Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Are We Hyper-Technologized?

I love technology. After all, it's how I make a living, and I truly enjoy taking advantage of cleverly engineered, well-built tools. (And for me, "tool" could mean anything from a smartphone to a well-made crescent wrench.) I'm old enough that I still feel a bit of a thrill when I power up a computer or realize that, with modern tech, I can do things that in previous years would have been difficult, expensive, or simply impossible. Technology continues to amaze and enthrall me: drones, GPS, digital assistants, desktop publishing…. For me, all of these things bring to mind Arthur C. Clarke's famous dictum (now a bit over-used, I suppose): "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Much of this stuff still seems magical to me, even though I know something about how it's done.

This is an Oregon Scientific weather station much like the
one that Lesley and I have in our home and which only
one of us has learned to use.

For example, Lesley and I have the world's most awesome weather station. Among other things, it includes an electronic rain gauge that sends a very precise rainfall measurement to a central display unit that's kept in the house. Any time we want, we can simply look at the display and know that we have received exactly 2.736" of rain over the past 24 hours. (Technically speaking, we cannot do this. Lesley can do this. I have not mastered the rigorous calculus that's apparently necessary to tell the display that we want to see the rainfall totals. So I just randomly push buttons until something happens. Sometimes Lesley comes and rescues me, but most often, I end up with a display of temperature or wind direction, or possibly a readout of my next door neighbor's teenage son's digital music collection or my pickup truck's current gas mileage. Both of the last two are kind of depressing.)

The thing is that this rain gauge doesn't even really measure rainfall—not directly, anyway. It's engineered such that a small catchment collects rainwater through a funnel arrangement. That small container is attached to an arm, and once it has collected the appropriate amount of rain, based on weight, the arm swings down and dumps the rainwater out the bottom of the device. And every time that happens, a counter is incremented. Since we know how much water weighs (if you're curious, it's about 8.3 lbs. per gallon, though rainfall in Los Angeles—being full of various poisonous particulates—tends to weigh more) and how much the catchment holds, the machine can be calibrated to convert the number of times the counter has incremented into accurate measurements of rainfall.

That's pretty damned clever, isn't it? There's a lot of math and machining and electronics and manufacturing know-how in that little rain gauge.

Mind you, we also have an old fashioned, clear plastic cylindrical rain gauge in a holder attached to the side of our deck about two feet away from the digital rain gauge. It was manufactured right here in Lincoln, Nebraska by Garner Industries, and it probably cost about $7 a few years back. If Lesley's not around to rescue me, and if I get tired of randomly pushing buttons on our fancy weather station display, I can always just glance over at the plastic "analog" rain gauge and see how much rain we got. And then . . . well, actually, that's it. I'm done. If I need to start a new countdown, I can "reset" the gauge by picking it up and turning it over so that the rainwater dumps out onto our . . . um, whatever those plants are off to the side of the deck. (Plants and weeds all look alike to me, which is how I've gotten out of weeding for the past several years.)

Or one could use a simple, inexpensive plastic rain
gauge, such as this one.
So, although I think it's kinda fun, it would be a stretch to say that we actually need a digital weather station. I like it, but I can't say there aren't other (often easier, almost always less expensive) ways to get the same information.

Sometimes we end up with technology that was created simply because it could be created or because someone thought it would be cool or because we're determined to improve on the old way of solving a problem. Much of the time, we don't really need it, and there may even be times when it's more trouble than it's worth.

Take bomb-detecting. Surely this seems like a worthwhile endeavor and something worth spending money on. So the U.S. armed services (and researchers in their employ) have spent millions on various types of metal detectors, special cameras, and chemical sniffers. This has resulted in about a 50% success rate in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Of course, being able to locate half of the IEDs (improvised explosive devices) scattered along a roadside or in a field is nothing to sneeze at. But you know what's proven to be much, much more effective? A dog. When dogs are used to patrol, that 50% jumps to 80% or more. And the thing is that DARPA (the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) has been trying to come up with something that's better than a dog since 1997. Can't do it. Apparently, there is nothing better than a dog. A well-trained dog is very, very good at detecting bombs. (Or hard drives, or dope, or people, or just about anything else you care to train a dog to detect.) There is simply nothing trainable on the planet that's better at literally sniffing things out. (Which makes sense. Consider that the typical human has about 5 million olfactory receptors in his or her nose, while a dog has more than 220 million such sensors. To be a dog is to inhabit a world much richer, more fragrant, and probably much more interesting than the drab one in which you and I live. Also, they get tummy rubs.)

Training and provisioning a dog costs money, of course. Some sources say that a trained bomb-sniffing dog can cost between $5,000 and $25,000 or more. (That's a rather large variance, of course. Perhaps a bomb-sniffing Bichon, being more . . . uh, portable, is worth more than a bomb-sniffing Doberman?) But even at the high end, that's much less than the cost of most hi-tech bomb-detection tools, and the dog is easy to operate and also serves other functions. And in the end, the dog simply works better than the hi-tech tools.

Bichons are SO cute that they look a bit like they
escaped from a comic strip. (Photo licensed under
the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported
license by user Rocktendo.)
Altogether, the Pentagon has, since 2004, spent about $19 billion on bomb-detecting gadgets and other hi-tech mechanisms meant to deal with insurgent networks and the IEDs they plant. (Even if a trained dog cost $20K, that means that our $19 billion would buy about 950,000 dogs. That's a lot of dogs. I'm pretty sure that if you simply let 950,000 trained dogs loose in Afghanistan, the war would be over in days. Although I'm not sure who will have to clean up the place afterward.) One of these hi-tech gadgets is VaDER (am I the only one who reads a certain evil malevolence into that acronym?), which DARPA would like us to believe stands for Vehicle and Dismount Exploitation Radar, but which is obviously just an excuse to come up with a Star Wars-themed anti-insurgency device. VaDER is a $138 million aircraft-mounted sensor that tracks moving targets from an aircraft. We don't really know how well VaDER works, because a spokesperson said only that it and related tools were "enormously useful." So, that's good; wouldn't want to spend that kind of money on something that was only "mildly useful" or "somewhat useful."

I like clever stuff, but we seem to have a facility for over-engineering solutions, is what I'm saying here. Do we really need a toilet seat that automatically closes when the user (a man, one assumes) walks away? Can't the guy just put the seat down? Or couldn't the next person to use the toilet simply put the lid down? How hard is it, really? Or maybe you need a connected weight-loss fork that vibrates when you've eaten too much! Or possibly some air-conditioned shoes? (These look suspiciously like . . . well, shoes with holes in them. Say, I guess I already have some air-conditioned shoes down in the basement! I would be willing to sell those to you for, oh, $30 each. That's $48 off!) How about a mug that lights up to indicate the temperature of its contents? So you can tell if your tea is too hot, I guess. Just take a sip, dammit! If it burns, it's too hot; go take a walk in your air conditioned shoes for a few minutes while your tea cools off a bit.

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