B (4:58)
Actually, I decided not to use my PowerPoint because whenever I do, like something goes wrong. I don't know it. Just let me just talk to you. Let me just tell you stories. So it's really a pleasure to be here. I've always wanted to speak at the lse. It's kind of like a storied place. So I'm really very happy, really very thrilled to be here. And so thank you very much for this wonderful invitation. So let me begin with a story from my earliest days at MIT. And I have been at MIT a long time. I got there in 1978, I met the idea, and I actually went there studying French psychoanalysis. I went there studying French psychoanalysis and why psychoanalysis had not been picked up in France as it had been in other countries until Jacques Lacan. A kind of infatuation with Freud in France after the events of 68. Now the question of why MIT was interested in me with that kind of interest on my resume is not what I'm here to discuss, but essentially I was there to study the sociology of sciences of mind. And when I got to mit, really from the minute, minute I got there, I noticed my students using computational metaphors to think about mind. And I just became complete, you know, don't interrupt me, I need to clear my buffer. That was how they talked to me. You know, instead of talking about Freudian slips, they talked about information processing errors. And I just decided that I was going to make the study of computers and people the kind of subjective side of the computer presence, not what computers do. Full for Us, but what they do to us as people, to our relationships, really the center of my interests. And essentially I've been at that for 30 years. So you know a little bit about what I'm about. And from, you know, the earliest days at MIT, from 78, MIT kind of welcomed me as an outsider who was on the inside and allowed me to study it very generously. Sometimes maybe not so sure they'd made a good idea, but essentially I was welcomed by the institution to be an ethnographer in the place that I worked. And so from my earliest days at mit, I met the idea that part of my job as I did this ethnography, as an outsider on the inside, as an insider who was a little bit of an outsider, would be thinking of ways to keep technology busy. And I mean that in a very specific sense. In 1978, Michael Dertouzos, who was the head of the Laboratory for Computer Science, convoked the computer science faculty and me, this new ethnographer on the scene, to take a three day retreat at Endicott House, which is MIT's conference center, where we go to a beautiful spot to retreat and ponder things. A retreat in which the question was, what would we do with these new personal computers? And they weren't called personal computers at the time, they were called home computers. And these were the first computers that were being built that you didn't have to build, that you in fact could buy. Things like the Altair and the first handy Radio Shack computers were just coming on the scene and really nobody knew what to do with them. And so he convened. I have my notes. JCR Licklider, Marvin Minsky, Seymour Papert, Robert Fano, really the greats of the information technology revolution of the 50s, 60s, 70s to go and brainstorm on this question. And my notes from that meeting, because I was taking notes on everything. People suggested tax preparation, people said, okay. No one thought that anyone except academics would want to write on a computer. I actually have a quote from that meeting that somebody said, what's to write? I mean, who had things to write? There was no concept that regular people, and people call them regular people, would have stuff to write. Somebody suggested a calendar and was told that was a dumb idea because we all had these little calendars. I don't know how many of you visited Cambridge, but the Harvard coop and the MIT coop gives out this little black book that's exactly the right size for keeping your calendar. Who needed a database? You know, if you had a little calendar, everybody there, all these computer scientists had little coop Books for their calendars. So calendars. Nobody saw that. Somebody suggested that you'd want to put your names and addresses on a computer, that that would be something that this home computer would be good for. And then again, people said, if you didn't have a database, why would you want to have your home computer keep your names and addresses? That was also considered a dumb idea. People agreed that there would be games, and that's where it was. Everyone tried. There were no objections to the exercise. People stayed for two days and five meals. But there were not a lot of ideas about how we might keep these computers busy. But now we know that once computers connected us to each other, once we became tethered to the network, we really didn't need to keep computers busy. They keep us busy. Very, very busy. It is as though we are their killer app. And I only 15 years ago, for those of you who know my work, who know this book is the third in a trilogy on computers and people. In my study, looking at the early Internet, I felt a sense of optimism. Actually, in both of my books, my previous books on computers and people, but particularly in Life on the Screen, which is the one that came out 15 years ago, I saw on the Internet a place for identity experimentation. I called it an identity workshop, a place to try out aspects of self that were hard to experiment with in the physical real. All of this still happens, and all of this is still wondrous. This is not a book of repentance. Alone Together is not a book of personal repentance. But there was something that I didn't see. There is something that I didn't see. And I tell my students, call me not prescient, because I imagined in 1995 when life on the Screen came out, that this identity workshop stuff would happen. And then you would go offline and you would live in the face to face physical world, hang out, and then you'd go back online and you'd have your identity workshop stuff happening online in your virtual communities. Because that's what life on the screen was about. The nascent virtual communities, the early muds, moos, the virtual places on America Online. And then you go back and live your life, raise your children, have dinner. What I didn't see, but what I first saw when I met the Cyborgs, a group at MIT called the Cyborgs in 1995, Steve, Man, Thad Stoner and their colleagues who wore the Internet on their bodies, who had little antennae on their ears, who wore backpacks with computers on them, who had keyboards in Their pockets, who had glasses, goggles that were screens, who essentially wore the Web on their bodies, but with all of so much so that people thought they were disabled and offered them seats, but they had no more with all of that stuff than each of us has. And each of us has just kind of silenced or tried to remember to silence when I started speaking than each of us has in the portable device that we are all carrying now. In other words, we're wearing the web with us. And when I saw them in 1995, I realized that I had missed in my imagination of what it would mean to have this new identity technology. I had missed out on something important. That we would have the capacity and that we would want to be able to essentially live. We wouldn't be cycling through different realities. We'd be almost living in a kind of simultaneous mesh of the real and the virtual, and that we would want to bail out in a sense of the realities that we were in, to go to these other places whenever we wanted to. And in fact, that's kind of what I decided to study. I decided to study two things at that point, one of which I'm going to discuss today and both of which are part of Alone Together, one of which I'm going to talk about tonight, and one of which I'm not. One is sociable robotics. The kind of robots that say, I love you, that say I want you, that I care about you, robots that deceive into making you feel they care about you. It turns out we're very cheap dates and people want to be so deceived. And I'm. I care a lot about these robots because they're on their way, elder bots, nanny bots, and people. I call it the robotic moment. Not because these robots really are sentient and caring, but because we want so much and are so ready to believe that we can kind of call in the cavalry and have robots do things for us that we're somehow disappointed that people haven't done for us. I'm not going to discuss that. But that's one thing I decided to track over 15 years. I had tenure and I had time. And then the other thing I decided to track over these 15 years was this story of mobile connectivity and this simultaneity that is now available to us. And in fact, we're on our email, we're on our games, we're on our virtual world, we're on our social network, we're texting at family dinners, we're texting as we push our children on swings in the park. We're texting at funerals. That's one of the things I'm studying. We text during family dinners. I've said that children I interview say that their parents are reading them Harry Potter, holding the book in the right hand and going through with the blackberries on their left. I'm doing a study of nursing mothers who are texting while they nurse. The guys in particular, the young men in particular say that their dads used to watch Sunday sports with them and in between plays, used to talk, talk to them or during commercial breaks. And now they contrast those kind of golden years of relating to their dads that way with their fathers now on their devices, on their laptops or on their, you know, digital devices, being kind of, you know, in the BlackBerry zone and being available, not available to them in a very different way. And they basically say that they miss their dads. From these same young people, I hear a kind of nostalgia of these young. They talk about the idea of telephone calls made, as one 18 year old put it, sitting down and giving each other full attention. These are young people who never. These are young people who never have had a call made to them, as far as they know, with someone sitting down and giving them full attention, certainly never from a peer. I mean, it's kind of startling. But that's their story and they're sticking to it. So from the moment this generation met the technology, they experienced it as the competition, and now it is their turn to be distracted. They tell me that they sleep with their cell phones and that even when their phones are put away, first they tell me they sleep with their cell phones to use them as an alarm clock. But then they quickly say, no, no, that's really not the truth. I sleep with my cell phone because I text during the night. I get texts during the night, and, you know, I sleep with my cell phone because I don't want to be disconnected at night. And even when their phones are put away, let's say, relegated to a school locker, they know when they have a message or a call. They insist that. They say that they can feel their phones vibrating even when they're not. It's called the phantom ring. And indeed, mobile technology has become like a phantom limb, both for adults and for teens. It is so much a part of us. The formulation that I like to use in thinking about all of this is that technology is seductive when its affordances meet our human vulnerabilities. Later, I'll tell you why I don't like to talk about addiction. I like to talk about affordances and vulnerabilities because it turns out that that's what it's about. And I think we're very vulnerable indeed. We're lonely, but fearful of intimacy. And constant connectivity offers the illusion of companionship without the demands of intimacy. That's one of the things that it affords. We can't get enough of each other. And I think this is one of the powerful things about what this new mobile moment is for us, offers us, is we can't get enough of each other if, if we can have each other at a distance in amounts that we can control. It's about the psychological affordance of the fantasy of control. I call it the Goldilocks effect. Like Goldilocks, not too close, not too far, just right connection made to measure the ability to hide from each other, even as we are constantly connected to each other. So, to paraphrase Thoreau, where do we live and what do we live for in our new tethered lives? What do we have now that we have what we say we want, now that we have what technology makes easy? For one thing, we have a technology that enables distraction from what we say we care about. Because what I have from my years of interviewing is that it's not unusual for people to complain that they're too busy communicating to think, too busy communicating to create, and then in a final paradox, too busy communicating to fully connect with the people who matter. And that's where I got my title, in continual contact. They feel alone together. And this can have developmental. I'm, you know, you know, kind of at heart, I'm a developmentalist. And it can have developmental implications quickly. To tell a story that describes one, I'm doing a study of 15 year old birthday parties because it's a perfect moment where you see the developmental implications of what this can mean, this sort of bailout phenomenon. For those of you who have 15 year olds or who know a 15 year old or who were ever 15 year old, you know that there's a moment at a 15 year old birthday party when everybody wants to go home. And that's the moment, particularly if there's boys and girls at the party when they have to talk to each other, they somehow need to talk and it's hard and it's awkward and usually it happens and the party ends. And by the end of the party they're closer to being 16 because they have done this difficult thing. I don't want to say if they've had fun now what happens when this hard moment comes hands Guesses they go onto Facebook, they go onto Facebook, they don't leave the party, but essentially they leave the party without having to physically leave the party. And this hard thing does not happen. Now this is not to say that what they're doing on Facebook and there's nothing kind of, you know, my work is not a kind of an apocalyptic cry that Facebook is bad, the social network is bad things, terrible things are happening. It's just to say that some of the implications of what it means to be able to bail out at a hard moment, you know, that there are implications here that should be studied and need to be kind of confronted. And to me the 15 year old birthday story is an important one. So that's part of what I mean about we have a technology that makes it easy to hide. We can communicate when we wish, we can disengage at will. We can choose not to see or hear our interlocutors. The kind of loss of the, the voice, the loss of inflection online, we can put forth the self we want to be. We can live more and more in a performative culture. Otherwise put we would rather text than talk. Mandy, a 13 year old, tells me, quote, I hate the phone. I never listen to voicemail. She says a telephone conversation is almost always too prying, it takes too long and it is impossible to say goodbye. A difficulty in not feeling rejected or that she's rejecting when she says goodbye. These are actually hard things for an 11 and 12 year old. By 13 you want to be learning that she doesn't have to. 16 years old, Stan, he won't speak on the telephone except when his mother makes him call a relative. He and he says when you text you have more time to think about what you're writing on the telephone. Too much might show these are interesting quotes because actually in my work these 13 and 16 year olds sound a lot like 30, 40 and 50 year olds describing why they would rather text than talk. And one of the findings of my research, and actually I was just, we were just chatting before that. When a qualitative methodologist like me talks about findings, really pay attention because I never. This is just not the way I speak. One of the findings of my research is the incredible similarities in how across the generations, people, the affordances and the vulnerabilities of this technology are so similar. We'd rather text than talk on the telephone. Too much might show wanting to bail out of hard moments. These are things across the generations. Here's somebody you know it really isn't a teen Problem in corporations, among friends within academic departments, people readily admit that they'd rather leave an email than talk face to face. Some who say, quote, I live my life on my BlackBerry are forthright about avoiding the, quote, real time commitment of a phone call. The real time commitment of a phone call. And here you see technology being used to dial down human contact, to titrate its nature and extent. And that's what I meant about the seduction of the promise of control, the Goldilocks effect. People are comforted by being in touch with a lot of people whom they also keep at bay. So Dan, a law professor in his mid-50s, explains that he never, quote, interrupts his colleagues at work. He doesn't call, he doesn't ask to see them. He says, and this is a guy who goes to the office. He's not at home telepresencing, he's at work. He says, they might be working, doing something. I mean, they're at work. So yeah, I mean, they might be working, doing something. It might be a bad time. I ask him if this behavior is new. He says, oh yeah, yeah, we used to hang out, it was nice. And then he realizes, you know, he's been kind of caught out. So he reconciles, you know, my idea of an interview is to say, uh huh. So he realizes without my saying anything that he's been caught in a kind of contradiction. And he reconciles his views that what was once collegial is now interruption by saying to me, people are busier now. But then he pauses and he corrects himself and he says, I'm not being completely honest here. It's also that I don't want to talk to people now. I don't want to be interrupted. I don't want to be interrupted. I think I should want to. It would be nice. But it's easier to deal with people on my BlackBerry. Very similar to the 16 year old, we become entrained in a vicious circle that doesn't go really according to plan. We imagine that email and texting will give us more control over our time and our emotional exposure. But we send out a lot and we get even more back. So many, in fact, that the idea of communicating with anything but texts can often seem too exhausting. Shakespeare might have said, we are consumed with that which we were nourished by. As we ramp up the volume and velocity of communication, we're overwhelmed across the generation and we confront a paradox because we're insisting that the world is increasingly complex and yet we've developed a communications culture that is so rapid fire, in which the ramping up of the volume and velocity is so great that we can only communicate by sending out messages that can be answered in kind of quick emails and asking ourselves questions that can be instantly responded to by something quick. So we're asking each other simpler questions to get simpler answers that we can get really quickly. So we're communicating with each other in ways that ask for almost instantaneous responses and not allowing ourselves the space to explain complicated problems. It's like we're training ourselves to ask and answer simpler and simpler questions. It's almost like we're putting ourselves, all of us putting ourselves on cable news. I once wrote about the computer as a second self. The computer is a place for the projection of self. Now, with mobile connectivity, I almost want to talk about a new state of the self itself. One of the ways this new state of the self itself expresses itself is, is how it changes the terms of how this generation growing up with it grows into adulthood. I've suggested some of the ways, but let me give you some important. What I consider the important kind of markers of a few of the ways in which this new generation is experiencing this. Most of all, today's young people grow up with the fantasy that in some way they will never have to be alone. I think this is one of the most important things. They still have the job of separation. Adolescents still have the job of separation, but essentially it can be worked through in smaller steps. They may find themselves texting their parents while in college 15 times a day. If 15 years ago, a student had come in to me as a clinician who texted a young woman who texted her mother 15 times a day, who phoned home 15 times a day, I would have been thinking certainly off the norm, and I would have been thinking in terms of separation issues. Now, in my social context, it is not off the norm. But just because something is not off the norm doesn't mean that it. You know, Freud talked about the shadow of the object falling on the ego. I mean, just because something is not off the norm doesn't mean that it doesn't point back to the issues that once made it seem problematic. You don't know how to think about, or we need to begin to think about what adolescence is without the kind of separation we used to associate with adolescents. Because adolescents, friends too, are always around. Feelings of being a bit stranded in adolescence used to be considered a step towards being comfortable with autonomy. Connectivity makes it possible to bypass those kinds of feelings, and we move toward a new sensibility that leaves us vulnerable. And let me just quickly try to characterize it by calling it I share, therefore I am. I share, therefore I am. Julia, 16, turns texting into a kind of polling. She says, if I'm upset, right as I'm upset, I text a couple of my friends just because I know that they'll be there and they can comfort me. If something exciting happens, I know that they'll be there to be excited with me and stuff like that. So I definitely feel emotions when I'm texting, as I'm texting, when I'm texting, as I'm texting. For Julia, as for so many of the tethered teens I've studied, things have moved from I have a feeling, I want to make a call. Two, I want to have a feeling, I need to send a text. Let me say that again. I have a feeling, I want to make a call. Old school. I want to have a feeling, I need to send a text. I'm not a technological determinist. Technology does not cause, but encourages and enables a sensibility where the validation of a feeling becomes part of establishing it. Our contact list has become like a list of spare parts to support the fragile adolescent or adult self. But when we use people in this way, we reduce them as we turn them to our own purposes. We're taking what we need. It is not the royal road. It is not the royal road to the best relationships. I'm not going to get into it, but obviously David Reisman wrote about relationships where things move from inner directed to other directed. That's a whole kind of tradition of talking about, sociologically, about these kinds of things, phenomena. Heinz Kohut, from the psychoanalytic tradition, writes about, you know, other, a kind of other directedness when he talks about narcissistic personalities where people literally become spare parts to support the fragile narcissistic self. More than this, what is not being cultivated, what is not being cultivated is the ability to be alone, to gather oneself. And there is a profound psychological truth. Loneliness is failed solitude. Loneliness is failed solitude. If we don't teach our children to be alone, they will only know how to be lonely if we don't teach our children to be alone. Indeed, if we don't remember how to be alone, we will only know how to be lonely. Having gotten into the habit of constant connection, we risk losing our capacity for the kind of solitude that energizes and restores. This brings me to some final thoughts. First, I want to say something about the metaphor of addiction. And then I want to close by talking about the moment we're at and I think an urgent issue about kind of call to arms about computers and privacy. These are two things I feel very strongly about thinking. Just essentially my message is, stop talking about computers and addiction and start talking about what are better ways to think about the issue of privacy. I really understand why people are drawn to the metaphor of addiction in talking about everything about the Internet. First of all, we do get a kind of neurochemical high when we multitask, Even though for every task we multitask, our performance degrades. There's every reason that people are drawn to the metaphor of addiction. But no matter how great the metaphor, those of us in the social and moral sciences, we have to work hard to avoid it when we think about this problem. Because if you're addicted to a substance, There is only one thing that is going to help, and that is losing that substance. And this technology is our partner in the life adventure that we're on. This is not about getting rid of this technology. This is about. Call it a digital diet. I mean, this technology is about making it a more satisfying partner as we move forward politically, ethically, morally, developmentally with this technology. The metaphor of addiction, which proposes an image of a solution that everybody knows we are not going to take, Just makes people feel hopeless. And when people feel hopeless, they say, oh, what the hell, give me my phone. Right. So we will find new paths, But a first step will not be to consider ourselves passive victims of a bad substance. We are not in trouble because of invention, but because we sometimes allow ourselves to think it will solve everything. That social networking will solve everything, that social robotics will solve everything. That now game playing will solve everything. This is our vulnerability to two simple notions of the technological fix. As we consider all this, we will not find a solution or a simple answer. But we cannot assume that the life technology makes easy is how we want to live. And this brings me to my second point, our moment of opportunity. Every technology provides an opportunity to ask, does it serve our human purposes? A question that causes us to reconsider what these purposes are. Just because we grew up with the Internet, we assume that the Internet is all grown up. This is my favorite line in my book. It came to me in the middle of the night. I love it because it basically says it shows the distortion of our perspective. We can change this. We can make it what we want. We tend to see what we have now as the technology in its maturity, that the way we live with it now is how we're going to Live with it in the future. It is not with the network. It is very early days. It is time to make the corrections. And there is no place more important to make the corrections than in the domain of privacy, which is where I want to say a few words. And this is where I want to end and begin a dialogue. Over time, and I say this with much anxiety, living with an electronic shadow begins to feel so natural that that shadow seems to disappear. It disappears, that is, until a moment of crisis, a lawsuit, a scandal, an investigation. Then we all are caught, shot. We turn around and we see that we've been the instruments of our own surveillance. It is true that privacy is a historically relatively new idea. I cannot tell you how many radio shows I've been on, how many interviews I've done. People say, why do you care so much about privacy? Privacy is a relatively new idea. Privacy may be a relatively new idea, but hasn't it well served our modern notions of intimacy and democracy? What is intimacy without privacy? What is democracy without privacy? These are questions we need to be asking ourselves and our students. For many, and particularly for many young people, and particularly for many of the Internet gurus who they're listening to the notion that we're all being observed all the time anyway. So who needs privacy has become a commonplace, but it really is a state of mind with a cost. I went to this award ceremony at a Webby which is where they give awards like the best website, and I was reminded of just how costly it is. I was talking to an Internet guru, excuse me, and the topic of illegal eavesdropping came up and all these, you know, the gathered. Weberotti began to turn this issue into a non issue. They started to talk about all information being good information. You've heard that information wanting to be free. And most of all, if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. You've heard this. This is the sort of talk at a pre awards wedding cocktail party. And one web luminary talked to me with animation about the spying controversy in the United States. This was sort of just as the government spying had come into the forefront. And to my surprise, he cited Michel Foucault's writing on the Panopticon to explain to me why he is not worried about privacy concerns on the Internet. Which takes me aback because for Foucault, the task of the modern state is to reduce its need for actual surveillance by creating a citizenry that will watch itself. A disciplined citizen minds the rules. So in the end, Foucault talks about an architecture in the Panopticon that encourages self surveillance, always available for scrutiny. Everyone turns an eye on themselves by analogy, says my Webby conversation partner on the Internet, and this is a quote. Someone might always be watching, so it doesn't matter if from time to time someone is. As long as you're not doing anything wrong, he tells me, you're safe. In the hands of this technology guru, Foucault's critical take on disciplinary society had become a justification for the United States government using the Internet to spy on its citizens. All around us, at the Webby cocktail party, there are nods of assent. This would only be a story about my life as a Webby judge if variants of this way of thinking weren't very common in the technology community. You don't need privacy if you don't have anything to hide. And it's becoming a default position among high school and college students, which is what my research shows. For all of the talk of a generation empowered by the Net, when young people talk about Internet privacy, I most often hear resignation and a sense of impotence. When I talk to teenagers about the certainty that their privacy will be invaded, my thoughts go to my very different experience growing up in Brooklyn in the 1950s. That's when I grew up. My grandmother took me to the mailboxes every morning. She pointed to the mailboxes and she said, in the old country, the government used the mail to spy on its citizens. In the United States, it's a federal offense to open the mail. That's why we're in this country. That's the beauty of this country is what she said. So from the earliest days, my civics lessons at the mailboxes joined together privacy and civil liberties. I think of how different things are for children today who accommodate to the idea that their email and messages are shareable, unprotected. And I think of my Internet guru, who, citing Foucault with no apparent irony, accepts the idea that the Internet has fulfilled the dream of the Panoptagon and sums up his position about the Net as the way to deal is just to be good. But sometimes a citizenry should not simply be good. You have to leave space for dissent, for real dissent. You need to leave technical space, a sacrosanct mailbox, and you need to leave mental space. The two are intertwined. We make our technologies, and they in turn make and shape us. My grandmother made me an American citizen, a civil libertarian, a defender of individual rights. In an apartment lobby in Brooklyn. I'm not sure where to take my 20 year old daughter who still thinks that the applications that use the GPS capacity of her iPhone to show her where all her friends are seem creepy, but also tells me that it would be hard to keep them off her phone if all her friends have it. She says they would think I have something to hide. So I learned to be a citizen at the Brooklyn Mailbox. And to me, opening up a conversation about privacy in civil society is not romantically nostalgic. It's not Luddite in the least. It seems to me to be part of a healthy process of democracy defining its sacred spaces. Thank you very much.