And Then There Was Fire: Computers, Anxiety, Obsession, and Self-Efficacy

Having taught a variety of computer classes to undergraduates, graduates, faculty, and staff, we’ve oftentimes been fascinated by the fact that our biggest challenge in all of these classrooms is not the teaching of technical concepts but dealing with how difficult it is for people to respond to change. It is how the learners feel, not the “how to.” From Freud on, observers of human behavior have tried to explain this phenomenon and we don’t profess to understand it either. Change has raised so much anxiety that originally we considered comparing the process of accepting new technology to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ five stages of death and dying. What we now see around us we will try to illustrate through the use of a fable about an earlier incident of radical change.

Exactly how and when fire became permanently incorporated into human culture is unclear, but it changed everything. Some said it was punishment from the gods and was to be feared and avoided at all costs. Some said it was a gift from the gods and was to be worshipped for its magical powers. And some said it was an interesting accidental discovery and pondered its use and meaning in everyday lives.

Computer literate readers could do a “search and replace” function on the above text and replace “fire” with “computers.” We might use this loose prehistorical comparison to look at the human reactions to the onslaught of computers as just another reaction to yet another development in our history. In many ways we are looking at human reaction to radio, television, and the automobile, and, more essentially, reaction to change in general. But what makes it so useful to look at our reactions to computers through the lens of the distant story of the incorporation of fire into our lives is the fact that computers, unlike any other technology in our recent history, have become a pervasive element in so many aspects of our lives at such a rapid speed that it is more difficult to see what we are really going through. According to an April, 1998, U.S. Commerce Department report, radio existed 38 years before 50 million people were using it. It took television a mere 13 years to reach the same number of people. Once the general public could have access, the Internet got to 50 million people in just four years. In addition to the speed at which computers have entered our civilization, they are everywhere—including in our radios, televisions, and automobiles. So, allow us to return to this fable of fire to better understand some human reactions to this current change.

Regardless of what people thought about fire, their lives were changed. Daytime could literally be extended throughout the night. It was easier to stay warm. Flames could be used as a form of protection. Those who saw fire as godlike tried to use it for everything, like drying their garments through direct application on the fire, even if such tasks could be accomplished better by some older means (setting them in the sun). While not every food tasted better cooked, everything was prepared flambéed or blackened. Such individuals could be readily identified by their obsessive staring at the fire in the belief that endless vigilance would ensure that the flames wouldn’t be extinguished. There were also some horrible accidents (and the use of fire as an instrument of war) where entire villages were burned to the ground. Those who feared fire soon resigned themselves to its being an inevitable part of their lives, but took great pains to avoid learning how to use it, even when they saw obvious benefits to their neighbors. The remaining pondering populace was wowed by this recent innovation, but they took a more contemplative approach, considering what everyday aspects of life could and couldn’t be better served by fire’s usage. (Some foods tasted better raw.) They were perfectly happy at achieving a certain mastery of skill, but it didn’t take over their lives. Some of these individuals

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began to caution against seeing fire as the “cure-all” for all of society.

We are seeing a similar stratification around us now. The cyber-worshippers must amass any and every piece of hardware or software trumpeting the alleged benefit of making life easier and more efficient. They will obsessively spend days “migrating” data between faxes, e-mail, voice-mail, palm pilots, laptop computers, desktop computers, and mainframe computers without questioning whether or not it might be quicker and easier to just walk over and have a conversation. The phobic naysayers are crowing about the impending doom Y2K will reign down upon us all for worshipping a false digital deity. To a quieter extreme, there are those deep in avoidance who covertly do all of their math with paper and pencil and then type the results into a computerized spreadsheet program.

In one fell swoop the entire social order was subverted. There was great concern over how much time the younger ones were spending with something which the elders did not fully understand. While admiring their complete lack of fear at this new tool, the elders were worried that their youth, who were quickly surpassing their parents in fire expertise, would have too much power without the accompanying levels of responsibility. Some individuals proclaimed themselves masters of the fire and developed a language and ritual which particularly served to cloak fire in even more mystery, ensuring their authority and control—especially with the more anxiety-ridden members of society. And, even though starting one’s own fire wasn’t a particularly onerous task if one just learned the basics, the masters sometimes argued that they should be the sole dispensers.

While the debate raged on about control and distribution of fire, there was an entirely different paradigm growing within the community. Some people discovered that when one lets a neighbor light a torch from their fire, their own flame didn’t diminish. In fact, conversations held over the fire began to result in a refinement of its use. Instead of waiting for the fire masters to upgrade their lives, safety, portability, and preservation were addressed with several innovative methods. Perhaps it was during this period that the alternative of a roasting spit to the burning down of a barn when one desired dinner was discovered.

The social order is essentially being subverted today. The bulk of the cyber “knowledge elite” continues to grow younger and younger. Teachers must face the fact that often their students have a far greater mastery of computers than they have. It has been argued that part of the reason for the cumbersome integration of computers into the curriculum relates to the reticence harbored by some teachers in attempting to teach within an arena in which their students might be more expert.

Many a parent reacts with disconcerted humor when describing how their nine-year-old helped them recover a bank account statement from the home computer. Whereas 100 years ago parents were able to control the flow of information to their children who were too young to read, now the children are able to withhold power from their parents who are either unable or unwilling to be technically literate. This adds a new dimension to adolescent rebelliousness, where breaking the rules of the adult world can mean breaking into and disrupting (through the creation of viruses) the everyday operations of banking, business, and government from the comfort of their personal computer. Of course, it’s not just chronological adolescents who do this sort of thing, there are those arrested adolescents, too.

Today’s “keepers of the fire” are often the ones on the other end of the help line. Not unlike other occupations ranging from medicine to auto repair, these guardians have developed a specialized language which clarifies meaning within the group of practitioners but often creates a barrier to understanding for the lay person. (Whether intentional or unintentional, language begets power.) Similar to conversing with, for example, your auto mechanic, this otherwise common experience becomes more of an obstacle in computing due to the “do it yourself” nature of being a computer user. If our car makes a funny noise, we take it to the mechanic. In the case of computers, we have the option of speaking to a “mechanic” and working on the equivalent of “the funny noise” ourselves. In computing it might just be that we’re hitting the ALT key instead of the CTRL key—in essence, driving with the parking brake on. Because in the everyday use of this machine, we are implicitly expected to find our own operational solutions, getting advice in a language we can understand is a bigger issue.

Currently we have two opposing principles for distribution and ownership of our contemporary “fire.” Some technological entities, the “masters of

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the fire,” adhere to the time-honored concept of patents protecting profits, where the close guarding of the product’s design is thought to be essential to the survival of the company’s financial security. They claim exclusive ownership of design, known as program code, and periodically release upgrades or “improvements” as they see fit. Although some would like to attribute such diabolical planning solely to Bill Gates and his Microsoft empire, he is not alone in this methodology. Others, to coincide with the new technology, are banking on a new paradigm known as “open source software,” where the user is invited to not only view the code, but is encouraged to make his/her own modifications or improvements and then share them with users at large. This software is entirely free in its downloadable form; profits come from purchasing packages with optional technical support. So, in this paradigm, making a point of clear communication between whomever the experts might be and the novice user is the main basis for profit.

And so, fire became one of the four elements, which the ancient Greeks viewed as the fundamentals of matter. As refinements to fire usage developed over time (lamps, ovens, chandeliers, etc.), people became less and less cognizant of its fundamental nature. But regardless of size, intensity, fuel source, or containment device, fire is fire. Usage without understanding of its properties leads to charred rubble. Building upon its understanding leads to skyscrapers supported by beams forged from fire. Adding imagination and a sense of adventure leads to a rocket to the stars.

From the early football field-sized Census Bureau computers to the most state of the art palm pilots, all electronic computers are and always have been based on whether an element is a “0” or a “1,” the binary system. While one can technically type their word-processing without appreciating this essence, one has a better understanding of its limitations (it cannot think for you) as well as its boundless capacities if one feels more “connected” to the machine. Usage without understanding leads to printing page after page of meaningless letters. Building upon understanding leads to the Internet. Adding imagination and a sense of adventure leads to an Amazon.com, the online bookseller, where a sense of aesthetics is seamlessly integrated with binary technical achievement and an understanding of human need.

Fire has a natural tendency to expand and intensify. Although computers may not be a natural phenomenon, they are a human phenomenon with similar qualities. With networking, the Internet, and open-source software, computers have the capacity to ignite knowledge exponentially. The next time we may want to set our computers on fire, we might want to step back and examine our reactions in the greater context of the human response to innovation.

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