously self-aware confession is a modern echo of this age-old discomfort—a sense of being outpaced by innovation.

Consider the example of Leonardo da Vinci, a man who lived at the crossroads of art, science, and invention. Da Vinci’s mind was a dazzling reflection of both the ancient and the modern worlds—imbued with a deep reverence for nature and craftsmanship, yet also a restless desire to push the boundaries of what was possible. His notebooks are filled with inventions that were centuries ahead of their time, including early designs for machines that could fly and systems for automating labor. Yet, da Vinci’s genius was not simply in his creations, but in his ability to balance the wonders of the natural world with the potential of technological advancement. In many ways, we too are called to balance the wisdom of the past with the promise of the future.

Shapiro’s comment, however, speaks not of resistance to progress, but of discomfort in the face of it. It is a reminder that technology, while powerful, can also be alienating. Those who have not grown up with the tools of the digital age can feel like strangers in a land they do not understand. This sense of alienation is not a flaw of the individual, but a reflection of the rapidly changing world. Just as the Luddites found their skills and ways of life disrupted by new machinery, so too do we find ourselves confronted by a world that demands a new set of skills—skills that often seem as mysterious as the inventions of the past.

The lesson embedded in Shapiro’s words is not that we should reject progress, but rather that we must embrace it with understanding and humility. The modern world, much like the world of Leonardo da Vinci, calls for adaptation, not wholesale rejection. It is natural to feel lost or overwhelmed by the speed and complexity of new technologies, but this does not mean we are helpless. The key, as always, lies in learning and engaging with these changes. It is only by stepping forward, with a willingness to learn and grow, that we can transform discomfort into empowerment.

In practical terms, the challenge is clear: we must engage with the world of technology, even if it feels foreign to us. Just as the craftsmen of old had to adapt to the rise of the machine, so too must we find ways to navigate the digital landscape. Start small. Learn the basics. Take the time to understand the tools around you, not with fear, but with a sense of curiosity and purpose. And, most importantly, never be ashamed of your discomfort. Acknowledging where we are uncertain is the first step in becoming more competent in the world around us.

In the end, Shapiro’s self-awareness offers us a valuable insight: the world of technology may be vast and complex, but it is not beyond our reach. With patience, curiosity, and courage, we can bridge the gap between the old ways and the new, finding our place in a world that is constantly changing. Let us remember that every great leap forward in human history has been met with uncertainty, but also with the unwavering belief that we can adapt, learn, and thrive, no matter how challenging the world may seem.