Innovation Brainstorm: The Clive Thompson Files
Wednesday, February 25th, 2009Today Clive Thompson’s articles are getting me thinking.
Why Clive Thompson? Because he has a pretty good track record of writing about how and why technology changes the way we think, communicate, and work.
And, look, I just don’t get good ideas anymore from reading the same political people all the time. I need exposure to other things, and Thompson gets something that perhaps those of us who work in the political don’t have time to sit back and reflect upon: how everything we do online is changing us (and how it changes the voters and constituents we’re trying to reach).
1. The Internet doesn’t make us less social. It probably makes us more social.
For those stragglers who say they aren’t on Twitter because they “really don’t care about what their friends are having for lunch,” there is Thompson’s How Twitter Creates a Social Sixth Sense from Wired way back in 2007.
The power is in the surprising effects that come from receiving thousands of pings from your posse. And this, as it turns out, suggests where the Web is heading. . . .The animating genius behind Twitter will live on in future apps. That tactile sense of your community is simply too much fun, too useful — and it makes the group more than the sum of its parts.
A look at how the way we use some of the most addictive tools online — like Facebook’s News Feed and DC’s favorite new past time Twitter — is feeds our ambient awareness in Brave New World of Digital Intimacy from the New York Times Magazine (September 2008).
You could also regard the growing popularity of online awareness as a reaction to social isolation, the modern American disconnectedness that Robert Putnam explored in his book “Bowling Alone.” The mobile workforce requires people to travel more frequently for work, leaving friends and family behind, and members of the growing army of the self-employed often spend their days in solitude. Ambient intimacy becomes a way to “feel less alone,” as more than one Facebook and Twitter user told me.
2. Why worry only about the NSA tracking you when we already track ourselves (this is me and my weird sense of humor and not Thompson). And we’ll track ourselves even more over the course of the next few years, as we continue to store our thoughts, ideas and meetings online instead of merely storing them in our brains.
Thompson writes about the rise of online sousveillance and using technology to build a better memory. He writes about Gordon Bell, who logs multi-media details (photos, audio recordings, email, everything he writes, etc.) about everyone meets, every details of his life in A Head for Detail for FastCompany.
It’s a crazy experiment. But perhaps its craziest aspect is that soon you’ll be part of it too–whether you want to be or not. The way Bell sees it, computers and the Internet are now rapidly becoming capable of storing everything you do and see. Hard-drive space has exploded in size, and every day people are recording more and more of their lives: We blog about our thoughts, upload personal pictures to Flickr, save every email on our infinitely expanding Gmail accounts, shoot video on our cell phones, record phone calls straight to our hard drives when we use Skype.
3. It’s ok to admit that the pace of life online and offline is driving me crazy. It might get worse, if this single-tasking movement doesn’t take off.
Thompson looks at interruption science and how technology is changing the way we work in Meet the Life Hackers for the New York Times Magazine (btw, telegraph operators were the first humans to experience the stress of constant interruptions 100 years ago).
In the language of computer sociology, our jobs today are “interrupt driven.” Distractions are not just a plague on our work - sometimes they are our work. To be cut off from other workers is to be cut off from everything.
But
Researchers find that 40 percent of the time, workers wander off in a new direction when an interruption ends, distracted by the technological equivalent of shiny objects. The central danger of interruptions, Czerwinski realized, is not really the interruption at all. It is the havoc they wreak with our short-term memory: What the heck was I just doing?



