Years ago I thought I was smart because I could name most of the state capitals, I knew the difference between a peach and a nectarine, and I could discern a Pink Floyd sample from that of Led Zeppelin. Granted, none of these really indicated my intellect. But I thought my knowledge would increase exponentially until the day my hair grayed, at which time my clarity would dampen as my experiences compounded.
Reality, however, is far from what I'd imagined. At 21, I find myself struggling to recall the simplest facts or thoughts I'd had the day before. While I don't record messages to myself like Polaroids, I at least expect to remember a person's name, a passage I've read or how to cook rice. Instead, I find myself referring to the brain outside of my brain: my smartphone. Where I used to depend on the sharpness of my recollection, I now depend on the reliability of my connection.
Presumably, I'm not alone - consider the number of students you see marching across campus glued to their portable devices of choice. It's reasonable to assume that at some point we will, or we have, become habituated to entrusting these devices to contain all the information we will ever want and ever need, our minds no longer burdened with the task of remembering bits of information. Even vital life skills (how to cook, how to clean, how to find a g-spot) are abandoned to a search on our smartphones. Each additional feature steadily depletes our standard for intelligence. Just ask Siri. If she understands you, that is.
Of the many fields that are crippling due to the dissolution of retained knowledge, civic duty seems to be the most handicapped. I hope, though I won't bet, that most UF students know the name of some of the more controversial acts to recently float and trudge through Washington.
I hope, though I won't bet, that most UF students can recite at least some of the amendments in the Bill of Rights. Failure to do so and referring to your smartphone for the answers seems to render that device more "American" than its user, despite it being made in China or South Korea. If we have the audacity to call ourselves Americans, we should have the same knowledge and understanding of the first 10 amendments as Christians should of the Ten Commandments.
Now, some may say that the majority of citizens have never known such specifics about the laws and workings of their country. Why should we be held to this standard today? True, we have not, but citizens have also never had such access to these specifics (just one of the great benefits of this hand-held technology.)
Citizens of the past also lacked significant free time. While their days were spent in the field or in the factory, ours are spent on the couch, watching reality TV and masturbating, too often simultaneously. We should be held to this standard of awareness because every time we insensibly surf the Internet, we abandon our responsibility and negate a chance to participate in the future, in the well-being of our world and in the well-being of ourselves.
I don't intend to undermine the countless benefits technology provides. Nor do I intend to save myself from blame. In fact, I accuse myself of this lethargic complacency while trying to uphold the responsible use of technology in our hands.
And though I'm aware of the National Defense Authorization Act and can even list the Ten Commandments as a non-Christian, I admit that the full extent of the Bill of Rights escapes me. However, as integrity demands, before this is published I will restudy these amendments by recording them onto paper while reading them from my smartphone.
Dyllan Furness is a philosophy and English junior at UF. His column appears on Tuesdays.
