But
then, every so often, something comes along that actually does change
everything. It generally takes a while for people to understand the
implications of that innovation, however. Gutenberg’s printing press is a good
example: it’s hard to think of a day that more totally changed the world—and
for the better—than that fateful day in 1452 on which Gutenberg produced his
first printed Bible, thus opening the path for printed books to supplant hand-written
manuscripts by making it possible to create hundreds, or even thousands,
of copies of a book in the time a scribe
would have earlier on needed to create a single volume. And, yes, things got
off to a strong start: by 1500, there were a cool 30,000 books in print across
Europe. But even so it took almost a century and a half before it dawned on
someone that Gutenberg’s invention could be used to publish a daily printed
newspaper. (That first effort was the rather infelicitously named Relation aller
Fürnemmen und gedenckwürdigen Historien, a German-language newspaper that Johann
Carolus began publishing in Strasbourg in 1605.)
Some of
these game-changing moments seem less momentous as time passes: I can remember
the teenaged me thinking that nothing would ever be the same again after Neil Armstrong
set foot on the moon in 1969, only later on to realize that it was a
come-and-go moment that, practically speaking, changed nothing at all in terms
of the way we live our lives down here on earth. Others seem only in retrospect
to have been crucial turning points, but went totally unnoticed at the
time: surely the invention of email counts as an innovation that permanently
altered the way society functions, but I myself can’t say with certainly who
invented it or when exactly. (I can now—I just looked it up and so can you:
click here. But
why V.A. Shiva Ayyadurai is basically unknown, while Neil Armstrong’s name is
known even to young children—that would be an interesting issue to think
through. Perhaps I’ll return to that one of these days and see what I can come
up with.)
But I
write about all this today because I noted in the paper something a few weeks
ago that feels to me as though it might well be—at least in retrospect—a true game-changer
moment. It surely went unnoticed by most. In the end, it may end up to have
been a fancy parlor-trick that only felt momentous at the moment. Or it may be
an innovation that possesses the potential to address the scourge of
homelessness.
As
recently as ten years ago, it was estimated that there were as many as 100 million
people in the world living without roofs over their heads. Nor is this a
Third World problem per se: in 2018 it was estimated by the government that
there were about 553,000 homeless individuals in the United States, 65% of whom
were temporarily being housed in shelters and 35% of whom were fending for
themselves on our nations’ streets. Just this spring, the New York Times
reported that there were about 114,000 school-age children who were or will be
either permanently or temporarily homeless during the current school year. (To
read more about that almost unbelievable statistic, click here.)
The
roots of homelessness are complicated and vary from context to context, but the
cost of owning a home is surely part of the problem. Maybe it’s the advent of
Pesach that has made me especially sensitive to the whole issue: the holiday is
formally about freedom from slavery, but the famous image of the Israelites
yearning for home while spending forty years living in flimsy, roofless sukkot
that provided no real protection from the elements, no meaningful security,
and hardly any privacy at all—all those themes came together to draw my
attention to an article in the New York Post last week that announced something
that struck me as the kind of innovation that could conceivably take its place
next to Gutenberg’s press one of these days. And it too had something to do
with printing.
Or at
least with a printer.
The
article, by Mary K. Jacob, reported that 70-year-old Tim Shea, formerly a
homeless soul living on the streets in Austin, Texas, now resides in a
400-square-foot home that was created with a 3-D printer and which is part of a
community of such structures created especially to house 180 people like
himself in homes they rent for $300 a month. (The community also provides work
opportunities for the residents, so all who live there can earn their rent and
remain permanently in place. To read the New York Post article, click here.) The
cost of creating such a home, using machines called “large concrete 3-D
printers” is about $10,000. But the price is expected to drop as the technology
becomes more advanced and one essay I found projected the eventual cost of
using such a machine to create an inhabitable home to be about $3500. Also
relevant is that such a building can be constructed by four workers in less
than twenty-four hours. (For a more detailed account by Adele Peters of how
this unbelievable technology works, click here.) Each printer—obviously something akin to the
printer on your desk but also quite different from it—costs about $100,000 and
is expected to be able to produce about 1,000 homes. So that would add about
$100 to the cost of each home, a more than bearable addition. The homes are
made of concrete and mortar, both substances readily available in most Third
World countries. The roofs are not 3-D printed.
One of
the Torah’s most chilling lines is in the fifteenth chapter of Deuteronomy. The
text enjoins the Israelite to be generous and kind when it comes to charitable
giving, and never to begrudge the poor their alms, “for it was precisely to
grant you the ability to show such solicitude to the poor that God blessed you
with whatever wealth you possess in the first place.” And then Scripture goes
on to note wistfully that this shall be a permanent obligation, “for surely the
poor will never vanish entirely from the land.” Ramban says to take this more
as a dour observation than as an actual prophetic oracle—and thus specifically not
to conclude that the eradication of poverty is something that could never
actually be achieved—and I’d like to think that that is exactly correct. (Ramban,
also called Nachmanides, died in 1270 and is still considered one of the
greatest Torah commentators.) And that is why I responded so emotionally to
that story in the paper the other day: the thought that it could be possible to
address the world-wide problem of homelessness by building habitable homes for
less than the cost of a car and then by constructing communities that present
future residents with the kind of work-opportunities that will make residence
in such homes affordable for all—that really does seem to me like a
game-changer. If I had to bequeath to my lovely granddaughters a world in which
no human being had ever walked on the moon, I could live with that. But to
think that the possibility exists to offer them a world in which all human
beings can live in dignified, secure housing—that seems to me like the kind of innovative
change that really would be a game-changer in terms of the way we live in the
world.
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