Conspicuous consumption versus sustainability

Sun flare on Burrard Street, originally uploaded by The River Thief. Copyright Ruth Seeley

If my last post sounded rather peevish, I apologize. There's no doubt I've benefited greatly from technological innovations. Unlike a British friend of mine who told me he was the only doctor in his entire London hospital who still uses a paper datebook and who has had to be talked through using phone cards (his response to the blog was, "Bloody Hell, how did you do THAT, Ruth?"), I'm not a Luddite. Honest. In fact, it's doubtful I would ever have started taking photographs if I hadn't waited till digital cameras were relatively affordable (and more important, relatively easy to use). My first experiments with a complicated digital camera were less than salubrious (of course it was midnight and there was no manual).

It's when the technology you rely on suddenly doesn't work that I get exercised. I went to high school with Giles Slade, author of Made to Break. I haven't yet read it, and I've read some criticism of some of the statements he makes and the research behind the book. It isn't enough, in my opinion, to discredit his fundamental premise. We're churning through stuff at a fast and furious rate. We've created a world of haves and have-nots that's delineated by computer and internet usage. At this point, you're considered a have-not if you're not running Windows Vista on your computer. My poor old laptop is five years old and in desperate need of not only a new keyboard but of more memory - not because of data files I've added in five years of ownership, but because the frequent updates to Windows XP, the system it came with, have meant there's no memory left to run anything but the operating system.

We still seem to have only the most rudimentary system of recycling computer goods to ensure they don't end up in landfills. Luckily there are enough people in my age group who are slow or reluctant adopters of technology that I don't think I need to worry about what to do with any of the spare bits and bobs of technology I end up with. I'm not buying at a very fast rate and I'm using the technology I purchase long past its "best by" date. When I'm done with it, it goes to a friend. My first home computer, a Mac LCII, served me well for three years, despite the sneers from my internet service provider from my very first call to them. I believe the word "antique" was used, as the machine was already three years old when I got it.

Anyway - you get my point. Western culture has evolved into one that venerates not just youth, but the shiny and the new at the expense of all else. It's strange to think that we don't really understand the concept of sustainability except in our own human physical terms. If we applied the economic concepts we've embraced (continuous rapid growth) to our persons, we'd all weigh 700 pounds by now and be unable to move. Is it because I'm not sufficiently well versed in economics that I just don't get this?

Convergence and Romantic Misdiagnosis

Romantic Misdiagnosis, originally uploaded by The River Thief. Collage copyright Ruth Seeley; photo copyright James Nash.

It is indeed wonderful to sit at one's computer and listen to the radio station you've created on Pandora playing an eclectic mix of songs that run the gamut from Sarah Harmer and Rufus Wainwright through Bryan Ferry and Louis Armstrong with many stops in between as you work away on a Word document you're being paid to create. A little ping announces that you do indeed have email and when you want (or need) to take a break from work you can log onto the social networking site of choice (mine, of course, is flickr), and interact with people around the world who share your interests.

Here's the downside. Having finally bought a digital SLR camera, I anticipated a learning curve with it. I even set aside time for learning what all the buttons did and how to take decent photos with a different camera. What I was unable to anticipate, though, was that my laptop would get sick (there's no other way to describe it, it has even been coughing up dust through its speakers, and the grinding noises it's making are worthy of the worst Victorian catarrah - I'm about to pour some laudanum into it to make it stop). Because it's a digital camera, though, I am experiencing the downside of convergence. When my computer's not working, the camera too is useless. There's no electronic backup that works for this situation. I learned several years ago that the backup I need for my contacts is a hard copy - whether printed from Outlook or in an old-fashioned address book - so I at least have the phone number of my ISP when I can no longer connect to the internet. I'm at a loss for a digital camera uploading and editing backup system though.

And so, at the height of my frustration with the reality of convergence, I found myself on Easter Sunday morning tearing up pieces of paper to create this collage. That seemed like about as much technology as I could live with happily that weekend: paper, scissors, and glue. I'm glad I also have a book or two to read - and that the idea of watching television on my computer screen has always been anathema to me. In the same way that I have come to believe multitasking is overrated, I'm not much interested in having a cell phone perform several critical functions for me. It's enough that it enables me to talk to people and is portable so I don't have to stay home to wait for calls. That in and of itself is liberating. I don't really want my cell phone to give me a pedicure.