Aptly classified as ‘disruptive technology’, the small devices that have become ubiquitous over the last decade have great potential. Their advocates see them helping us live fuller, more efficient lives by connecting us with others, coordinating our schedules, entertaining us, and providing us access to a plethora of information. And in many ways cell phones, iPods and the like deliver on the promise. Despite the awkward interfaces typical of their adolescent state of development, they allow us to schedule appointments, text message our friends, watch the last Grey’s Anatomy, listen to our favorite mix of music, catch up on a technology seminar via podcast, get directions to a new restaurant on the road, and expect that our friends will immediately receive and respond to our IM invitation to meet there. All of this connection comes in a handy, lightweight and stylish device easily slipped into a pocket and always connected to a reliable network. In a spirit of unbridled consumer optimism, we look forward to the next iPhone, Wii or talking GPS. Life is good, or so it seems.
But not all is sweetness and light in the land of the instantly-connected.
These technologies are classified ‘disruptive’ for good reason.
Apart from the chaos into which they can plunge the data infrastructure supporting them, they disrupt our established patterns of communication, changing how, what and when we communicate, and more importantly, disrupting the image and reality of who we are.
The need for instantaneity and the limitations of typing on a two-square inch keyboard can override concerns for careful thought, meaningful message and word-craftsmanship. What we communicate via text messages tends to be inane or pointless. And this lack of care often spills over into our other writing. Even more disturbing, we tend to treat the IM or cell phone as more important than the people we’re with. Between classes we text or call our BFFs or helicopter-parents instead of discussing the content of the previous class; we pay scant attention to a lecture while jotting a note on the wall of our Facebook friends; we pride ourselves on ability to dual-task, not noticing that we’re doing both tasks poorly.
Our expectations of others also become skewed: we expect instantaneous response, we judge people if they are slow to respond, we become accustomed to short, choppy and disjointed interaction, and tune out extended discourse.
Our shortened attention span may be related to the effect of the barrage of IM and email messages on our brains: I recently read research that high volumes of email have the same deleterious effect on memory as smoking marijuana, but (tellingly) I can’t remember where. But I’m pretty sure it’s true: maybe my BFFs will IM me a URL. In addition, because instant communication allows almost unlimited spontaneity, we get out of the habit of planning in advance, and simply by virtue of being out of practice, become less adept at doing so.
What should our response be to these disruptive technologies? Reject them in favor of a pastoral, Luddite existence? Uncritically embrace them? Clearly these extremes are inappropriate: our world has changed, and our call to ‘be in the world, but not of the world’ requires critical engagement with technology as well as ideas. We should instead sift the wheat from the chaff: use technology wisely to increase your efficiency and for entertainment, but not at the expense of relationships with the people around you. With apologies to Timothy Leary, “Turn off, Tune out, Drop in”: Turn off your devices, tune out the distractions, and drop in on your neighbors, building life-long friendships.
1 comment:
This is an excellent article, quite timely and well-stated. I agree that there needs to be a balance between technology and "the real world" or what have you, but that balance is at times difficult to see, or perhaps something that some of us would rather not see. Afterall, many are comfortable with the hustle-bustle half-life that is so readily available. Alas, great post.
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