Conman, author of The Boston Diaries, and I have very different ways of looking at the world; countless debates between us, on a variety of subjects, have revealed that simple truth time and again. Yet a debate whose effects have not quite seem to have faded are the debate which Conman has entitled ‘Tool vs. Crutch,’ the primary crux of which attempts to answer a seemingly simple question: “When does technology cease being a tool and become a crutch?” The series of entries in The Boston Diaries has been labeled by Conman “Tool vs. Crutch.”
What sparked this debate was my salvo of heated arguments (1, 2) on the subject of GPS usage. I love my GPS receiver, Conman decidedly does not, and if you want to know the reasons why, read the 1 and 2 links above–I will not delve once again into that topic here. It will suffice to say that it seems that we are as diametrically opposed on this particular subject as two people can be.
I’ve always been told that only a fool takes up a fool’s argument. I believe that to a certain extent, but Conman is a gifted programmer with an intensely keen intellect, and for those gifts I hold him in the highest respect–Conman is absolutely no fool. The part of this debate that rubs me entirely the wrong way is this: for a person who works with technology, who makes his living manipulating it supporting those who also use it to make their living, Conman is decidedly anti-technology and has, over the years, has developed a singular distrust of it. Perhaps because he is so gifted at manipulating it he is keenly aware how easily it can be manipulated and perverted. I don’t know. This is not an entry about the manipulation of technology, or even of Conman’s distrust of it. This is about “Tools vs. Crutch,” and about the fundamentally philosophic debate it sparks.
The problem with the “Tool vs. Crutch” is a fundamental one, one that is so large that Conman has overlooked it. And I can’t blame him, either: to find the fundamental problem with “Tools vs. Crutch” is like examining an elephant with a microscope. The premise of the question itself is fatally flawed. The problem with “When does a tool become a crutch” is the very nebulous nature of what constitutes a “crutch.”
I think what is missing here is the definitions of “tool” and “crutch.” The meaning of “tool” is extremely well-defined and clear. Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary states a number of definitions for the word “tool,” and those that aren’t vulgar or slang are remarkably similar: they all relate to things that are used to perform tasks. “Tool” is not subject to arbitrary or subjective meanings–its meaning is very clearly defined.
“Crutch” has as nebulous a definition in this context as “tool” does not. Oh sure, the meaning of the term “crutch,” as defined by Merriam-Webster, simply indicates “something that props up something else.”
But propping up what? Aah, there’s where the philosophy of the question rears its ugly head.
You see, it is very easy to apply the “crutch” label to any tool. Any one of them. By the definition that Conman seems to like to employ in his arguments, a “crutch” is defined as “a tool, but not a tool that is necessarily required to achieve the same result as can be expected through the employ of one’s natural faculties.”
Getting closer to the root of the argument, let’s define “tool” as “any thing that enables one to accomplish a task that ones naturally-possessed faculties are insufficient to accomplish when employed alone.” It is reasonable to conclude, therefore, that a tool certainly allows one to do a job that is not possible without it.
As a concrete example, I will use perhaps the simplest and most quintessential tool in all the toolbox: the humble hammer.
A hammer.
Anybody who has had to drive a nail into a piece of wood knows how indispensable the hammer is. It would be impossible–without the risk of serious injury to oneself–to drive a nail into a piece of wood without one, and we will assume that it is generally accepted that the only folks who can do that are the stars of circus sideshow attractions.
Now we’ll move on to a more nebulous concept: the automobile as a tool. And this is where I’m going to totally get Conman.
Conman has a 2000 Chevrolet Lumina LS sitting in his driveway (perhaps at this very minute). Any time Comnan desires, he can hop into it and drive to any destination with a road leading up to it his willpower and resources will allow.
Conman's 2000 Chevrolet Lumina LS
But let’s examine why Conman would want to employ his car in the first place: Last time I saw Conman, he was possessed of a two working legs, at least one working eye, and all the other organic “glue” that has made the assembly that is Conman capable of self-locomotion. These are all the tools Conman really needs to also get to any destination with a road leading up to it that his willpower and resources will allow, also.
Why, then is a car even necessary? Seems to me, that when filtered through the definitions established above, that the car is just one big giant “crutch.”
Has Conman forgotten how to walk? no. Does he have any medical conditions that would prevent him from walking anywhere? Not to my knowledge. And if you asked Conman, “What is your car: tool or crutch?” He would likely answer “crutch.” But when asked if he would ever give up his car, throw away the keys, and never drive it again, I’m sure the answer would be a firm and resounding “No.”
But why? If your car truly is a crutch, and you have other means to get to the same places you want to go without a car, then why have one?
Could it be that the car truly is a tool after all? Could it be that for all of Conman’s protestations, the car is a necessary element of out highly-evolved, complicated lives nowadays, just as indispensable to living an independent life as the ability to drill a nail into a piece of wood?
Everything is relative.
Without a car, Conman cannot earn his living without becoming a burden to others; his job requires that he be certain places at certain times and in reasonable shape to work. Walking everywhere, therefore, is no longer sufficient to live the lifestyle to which he has obligated himself, and therefore, I would argue that his Lumina is just as indispensable a tool to Conman as the hammer is to a carpenter.
And right there is the nebulous nature of the word “crutch.” It would be far more accurate to say that a crutch is relative to the needs and commitments of the person depending on it. A crutch to you is an indispensable tool to me.
To further his stance in his “tool vs. Crutch” debate, this entry in The Boston Diaries references a short story by Isaac Asimov called The Feeling of Power about a society that has become so dependent upon machines to do basic tasks that those in power have lost the ability to do simple arithmetic–and then subsequently marvel at one “savant” who still possesses the ability to do so. I personally think it is an insulting, condescending piece of literature; not one of Asimov’s best works. But The Feeling of Power does highlight one of Conman’s greatest fears: that we as a society have grown so dependent upon the technology we have swaddled ourselves in that we would all wither and die if it were turned off this afternoon, never to be turned on again.
And I sincerely believe that this fear, more than anything else, is at the very heart of the “Tool vs. Crutch” debate. It can be the only explanation why Conman would journal about it for more entries than I’ve seen him journal about anything else.
Too late, Conman, we’re already very heavily dependent upon our technology for a comfortable existence.
It’s funny; I’m reminded of the terror sparked by the Y2K bug that the whole world would be thrown into chaos and anarchy on 1/1/2000. And let’s say all things technological really did go to Hell in a hand-basket on 1/1/2000. Would it have been an uncomfortable shifting of humanity’s priorities and comfort levels, Yes, definitely. Would we have all survived? I submit to you that despite being uncomfortable for a while, the vast majority of us would have.
I’m not going to take credit for yanking Conman’s worldview out from under him, or shaking him to his very foundations to render him so self-introspective. I’m just going to carry on using my GPS. I used it twice yesterday. I’ll continue to use it as long as I don’t know where something is, and I won’t ask myself why, or whether it’s a tool or a crutch.
Because we have GPS doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten how to use a map and compass. Because we have microwaves and pre-made frozen dinners doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten how to cook. Because we have supermarkets doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten how to hunt and farm. Because we have cars doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten how to walk. Nor will we ever forget how to do any of these things. And of all of these things went away tomorrow, we humans still have our eyes and ears, our hands and legs, and our keen intellect to ensure that we do not perish.
So seriously, the “Tools vs. Crutch” argument is an interesting diversion, but nothing more.
Look around you. Everything is a crutch.
And y’know what? Who cares?
Even if it were all turned off tomorrow, we’ll all be just fine.
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