Socrates once told a story to his student Phaedrus, which Plato recorded. It went like this:
I heard, then, that at Naucratis, in Egypt, was one of the ancient gods of that country, the one whose sacred bird is called the ibis, and the name of the god himself was Theuth. He it was who invented numbers and arithmetic and geometry and astronomy, also draughts and dice, and, most important of all, letters. Now the king of all Egypt at that time was the god Thamus, who lived in the great city of the upper region, which the Greeks call the Egyptian Thebes, and they call the god himself Ammon. To him came Theuth to show his inventions, saying that they ought to be imparted to the other Egyptians. But Thamus asked what use there was in each, and as Theuth enumerated their uses, expressed praise or blame, according as he approved or disapproved. The story goes that Thamus said many things to Theuth in praise or blame of the various arts, which it would take too long to repeat; but when they came to the letters, “This invention, O king,” said Theuth, “will make the Egyptians wiser and will improve their memories; for it is an elixir of memory and wisdom that I have discovered.” But Thamus replied, “Most ingenious Theuth, one man has the ability to beget arts, but the ability to judge of their usefulness or harmfulness to their users belongs to another; and now you, who are the father of letters, have been led by your affection to ascribe to them a power the opposite of that which they really possess. For this invention will produce forgetfulness in the minds of those who learn to use it, because they will not practice their memory. Their trust in writing, produced by external characters which are no part of themselves, will discourage the use of their own memory within them. You have invented an elixir not of memory, but of reminding; and you offer your pupils the appearance of wisdom, not true wisdom, for they will read many things without instruction and will therefore seem to know many things, when they are for the most part ignorant and hard to get along with, since they are not wise, but only appear wise.
I heard, then, that at Naucratis, in Egypt, was one of the ancient gods of that country, the one whose sacred bird is called the ibis, and the name of the god himself was Theuth. He it was who invented numbers and arithmetic and geometry and astronomy, also draughts and dice, and, most important of all, letters. Now the king of all Egypt at that time was the god Thamus, who lived in the great city of the upper region, which the Greeks call the Egyptian Thebes, and they call the god himself Ammon. To him came Theuth to show his inventions, saying that they ought to be imparted to the other Egyptians. But Thamus asked what use there was in each, and as Theuth enumerated their uses, expressed praise or blame, according as he approved or disapproved. The story goes that Thamus said many things to Theuth in praise or blame of the various arts, which it would take too long to repeat; but when they came to the letters, “This invention, O king,” said Theuth, “will make the Egyptians wiser and will improve their memories; for it is an elixir of memory and wisdom that I have discovered.” But Thamus replied, “Most ingenious Theuth, one man has the ability to beget arts, but the ability to judge of their usefulness or harmfulness to their users belongs to another; and now you, who are the father of letters, have been led by your affection to ascribe to them a power the opposite of that which they really possess. For this invention will produce forgetfulness in the minds of those who learn to use it, because they will not practice their memory. Their trust in writing, produced by external characters which are no part of themselves, will discourage the use of their own memory within them. You have invented an elixir not of memory, but of reminding; and you offer your pupils the appearance of wisdom, not true wisdom, for they will read many things without instruction and will therefore seem to know many things, when they are for the most part ignorant and hard to get along with, since they are not wise, but only appear wise.
(From
Plato in Twelve Volumes, Vol. 9, translated by Harold N. Fowler. Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press; London)
Now, while I apologize for the lengthy quote, I hope that this strikes a chord of recognition for you with this week’s readings; it should. Within the parable Socrates is using the discussion of two gods to make a point about writing. Socrates is taking his position behind Theuth, whilst his students are presumed to be behind Thamus. He makes logical points about the entire argument, and even reaches a viable conclusion when he states that “this invention will produce forgetfulness in the minds of those who learn to use it, because they will not practice their memory,” but, as we are aware, history has proven that his final statements about wisdom and the human condition remain untrue. He attempted to frame the narrative in the form of two gods speaking with one another to give the tale credibility. Gods are powerful an knowing so certainly what they say should be accurate, but this is just an empty attempt at an argument created from an ethos that doesn’t even exist. He structured himself in a false argument to attempt to accurately convey his predictions for the Human race. However, it fell short. By in large, humans have been better off since the invention of writing. Our memory has remained, and our thinking has deepened. The Greeks were not the last people on the planet to invent and produce, and Socrates was disproven. So why do I bring this up? What does an old argument have to do with this week’s readings? Simple, it’s the same argument. Look at the article
Is Google making us stupid? by Nicholas Carr. He begins the article with an excerpt from a made up story about humankind in the future and the problems of technology. He is using this story in the same way that Socrates was, as a means to bring an ethical appeal to his argument. In essence, he was saying, “look! This movie acts like a glimpse of the future and what a dark future it portrays. Humans will be like robots!” This argument is meant to tug on your fears and make you see him as an authority on the future. But, in the end, Mr. Carr is just a storyteller like Socrates. His fear isn’t unwarranted, but I doubt it will come to pass.
Like writing, the internet and new technology is a massive leap forward in the progress of mankind. And, like writing, there are those who will oppose the change that it brings. However, to say that Google will somehow halt the wisdom of people or their ability to read carefully is akin to saying it about reading. There will be negative effects associated with these changes, but the positive ones far outweigh the downfalls. Life will carry on, and humanity will adapt. Google gives us a chance to stop focusing on the memorization of facts and data and start focusing on the skills required to use those facts to benefit humanity. We will all be better because of the internet, because we will have more time to be better. Mr. Carr’s concerns about emerging technology are valid, but they are not new. People have been complaining about change since the dawn of time, and his is one more concern in the wake of many. The point of this is not to criticize Mr. Carr or Socrates, but instead to pose another position to them. Instead of worrying about the change that is occurring, we should spend our time worrying about what we are going to do with that change. I would direct you back again to connected learning. Connected learning is what happens when we stop fretting about the change that might occur in the future and start worrying about how we can use this change to benefit our students. They are the ones who will live through this massive change in human culture; it is important that we train them to make the best of it.
As always, let me know what you think below!