Merlin
There's an app for that!
I think it may have been the question I was asked most frequently when I first started birding, “Have you downloaded Merlin Bird ID?” The revolutionary and much beloved birding app turns your smartphone into a master birder, able to recognize just about any bird you manage to sneakily photograph or record.
I had not downloaded Merlin Bird ID. For some reason, I did not like the idea of it. I did not like the idea of having to put my binoculars down, reach for my phone, see my new messages, open my Merlin app, take a picture or recording of the bird, and then be readily presented with its scientific identification.
In his short essay Why I Am not Going To Buy A Computer, the environmental writer and farmer Wendell Berry explains his reasons for not using a computer for his writings. “I would hate to think,” he writes, “that my work as a writer could not be done without a direct dependence on strip-mined coal. How could I write conscientiously against the rape of nature if I were, in the act of writing, implicated in the rape? For the same reason, it matters to me that my writing is done in the daytime, without electric light.” Instead of using a computer, Berry opts for a different kind of technology: a pen and a piece of paper. To this day, he does not own a computer. He does his writing by hand or by typewriter and corresponds via the landline and by sending letters.
Of course, in many ways, working on a computer and having access to e-mail would make his life easier and more efficient, right? Typing, for most of us, is faster than writing, and an e-mail is delivered much quicker than a letter. In the mindset of capitalist individualism, buying a computer clearly is the right choice. But in the mindset of communal thriving, Berry’s decision becomes a lot more appealing. When we take into consideration not just our individual time and effort but also the amount and types of ‘natural resources,’ cheap labor, and the toll on our psychological well-being, a computer may not be as efficient as it seems at first glance. If we switch our focus from only ourselves and what is efficient for us in the short term to rather what is helping our entire communities, economies, and ecologies thrive, we see that the old ways perhaps weren’t so very bad after all. Or at least, that greater individual ease and efficiency are not always what is truly ‘better.’
Birding with a bird app is much easier than birding with a field guide or learning from a teacher in a birding community. In the mindset of capitalist individualism, downloading Merlin Bird ID clearly is the right choice. The app mechanically categorizes the feathered creature in front of you and presents a clear and often correct answer to the question of which species of bird you are faced with. It then immediately allows you to add this sighting to your personal list. You can share with friends and strangers which exact birds you’ve spotted at which exact location. All of this data is gathered and used by scientists to keep an eye on bird behavior and develop conservation strategies.
Yet, at the same time, there is beauty in learning the names of the birds by word of mouth from another human being. Whereas the app gives you beautiful pictures of the birds and important information, it does not tell you stories, jokes and endearing fun facts. Had I started birdwatching with the app, I probably would have never ended up writing this blog. During my first birdwatching walk, the expert birder I was walking with painted a loving portrait of the different birds we encountered. It was his portrayal of the Turkey Vulture that made me first see birding as a possible way to draw closer to God.
When it comes to religion, we usually understand that ‘easier’ or ‘more efficient’ does not always mean ‘better’. We could take all sorts of food supplements to make Ramadan easier, perform the pilgrimage to Mecca in an airconditioned suit, or make our prayers more efficient by always choosing the shortest chapters in recitation, but we see that this would not necessarily be a ‘good’ thing, because there is beauty in the struggle.
The word jihad literally means ‘struggle’ and has traditionally been divided into two categories: greater and lesser jihad. Lesser jihad refers to the external, societal struggle for goodness and justice and against evil and oppression. This can take the shape of communal organizing, volunteering, working, political engagement, protesting, and, if all else fails, armed resistance and self-defense. Greater jihad, on the other hand, refers to the internal, personal struggle against the evil and dark sides of ourselves. The struggle to become a better person, so to speak. The struggle against arrogance and selfishness, the struggle against jealousy and dishonesty, and the struggle against laziness.
In Surah Al-Baqarah, ‘The Cow’, the second chapter of the Qur’an, we are taught about the obligation of fasting during the month of Ramadan. We learn that fasting is an obligation for all, except those who are ill or who are traveling. Famously, in this verse, we are taught, “God intends ease for you, not hardship” (Qur’an 2:185). Fasting is hard for many of us; it is a jihad, a struggle for the greater good of God-consciousness and discipline. Whilst this verse teaches us not to be excessive in over-disciplining ourselves by fasting when we are ill or traveling, it also teaches us not to be lazy and to complete our fasts with gratitude. On an individual level, it would bring us greater superficial, short-term ‘ease’ not to fast, but in the long term, we communally thrive when we all fast together and grow in God-consciousness, charity, and gratitude. The kind of beautiful, sustainable ease that comes from communal thriving may only be reached through a good amount of struggle and hardship.
We are truly misguided when the principal factor in deciding whether we will take on a new technology is the level of individual, short-term ease it gives us. In Man and Nature, Seyyed Hossein Nasr argues that in the Middle Ages, the development of scientific technology in the Islamic world was halted as opposed to that of the West in later ages precisely because the proposed technological advancements started to pose a threat to the natural environment, and further advancement would require for the natural world to be treated as a profane object instead of a divine living creation. Muslims respected creation so much that they chose to halt technological advancement to protect and respect its balance, rights, and divinity, Soumaya Ouis explains in Islamic Ecotheology Based on the Qur’an.
Wendell Berry, in his essay, sets out his standards for deciding whether to engage with technological innovations. Some of these standards, naturally, deal with individual ease and efficiency: the new tool should be cheaper, as small or smaller, and demonstrably better than the one it replaces. But Berry also includes elements that are beyond mere individual ease, as he proposes any technological innovation “should use less energy than the one it replaces.” and most importantly, “should not replace or disrupt anything good that already exists, and this includes family and community relationships.”
The fast food revolution never would have taken place if we had adhered to these standards. Fast food is all about taking the consumer’s individual short-term ease as a principal factor of decision-making. If we, individually and communally, consider the true costs of our fast greasy standardized food and take into account the wastefulness of single-use packaging and drive-through culture, the health effects of the addictive unhealthy food we eat, and fast food’s detrimental effects on local culture, communities, and cuisines as well as on traditional agriculture and land and animal welfare, it clearly doesn’t meet the standard. If we, producers and consumers, take all of that into account, choosing fast food is insane. But we don’t, we choose based on individual ease and efficiency. For producers, that means choosing maximum profit and cut-throat competitiveness, and for consumers, that means choosing whatever is cheapest and easiest.
Merlin Bird ID is a much more nuanced innovation as compared to the fast food industry. It can be a very helpful tool for beginning and advanced birders alike, and the data gathered through the app has been helpful for conservation efforts and research. For people who already have a smartphone, engaging with the app might even help them get out into nature and spend less time on their phones.
In the best-case scenario, intelligent digital tools like Google Translate help us learn a language and break down the linguistic barriers towards new encounters with different people and cultures. In the worst-case scenario, Google Translate prevents us from ever learning a language and becomes instead the very barrier that separates people speaking different languages from ever truly encountering one another and growing in understanding. Facebook was supposed to be a tool to bring us closer to our friends and stay connected. But has it really? Or has it instead driven us further apart by letting us unconsciously redefine what ‘connection’ means? We are now able to ‘connect’ and ‘talk’ without physical togetherness, without even the use of our voices, or, through automatic AI-generated replies, without even any effort, thought, or personal care. What, then, is the value of the relationship that remains? Is it a human-to-human relationship, or has it merely become a relationship between a human being and their own digital reflection?
I don’t know. I truly don’t. But I do know that I just don’t like the idea of Merlin Bird ID. I’d rather be fully present and enjoy the company of a Merlin whilst being unable to identify it or share that experience with my digital ‘friends’. I’d rather struggle through awkward encounters at birdwatching walks and try to identify the birds I see by finding them in my pocket guide rather than have birding take place on my phone. I’d much rather hear stories and find a meaningful way to learn from and relate to my fellow creatures than have my birding become infected by materialist culture, where it becomes all about capturing the biggest, rarest, and most birds for my trophy cabinet on Merlin Bird ID.
“Truly with hardship comes ease,” we are taught (Qur’an 94:6). We like to remind ourselves of this beautiful phrase in times of hardship as we long for ease and find that she was already waiting for us in the shelter of gratitude and hope. But I think it may be equally important to remind ourselves of this phrase in times when we are tempted by the myth of the inherent goodness of individual short-term ease. For truly, there is no sweeter ease than the ease that stems from the hardship of jihad. The ease of enjoying a locally grown home-cooked meal, the ease of choosing not to buy a computer, and the ease of not always knowing the name of the bird.
Beautiful. You describe what Kōhei Saitō terms the "Imperial Mode of Living" (in his book "Slow Down"). In the spirit of Saitō's Marxist analysis, I want to gently push back. "Fast food" — in the sense of read-made-to-go-meals — was prevalent in premodern history (it wasn't typical to cook at home because it was costly and dangerous), and as you know from your travels, still is in much of the Global South. The problem isn't with fast food per se, but fast food at the industrialized scale of contemporary capitalism. The same can be said for technologies like Facebook. The way Facebook is used in the United States, as a way to reinforce social alienation, is very different from how its used in, say, many countries in the Global South where use of social media has not come at nearly as much a cost to robust social and familial relations. In fact, such technologies have greatly facilitated the maintenance of meaningful relationships, as when my mother uses such technologies to chat for hours with her family in Syria daily.
My point is that there's a cultural substrate where the introduction of technologies and innovations becomes harmful not by necessity, but contingently so. The one Saitō attacks is capitalistic individualist consumerism, or the Imperial Mode of Life. Our understanding of the ethics of technology — which is what Berry's standards are really about — must necessarily bear in mind questions of political economy, or how we organize our lives, how we "make" society, and how we understand our sense of self and being. There's a deeper philosophy that must be interrogated.