Can wearable devices augment our activities without distracting us from the real world?
Ever talk to someone at a party or conference reception only to
discover that the person you are talking to is constantly scanning the
room, looking this way and that, perhaps finding you boring, perhaps
looking for someone more important? Doesn’t the person realize that you
notice?
Welcome to the brave new world of wearable computers, which will
tread within the uneasy space bounded by continual distraction,
continual diversion of attention, and continual blank stares along one
border; and focused attention, continual enhancement, and better
interaction, understanding, and retention along the other. Google’s
latest hardware toy, Glass, which has received a lot of attention, is
only the beginning of this challenge.Actually, it isn’t the beginning—this stuff has been around for over a
decade. In my former roles as a cognitive scientist, vice president of
technology at Apple, and now as a management consultant in product
design, I visit research laboratories at companies and universities all
over the world. I’ve experienced many of these devices. I’ve worn
virtual reality goggles that had me wandering through complex
computerized mazes, rooms, and city streets, as well as augmented
realities, where the real world was visible, but with informative
overlays.
And yes, I’ve worn Google’s Glass. Unlike fully “immersive” displays
that capture your full attention, Glass is deliberately designed to be
inconspicuous and nondistracting. The display is only in the upper right
of the visual field, the goal being to avoid distractions and only to
provide relevant, supplementary information when needed.
Even so, the risk of disengagement is significant. And once Google
allows third-party developers to provide applications, it loses control
over the ways in which these will be used. Sebastian Thrun,
who was in charge of Google’s experimental projects when Glass was
conceived, told me that while he was on the project, he insisted that
Glass provide only limited e-mail functionality, not a full e-mail
system. Well, now that outside developers have their hands on it, guess
what one of the first things they did with it was? Yup, full e-mail.
It’s a great myth that people can multitask without any loss in
quality. Numerous psychology experiments show that when two relatively
complex tasks are done at the same time, there is measurable
deterioration in performance. Some of these experiments were even done
by me, back in the days when I was a practicing cognitive scientist. David Strayer,
whose research group at the University of Utah has studied these issues
for decades, has shown that hands-free phones are just as distracting
as handheld ones, and using one while driving is just as bad as driving
while drunk.
Even as simple a pair of tasks as walking and talking can show
performance decrement: it happens to me all the time. When I am thinking
or deep in conversation while on my morning walk, when I get to
difficult and profound thoughts, I often stop walking. The stopping is
subconscious, only noticed when my conscious mind looks up from its
concentration to notice that the walking has halted. Psychologist (and
Nobel laureate) Danny Kahneman notes in his book Thinking, Fast and Slow that he discovered he couldn’t think at all when he walked too fast. He had to slow down to allow new thoughts.
If simultaneous task performance is so deleterious, why do people
maintain that they can do it without any deterioration? Well, it is for
somewhat the same reason that drunk drivers think they can drive safely:
monitoring our own performance is yet another task to do, and it
suffers. The impairment in mental skills makes it difficult to notice
the impairment.
So while the supplementary, just-in-time information provided by
wearable computers seems wonderful, as we come to rely upon it more and
more, we can lose engagement with the real world. Sure, it is nice to be
reminded of people’s names and perhaps their son’s recent skiing
accident, but while I am being reminded, I am no longer there—I am
somewhere in ether space, being told what is happening.
Years ago, I wrote a piece called “I go to a sixth grade play”
in which I discussed the parents so anxiously videorecording their
children in the play that they didn’t experience the event until the
next day. Detached engagement is not the same thing as full engagement;
it takes away the emotional engagement. There is a flip-side to this argument, however. It is that, when
implemented and used mindfully, wearable technology can enhance our
abilities significantly. Thad Starner,
a wearable computer champion who has worn these devices for almost a
quarter-century and was a technical advisor to Google Glass, sent me
comments on an early draft of this article. “I am very bad at
multitasking,” he said, noting that when he attends a lecture, by
“putting the physical focus of the display at the depth of the
blackboard and having a fast text entry method, I could (suddenly) both
pay attention and take good notes,” far better than with paper and
pencil, when his attention had to shift from notebook to blackboard. He
then reminded me of a conversation we had on this topic in 2002. I
didn’t remember the conversation, so he described the interaction,
reminding me of both his comments and my responses.
How can Starner remember the details of a conversation from more than
10 years ago? He takes notes during his conversations, one hand in his
pocket typing away on a special keyboard. The result is that during any
interaction, he is far more focused and attentive than many of my
non-computer-wearing colleagues: the act of taking notes forces him to
concentrate upon the content of the interaction. Moreover, he has
records of his interactions, allowing him to review what took
place—which is how he “remembered” our decade-old conversation. (For
more on the way Starner uses his wearable devices, see this Q+A with Starner and “You Will Want Google Goggles,” by Farhad Manjoo.)
Without the right approach, the continual distraction of multiple
tasks exerts a toll that disrupts performance. It takes time to switch
tasks, to get back what attention theorists call “situation awareness.”
Interruptions disrupt performance, and even a voluntary switching of
attention from one task to another is an interruption of the task being
left behind.
Furthermore, it will be difficult to resist the temptation of using
powerful technology that guides us with useful side information,
suggestions, and even commands. Sure, other people will be able to see
that we are being assisted, but they won’t know by whom, just as we will
be able to tell that they are being minded, and we won’t know by whom.
Eventually we will be able to eavesdrop on both our own internal
states and those of others. Tiny sensors and clever software will infer
their emotional and mental states and our own. Worse, the inferences
will often be wrong: a person’s pulse rate just went up, or their skin
conductance just changed; there are many factors that could cause such
things to happen, but technologists are apt to focus upon a simple,
single interpretation.
Is this what we want? Fully informed people, staring blankly at the
real world as their virtual minders tell them what is happening?
We are entering unknown territory, and much of what is being done is simply because it can be done.
In the end, wearable technologies will either be able to augment our
experiences, and focus our attention on the task and the people with
whom we are interacting, or they’ll distract us—diverting our attention
through tasty morsels of information irrelevant to the current activity.
When technologies are used to supplement our activities, when the
additional information being provided is of direct relevance, our
attention can become more highly focused and our understanding and
retention enhanced. When the additional information is off-target, no
matter how enticing it is, that’s the distracting and disruptive side.
I like to look on the positive side of technology. I even wrote a book, Things That Make Us Smart,
about the power of artifacts to enhance human abilities. I am fully
dependent upon modern technologies because they make me more powerful,
not less. By taking away the dreary, unessential parts of life, I can
concentrate upon the important, human aspects. I can direct high-level
activities and strategies and maintain friendships with people all over
the world. That’s the focused side. On the other hand, I spend many
hours each day simply keeping up with people who continually contact me,
almost always with interesting comments, news, and invitations, but
nonetheless exceeding my ability to cope and distracting me from my
primary activities. Yes, I welcome these distractions because they are a
pleasant diversion from the hard work of writing, thinking, and
decision-making, but procrastination, even though it’s enjoyable, does
not help get the work done. I already had to hire a human assistant to
help keep me focused. Will the continual stream of messages from
wearable devices prove to be irresistible, diverting me from my work, or
will they amplify my abilities?
A standard response to this dilemma is to put the burden on the
individual: it is our responsibility to use technology responsibly. I
agree in theory, but not in practice. I know all too well the
temptations of distraction—all that fascinating news, all those friends
who send me status reports and wish me to respond with my own. I find it
easy to succumb—anything to avoid the difficult, dreary concentration
required to accomplish anything of value. I’ve often had to unplug my
computer from the Internet to complete my work. The providers of these
technologies must share the burden of responsible design.
Can wearable devices be helpful? Absolutely. But they can also be
horrid. It all depends upon whether we use them to focus and augment our
activities or to distract. It is up to us, and up to those who create
these new wearable wonders to decide which it is to be.
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