The devil’s bargain: Civilization’s blessings and my memory loss
Which do you prefer: Kindle or physical books? This question is a classic online debate. For years, I believed I preferred Kindle. Rationally speaking, there is no contest: Kindle makes buying effortless, eliminates carrying bulk, and saves storage space. If someone spoke of the “texture and smell of paper,” I used to dismiss it as mere nostalgia.
Let me share a confession: Have you ever bought the same book twice? I used to occasionally, but now Kindle prevents it by giving me a heads-up. When I first discovered this feature, I felt awe at the blessing of civilization. However, my admiration soon turned to doubt. This digital guardrail against mistaken purchases became necessary because it was happening to me more often than before.
I have to admit that I am becoming more forgetful as I grow older, but I suspect that’s not the only problem. I noticed I wasn’t enjoying reading as much as I used to. Today, I’d like to share how a self-proclaimed rationalist (like me) came to question the relentless pursuit of efficiency.
The Amazon Prime loop: Watching the same movie twice
The same, perplexing problem emerged earlier with movies. For the past few years, I’ve watched almost everything on Amazon Prime. It happens very often now that I’m halfway through a movie when I suddenly realize, “Wait, I’ve definitely seen this before.” In that case, I simply look for something else without a second thought.
This phenomenon leads me to a conclusion: perhaps it is not the content of the book or movie that I truly wanted. All that truly counts is not the information or the story itself, but the whole process or experience of getting ready to read or watch.
The value of inefficiency: A lost art
Consider my youth, before streaming and digital ease. Since there was no online market for books, I went bookstore-hopping and read the summary on the back cover thoroughly before committing my limited budget. For movies, the effort was more severe; tickets were expensive. I would read movie magazines (without buying them) to check the coming season’s releases. After deciding, I would buy an advance ticket because it was cheaper. I remember placing the ticket on my wall and gazing at it from time to time, awaiting the opening.
Yes, this whole process was absolutely inefficient and time-consuming compared with the current sophisticated digital systems. Yet, the books and movies I spent more time and effort on remain far stronger and more meaningful in my mind. The “inefficiency” amplified the commitment, which, in turn, cemented the memory.
The cost of “Cost Performance”: Rethinking life’s logic
Now, people might call this pure nostalgia, but I think they are missing the point. My point is that I enjoyed the process of reading and watching more than I do now, precisely because of the inefficiency.
Many Japanese people, myself included, are self-proclaimed rationalists who love the phrase “cost performance.” We tend to judge things based on whether they are “worth the cost.” But if we give ultimate importance to cost performance, we quickly realize we have to reconsider the meaning of life—because living itself is notoriously poor in cost performance.
I believe many people have noticed this internal contradiction. Consequently, the travel industry is booming post-Corona, with more and more people returning to physical, in-person activity, despite it being costly, inefficient, and time-consuming. It is a truly human reaction to reject pure efficiency in favor of meaningful experience.
And here is the local conclusion: In Hokkaido, the northernmost part of Japan, we are welcoming the best season, early summer. Next month, there will be a design event, Asahikawa Design Week, where I am confident you can satisfy your thirst for real, inefficient communication with people and nature. Come and experience the hidden cost of efficiency—it’s worth the lack of cost performance!
Photo credit: https://adwhokkaido.com/cat-exhibition/192/
https://adwhokkaido.com/cat-exhibition/416/
Shungo Ijima
Global Connector | Reformed Bureaucrat | Professional Over-Thinker
After years of navigating the rigid hallways of Japan’s Ministry of Finance and surviving an MBA, he made a life-changing realization: spreadsheets are soulless, and wood has much better stories to tell.
Currently an Executive at CondeHouse, he travels the world decoding the “hidden DNA” of Japanese culture—though, in his travels, he’s becoming increasingly more skilled at decoding how to find the cheapest hotels than actual cultural mysteries.
He has a peculiar talent for finding deep philosophical meaning in things most people ignore as meaningless (and to be fair, they are often actually meaningless). He doesn’t just sell furniture; he’s on a mission to explain Japan to the world, one intellectually over-analyzed observation at a time. He writes for the curious, the skeptical, and anyone who suspects that a chair might actually be a manifesto in disguise.
Follow his journey as he bridges the gap between high-finance logic and the chaotic art of living!