But if you were an illiterate random peasant farmer in some historical venue, and you needed to know the growing season of taro or barley or insert-your-favorite-staple-crop-here, Wikipedia would have been superfluous: you would already know it. It would be unlikely that you would find a song lyrics website of any use, because all of the songs you'd care about would be ones you really knew, in the sense of having heard them sung by real people who could clarify the words on request, as opposed to the "I think I heard half of this on the radio at the dentist's office last month" sense.
Everything you would need to know would be important enough to warrant - and keep - a spot in your memory.
I am not sure how different this example here is any different from Googling.
The first time a farmer wants to know something, such as the season to grow a crop in, he taps into the local pool of knowledge available to him. This pool could consist of his father, or the village elders, or the experienced farmer two miles in the neighbouring farm. And he only bothers remembering this factoid about seasons, and whatever else, because it would be a real pain to run two miles each time he wants to do something on his farm, every day. And by the same argument, things he doesn't have to know on a daily basis or can live without, such as that village song, or the latest gossip in town, he will not bother committing this to memory. He will wait for the next time they gather around a fire or something to gather the latest. Again consider somebody looking at the man page for the arguments to a system call that she uses on a daily basis, and committing this to memory because it is more optimal to just remember it (because the two monitors she has are only big enough to keep her code windows open) and it would improve her productivity do so. She will not bother to commit to memory those calls and their arguments that she doesn't use as often, and will go hunting in the man pages.
I guess what I am trying to say is that our great brains have always been external. There is a bunch of stuff that is local, and there is the bunch that is non-local. The non-local stuff is the collective of stuff that exists in and amongst the people we live with, talk to, our books and now of course the internet. And what is local, a vast majority of it, has always been a subset of that which is non-local. It's only the magnitude of this non-local set that is easily (relatively speaking) accessible that has changed (by orders of magnitude).
As a continuation of what I have said in my previous comment, I'd like to suggest, that what google and the internet in general seem to be doing is aggressively providing candidates for inclusion into the local set. And so, by repetition and easy access they, possibly, help enlarge the local set. If technology gets better, then we can imagine a day where the local set more or less overlaps with the super set, and there really is no difference between the two; a fetch from local set and a fetch from the super set take about the same time and so qualitativel...
How many of the things you "know" do you have memorized?
Do you remember how to spell all of those words you let the spellcheck catch? Do you remember what fraction of a teaspoon of salt goes into that one recipe, or would you look at the list of ingredients to be sure? Do you remember what kinds of plastic they recycle in your neighborhood, or do you delegate that task to a list attached with a magnet to the fridge?
If I asked you what day of the month it is today, would you know, or would you look at your watch/computer clock/the posting date of this post?
Before I lost my Palm Pilot, I called it my "external brain". It didn't really fit the description; with no Internet access, it mostly held my contact list, class schedule, and grocery list. And a knockoff of Minesweeper. Still, in a real enough sense, it remembered things for me.The vast arena of knowledge at our fingertips in the era of constant computing has, ironically, brought it farther away. It seems nearer: after all, now, if you are curious about Zanzibar, Wikipedia is a few keystrokes away. Before the Internet, you'd probably have been looking at a trip to the library and a while wrestling with the card catalog; and that would be if you lived in an affluent, literate society. If you didn't, good luck knowing Zanzibar exists in the first place!
But if you were an illiterate random peasant farmer in some historical venue, and you needed to know the growing season of taro or barley or insert-your-favorite-staple-crop-here, Wikipedia would have been superfluous: you would already know it. It would be unlikely that you would find a song lyrics website of any use, because all of the songs you'd care about would be ones you really knew, in the sense of having heard them sung by real people who could clarify the words on request, as opposed to the "I think I heard half of this on the radio at the dentist's office last month" sense.
Everything you would need to know would be important enough to warrant - and keep - a spot in your memory.
So in a sense, propositional knowledge is being gradually supplanted by the procedural. You need only know how to find information, to be able to use it after a trivial delay. This requires some snippet of propositional data - to find a song lyric, you need a long enough string that you won't turn up 99% noise when you try to Google it! - but mostly, it's a skill, not a fact, that you need to act like you knew the fact.
It's not clear to me whether this means that we should be alarmed and seek to hone our factual memories... or whether we should devote our attention to honing our Google-fu, as our minds gradually become server-side operations.