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In the course of human history, there are moments when a profound shift occurs—when the tools of knowledge change so drastically that they shape not only the way we live but the way we experience the world. Steve Coogan once reflected on this shift, saying, “I am of the very last generation who didn’t have computers at school. As we grow old we’ll become something of an aberration.” These words carry a weight of wisdom, acknowledging that a great transformation has taken place, one that divides generations and marks the boundary between two eras: the analog and the digital. In this simple yet profound statement, Coogan touches upon the deep disconnection between those who grew up in a world where knowledge was passed through books, teachers, and hand-written notes, and those whose lives have been shaped by the ever-present hum of computers and technology.

In the ancient world, the transmission of knowledge was a sacred duty, passed from teacher to student, from generation to generation. The Greek philosophers, who shaped the thinking of Western civilization, did not have the advantage of the written word in the way we do today; they relied on dialogue and memory to preserve and pass down wisdom. The Socrates we remember did not leave behind written texts; instead, his thoughts lived through the oral transmission, through conversations with his students. The scrolls and tablets that came after carried knowledge, but it was slow—something you could not consume in an instant, but something that had to be carefully studied and absorbed. The digital revolution marks a distinct break from this way of life. As Coogan rightly points out, those of his generation were the last to experience education without the omnipresence of computers, and in that truth, they stand as a living link to an era that is quickly slipping into history.

As we reflect on this historical divide, we are reminded of the transition that swept across ancient societies when the printing press was invented by Johannes Gutenberg. Before this, books were rare, written by hand, and accessible only to a select few. With the advent of the printing press, knowledge became more democratic, allowing it to spread at an unprecedented rate. Yet, with this leap came a shift in how people interacted with knowledge. Those who grew up in a world where books were rare and sacred found themselves in a new era, one where books became commonplace, and with it, the way knowledge was consumed and understood was forever changed. In many ways, Coogan's words echo this historical shift, as his generation, the last to grow up without computers in school, will become a rarity, an aberration in a world where digital learning is the norm.

What Coogan also touches upon is the tension between generations—the gap between the past and the future. As technology advances, those who lived before it becomes ubiquitous often feel like relics of a bygone era. This generational divide has always existed. The ancients, who lived without the conveniences of modern life, could never have imagined the complexity of the world we inhabit today. Yet, even they must have realized that with each leap forward in human progress, something is lost. Philosophers like Plato warned against the loss of oral tradition, seeing the rise of writing as a potential threat to human memory and wisdom. Today, we face a similar dilemma: does the rise of computers and instantaneous information enhance our ability to understand the world, or does it distance us from the depths of human experience?

The lesson of Coogan’s words is a reflection on the transience of human experience and the constant evolution of the tools we use to interact with the world. Technology moves forward at an unrelenting pace, and with each advance, those who lived without these tools become increasingly rare, almost like anachronisms. Yet, within that truth lies a beautiful and humbling realization: no matter how much we change, there will always be something that connects us to the past. Coogan’s generation, the last to experience a world without computers in school, carries with it a unique wisdom—a wisdom born from a time when learning required patience, focus, and effort. This wisdom cannot be easily replicated by the clicking of a mouse or the tapping of a screen.

As we look toward the future, the practical lesson is clear: we must seek a balance between the benefits of modern technology and the values that have sustained humanity for centuries. While computers and the Internet provide access to an incredible wealth of knowledge, they should never replace the fundamentals of education—patience, focus, and the ability to think deeply. The digital age may make us feel like an aberration at times, but it is also our responsibility to honor the wisdom of the past, and to pass on the richness of human experience, whether through digital means or through the timeless methods of human connection.

Let us not forget that while the digital revolution may change the tools we use, it does not change the essence of what it means to be human. As we move forward into an age of infinite information, we must not lose sight of the importance of depth, reflection, and the connection that comes from real human interaction. Just as the ancient philosophers spoke to each other across generations, so must we continue to share our knowledge, not as isolated facts, but as part of the larger story of humanity. In this way, we honor the past and shape the future, even as we navigate the rapidly changing landscape of the world.