From Ronald Kim's, "The Wretched of the Earth," Fall '00 From Ronald Kim's, "The Wretched of the Earth," Fall '00The technological innovations of the past century have altered patterns of living to such a degree that it's difficult to imagine a time when they didn't exist. While the telephone has been around for over a century, more recent advances -- such as cellular phones and the Internet -- are now common fixtures in many people's lives. For those too young to remember the distant days before e-mail (say, 1992), virtual gifts, online chatting -- and increasingly, online living -- are taken for granted by those with enough money to afford computers and the time to play with them. Maybe. But perhaps this ability to reach almost every corner of the globe from your computer has made people forget how rewarding it is to do whatever it takes -- overcoming geographical or political distances, or sheer human laziness -- to keep friends and maintain relationships. Consider the following story: Before World War I, the ancient city of Urfa had one of the most diverse populations in the Middle East. Turkish and Kurdish Muslims mingled with Jews, Yezidis (a sect of Devil propitiators) and every kind of Christian under the sun: Armenian, Syrian and Greek Orthodox, adherents of the ancient Nestorian church, converted Catholics and even a few Protestants. Although many Christians were killed in the genocidal campaigns of the Ottoman Empire during the war, the city retained its multi-ethnic character under French rule afterward. Not until 1924 did the Turks recapture Urfa and drive out most of the Christians, who fled to French-controlled Syria. Fast forward to 1994. British journalist William Dalrymple is sitting in a house in the Syrian city of Aleppo, talking to an 82-year-old Syrian Orthodox man wearing clothes straight out of an Al Capone movie, down to the brimmed hat. Dalrymple asks, "Can you remember anything from the day you left Urfa?" "Anything? I can remember everything!" says Malfono ("Teacher") Namek. "I even remember what we were reading in school when we got the orders to leave within 24 hours. I was 12 years old." Then follows a painful story about his family's struggles as refugees. Suddenly, the Malfono's tone changes. "You know Mr. William, I still have one friend left alive in Urfa? We write to each other. It is 70 years since we last saw each other, but still we correspond." He explains that many of the Muslims were sorry to see the Christians leave, but at least he was able to keep up with this one friend. Can you imagine writing to someone you knew when you were 12, for 70 years, and never seeing them again? Separated by barely 100 miles -- but one of the most hostile political boundaries in a region of hostilities -- Mr. Namek and his sixth-grade classmate nevertheless managed to correspond, using only pen and paper, through most of the 20th century. For me, this story symbolizes the ability of human beings to find and preserve human bonds, just as they preserve and defend whatever else they deem valuable in life. Yet whereas a tense political border and a lack of even telephone lines couldn't keep Mr. Namek and his old Muslim friend apart, how many today could maintain such a relationship for even a few years, even with the "advantages" of the Internet? Very few, I imagine. Online technology has, admittedly, made the world a smaller place and enabled us to "meet" and "talk" to all sorts of strange people from around the wired world. But it's all too easy to forget the difference between such virtual encounters and real-life interactions with friends and loved ones. The Internet keeps us sitting in front of computers, increasingly isolated from each other and the world outside our windows. It also provides an excuse for laziness when it comes to corresponding with those about whom you should care. Maybe it's time to take to heart what my fellow columnist Ariel Horn pointed out last week: that no amount of "virtual reality" can substitute for face-to-face experiences and real-life emotions. In other words, technological innovations will alter, but not necessarily improve, how we live our lives. Unfortunately, as our dependency on the Internet and other forms of instant communication continues to grow, we run the risk of distancing ourselves from those fundamental qualities -- perseverance, personal loyalty, faith and ultimately love -- that made it possible for Mr. Namek to stay so close to his long-lost friend.
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