We expect more from technology and less from each other. We create technology to provide the illusion of companionship without the demands of friendship.— Sherry Turkle
The most bumbling Sherry Turkle quotes you will be delighted to read
What is so seductive about texting, about keeping that phone on, about that little red light on the BlackBerry, is you want to know who wants you.
The most used program in computers and education is PowerPoint.
What are you learning about the nature of the medium by knowing how do to a great PowerPoint presentation? Nothing. It certainly doesnt teach you how to think critically about living in a culture of simulation.
Networked, we are together, but so lessened are our expectations of each other that we can feel utterly alone. And there is the risk that we come to see others as objects to be accessed—and only for the parts we find useful, comforting, or amusing.
The feeling that 'no one is listening to me' make us want to spend time with machines that seem to care about us.
Human relationships are rich and they're messy and they're demanding.
And we clean them up with technology. We sacrifice conversation for mere connection.
Thumbs up or thumbs down on a website is not a conversation.
The danger is you get into a habit of mind where politics means giving a thumbs up or thumbs down to a website. The world is a much more complex place.
We're too busy communicating to think, too busy communicating to connect, and sometimes we're too busy communicating to create. This is true for individuals and also true for organizations.
We expect more from technology and less from each other.
we seem determined to give human qualities to objects and content to treat each other as things.
We're lonely, but we're afraid of intimacy.
And so from social networks to sociable robots, we're designing technologies that will give us the illusion of companionship without the demands of friendship.
Terrified of being alone, yet afraid of intimacy, we experience widespread feelings of emptiness, of disconnection, of the unreality of self. And here the computer, a companion without emotional demands, offers a compromise. You can be a loner, but never alone. You can interact, but need never feel vulnerable to another person.
We're smitten with technology. And we're afraid, like young lovers, that too much talking might spoil the romance. But it's time to talk.
We're letting [technology] take us places that we don't want to go.
Technology challenges us to assert our human values, which means that first of all, we have to figure out what they are.
People thought I was very pro-computer.
I was on the cover of Wired magazine. [Then things began to change. In the early 80s,] we met this technology and became smitten like young lovers. But today our attachment is unhealthy.
It is painful to watch children trying to show off for parents who are engrossed in their cell phones. Children are nostalgic for the 'good old days' when parents used to read to them without the cell phone by their side or watch football games or Disney movies without having the BlackBerry handy.
When the social network doesn't find it convenient to have privacy, we say, "Okay, social network, you don't want privacy, maybe we won't have it either." But we did this without having the conversation.
Teenagers talk about the idea of having each other's 'full attention.
' They grew up in a culture of distraction. They remember their parents were on cell phones when they were pushed on swings as toddlers. Now, their parents text at the dinner table and don't look up from their BlackBerry when they come for end-of-school day pickup.
These days, insecure in our relationships and anxious about intimacy, we look to technology for ways to be in relationships and protect ourselves from them at the same time.
If behind popular fascination with Freudian theory there was a nervous, often guilty preoccupation with the self as sexual, behind increasing interest in computational interpretations of mind is an equally nervous preoccupation with the self as machine.
Technology proposes itself as the architect of our intimacies.
The computer takes up where psychoanalysis left off.
It takes the ideas of a decentered self and makes it more concrete by modeling mind as a multiprocessing machine.
These days, when people are alone, or feel a moment of boredom, they tend to reach for a device. In a movie theater, at a stop sign, at the checkout line at a supermarket and, yes, at a memorial service, reaching for a device becomes so natural that we start to forget that there is a reason, a good reason, to sit still with our thoughts: It does honor to what we are thinking about. It does honor to ourselves.
We ask [ of the computer ] not just about where we stand in nature, but about where we stand in the world of artefact. We search for a link between who we are and what we have made, between who we are and what we might create, between who we are and what, through our intimacy with our own creations, we might become.
Does virtual intimacy degrade our experience of the other kind and, indeed, of all encounters, of any kind?
We will continue to live in a form in which we become cyborg.
Either we download our information to a machine or we incorporate so many machine parts that we don't know where we end and the machine begins.
People are lonely. The network is seductive. But if we are always on, we may deny ourselves the rewards of solitude.
Not every advance is progress. Not every new thing is better for us humanly.
When you're addicted to heroin, there is only one thing you can do - go off heroin. But we're not going to throw away these phones, we're not going to throw away our technology.
We're in partnership with technology, influencing each other in a dance.
My loyalties are to our making and shaping technology to conform to our human values; and to confronting the hard job of figuring out what those values are, and how are we're going to get technology to do that.
One thing is certain: the riddle of mind, long a topic for philosophers, has taken on new urgency. Under pressure from the computer, the question of mind in relation to machine is becoming a central cultural preoccupation. It is becoming for us what sex was to the Victorians--threat and obsession, taboo and fascination.
If we're not able to be alone, we're going to be more lonely.
And if we don't teach our children to be alone, they're only going to know how to be lonely.
What I'm seeing is a generation that says consistently, 'I would rather text than make a telephone call.' Why? It's less risky. I can just get the information out there. I don't have to get all involved; it's more efficient. I would rather text than see somebody face to face.
What is the value of interactions that contain no understanding of us and that contribute nothing to a shared store of human meaning?
Loneliness is failed solitude.
If we don't teach kids how to be alone, they will end up only lonely.
The computer is a mind machine. It doesn't have its own psychology, but in a way it presents itself as though it does.
Everything that enchants may be said to deceive.
Computers are not good or bad; they are powerful.
We... heal ourselves by giving others what we most need.
What technology makes easy is not always what nurtures the human spirit.
There are moments of opportunity for families;
moments they need to put technology away. These include: no phones or texting during meals. No phones or texting when parents pick up children at school - a child is looking to make eye contact with a parent!
I think computers are the ultimate writing tool.
I'm a very slow writer, so I appreciate it every day.
The kind of solitude that refreshes and restores is very important, not just for children, not just for adolescents, but for all of us. If you don't teach your children how to be alone they will only be able to be lonely.
Hold on to your passion - you'll need it!
Teenagers would rather text than talk. They feel calls would reveal too much.
I apologize to all of my colleagues who've been writing up storms, but as a culture we've essentially put ourselves into a position where Mark Zuckerberg can say, "Privacy as a social norm is no longer relevant," and a lot of people don't blink an eye.
We have relationships with many different things, creatures and beings.
We have relationships with cats, with dogs, with horses, and we know that there are certain things they can't do. So we'll add robots to that list, and we'll learn what they can and cannot do. No harm, no foul.
There's a lot of research that indicates the brain rewards us for multi-tasking by giving us a shot of neurochemicals whenever we start a new task. Our brain rewards us even as our performance in every task degrades. We don't even notice that our performance is bad. We don't care. We feel like masters of the universe because our brain is chemically rewarding us for multi-tasking.