By Raffique Shah
May 2,

A few weeks ago, I dived into the past—and into the pace at which the world is moving—to capture as much as I could about information technology: how it has impacted the world, and how it has given us tools to unlock history at a dizzying speed.

That speed seems almost designed to leave slower learners behind, as though some unseen device might simply eject them from the aircraft.

We humble, simple folk have been forced to learn as much as we can about these technologies—or risk being left far behind if we cannot.

We, from a younger generation (don’t laugh at me), must become competent in using modern tools or we simply won’t survive. Let’s face it: washing machines, dryers, stoves, cars, entertainment systems—just about everything today runs on the latest technology.

At home, we have a toaster oven that is almost a year old, and I have yet to master turning the thing on. I use it only because, as most geezers and ­geezesses know, we are more prone than others to leaving a burner on—or worse, leaving an unlit one on, with LPG gas filling the house.

It matters not how many lives are lost in man’s quest for the newest upgrade; he often ignores the potential for catastrophe when these devices are used improperly or malfunction.

When you sit at the editor’s desk and are forced to operate programmes and devices that have taken decades to develop, you can feel lost as younger colleagues effortlessly master them. They not only surpass you but can even teach you a thing or two.

It is no wonder that younger faces now hold larger portfolios. They are moving with the times.

But nothing in this global, technology-driven upheaval brought me face to face with reality as much as when my son—who keeps up with these advances—used one of those search engines with integrated AI to look up his father’s name.

He asked it questions about my past and the things I have done. I have never heard such comprehensive answers to thought-provoking questions.

Before you jump to conclusions, both my children and my grandchild have been thoroughly informed about my life—the places I have visited, the jobs I have held, and the people I have met and conversed with. So his use of an AI prompt was more out of curiosity about what others might think of me and my contributions to Trinidad and Tobago from 1970 onward.

As he read his findings aloud, I realised the results were chock-full of information. The question-and-answer session yielded some gems even I had forgotten—remember, I am now 80 years wise.

My history has been colourful: I have been a teacher, a soldier, a mutineer, an entrepreneur, a politician, a trade unionist, a columnist—and several other things. I have been of interest to the media, politicians, students, trade unionists, the CIA, the police—perhaps even the KGB; who knows?

Much has been written, said, and pondered about me and the life I have led. I attended conferences and spoke at meetings in Russia, Poland, the USA (where I was often tailed by the CIA), and Cuba, to name a few.

Yes, I lived an adventurous life long before the advent of modern technology, and certainly well before AI came onto the scene.

I imagine that today it would be difficult for someone of my character to move incognito among crowds—especially to blend in without someone shouting, “Shah!” and then taking the proverbial selfie with me and posting it online. Cover blown.

Thinking about how advanced we have become technologically, it has now rendered what we used in the 1990s and early 2000s obsolete. Dial-up Internet seems like a nightmare we once shared.

We now have homes controlled by AI—you can simply ask Amazon’s Alexa to lock the doors, and it does. Stephen Hawking warned about such developments.

I am grateful that I have lived through these eras of communication and modes of travel—the Concorde, the jumbo jet, and now even the possibility of being blasted into space for a few minutes.

I admit that I still long for ­privacy, and I create it whenever I can. I have had to work hard to keep my family and close friends shielded from this intrusive ­environment, which is quickly becoming a way of life for many.

I may yet escape with my dignity intact—my private life remaining private, and my children and grandchildren protected from prying eyes. That much, I appreciate.