New Intermediate Technologies

by Douglas Groothuis, PhD

We have become tools of our tools.—Henry David Thoreau

Their idols are silver and gold,

made by the hands of men.

They have mouths, but cannot speak;

they have eyes, but cannot see;

they have ears, but cannot hear;

they have noses, but cannot smell;

they have hands, but cannot feel;

they have feet, but cannot walk;

they cannot even clear their throats.

Those who make them become like them,

as do all who trust in them. (Psalm 115:4-8)

In 1973, the maverick economist, E. F. Schumacher, published a book called Small is Beautiful, in which he explained and championed “appropriate technologies” or sometimes called “intermediate technologies.” The essential thesis was that technologies should not be evaluated by how advanced or efficient they might be, but by how they served a worthwhile purpose. I will use my own example. A technologically advanced new automobile could do many more things than an older model, but if the driver did not need these functions or could not figure them out, they would not be appropriate to the need. The very idea of appropriate technology raises the question, “Appropriate for what and to whom?” A technology may increase profits without being appropriate for what is best for human flourishing (call it human scale). A smart phone makes trillions of dollars, but it robs many children of the friends and sociability of childhood, as Jonathan Haight has proven in his consequential book, Anxious Generation. Sometimes, less is better. Tech Exit by Clare Morell argues cogently that children should be kept entirely off cell phones until they are young adults.

Related to appropriate technology is the idea of intermediate technology; in fact, an intermediate technology is appropriate at the human scale of meaning. I begin with several physical objects on the Great Book Room (GBR) of my home in rural Michigan. The walls of the GBR are covered completely by bookshelves which are completely filled to overflowing with books.

But since it is a large room, the middle area allows for tables, seats, a stereo system, and an old stationary exercise bicycle. This old and well-worn machine was purchased in about 1991 and is called a Schwin Aidyn. When I cannot ride a bike outside, I defer to this faithful beast, which provides exercise for the synchronized peddling legs and the moving arms. It’s only electronic technology is a battery-powered readout which tells you how long, how fast, and how far you have traveled. It is so simple that it is nearly impossible to be confused by the functions. In all the years I have owned and used this machine, I have only had to replace a few parts and never the readout box. Newer exercise machines are festooned with multiple readouts, functions, calibrations, lights, and confusions. Not my old machine. It is an intermediate technology: simple, functional, with minimal electronics. I usually listen to an audio book or music from my iPhone while I exercise—technologies that are, I grant, more advanced and which often befuddle.

In the GBR against the wall is also a component stereo system. The oldest member is a 1973 Pioneer turntable. I have replaced the large rubber band inside of it--which connects the power to the power source—once and the needle twice. I had to adjust one inner piece after it was slightly damaged in the move from Denver to Lowell, Michigan. (This is one of the few pieces of machinery I have ever fixed.) I use a stereo receiver that is about twenty years old and a pair of Focal speakers (an excellent French brand) that are about ten years old. I also have a CD player about fifteen years old. All work well; none are fancy.

While I listen to CDs (I have thousands), let me explain my love for the intermediate technology of playing vinyl records. I own about five hundred. I wrote about this in more depth elsewhere on my blog, but simply know that records sound better than streaming and CDs and provide a much more grounded and embodied experience of music. You must slow down by selecting an album, putting it on the turntable, cleaning the needle of the turntable, putting the needle on the turntable, and then monitoring the record, since the needle reaches the end and does not lift off automatically—some models do, but mine does not. This is all radically inefficient, since it is labor-intensive and time-consuming. That is just what is wonderful about it. You also benefit from the cardboard record holder with art and often liner notes.

Further, since the records are self-contained, I will not be interrupted by ads on how to eliminate “stuck poop” (why can’t they at least say “constipation” or how to lose weight through Tai Chi walking. (I’m not convinced.) The original music was recorded, placed on plastic, and is mediated by my stereo system, but it is mediated through a simple technology that cannot be hacked, since it is not online. It is an intermediate technology—not non-tech, such as attending a live concert; but not high-tech, such as audio streaming on a surround sound monstrosity. Stereo is simpler. And, No, I don’t have a subwoofer.

These reflections pertain to how to resist the mentality that all our activities must be ultra efficient and up-to-date. Using intermediate technologies is one way to resist the Machine mentality that pervades our culture and insinuates itself everywhere. If you want to know what I mean by the Machine mentality, read Paul Kingsborth’s book, Against the Machine.