The Internet's Two-Edged Sword: When Our Digital Tools Cut Both Ways

Dave Rupert's recent post 'Priority of idle hands' articulated something that's been gnawing at me for years: the uncomfortable realization that computers and the internet might actually be bad for me. This is a hard pill to swallow because so much of my identity—my work, hobbies, education, entertainment, news consumption, communities, and curiosities—exists online. I love the internet. It's shaped who I am today.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have grown up in the late 90s and early 2000s, when personal computers, the internet, and then mobile technology were exploding with possibility. What an incredible time to be making websites! The excitement was palpable, the potential seemed limitless.

But here's the thing: I've come to see computers and the internet as a two-edged sword in my life. On one side, they've opened doors to tremendous opportunities—career paths I couldn't have imagined, communities I couldn't have accessed, knowledge I couldn't have acquired. On the other side, they've cut me deeply, repeatedly. And I continue to cut myself with them, even now.

There's this persistent feeling in my gut that the internet and computers don't necessarily align with my personal vision of what a well-lived life looks like. My natural excitement and draw toward these technologies often leave me with that sinking feeling of "I took that too far." I haven't figured out a completely healthy balance yet—though I suppose I'm doing okay in the grand scheme of things.

Dave proposes a 'priority of constituencies' to help navigate his own realization, and I appreciate his framework. It's thoughtful and intentional. I might even borrow from it. But I suspect I need to adapt it, make it my own—I just don't know what that adaptation looks like yet.

The uncomfortable truth is that I wasn't really ready to confront any of this. Reading Dave's blog forced these subconscious thoughts out into the open, where I now have to deal with them. Thanks, Dave—I think?

What makes this particularly challenging is that we're not just talking about a tool we use occasionally. For many of us, especially those in tech, computers and the internet are woven into the very fabric of our existence. They're not just how we work; they're how we learn, how we connect, how we entertain ourselves, how we understand the world.

This creates a paradox: the same technologies that enable our careers and passions can also undermine our well-being. The computer that helps you build amazing things can also trap you in endless doomscrolling. The internet that connects you to brilliant minds can also isolate you from physical-world relationships. The mobile device that empowers you can also fragment your attention into useless shards.

I suspect part of the challenge is that we haven't yet developed cultural frameworks for healthy technology use that match the power and pervasiveness of the tools themselves. We have age-old wisdom about moderation in eating, drinking, even work—but what does moderation look like with infinite information and entertainment at our fingertips?

Some people find relief in digital detoxes or strict boundaries. Others try to be more intentional about their usage. But these feel like partial solutions to a deeper question: how do we honor the tremendous value these technologies bring while protecting ourselves from their costs?

Maybe the answer isn't about finding perfect balance but about developing better awareness. Recognizing when we're using technology as a tool versus when we're using it as an escape. Noticing when it's serving our values versus when it's subverting them. Understanding that loving something doesn't mean it's always good for us.

I'm still figuring this out. But I'm grateful to Dave for articulating what many of us have been feeling but haven't quite been able to name. Sometimes the first step is simply acknowledging that our relationship with technology is complicated—and that's okay. It doesn't mean we have to abandon these tools or the opportunities they provide. It just means we need to approach them with eyes wide open, aware of both their incredible potential and their very real costs.

The two-edged sword metaphor feels apt because it captures something essential: these technologies aren't inherently good or bad. They're powerful. And like any powerful tool, they can create or destroy depending on how we wield them. The challenge isn't to eliminate the cutting edge—it's to learn how to handle the blade without cutting ourselves.