Problem Practices | The Perfect Response

If we all “hang out” virtually, we make ourselves smaller.

A few days ago I watched a car drifting on its own across a sloped parking lot, motor off. There was an occupant, but he was lost to everything except the text he was writing. He was clearly headed for trouble on the other side when he finally realized that the laws of physics had put him in the path of others. I fear this is us, drifting–even while the world waits–and too preoccupied with a screen to notice.

As a case in point Brian Chen’s recent technology piece in the New York Times (December 29, 2022) eagerly described of coming advances in digital media: better iPhones, new virtual reality equipment, software that allows people to “share selfies at the same time,” and social media options that provide new “fun places to hang out.”

So glib and so short-sighted. When did a few inches of glass with microchips become a “place?” Language like this makes one wonder if, as students, these technology journalists encountered the rich expanses of social intelligence that come to life in real time. Too few technology mavens seem to give any weight to the ranges of human experience predicated on hard-won human achievements of cognition and competence. Consumer-based digital media are mostly about speed rather than light. If we all “hang out” virtually, we make ourselves smaller, using the clever equivalent of a mirror to not notice our diminished relevance.

Most social media sites only give us only the illusion of connection. This is perhaps one reason movies, sports and modern narratives are so attractive: we can at least witness people in actual “places” doing more with their lives than exercising their thumbs. Spending time with young children also a helps. In their early years children reflect our core nature by seeking direct and undivided attention; no virtual parenting, please. In expecting more than nominal indifference they may be more like their grandparents than parents.

A.I. pollutes the idea of authorship

Among more changes awaited next year, Chen described a “new chatty assistant” from an A. I. firm. The software is called Chat-GPT, which can allow a nearly sentient chatbot to act as a person’s “research assistant,” or maybe generate business proposals, or even write research papers. He’s enthusiastic about how these kinds of programs will “streamline people’s work flows.” But I suspect these require us to put our minds in idle: no longer burdened with functioning as an agency of thought. Apparently the kinks to be worked out would be no more than technical, freeing a person from using complex problem-solving skills. Indeed, the “work” of a computer generated report cannot be said to come from the person at all. As with so many message assistants, A.I. pollutes the idea of authorship. Who is in charge of the resulting verbal action? Hello Hal.

Consider how much worse it is for teachers of logic, writing, grammar, vocabulary, research and rhetoric, let alone their students. All ought to be engaged in shaping minds that are disciplined, smart about sources, and able to apply their life experiences to new circumstances. It is no wonder that the increasing presence of intellectual fakery makes some college degrees nearly meaningless. Paying for an A.I.-generated college paper is bad enough; generating plans for action from a self-writing Word program is a nightmare for all of us who expect our interlocutors to be competent, conscious and moral free agents.

The idea that a picture is worth a thousand words is an old piece of logophobia that excuses our rusty descriptive skills.

I can’t count the number of times in the last few weeks I’ve been asked to send a picture to a company about one of their products. Fixing a newly purchased home has meant some upgrades. So when a new refrigerator arrived with a dent, a call to the seller got the response, “send us a picture.” Similarly, a brand new water heater did everything except heat water. “Send a video” noted the plumber, who seemed not to hear my explanation of its futile on and off cycles. Ditto with the purchase of a new light fixture that came broken on route from Los Angeles to our front porch. “Send a picture of the damage” was the request of the seller. Incredibly, it seemed unlikely to them that the delivery service could have mangled the awkward box in its 3000 mile trip. Even a request for any new household account can now means downloading images of utility bills, or various forms of proof. By themselves, none of these requests are outrageous. But there seems to be a trend.

The point is that verbal explanations presented to an increasingly rare customer service agent now seem to count for very little. And there’s this: visual verification of a problem represents an unmistakable shift of the burden of proof from the seller to the buyer.

We have a leaky rain gutter on the top floor of our townhouse. I’m sure that when I get around to it, my call to the person who is responsible for roof repairs in our development will request a request a picture. Since it is a continuous drip rather than a waterfall, and since water falling from a roof will not photograph well, the image will probably show nothing. I could substitute a photo of Niagara Falls, but that seems a tad passive-aggressive.

When did consumers need to become videographers? Why has it become the consumer’s job to document a problem beyond what he or she has been clearly described? Does a request for a photo unburden the service provider to be a keen listener? We are told good doctors carefully listen to what their patients say. But that is bound to be less true if they are distracted by their own computers and diagnostic equipment.

I suspect I’m not the only older person for whom a phone still sits somewhere on a table rather than permanently grafted to their left hand. Using it as a camera still comes as a slightly unnatural act: another use of an awkward device that is essentially a bad computer, a bad keyboard, and a producer of subpar audio. And now we want it to be a Leica.

The larger issue is whether we are abandoning the idea of talking through a problem in the false hope that a picture will be a good substitute. The old piece of logophobia that “a picture is worth a thousand words” sometimes seems to be an excuse to give up on verbal fluency. It’s a significant loss of our cognitive powers to ignore the more absorbing dance of thought and expression.

The Perfect Response

EFFECTIVE COMMUNICATION IN A DISTRACTED AGE

Category Archives: Problem Practices

Passing Up Fluency for a Camera