Technology has saved us money in some circumstances, but it has

Hear, O children of the written word and the glowing screen, the testimony of Jim Walton, who once guided the mighty current of global news. He proclaimed: “Technology has saved us money in some circumstances, but it has really afforded us the ability to cover stories from locations we might not have been able to in the past.” In these words, spoken plainly, there lies a great truth about the gifts of technology—that it is not only a tool of economy, but a bridge that carries human sight to the ends of the earth.

For in ages past, the telling of stories was bound by the nearness of the teller. News of faraway lands traveled on foot, on horseback, by ship, often arriving too late to stir action or wisdom. The historian Herodotus, called the Father of History, gathered tales by long journeys, piecing fragments together from distant tongues. His work endured, but his scope was chained by distance. What Walton declares is the breaking of that chain: technology has dissolved the boundaries of space, allowing voices to echo across mountains, deserts, and seas in an instant.

Consider, O listener, the tale of the Crimean War in the mid-19th century. For the first time, the telegraph carried dispatches from the battlefield directly to London. No longer could rulers hide the miseries of war; no longer could generals alone shape the narrative. Florence Nightingale’s reforms were fueled by the images and words that reached the public swiftly, igniting change. What was once delayed by weeks arrived in hours. Walton speaks in this lineage: the growth of technology widens the circle of truth, bringing light where once there was silence.

Yet his words also reveal balance. He admits that money has been saved, for machines often lighten the burden of cost. But he elevates what is greater: the ability to cover stories otherwise unreachable. This is the true treasure of technological progress—not simply wealth preserved, but horizons expanded. When cameras can be lifted by satellites, when correspondents can broadcast from war zones, when disasters are shown as they unfold, the world becomes a single village where no suffering, no triumph, no injustice need remain hidden.

And yet, let us be mindful. For while technology grants power, it also demands responsibility. To reach new places is not enough; the stories told must be faithful, not distorted by haste or spectacle. The same tool that exposes can also manipulate. Just as the sword may defend or destroy, so too can the lens or the signal enlighten or deceive. Walton’s wisdom calls us to remember the higher duty: that with each new reach of technology, truth must be guarded with greater care.

What lesson, then, must we take from this? That progress is not to be measured in coins saved, but in voices heard. That our duty as citizens, as creators, as seekers of knowledge, is to use our tools not only for profit but for presence—to bear witness where once no witness could stand. If technology opens doors, let us step through with reverence, using its reach to serve justice, compassion, and understanding.

Therefore, O traveler of this modern age, rejoice in the gifts of technology, but do not treat them lightly. Use them to seek stories beyond your sight, to understand lives beyond your own. Learn from Walton’s words that the true power of invention is not in saving, but in seeing—not in profit, but in perspective. For when we tell the stories of all people, from every place, we weave the great tapestry of humanity, where each thread matters and none are unseen.