Machines Make Better Friends

My cell phone says hello to me, which is sadly more than I can say for some of my good friends.

Takes stock of even our most rudimentary human-to-human interactions and you’ll be struck by a profound sense of how broadly we have given human characteristics to our gadgets and gizmos. We have entrusted machines with so much of ourselves that we are now resigned to using them as mediators for our most important decisions. Whether launching emails or missiles, the typical sequence of the interpersonal exchange has become (for better or worse) human-to-machine-to-human.

And this has created more problems than it has solved.

One of the biggest problems is that the process of making machines more human-friendly (“Hello, you!”) has perhaps had the effect of manufacturing a humanity that is more machine-like than ever before (“Hello, phone!”).

At a glance: we are sleeping as little as possible, we are supposedly more efficient than ever before, and—like our gadgets—we are mostly indifferent (or programmed to ignore) the personal, ecological, or social costs we are accruing.

Strangely, we tend to think of our most essential bodily functions in vaguely mechanical terms. Sleeping is recharging our battery. Eating is refueling. A piss is a leak. Making love is hooking up (which has an unmistakably electronic tang to it).

When it comes to government, don't politicians trust polls more than they do themselves—polls, the products of machines? They calibrate decisions, positions, and even feelings based on digital feedback. Long gone are the days when politicians took their cues from human-to-human interaction.

If the goal of progress is to make life easier, I think we can agree that our modern technology has been a winning success. But, if the goal of progress is to make the world a better place than we left it, our technology has failed us on ecological, social, and (dare I say it) spiritual levels. Rather than help us understand ourselves better, to be more ourselves, machines have inspired us to become more like machines.

Nostalgia for the old way isn’t helpful. Those who choose to type on Remingtons and refuse to buy cell phones—we all have at least one friend whom we admire and pity for her stubborn self-denial—just add to their own inefficiency rather than apply technology in a way that promotes what is best about humans. But is there a way to utilize our technology in a way that helps make our world a better place? Maybe, but . . . hold on one second . . . my phone is ringing. Sorry, I gotta take this.

(Photo from flickr.)