Humans have been writing for five thousand years. Egyptians used reed pens, ink, and papyrus in the First Dynasty (3000 BC).

That’s a pretty robust technology. In our modern world we have lots of ways of writing: printing presses, typewriters, word processors, whiteboards, touchscreens, talk-to-text, and every kind of implement from Sharpies to airbrushes. And let’s not forget golf pencils!

Typewriters were once essential. Now they’re quaint. What other means of writing will follow them to the dustbin? We live in an era of rapid technological change, yet we embrace new technologies as if they will last forever. Remember fax machines?

I’ve always thought of myself as interested in technology and enthusiastic about new inventions. Ever since the iPhone however, I’ve had a change of heart. I’m not opposed to new tech, of course. I just wish we would get off the goddamn tech treadmill that demands constant “upgrading.” Did you know there have been 47 iterations of the iPhone since its first release in 2007?

That’s absurd. Most of the digital junk in the world exists because some company decided last year’s product is now obsolete and needs replacing. Nearly 1 in 5 people in the world use an iPhone. Have you got your iPhone 16 yet?

I’m picking on Apple because they are a corporate behemoth. They do a great job with their advertising and they exude a free-spirited image, but they are as buttoned-down as any other outfit governed by quarterly results.

I’m choosing to replace “upgrade” with Cory Doctorow’s lovely neologism “enshittification.” Once a company’s product gets popular enough, it gets harder and harder to grow the user base. And grow the user base is the Single Most Important Principle of the tech business model. So how do you get new people? You add new features! You change old ones! You make the product seem fresher and better. Note that I said “seem.” Rarely do good products get better. They usually get worse. Bigger, uglier, clunkier, and further removed from the user’s experience. Google Search is a good example. It used to be a great adventure to surf the ‘net with a search engine. Now it’s a chore—all the links are paid for and the same ones turn up over and over again. The world wide web is now a gated community.

I think today’s vehicles are much better than the old ones of my youth. And certainly computers are slicker and more powerful. TVs are waaaaay nicer. I look forward to the future—people will invent new things, create new things, and discover new things. I think all that is marvelous.

But our Silicon Valley Tech Bro Overlords want to squeeze every goddamn nickel of profit out of every thought you make and every breath you take. They want to digitize, tokenize, and monetize every goddamn thing everyone does in this world. They want you completely enmeshed in their products so that all your actions will add to their bottom line.

But writing belongs to everyone. Apple doesn’t own it, even if all the writing a billion people do everyday is on an Apple device.

I say let’s start carrying a pencil and a piece of paper in our pockets wherever we go. I mean, we carry smartphones with us everywhere, and those are complex, expensive things that need frequent attention and regular charging. It’s like carrying a hamster around. You have to be vigilant or the little thing will run away, or get squished, or bite your finger. Our digital devices have a life, and we’ve chained ourselves to them.

Writing, that is, the robust, old-fashioned way of making marks on paper, will survive. Tech comes and tech goes. What’s hip today is moldy tomorrow. Writing is personal. It’s intimate. It’s tactile. It’s universal. It’s quiet. It doesn’t need batteries. It doesn’t even need an audience. Writing for oneself is an ancient practice.

Pencil, paper, and pencil “lead” (i.e. graphite) are all carbon-based. Just like us. Writing is life!