Last Sunday morning, while attending weekly mass at kodaira's local catholic church, i noticed something strange. I have been here for some times, but this time is different in my eyes. Several old TV monitor hug at the ceiling. Not a slim LCD TV as we know today, but it is really old bulky convex TV monitor. I don't even know if it is remote operated or not. At first I'm thinking whether the church can not afford to buy a new ones or something else. But using the modernity-sustainability perspective, i'm started to think that it might more than just a matter of affordable or not.
I see some another perspective of modernity in this old TV. By the way, this old monitor is hung on the ceiling as a teleprompter for the people attending the mass, it tells on what page the reading or the song is. I see that this reflected what the true meaning of modernity. It shows that modernity should be like this. it works just the way it is. it operates just like what it is meant to be. the most important thing is, it is reliable.
I didn't mention that those TV should to be perfect or never broken to be labeled as "sustainable", it just ready when needed, and troubleshoot-able. Modern tech now is very advance, you can watch tv, at the same time, you can do anything else through your TV, but it is fragile. If it is broken, there is a big chance that you have to dispose it. The other thing is, nowaday's TV are full of sophisticated feature, but do we need them all?.
This idea of simple, functional modernity isn’t just found in that old church. Think about the old mobile phones from the early 2000s. Their batteries lasted for a week. You could drop them, and they would not break. Their purpose was clear: to make calls and send texts. They fulfilled a need perfectly. Now, compare that to the smartphone in your pocket. It is transformed into powerful computer that can do amazing things, but its battery barely lasts a day, its screen is fragile, and it is full of notifications that constantly demand our attention. For the essential need to communicate, which one is truly more advanced?
So, why have we chosen this path? The answer is not just about technology; it's about culture and economics. We live in a culture of consumerism, where companies spend billions of dollars on advertising to make us feel that our current possessions are outdated. The goal is to create a constant feeling of "want," even when our "needs" are already met. There is also a deeper, more deliberate reason: a concept called "planned obsolescence." Many modern products are intentionally designed to have a short lifespan. They are built to break after a few years, and repairs are often made so difficult or expensive that it’s easier to just buy a new one. This business model forces us to keep consuming. That old television in the church is a quiet protest against this idea. It has survived for decades precisely because it was built to last, not to be replaced.
To be clear, I am not saying we should never buy new tech-stuff. Any kind of technology or innovation emerges to solve a problem. But the real question is, which kind of problem? which kind of needs? This is where wisdom must take its place, allowing us to choose what we truly need from what we just want. In another perspective, those old TVs in the church might have to be replaced, and for a good reason. Safety, for example. A heavy, bulky TV could hurt someone if it falls. The point is not to reject change, but to be wise and think before we take action.
This way of thinking has a serious cost. All these discarded gadgets create mountains of "e-waste", a growing environmental crisis that pollutes our planet. The simple act of using an old device for as long as it works is a powerful act of sustainability. Furthermore, we have lost our sense of control. When that old TV breaks, a local technician might be able to open it and fix it. But a modern device is a sealed "black box." We are completely dependent on the corporation that made it, or we have to buy a new ones.
It all brings me back to that Sunday morning in Kodaira. Looking at that old TV wasn't about seeing the past. It was about seeing a different, wiser idea of the future. It suggests that we should redefine what it means to be modern. Maybe being truly modern is not about chasing the newest, shiniest object. Maybe it is about the wisdom to choose things that are reliable, repairable, and truly serve our needs. Perhaps true modernity is not loud and complicated. Perhaps it is quiet, humble, and simply does its job.
In the end, that old television teaches a final, deep lesson. Our life with technology is not about the next upgrade. It is about the small choices that decide our future. The idea of sustainability can seems so complicated. But the final result is simple: we will be sustained, or we will perished. The idea of a simple modernity is the answer. We choose to be sustained not in big world meetings, but in the quiet decisions we make every single day.
To tell you the truth, this whole piece is part of a fight I'm having with myself: should I really buy a new Nintendo Switch? It might seem like a small thing. But it is from these small, personal struggles that we choose the kind of future we want.