The Tech in My Life #8: Overhead Projectors

As with Roneo and Banda machines, school also introduced me to overhead projectors – the presentation tool that pre-dated PowerPoint and digital projectors.

Some teachers would diligently prepare the transparent sheets in advance, and hope that the ink wouldn’t rub off or smudge ahead of time. I seem to recall that some lessons involved pre-printed crib sheets, that teachers would annotate by hand in real time. Others simply made it up as they went along – hopefully, they remembered not to write directly on the projection bed with a permanent marker, but used the special pens whose ink could be easily wiped off afterwards.

This rudimentary technology survived into my time at university, and even into my early corporate life – before laptops became ubiquitous. Nowadays, even a Microsoft PowerPoint, Apple Keynote or Google Slide presentation can seem quaint, as audiences increasingly demand/expect more immersive content. But maybe a return to simpler formats would prove the adage that “less is more”?

Next week #9: Borrowing Library Books

The Tech in My Life #7: Stencil and Spirit Duplicators

Before Microsoft Word, Adobe Photoshop and print-on-demand services, “desktop publishing” meant stencil machines and spirit duplicators. Mostly known by their brand names such as Roneo (mimeograph or stencil duplicator) and Banda (ditto machine or spirit duplicator), these printing presses were small enough to be operated on an actual desktop. They were perfect for self-publishing small print runs of home-made magazines and newsletters.

At school, teachers used them to make handouts and quizzes. In years 11 and 12, my friends and I produced several issues of an alternative school magazine using a Gestetner stencil duplicator. Fiddly work, but highly satisfying when everything went right.

Most people will probably remember them for the heady smell of the chemicals they used. Thanks to health and safety concerns (as well as cheaper photocopying and better flatbed scanners), these machines are no longer anywhere to be seen.

The core technology lives on in the form of Risographs, a 1980’s invention that has seen renewed interest in recent years among zines and comics – mainly because the economics can work out better than photocopying, inkjet printing, laser printing or traditional offset printing, and because the process uses more organic soy-based inks.

Next week #8: Overhead Projectors

 

Time for age limits on religion?

As more countries consider following Australia’s lead in banning or restricting children and young people from accessing social media, I wonder why we don’t similarly consider a ban on religion for anyone under 16? Surely, if we want to protect our children from the potential harm caused by social media, we should include religious faith as having similar harmful effects on young minds.

I appreciate this may sound deliberately contentious, but bear with me. I come to this suggestion from a number of perspectives.

First, my own position on “god” and faith-based beliefs sits somewhere between agnosticism and atheism. For those who say “you’re just sitting on the fence” or “you’re hedging your bets”, I would reply I simply don’t have that die-hard certainty in theological beliefs or conviction of faith that is usually required (if not enforced) by most religions and cults. I have no problem with people practising or adhering to their own faiths. But in liberal, progressive, pluralistic and democratic societies the right to “freedom of religion” is balanced with the right to “freedom from religion”. Meaning I shouldn’t be disadvantaged or persecuted solely for my choice of a specific religion, or my choice of no religion. I would also side with the humanists and secularists who argue that your freedom to exercise your religion should not cause any harm to others, especially not to those who do not follow your particular persuasion. And your religious practices and preferences certainly shouldn’t curb my individual rights to things like legal birth control, divorce, gender equality etc. I would also argue that an individual’s freedom to choose their own religion (not have it imposed at birth as if it formed part of our DNA) should be based on an informed, independent and personal decision. Just as we have age limits for voting, driving, marriage and sexual relations, I think we should have minimum age limits for religious membership and participation.

Second, many of my ancestors were subjected to religious persecution. My French ancestors were protestants (Huguenots) and were effectively driven out of France; my Irish ancestors were catholics, and endured the strictures of British colonialism. Both suffered due to religious sectarianism – so I have little time for religious practices that foster discrimination, forced conversion or violence born of intolerance, fanaticism, extremism and fundamentalism. I certainly don’t want to live under theocratic rule!

Third, I spent much of my A-Level History course studying the Protestant Reformation, and the Catholic Counter-Reformation. From a political and cultural perspective, it is an extremely important period, and many of the key events and outcomes are echoed in today’s geo-political landscape. For example, Henry VIII’s break with Rome can be seen as the first Brexit; while vernacular translations of the bible and other religious texts (rather than the Latin versions imposed by the Catholic Church) were important for helping to spread literacy, and they have helped to inform notions of self-determination by nation states and ethnic minorities.

Fourth, those A-Level studies also exposed much of the nonsense that is spouted in the name of religion, for example: theological disputes around predestination and transubstantiation, and debates about how many angels can fit on the head of a needle. Much earlier in my life, I was a member of a church choir. I recall, aged 7 or 8, having to read out aloud during Sunday services some passages from the bible which I just didn’t understand (and which no-one in church could rationally explain). Yet, because they represented the “word of god”, they had to be true, and I was required to believe them, otherwise I was going to burn in hell. That’s surely not how we should be educating children, is it?

If we do want to teach ideas about religion to children under the age of 16, perhaps we need a different approach. While schools may offer classes in comparative religion, it’s largely under the auspices of religious education or religious instruction (or maybe social studies). Whereas, I think sacred texts should be taught as literature (fiction or poetry), and open to the same level of critical analysis applied to Shakespeare, Jane Austen or George Orwell. Maybe these texts could be studied and critiqued in philosophy classes, but certainly not taught as part of science or history subjects!

The current public debate around “religious freedom” is often tied up in torturous arguments about protected beliefs, freedom of speech, and the “right” to cause offence against someone’s personal beliefs. Increasingly, taking a secular or non-sectarian stance against religious overbearance (whether in the form of Islamic Jihadism, Christian Nationalism, Zionism, Hindu Nationalism or Buddhist ethno-nationalism) is dismissed and even prosecuted as evidence of racism, xenophobia, religious discrimination or incitement to violence. And as for the Federal government’s back-flip on launching a Royal Commission in the aftermath of the Bondi massacre, I think the Prime Minister was probably right to change his mind about holding an enquiry, but got it totally wrong by framing it in the context of only one form of religion. Instead, he should have made it a broader examination of religious extremism and sectarian intolerance of all kinds, and the harm this is having on society and our personal freedoms.

Next week: The cost of AI

Old School Ties

Last month I visited my old high school to attend the annual reunion. This was the first time I’d been to a formal alumni event, only 46 years after I left.

That’s not to say I haven’t kept in contact with my school mates, despite living on the other side of the world. Among the Class of ’79 who had turned up, I’d seen all but one of them in the past couple of years, and I try to catch up with this group each time I go back to the UK.

Despite the passing years, I was surprised by how much the old place felt so familiar – I guess having more than 450 years of history behind it means that tradition runs deep.

At the same time, it also felt quite alien – I realise that although I am originally from the local area, I feel less and less of it. Nevertheless, I was reassured that however much things may change, my immediate circle of school friends endures.

Why should that be so? Yes, “old school ties” can form the basis of life-long relationships, linked to a specific educational institute; and those ties can be both tangible and metaphorical. But more importantly, these connections are built on a mix of broad common values, our shared experiences, and the age we met.