How important are material tools in the production or acquisition of knowledge? (1 of 3)
This is part of the “Objectified Thoughts” series in which I explore philosophy through certain objects I find interesting.
I remember the first time we moved into our own place. There was a Samsung washing machine there, looking almost proud in its quiet corner of the kitchen. It was a silent promise that some parts of life could be easier, that this metal box could give us the gift of time.
Growing up, that washing machine was a constant. It hummed and whirred through childhood spills, teenage angst-stained jeans, and the delicate fears of a first prom suit. It was like a steadfast friend, taking care of the mundane so we could chase after the less mundane.
It’s curious how a machine, designed for something as basic as cleaning clothes, can become a sort of silent liberator. For my mother, it took the labor out of a task that history had unkindly assigned as ‘hers’. It gave her hours back — hours for reading, resting, dreaming. It seems almost melodramatic to say, but that washing machine was a cog in the wheel of change, not just for dirty clothes, but for the roles of women in the home and beyond.
As I got older, I saw the evolution of that machine through a different lens. It wasn’t just about having clean clothes anymore. It was about how Samsung kept innovating, kept making this everyday item smarter, more efficient. It was a reflection of human curiosity and intellect — the same force that drives us to ask ‘What next?’
Each new model, with its sleek buttons and eco-friendly settings, was a testament to human knowledge — to the countless hours of research, design, and engineering. And here, in my own home, this appliance was a quiet tribute to human progress.
And then there’s the centrifuge, a concept I only came across in science class. To think that the same mechanism that spins my clothes dry is related to something as complex as enriching uranium is almost mind-bending. It’s a playful reminder of how interconnected our world is, how the seeds of big ideas are often hidden in the most ordinary places.
In a way, the washing machine has been a teacher. It’s shown me that knowledge doesn’t always come from books or lectures. Sometimes it comes from watching, wondering about the everyday things, and recognizing the human achievement that sits quietly in our kitchens, just doing its job.