I’ve just finished reading The Human Factor by Kim Vicente.(No, it’s not on the obligatory reading list for my upcoming Candidacy Exam, but it’s relevant, and a nice little brain rest after some of the stuff I’m wading through, and I had to hurry it up and get it read so I could return it to D., for whom I actually bought it.) It won a couple of awards when it was published a few years back – the National Business Book Award and the Science in Society Book Award – and though I wasn’t entirely impressed with the style of writing, I imagine it was deliberately anecdotal and idiomatic, as part of the plan for “an academic author.. trying for the first time to write a book for a broader readership” (331, Vicente).
The book examines how our relationship with technology works (or doesn’t work), looking at things as varied as toothbrushes, stoves, automated telephone systems, aeroplane cockpits, hospital machinery and nuclear power plants. His concern:
“More and more we’re being asked to live with technology that is technically reliable, because it was created to fit our knowledge of the physical world, but that is so complex or so counterintuitive that it’s actually unusable by most human beings.” (17, Vicente)
His solution: a human-tech revolution, an insistence that design should combine a mechanistic and humanistic approach, where we stop valuing ‘high-tech’ purely because it’s clever and shiny, and start to focus on creating and using technology that makes sense to us, physically, psychologically, politically, socially… Particularly interesting, for a not-very-technically-minded-person like myself, was the message that what we so often dismiss or excuse as ‘human error’ is, probably more often than not, human error caused by bad design. Perhaps bad design of the technology itself, or the conditions it is used in, or the style of training gives. Or numerous other factors.
It’s interesting that I should finish reading it the same day Steve Jobs, of Apple fame, died. And that the responses on Facebook to the news of his death are one of the deciding factors in deciding to finally delete that account. I didn’t count how many times Apple logos, quotes from his not-all-that-inspiring speeches, and other comments showed up in my news feed. Not sure if it was more or less than the recent rush of copied-and-pasted warnings about privacy changes or the ‘vaguely funny the first time you see them, but quickly very annoying shared pictures’ (“LOL, this is hilarious”). Either way it’s not what I’m on Facebook for. And that’s not how I speak, or how my friends speak, when I talk to them in the real world. It’s got to the point where I pretty much can’t tell the difference between a potential spam post or a real comment by a real person.
When I joined up in 2006 it worked as a great way to keep in touch with old friends, get back in touch with those I’d lost contact with, stalk the boys I used to fancy. Over the years, as I’ve moved countries, it worked to help me feel part of communities that I geographically no longer belonged to, but wanted to feel close to. (Old colleagues, the folk scene, old school friends and their babies, cousins and family friends, Spanish pals…) I’ve used it to browse their photos, to hear about gigs and parties and meetings, to see what’s going in the world and what’s important to different people in different places. In Vancouver it’s been a great way to help new friendships develop and start to feel part of a community here. (And to continue stalking people I fancy, of course). We even used it for our wedding invitation. So, no, I’m not anti-Facebook, per se. It’s helped develop and deepen some great friendships over the years. It’s helped us share and support and be silly.
But…. I still think I’m going to stop using it. I don’t need to list all the reasons, and there are lots. One, though, feels like reason enough for me: when it’s reached the point that I log in to make contact with my friends – the friends I have chosen, and whom I adore, and who are amazing and talented and diverse and gorgeous and funny and interesting – and find myself faced with countless repetitive pictures of cats or Apple logos or people saying ‘Facebook won’t let me …’ and a list of ‘top stories’ which a machine has selected and no sign of half the people I want to hear from, I’ve reached the point that this technology is not working for me.
I’m not going to swear off technology – Vicente’s book helped me realize that it’s not technology itself that’s the problem, but rather the way it’s made or controlled; I use email, skype, my phone. I’m interested in checking out Diaspora to see if that’s a social network I could feel comfortable with. (I definitely like the idea of it being open source and you maintaining ownership of the content you post.) I love reading interesting blogs and sites. I have this blog. I also have a nice pen and a pile of cards. I want to quit relying on connections which are less and less meaningful, which are turning into noise, so I can return to hearing, now and again (I don’t need hourly updates), when they have the time to email or write or call, the beautiful voices of my friends, before I start blaming them for the frustrating, pointless experience that Facebook has become.