The elevator is a marvelous invention. The ability to mechanically hoist yourself up a hundred flights of stairs in mere minutes is an immaculate feat. Furthermore, the ability for disabled people to move around with far more ease is incredible. Needless to say, the elevator is a useful creation — or at least it was. What I am not a huge fan of is the horde of people who wait at an elevator for longer than they will actually ride the elevator, all to reach a floor that is so very accessible via a staircase. They indulge in “the paradox of the elevator:” a situation in which we waste more time waiting on something that is supposed to get us somewhere faster.
At the University of Connecticut, I have seen people waste so much of their precious time pointlessly waiting in front of the elevator. Simply and truly, it’s ironic. At Homer D. Babbidge Library last week, I puttered around on the plaza level, figuring out where a friend was so I could go study with them. While I waited, I watched a lady linger in front of the lift for at least a minute before shuffling onto the metal machine. When I deduced where my study buddy was and climbed up the stairs to the first level, I found the loitering lady! I understand that we get lazy sometimes, but if the elevator is reinforcing humanity’s bad habits, I may need to reposition my stance on the apparatus (and I won’t be in it).
Aside from the wasted time created by the paradox, the habitual waiting for the elevator creates such a pointless agglomeration of people in a hallway that makes it impossible to get anywhere — especially to the staircase literally three feet away from these people that they could be taking instead of waiting. Often, the idling masses, in their boredom, resort to a quick doomscroll and tune out, so when I do have to get through to my class, I cannot.
I fear that in the modern age, a machine like the elevator is becoming overly used. As a result, humans are losing reliance on our own bodies because of inventions that can make life “easier.” In the residence hall where I live, I am fortunate to have an elevator. For the folks who live on floor six, the elevator is a viable form of movement when one is located in the basement carrying an oversized load of laundry. I live on a low floor, and so I effectively never push the button to call the lift. If I, as an able-bodied person, cannot walk a mere 30 steps up the stairs, I may have to evaluate my athleticism and survival ability. I refuse to succumb to the influence of the elevator and concede the fact that I am a lazy creature, and I am unwilling to use the machine for unnecessary reasons. I must have trust in my body’s ability to “work,” because if I cannot trust myself, what can I trust?
My fears are further extended when I look around and realize the case of the elevator is simply one example of a far larger problem. We don’t realize it, but our reliance on something like an elevator, when walking up stairs is a perfectly viable method of transport, is eerily similar to the many time-wasting situations in our society. I think of AI, and how people in this new age of technology are seemingly losing trust in their own ability to think and construct thought. They are not just using artificial intelligence to scaffold ideas but to create and present them all together. What happens if we ride the proverbial AI elevator so far that we, as a society, forget to think as a whole?
I think back to the Disney classic “Wall-E,” and the people of the future presented in the film who cannot stand on their own. They have relied on a technological contraption for movement since the alleged end of the world. We cannot become beholden to technology as our primary source of anything outside medicine and health.
Of course, this does not mean you should never take the elevator. That would be ridiculous to say. I’ll concede that often it is necessary. Sometimes, the world weighs heavily on our shoulders, and we just need to get to our dorm and crash out on our pillow. Sometimes, we’ve got a meeting on the fifth floor of a building and don’t want to risk any semblance of sweat accumulating under our shirts. I simply believe that we should use our body more if we can and not become complacent in situations where we can exert ourselves — both with our legs and with our minds.
This is a textbook example of ableism. Shame on you, and shame on the editors.
Quote a sentence or argument that was ableist. It clearly never implied that disabled people that have mobility struggles or inabilities shouldn’t use elevators. He’s clearly positing that it’s paradoxical for able-bodied people with no need to utilize the elevator in regards to substantive time efficiency to not use the stairs. Also, “Furthermore, the ability for disabled people to move around with far more ease is incredible.”
You defend an entire article shaming people who use elevators, and you want to gaslight people into thinking that the premise isn’t ableist? You do know that ableism doesn’t mean just saying mean things about people with disabilities. You assume an ableist frame of reference with abled bodily ideals that make stairs a “perfectly viable method of transport.” And you moralize as though elevators are an opted convenience.
If you are so convinced that the article is not ableist, perhaps you should send it to the ADA or UConn’s Center for Students with Disabilities and ask for their opinion. I’d love to hear what they say.
This opinion piece can certainly lead to much larger discussions about the “curb cut effect” and “able-bodied privilege”.
While I’ve also observed long lines of (mostly) students forming in heavily trafficked hallways regularly before and after classes, waiting for the elevator, their attention either locked in conversation or on their phone screens, I’m aware that not all disabilities are obvious in appearance, and that most people are willing and able to advocate for themselves.
However, I recall two occasions over the years where I felt the need to speak up by politely asking people in long lines for the elevator to allow others to move to the front – once for a student on crutches at the very back of the line of 14 people and another time for a delivery person clearly dealing with heavy boxes towards the middle of the like. Both times the people ahead of them in line silently shuffled around to help accommodate them. My intention was to help, not to embarrass nor shame, but I know many of us are still learning.