It’s a familiar scenario. Friends sitting around, question comes up: hey, what was the band in that song? What’s the name of the actress in that movie we saw the other day? and what else did she appear in? And someone is on it with the smart phone, producing relief within seconds…Ahhhh.
The thirst for knowledge quenched. Feels so good.
One of the effects of the internet is knowledge addiction. We have become intolerant of curiosity unsatisfied. And the more we learn, the more questions we have. (How old is that actress? What’s she look like now? Who is her latest husband? Oh, that guy; what was that movie he was in back in the 80s? What’s he up to now…etc.)
Curiosity functions like the salty chips we eat because washing them down with beer feels so good.
Not having a smart phone, I approach the computer every morning with a list of items generated in early hours to google: the year Hemingway shot himself, the temperature at this exact moment in the town we visited last winter, the year of the first Patriots’ superbowl victory. (And whatever happened to whathisname, the quarterback? How old is he now?)
That line of old-fashioned poetry for some reason in my head. Shakespeare, I think. Or is it Pope? Hold on, I’ll check. A mini-binge of answers to start the day.
It does feel sort of addictive. But knowledge addiction? Wasn’t curiosity and the drive to satisfy it always considered one of the nobler human traits, the hallmark of a good student, characteristic of fresh young minds? A trait catered to in many families with the Christmas purchase of an encyclopedia? (Break here to google “decline in encyclopedia sales” in the last 20 years. Come up with 2012 story: “How wikipedia killed Britannica,” at least the hard copy version. Wow.)
Yes, impatience with ignorance pushes us to learn. But there’s something about this instant gratification that goes too far. For one thing, it can’t be good for the memory to be constantly upstaged by consultation with the computer.
But more than that, our ability to live with curiosity, to tolerate ignorance.. is being undermined. And since there will always be more about the world, about life—especially the important things—that we don’t know than what we do, the old-fashioned ability to be content with not knowing would seem to be worth cultivating.
“Curiosity killed a cat.” Why, exactly, I wonder. What is there about curiosity that did the job? And what’s the origin of that old saw, anyway? And while I’m looking that up, when was “old saw” first uttered, and by whom? Hold on.
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