Category Archives: Models

Examples we can productively study

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Helpful Ready Responses

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A mind reels at the possibilities for instant pre-written responses.

My version of gmail now comes not only with messages from colleagues and others, but also some preset  phrases inserted at  the bottom that I can click as potential responses.  These seem designed for moments when actually writing back  to another person might be just too much work.  Instead, just find the response that comes the closest to what you might have said.  “Thanks for letting me know” or “Yes, you can do that” are just two of three  buttons I recently received in a message.  The other is at the top of this page. Given these genial options all emphasizing agreement, I’m glad the message was not some sort of dire threat.

A mind reels at the possibilities for instant pre-written responses.  No need to put oneself in the picture by writing a reply appropriate to a specific message.  We can now do the email equivalent of a robocall.  It’s a case of a person and a machine switching places: the program is in charge; you just have to muster the energy to move that very heavy cursor to a choice you can live with.

And, by the way, who actually says “Nope, that’s fine”?  That was the third suggested option in my recent e-mail. It’s an answer with a negative and affirmative response.  It seems destined to sew confusion. What if the receiver is given a green light for the wrong thing but a red light for something that is fine?  For example, your deadbeat uncle takes up residence in your house, but is careful to heed an apparent request to not eat last night’s leftovers.

The folks at Google clearly have too much time on their hands.  But as long as the effort has been made, why not go for some grand rhetorical fireworks in the “one-button-answers-all” department?  The responses could advance from simple modesty to barely contained rage:

Oops.  Sorry.  My mistake.

Yes, I think you should do it.  Let me know how it works out.

Looks like things are slow at work.

Sounds like our colleague has been skipping his meds.  

Happy to do it, but for a fee.

Sorry:  that was my typo. I meant I’m good at math, not meth.

How does “never!” sound? 

Putting out complete topics or thoughts in closed option responses never makes much sense.  You know  the feeling if you need to “talk” to someone in a customer service person in a  business.  Instead, you end up on a ferris wheel of pre-recorded binaries that completely miss your reasons.  Entering this world, Google’s step seems more like a stumble, using machine generated language and faux cheerfulness in place of a dialogue.

 

 

 

 

The Greek theatre in Syracuse Siracusa Sicily Italy

The Disappearing Agora

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For most of us, the agora is electronic rather than physical. We now meet mostly online, missing the shared ‘witnessing’ known to early democracies and even early television viewers.

The idea of a central meeting place goes hand-in-hand with the idea of democracy.  A location where leaders and citizens are can be heard and exchange ideas is an essential feature of a civil society. Of course it was one thing for the several hundred citizens of a young democracy like ancient Syracuse in the 5th century BC.  They would gather in an open space.  It’s quite another thing when the political unit is scaled up from a city-state to a nation spread over a continent.

The romance of a New England town meeting retains some of the aura of a simple agora.  We have sentimentalized the idea even in classic television programs like Newhart or the Gilmore Girls.  Yet there is still truth in the romance. Even if most of us live in larger cities, we can still interact with local leaders. And though most of us rarely exercise the opportunity, it can be empowering to put a municipal leader on notice with our grievances or occasional praise.

Living within political boundaries containing thousands or millions obviously changes how we can connect to each other.  With regard to the federal government, most of us have only known the quasi-agora of national television news. Growing up in the 50s, my family mostly used one of three choices for connecting with the rest of the country.  NBC, CBS and a weaker ABC beamed out seemingly urgent news, such as the 1969 landing on the moon.  Life paused in most Colorado households in time to catch early evening newscasts narrated by Walter Cronkite at CBS or David Brinkley at NBC.  The announced death of President Kennedy in 1963 came to most of the nation through the words of the venerable CBS anchor.

The agora is now clearly electronic not in real time. We now “meet” mostly online: a change from early live television, where limits on technology meant that Americans witnessed the same momentous events more or less at the same  time.

We need to be careful about citing digital “advances.” To be sure, chatter in the culture has never stopped.  We are engaged with others in an endless spectrum of online communities.  But in no sense should we consider Twitter or Instagram as comparable vehicles for meaningful public “discussion.”  If we need a comparison, the typical social media post more closely resembles a shout issued from a passing car.

At the same time, the idea of a common civic space has withered. Readership of the nation’s largest newspapers is in decline.  Reliable online news (much of it aggregated from the remaining national news outlets) occupies less of our time.  The resulting fragmentation of the nation into specific audiences means that it is less likely that Americans will pay attention to significant events, or even  the same informational sources. If you ask friends what they are watching on online or via networks such as CBS or Netflix, the odds are good that “their” programs are not what you are watching. Neil Postman had it at least half right: we are “amusing ourselves to death,” but now with ever more esoteric ‘narrowcasting’ that satisfies personal rather than national interests.

I see this most dramatically in younger Americans, who have not only lost the newspaper habit, but the news-seeking habit as well.  There are too many other choices that offer more immediate forms of gratification.  Add in the double-threat of disinformation efforts from sources ranging from this White House to the Kremlin, and we are ill-prepared to enter any kind of agora as informed citizens.

Of course a national disaster brings lots of us momentarily back to CNN, NBC or Fox news.  But many more of us stay in touch–if at all–through other online venues offering their own unique perspectives and agendas.  Given these changes, its little wonder that the congressional Agora envisioned by the founders of the republic is now dysfunctional.  No one looks to Congress for momentous debates on the issues of the day.  In structural terms, it has always run a poor second to parliamentary forms of government for hosting spirited legislative debate.  The mute Congress is a symptom of our problem, but our fragmenting media now also seem ill-equipped to bring us together to ponder great national issues.