Communication and orthopraxy

Communication and othropraxy

I was listening to the audiobook of a good novel from the beginning of this century while doing something on my smartphone, when the realization struck me. One of the characters in the novel had left a message to another character, announcing a visit. The message was left in an unspecified manner that clearly didn't involve the expectation of confirmation or other direct reaction. If the recipient objected to the visit, he should made it known somehow. That was how we used to communicate before mobile phones and the Internet. In shorter than two decades, new technologies have altered our possibilities but more significantly our attitudes. Communication has become more efficient and transparent but also more demanding: we feel obliged to announce many things and respond to probably even more.

One of the striking things is the multimediality of our communication. Some had expected that the Internet would promote literacy and verbal expression. Others have lauded texting language as a renewal. It turns out that text is less important than they thought. Images and pictorial symbols, from memes to emojis are taking over, turning most forms of communication into something akin to a comic book. Given my love for comic books, I should be glad about this development but I'm rather worried.

The likeness of our communications to comic books is not accidental. There's a combination of economy and expressiveness in comic books that makes them so readable but also rather easy to write (not draw). Telling something in a text, either short or long, can be a daunting task for many. Compiling a comic-book-like sequence of ready-made elements removes much of the difficulty of verbal expression, moreover in a way easily adaptable to the latest vogues - something with obvious appeal to avid users of the new digital media. It's also quite democratic: one doesn't need special skills to use emojis.

The problem is exactly that: it's easy to avoid developing any significant skills in expressing oneself and still be quite active in communication. In many cases, it just amounts to effortless and uncritical use of clichés. People don't learn to write, draw or invent; they just learn to follow.

This reveals a dangerous conflict. On one hand, we are challenging many orthodoxies and asking people to open up their minds, remove prejudices and go beyond old beliefs in order to understand and live harmoniously with each other or to advance science and technology. On the other, we are promoting orthopraxy in most of its forms, not only reducing creativity but also tacitly subjugating thinking to old and new conformities. It's not a new conflict but that it persists despite brave claims about the potential of new technologies for human society is telling.

Critical or constructive?

Critical or constructive?

Having been involved in computerisation from the early days of its popularisation in the 20th century, I'm often involved in ambitious projects that aspire to develop Company 2.0 or Society 3.0 - that kind of visionary, disruptive and innovative stuff that has become so popular. My involvement is thankfully limited: brainstorms in the early, conceptual stages or evaluations at the end. I sit in conference rooms, like I did last week, and listen to big words with little understanding of the technologies involved and their possible consequences. People are drunk with the potential of their world - not specific technologies but the abstract, vague spirit of the age: AI, blockchains, BIM, social media, big data are magic wands that can transform their reality into something else, something new that will help primarily their career.

It's difficult to remain constructive under such circumstances, lacking in structure and clarity of approach. What I hear reminds me of people excitedly buying more and more stuff for their homes, gadgets and furnishings with questionable utility, without any intention of replacing old stuff, without any thought as to combine the new with the old, just overloading and cluttering their lives. Yes, one can be eclectic and promote heterogeneity into a virtue but coherence has its advantages, especially if it helps reduce cost and effort. Computerisation remains too expensive and demanding to take it as a mere collage of an ever-growing collection tools and micro-environments. It's not enough to claim that one's making a new version of the world; one has to specify this version in a coherent and comprehensive manner.

But even if I would be inclined to neglect the overall picture, it's hard not to be critical of such individual tools and micro-environments. People just buy any old thing from so-called developers and advisors (most of them are just resellers of products with added unnecessary services: servitisation is for the benefit of the seller, not of the buyer), impressed by modernity and peer acceptance. They buy things that might overlap with what they already have, things that might not do what they expect, things that might perform worse than alternatives digital or analogue. Even worse, they often seem unable to take a step back and look at the mess they're buying.

So, what am I supposed to do? The easy option is to just sit there and nod gravely, letting them do the interpretation of my silence. Yet I cannot resist attempts to make them think for themselves, to offer them some starting point for structuring and explaining their own thoughts. It seldom works; one cannot talk rationally to junkies, it appears. Let the world dissolve into tiny pieces, each governed by salespeople and PR. We're rich enough to support them all, it transpires.

Internet

Internet 

I've been a rather early user of the Internet. Having the advantage of working at a major university, I had access to it even before the web was invented but never expected it to be that big a thing. If one had asked me back then, I would have asserted that it would be a nice thing at universities, a tool and plaything of the higher education and research world. Professional or social applications were completely out of my field of vision. This didn't change even after I started putting my courses on the Internet, having students present their work online (also in progress) and realising how valuable the Internet could be as a dissemination and communication environment.

When the extent of my teaching was reduced, my professional interest in the Internet waned, exactly at the time that it became a big thing in society in general, subsequently triggering interest in academic research and education. With raised eyebrows I saw how my colleagues became fascinated by a sequence of Internet vogues and vowed never to become involved in such matters. As a result, one may say that I've missed a lot but at the same time I was spared much. Keeping a low profile on the Internet may not be a bad thing, after all, especially for people who know they don't have something substantial to communicate to the world every hour of the day.