For, perhaps, all of my life, “digital” has meant “electronic”. Generally, anything related to computerized technology. For the record: I have a fairly good understanding of analog technology. In that regard, I am a nerd. In my head, I’ve visualized the analog vs. digital difference with certain older technologies and their immediate successors. A CED disc stored video and audio data within physical grooves. (Because VHS was too easy to point out!) Any disc derived from DVD stores that same data in discrete values interpreted by a laser. The thing that uses a needle is analog. The thing that uses a laser to read ones and zeroes is digital. That is how my head rationalized this.
How about the difference between electromechanical and solid-state pinball? The former would calculate and keep track of everything with a complex series of gears and other physical parts. Solid-state is distinctly “digital” in that everything–score, how many players on a game, sound, etc.–was computerized. I thought I had a pretty good idea of what “digital” meant as a result.
That’s not what it means.
Doug Eyman, in his textbook, sheds a new light on the word. He certainly acknowledges the distinction from analog technology. However, he also points out that the word has innate connection to the general production of text. Quote: “digitalis in Latin, means ‘of or relating to the fingers or toes’ or ‘a coding of information.’” As in: humans have been making sense of concepts using discrete values for centuries. Millenia, even.
Just when you think that there might be a difference between analog and digital writing, there isn’t! Sure, print might require citations, while a blog post just needs hyperlinks. (Like so!) As Eyman points out, all writing is digital in a sense. At least, it can pinpoint its origins to digital methods.
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