Alone Together

Alone Together

Recently I shared an experience with a friend. I was hurt by a
comment made to me by a third person but not sure if I was justified
in feeling hurt. She reassured me that I wasn't oversensitive. We
discussed how I could respond in a constructive way and came up with a
plan I felt good about. I also had the heart warming experience of
being in the presence of someone who truly cares about me.
As I walked from her office I thought about how impoverished
this exchange would have been if it had been conducted
electronically. Without the cues of gesture, expression, voice tone,
and touch so much would have been missing. Even the element of
mindfulness, of being together in the moment would have been absent.
I probably would not have gone beyond venting to doing something
positive.
In a moment of supreme serendipity I arrived at the library to
discover that Sherry Turkle's Alone Together: Why We Expect More From
Technology And Less From Each Other had just arrived via inter library
loan. I opened the book and saw the most amazing words: "Technology
is seductive when what it offers meets our human vulnerabilities. And
as it turns out, we are very vulnerable indeed. We are lonely but
fearful of intimacy. Digital connections and the sociable robot may
offer the illusion of companionship without the demands of
friendship. Our networked life allows us to hide from each other,
even as we are tethered to each other. We'd rather text than talk."
Holy Hannah! If you are like me, the above paragraph pinpointed
or at least touched upon some of your concerns. Is the sight of
several teens in a room, oblivious to each other while texting absent
peers disconcerting? Do you feel diminished as a person or sentient
being by the commonly held idea that when phoning or visiting you are
imposing on someone? If so you will be delighted with how Turkle
speaks the truth to power.
The premise of this book is that we are relying on technology to
do a lot of what we used to count on people for while we're pushing
even our closest friends out of previously enjoyed connections. The
changing role of the phone answering machine is a good example of
this. We used to switch it on when we were out so we'd know to return
a call. Now frequently people call when we're out specifically to
leave a message. Requiring us to actually speak to a friend or
relative is considered an imposition.
For this to happen we must make two things happen. We must make
our machines more human like, more deserving of our love and trust.
We must also expect less of the humans in our lives, accepting the
appearance of caring for caring. In a truly chilling paragraph Turkle
speaks of students having an I and thou (a heart and mind touching
encounter described by Martin Buber) experience with robots.
The first of two sections describes how robots have gone from
novelty toys to human substitutes. Remember the Tamagotchis and
Furbies we gave our kids or received from parents? They primed
children to feel needed by and care for inanimate objects in ways
previous generations had reserved for people and pets. Children
create the illusion of sentient being even when researchers try to
debrief them by showing them how a robot works. Only it's not just
kids. Quite frighteningly robots in furry, critter like bodies are
being used more and more as companions for senior citizens. Is this
what you want for your golden years? I don't think so.
The second section takes up those electronic networks that have
us "tethered and marked absent": on tap for even the most banal of
comuniques from folks we've never met while too busy to focus on our
nearest and dearest. You have, for example, the parent pushing a
swing with one hand, texting with another. Folks aren't always who
they claim to be on social networking sites. If we try to make
ourselves more interesting and say captivating on Facebook, our real
world lives can seem boring and meager in contrast. Perhaps, most
poignantly, since electronic communication is so often only a part of
multi tasking, there is rarely the comfort of knowing that the other
is thinking exclusively or even deeply of you. One can have 874
Facebook friends and feel important to and understood by none.
I was very reassured to read at the end of the Author's Note:
"...Thinking about robots, as I argue in these pages, is a way of
thinking of the essence of personhood. Thinking about connectivity is
a way to think about what we mean to each other. This book project is
over; my preoccupation with its themes stays with me." I think we all
need to share in this preoccupation. If a lot of us aren't asking the
important questions in the face of the current don't worry be happy
acceptance of better living through electronics, we and our
descendents may lose out on some of the most crucial and beautiful
aspects of what it's like to be truly human.
On a personal note, a lot of people in the book talk of the risks
(rejection, hurt) of attempting authentic communication. Actually
there are two kinds of risks: risks of commission and risks of
ommision. They carry an inverse relationship. Let me illustrate. On
a principal search committee I met Christine who works with homeless
students. I recognized a potential soul mate. I took the risk of
rejection to reach out rather than feeling sad that we were ships
passing in the night. A little over a year later every time I see
her, as my heart takes joy in her presence and her eyes show that the
feeling is mutual, I am aware of what a treasured friendship we would
have missed out on if I had chosen to protect my heart.
A great big shout out goes out to all who take joy in our precious
humanness.
Julia Emily Hathaway


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