In early 19th century England, the job of hand-loom weaver was in jeopardy. The new wide-frame, steam-powered loom machines had been introduced. In an effort to cut costs and increase efficiency, many of the master weavers (loom mill managers) brought in the new loom machines and did away with the workers.

Soon, England was making more money than ever on textiles, and all at the expense of the workers.

There were many who remained in work, repairing and maintaining the machines, but in the end, more jobs were lost than created by the machines.

On a November night in 1811, a group of men gathered in secret. They were out-of-work loom weavers.

With faces blackened by paint or mask, they planned an attack on a textile mill. Their weapons were axes and hammers. Within a few hours of that meeting, the group had attacked the mill and destroyed the 60 loom machines inside.

The group and the attacks would increase across central England. In response to the attacks, England would soon prove that it valued its machines more than its people; the penalty of death was handed down to anyone caught “breaking frames” — as the phrase came to be known.

There were no central leaders in the movement, so the frame breakers performed their duties on behalf of a mythical leader: Ned Ludd.

These men, women and children who destroyed machines became known as the Luddites. Parliament was impressed.

This was so frequent, that they would eventually put down the “rebellion” with the aid of 40,000 soldiers.

Today, I would like to come out of the closet and announce that, I too, am a Luddite. Unfortunately, the original meaning of the word has been tainted to mean the hatred of any new and present technology.

On the contrary. It is not the machines we (Luddites) despise, but the way machines, namely computers, are used by some people.

Through time, Luddites have become a little more constructive and do more to educate and inform than to destroy (though smashing is good).

As a Luddite at this university, I have also noticed that I am a minority and, as a minority, I would like to officially lobby my protest against the naming and construction of Howe Hall.

There is documented proof that Mr. Howe graduated from Iowa State and was an engineer! Why do we stand back as the university blatantly disrespects the Luddites by constructing and naming a new building on behalf of engineering and technology?

We must rise against this monstrosity! We must sabotage every aspect of this structure’s construction! We must grab our hammers and crush the computers! Rise and break the mainframes!

Already, I have written a few paragraphs, and still the administration has not yet acted on my request for Howe Hall to be renamed or deconstructed!

We should all gather together inside Beardshear Hall in protest. If the administration dares to ask who our leader is, we will all stand and cry out in unison, “Ned Ludd is our leader! We protest by order of General Ludd!”

If construction should continue despite our protests, I shall take myself hostage by going on a hunger strike. My hunger strike will be modified, however; when I begin to get hungry, I will blame my hunger on the university’s lack of action on the Howe Hall issue.

Then I’ll have a sandwich or something. But the university will still be responsible should I get so hungry that I have to go to the grocery store to buy more food!

Has the university become so insensitive that a student has to go to the grocery store to buy more food when he or she is hungry? We cannot stand for this! Construction must halt on Howe Hall!

President Jischke, how dare you ignore my feelings on Howe Hall. To the administration, how dare you sit back and not act on my plea for moral order and justice.

Luddites, rise!

Now that you have all read this, did you notice how ludicrous it sounds? Did anyone see certain parallels?

Honestly, I am a Luddite. I am unhappy with the ways some machines are used (for making more money at the expense of the worker.)

Though I am against technology, I have found a way to live alongside it without feeling like I have to do something about every computer and every machine.

I realize that most innovators and inventors have had good intentions (except those who build guns, tanks and bombs) and I am sure that there are good intentions with the construction of Howe Hall.

I also know that the university did not intend to offend anyone when they named Catt Hall.

By the way, “snail” mail is still better than e-mail. Not only does it keep postal workers in work (and out of the gun shops) but a snail is more beautiful than a microchip.

You need proof? No amount of technology will ever be able to create a snail from scratch.

And if it ever does, my heavy hammer is ready to serve Ned Ludd.

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Carmen Cerra is a senior in biological/premedical illustration from Redondo Beach, California.