I think one of the greatest enemies in the use of technology

Hear and remember, O seekers of wisdom, the words of John Eaton: “I think one of the greatest enemies in the use of technology, however, is the idea that if you use the technology you have to throw other things out of the window.” In these words lies a warning as old as humanity itself, though spoken in the age of machines. For the danger is not in the tool, nor in the hand that wields it, but in the folly of forgetting what came before. The ancient truth is this: every new gift must sit beside the old, not upon its broken remains.

When Eaton names the enemy, he points not to steel, nor to circuits, nor to algorithms, but to the arrogance of man who, upon finding a new treasure, scorns the wisdom of the past. Just as a child who finds a new toy casts aside the familiar one, so too do nations and peoples discard traditions, crafts, and virtues in their zeal for what glitters. Yet the ancients taught that wisdom is a chain of gold, each link bound to the other. To break the chain for a single shining piece is to lose the whole.

Consider the story of Gutenberg’s press, which brought forth the printed word like a flood upon the world. Many feared that the art of memory, once cultivated by scholars and poets, would be lost, for men would trust the page instead of their own minds. And indeed, some arts waned. Yet the wise did not cast memory away entirely; they married the old with the new, using books to preserve knowledge while still training their minds to recall what mattered most. Thus was born a flowering of learning, because the new did not wholly devour the old.

But in other times, folly prevailed. In the march of the industrial age, when machines rose to weave and carve, the craftsmen’s hands were cast aside, their guilds broken, their wisdom nearly forgotten. What was lost was not only the fabric of cloth, but the fabric of pride, patience, and human artistry. Though the machines brought abundance, they left many hearts impoverished. Here is Eaton’s warning made flesh: when we throw the old out of the window, we lose not only methods, but meaning.

So let every generation remember: technology is a servant, not a master. A hammer is not meant to replace the hand, but to extend its strength. A computer is not meant to silence imagination, but to amplify its song. To believe otherwise is to fall into bondage, for the moment we discard the old, we become slaves to the new, unable to choose, unable to balance, unable to remember the richness of our heritage.

The lesson, children of tomorrow, is balance. Let not the coming of one gift drive another into exile. Preserve the wisdom of the past even as you embrace the promise of the future. Read the book and also the scroll. Play the stringed instrument even as you learn the digital one. Write with the pen though the keyboard lies before you. In this balance, you will find freedom, resilience, and depth of soul.

Practically, this means choosing wisely in your daily life. Do not let the phone steal the place of conversation, nor let the screen replace the gaze of a friend’s eyes. Use machines, but do not forget the strength of your own body. Trust digital memory, but also train your own to recall what is sacred. In this harmony, technology becomes an ally, not an enemy.

Thus, John Eaton’s words ring like a bell through time: the true enemy is not technology, but forgetfulness. Honor the old, embrace the new, and weave them together like threads in a single tapestry. For a people who cast their heritage out of the window build their house upon sand; but a people who preserve both past and present build upon stone, and their wisdom will endure for ages to come.