The truth is that technology is only valuable if it helps you

Safra A. Catz, a leader among leaders, once declared with piercing clarity: “The truth is that technology is only valuable if it helps you run your organization better.” In these words lies a lesson for all ages: that tools, no matter how wondrous, are empty without purpose; that invention, no matter how dazzling, is but vanity unless it serves the order and flourishing of life. She speaks not merely of business or enterprise, but of the eternal principle that the worth of any creation is measured by its service to harmony, efficiency, and the well-being of the people it touches.

The ancients themselves knew this truth. The Romans constructed mighty aqueducts, but not to boast of their engineering genius—they built them so their cities might drink, bathe, and grow. The Chinese invented the compass, not to marvel at the lodestone’s pull, but to guide ships across endless seas and expand the reach of their civilization. Every age has seen wonders of technology, but those wonders endured only when they lifted the burden of mankind, when they helped the organization of life to run more smoothly and with greater strength.

Catz reminds us that technology dazzles easily, but value lies deeper. A glittering device, a powerful machine, or a clever algorithm is nothing if it adds confusion, wastes time, or serves no true need. The measure of its greatness lies in whether it brings order where there was chaos, clarity where there was uncertainty, and strength where there was weakness. Just as the sword is only noble in the hands of a just warrior, so too is technology only noble when it serves the just purpose of making life, work, and community better.

Consider the story of the Industrial Revolution. Factories sprang up, machines roared, and new inventions seemed to pour forth each day. Some were used to bring prosperity, to clothe the poor, to power transportation, to spread knowledge through print. But others served only greed, leading to child labor, pollution, and misery. Here we see the double edge of technology: when guided by wisdom and responsibility, it uplifts civilizations; when misused, it corrodes them. Thus Catz’s words are a warning: seek not technology for its own sake, but for the good it brings to the whole.

Even in her own age, as the steward of one of the world’s great software empires, her wisdom reflects experience. To run an organization—be it a business, a government, or a family—requires vision, clarity, and unity. Technology should be the servant of that vision, never its master. When properly harnessed, it streamlines decisions, empowers people, and frees the human spirit for higher tasks. But when worshipped blindly, it shackles leaders to complexity and distraction. She reminds us that mastery is not in owning tools, but in using them rightly.

From this truth, O seekers, arises a lesson for your own lives. Do not be seduced by every glittering novelty. Ask yourself always: does this tool, this device, this technology, help me achieve my purpose? Does it strengthen the structure of my work, my family, my community? Or does it merely consume my time, scatter my focus, and weaken my resolve? The wise are not those who own the most tools, but those who choose the right ones and wield them well.

Therefore, let this teaching be inscribed upon your heart: technology is a servant, not a master. Value it not for its brightness, but for its usefulness. Embrace only what helps you build, organize, and sustain the order of your life’s work. Discard what distracts and confuses. For in the end, as Catz has said, the truth is plain: the greatness of technology is proven not in its existence, but in its ability to make you, your organization, and your people stronger, wiser, and better prepared for the challenges of tomorrow.