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66 pages 2 hours read

Sherry Turkle

Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2015

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Parts 1-2Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Part 1: “The Case for Conversation” - Part 2: “One Chair”

Part 1, Chapter 1 Summary: “The Empathy Diaries”

Author Sherry Turkle describes the difficulties in modern communication. Without being face to face, it is harder to be present and to cultivate empathy. People may use their phones because they are bored. They even use their phones when talking to other people: “Phubbing” is the word for making eye contact while texting. The situation is not limited to adults, as even children increasingly prefer to text. Turkle is disturbed by the lack of real conversation because conversations create intimacy. She compares the new reality to “a ‘silent spring’—a term Rachel Carson [a marine biologist and conservationist] coined when we were ready to see that with technological change had come an assault on our environment” (4).

“They Make Acquaintances, but Their Connections Seem Superficial”

In December 2013, the dean of Holbrooke School, Ava Reade, contacted Turkle, asking her to research the perceived superficiality of friendships in the middle school. Turkle took a diary to a faculty retreat and calls it the “empathy diaries.” Reade said that 12-year-old students seem to lack the empathy appropriate for their age and were excluding each other the way eight-year-olds do. Another teacher reported that when students sat together at lunch, they stared at their phones, and this replaced conversation. When the students interacted at lunch, it was mostly to show each other something on the phone.

Turkle writes that the digital world allows for an exploration of identity: “Virtual space is a place to explore the self” (6). The digital world also can offer a sense of safety and control. While Turkle cites computer games and simulations in particular, she concludes that the Holbrooke students used texting to an unhealthy degree and that they were losing their abilities to listen, make eye-contact, and respond to others—in short, the ability to have conversations. Real friendships demand things that computers—and acquaintances known only online—do not.

“A Partisan of Conversation”

Turkle is trained as a sociologist. She focuses on the work of conversations. To illustrate the unique importance of conversation, she uses the example of a classroom: In a classroom, conversations have a different nature than anywhere else. Conversations help students, with the teacher’s guidance, to form a narrative. In this way, facts can be used instead of simply learned: Students learn how to apply their knowledge to the framework of history and to the entire human conversation. The author then uses psychotherapy to exemplify the importance of conversation: The efficacy of the therapeutic relationship requires a therapist’s and client’s mutual attention to subtle signals, body language, silences—things that do not translate over texting.

Turkle believes that texting robs conversation of its real power.

“The Virtuous Circle”

Turkle recounts that, in 1846, Henry David Thoreau moved to Walden Pond for self-imposed solitude and reflection. He had three chairs in his cabin: “One for solitude, two for friendship, and three for society” (9). Solitude is necessary for reflection and growth—and yet, people struggle with solitude. Turkle cites a study revealing that people would rather give themselves electroshocks than suffer the boredom of sitting alone for 15 minutes with their thoughts. Solitude does not come naturally to modern day humans.

If we can’t be alone with ourselves, then we can’t pay attention to ourselves, and we lose the ability to pay attention to each other. Conversely, when we don’t pay enough attention to others, we can lose touch with ourselves. We must embrace both solitude and conversation.

“Crossroads”

Relationships—whether they are romantic, familial, educational, or work-related—are now a mixture of online and offline. Successful relationships require some level of intimacy. However, intimacy conveyed and built via text can lead away from true intimacy in favor of a poor mimicry. This intimacy is especially important during child development. Turkle sees parents ignore their children while texting, unperturbed or unaware that their children will do the same thing to their children one day.

“Generations”

Today’s children grow up with smartphones. They never have a chance to experience the world without the Internet—and, seeing no difference between texting and talking, they are unaware that there is a problem. The author notes that some parents shrug and give up when it comes to teaching their children better screen habits, feeling they simply must embrace the “new” way of doing things. However, Turkle says this is a “flight from the responsibilities of mentorship” (13). A mentor’s chief responsibility is to pass on the knowledge of our successes and mistakes. This education includes teaching children how to have proper conversations. Without acknowledging that conversation is a skill, we might lose it.

“Stepping Up, Not Stepping Back”

Turkle says there are two audiences for this book: those who think that this “flight from conversation” (14) is a problem, and those who think we are merely witnessing the evolution of conversation. To illustrate those who fall into the former category, she gives several examples from school and the workplace: teachers who ban devices at school and CEOs who insist that apologies at their company happen in person. There is then the public square, whose “conversation,” Turkle asserts, is the media. The decay of conversation in the public square cis evident in newscasts focused on sensationalism or sound-bite-length reports.

“Does the Exception Make the Problem Go Away?”

Turkle compares the diminished nature of conversation to

something like climate change: We feel safe in our homes and we usually aren’t thinking about ‘thirty years from now.’ And in the case of both climate change and conversation, there is the temptation to think that an exception means the problem isn’t real or will go away (16).

We rarely give people our undivided attention. We do not know the long-term cost of digital media. Turkle imagines the “fourth chair” (which she will more deeply address near the book’s conclusion) as conversations taking place in a mindspace that Thoreau could not have imagined.

“The Moment Is Right to Reclaim Conversation”

Turkle asks whether it is time to consider whether being connected actually bonds people. For example, she observes how, with the advent of mobile devices, we are increasingly expected to be available to anybody at the drop of a hat. She questions the nature of the bonds formed by digital conversation; she is skeptical about their longevity.

Part 1, Chapter 2 Summary: “The Flight From Conversation”

Dinners are no longer a guarantee that you have someone’s attention. People at tables will often text each other. College students want the freedom to be on their phones, and they want company as they do so. Several students tell Turkle about what they call the Rule of Three. During a gathering, the Rule of Three says it’s permissible to look down at one’s phone if at least three heads are looking up.

“Even A Silent Phone Disconnects Us”

A student told Turkle that there are more conversations happening, but fewer of those are happening among the people in the room. A student named Cameron said, “Our texts are fine. It’s what texting does to our conversations when we are together, that’s the problem” (21).

The presence of a silent phone keeps conversation light because people do not want to start deep conversations if they might be interrupted. Turkle wonders why empathy declines if there is so much constant messaging. She also observes that when adults talk less—usually because a phone is present—children talk less. If conversation develops empathy, those children are already missing out on critical emotional development.

“I’d Rather Text Than Talk”

People increasingly resist open-ended conversations. A face-to-face conversation can’t be controlled as rigidly as texting, and this control feels like a solution for anxiety. However, while texting, no one has to interpret body language or facial expressions. Turkle describes the nature of loneliness and writes that we will always feel lonely if we can’t stand being alone.

“My Tiny God”

Turkle does not hate technology and does not want less of it. Instead, she wants people to cultivate greater self-awareness rather than abolish phones. Self-awareness leads to authenticity, while social media and other digital conversation media require performance; Turkle recalls a conversation she had with a colleague, Sharon, in which Sharon confided that all her online interactions, especially those within social media, made her feel compelled to maintain an attractive online image. Turkle remarks that this compulsive image-upkeep may lead to anxiety or depression. We can lose track of what is performative and what is real.

“Pro-Conversation”

Turkle reiterates that she is pro-conversation, not anti-tech. She views the Internet as a tool that could have been designed to cancel self-reflection.

“The Three Wishes”

Our devices grant that we never have to be alone. A smartphone and a small circle of online acquaintances guarantees that people will hear us, that we can choose what to do with our attention, and that we never have to experience solitude. These three wishes guarantee that no one has to experience boredom. Boredom, however, can be an opportunity for growth.

Turkle spoke with employers who reported that the generation of employees who grew up with phones are unusually anxious about phone calls and long stretches (on the clock) without their devices.

“The Pilot in the Cockpit”

Turkle uses the metaphor of an airplane’s cockpit to describe the modern, isolated workspace. The use of headphones turns desks into cockpits, and computers become instrument panels. Coworkers sharing the same space are most likely doing the same thing, and no one has to interact in person if they don’t want to. Turkle then describes the phenomenon of people who prefer the relative neutrality of online disagreements and arguments to talking in person. Fights held over text or chat have greater emotional distance, and people can choose their words more carefully.

“Table Manners 2.0”

What Turkle calls “[c]ontinuous partial attention” (30) has become the norm at dinners. College students have told her that even though they use their phones constantly, they value the moments when someone puts a phone away. Other students said they can’t imagine asking someone to put their phone away, as if it would be a tremendous breach of etiquette. The students described being at dinner and feeling the pressure to pause their in-person conversations to respond to texts.

‘“I’m Sorry,’ Hit Send”

Turkle devotes several paragraphs to the nature of online versus offline apologies. Apologies are easier (emotionally) in text because no one has to see that the person apologizing—or being apologized to—is upset. In contrast, in-person apologies require empathy because both parties must be present with one another and witness the other person’s distress. The author cites a graduate student who told her that a text apology feels like an “artificial truce” (33). The person apologizing via text doesn’t need to face the in-person discomfort of an apology; it’s more like they just want the tension to be over.

“I Would Never Do This Face-to-Face. It’s Too Emotional”

Turkle recollects her guest appearance on The Colbert Report. The talk show host Stephen Colbert asked Turkle if “sips” of conversation—tweets, texts, posts—add up to one big conversation: Her answer was no. She says this is particularly true for apologies. In addition to making apologies easier, online connections give us the impression that we are always owed immediate answers: We lower the complexity of our questions in the hopes of quick answers.

“Interruptions? ‘This Is My Life’”

Turkle interviewed 25 people ranging from ages 18 to 24 when they were studying in Boston for the summer. They talked, but they also communicated during the meeting on the WhatsApp chat application. Turkle saw that they enjoyed moving in and out of different communication styles and that they sent images when the conversation got complicated rather than using more complex language. The students insisted that texting was lower risk than real conversation.

The philosopher Heinrich Von Kleist observes, “ideas come from speaking” (36). Turkle agrees with him, and she writes that real conversations are riskier than text conversations, which is part of their exhilaration. The more people avoid that risk, the fewer meaningful conversations they will have.

“Life’s Boring Bits”

Turkle gives an example of a college woman in bed with her boyfriend. While he’s in the bathroom, she checks Tinder because she encountered one of life’s “boring bits.”  

Similarly, a 34-year-old father Turkle interviewed mentioned being bored while giving his two-year-old daughter a bath. He felt bad because he knew that it was supposed to be a special time to bond with her, but it bored him. John McCain played iPhone poker during Syria hearings. How can we expect full attention from anyone when a senator can’t endure the boredom of a critical hearing? This is unfortunate because boredom is linked to creativity. Our brains always want fresh input, and conversation used to be how we fed that need.

“Does Technology Make Emotions Easy?”

Clifford Nass is a cognitive psychologist. A student told him that “[t]echnology makes emotions easy” (40). However, emotional engagement requires sustained focus, and sustained focus is often discouraged by online communication. For example, if someone makes a post on Facebook, that post will get more “likes” if it's something simple and crowd-pleasing, not analytical thought or genuine debate. It is also easier to post positive, popular content because negativity requires more cognitive processing. With digital communication, people have also grown accustomed to fast answers, to the point that slow responses seem uncaring. Dealing with people in real life is an education in how to feel and how to treat others.

“Technology Does Not Provide a Sentimental Education”

Turkle writes that we must reclaim our attention. As of 2015, Americans checked their phones every 6.5 minutes, and we were often on more than one type of media at once. We fool ourselves into thinking we’re efficient, but technology can make us less productive. A woman working at a start-up told Turkle she can no longer focus on one thing or person at a time.

Because it requires special attention, conversation cancels multitasking. Turkle wants us to be less vulnerable to the pull of our phones and use them (when we must) to improve our lives. Some of that change—that shift in phone habits—can be facilitated by engineers: If they design phones or software that encourage users to take a break from their phones after finishing a task, it will lead to better habits.

“They Look Like Deer Caught in the Headlights. They Don’t Want to Have Another Conversation”

Illustrating how technology has shifted some hugely important conversational expectations, the author shares about a 16-year-old boy who lost his father, and his friend texted his condolences. This friend avoided conversation because he thought it would interrupt the grieving. Now that texting is an option, conversation feels intrusive in a way that texting does not. A high school senior told Turkle that his self-improvement plan involves learning to use the telephone for calls.

“The Three Chairs”

Solitude means keeping oneself company—having a conversation with oneself. Therefore, if we can’t endure solitude, we neither have a sense of self nor can further cultivate one because we are relying on others to define it for us. This kills collaboration and innovation, but it is difficult to prioritize solitude with so many mixed messages. For instance, a Facebook commercial suggests that we should interrupt dinners for more interesting things on our phone.

Turkle interviewed Howard Chen, an executive at a large company. Chen had recently eliminated physical offices in favor of remote work. He said he had been sad ever since; he recorded the silence at work and played it for his wife so that she could hear how awful it is.

“The Fourth Chair”

Turkle considers the idea of a fourth chair and what that would mean for conversation. She notes that Thoreau would take his guests into nature when he wanted to have deeper and more meaningful conversations with them. Turkle therefore thinks of Thoreau’s “fourth chair” as nature. However, she points out that technology now provides this philosophical headspace; technology creates a second nature. For example, people can now turn to artificial intelligence to have conversations (Turkle cites Siri as a burgeoning conversationalist). During a conference, she was unsettled when people referred to robots as “caring machines” (52).

“Paths Forward”

Turkle writes that we should rediscover the joy of the spontaneous. Steve Jobs did not encourage his family to use tech at all times. Increasing sociability on an app does not increase sociability in general. Having a person in front of you is usually the right starting point. 

Part 2, Chapter 1 Summary: “Solitude”

“Alone With”

Turkle quotes the philosopher Hannah Arendt: “All thinking, strictly speaking, is done in solitude and is a dialogue between me and myself; but this dialogue of the two-in-one does not lose contact with the world of my fellowmen because they are represented in the self with whom I lead the dialogue of thought” (65). Thus described, solitude requires attention and conversation, and comfort with solitude can be learned; children can learn to play alone in the presence of another. Children who are at ease when alone will grow into adults who find solitude refreshing.

The philosopher Paul Tillich says that loneliness describes the pain of being alone but also that solitude describes its glory. People unexperienced in solitude equate it to loneliness. Most children and teens whom Turkle interviewed told her that they do not seek solitude.

“Disconnection Anxiety”

Mozart said that he was always alone when he had his best ideas. The writers Franz Kafka and Thomas Mann echoed his sentiment. However, when Turkle spoke with the executive of a large company, he talked about his employees feeling panicked after three hours of disconnection; by the time they can use their phones again, they are so anxious that they practically rush back to their devices.

“Where Empathy Begins”

Turkle shares her memory of having just taken a consulting job at Holbrooke Middle School, where the students showed decreasing empathy. The teachers suspected that this decreased empathy was linked to the students’ intolerance of solitude; if the students couldn’t take time for and understand themselves, then they wouldn’t be able to understand others. In an effort to reduce their anxiety and give the students more “breathing room” or time to be with themselves, the teachers tried to slow things down for the students. However, the students now struggled with sitting still or focusing on one thing at a time. They disliked quiet time.

Several employers told Turkle that their new hires, of a younger generation, can’t work alone and are over-accustomed to encouragement. They have no inclination for autonomous work, even though they spend so much time isolated with their devices. Turkle surmises that these younger hires are too conditioned to receiving instant affirmation in the form of social media reaction (Facebook “likes,” for example).

“Negotiating Boredom”

Teachers of older students see that they lack skill in thinking with autonomy. Boredom drives children to explore; the ability to tolerate boredom is a developmental benchmark.

A Holbrooke art teacher reported that kids resisted taking five minutes to draw, because it felt like it was too long to concentrate on one thing. A drama teacher said that her actors couldn’t listen well enough to respond to each other convincingly. Kids reported that school-issued iPads interfere with their work. Even when they try to use their iPads for schoolwork, they find themselves distracted by its other options.

“The Facebook Zone”

Technology puts us in what Turkle calls the “machine zone” (72). People who are addicted to slot-machine gambling describe themselves as being part of the machine. Online, switching between apps can become a captive loop that feels productive while being meaningless. The machine zone leads to wasted time, agitation, and regret, rather than growth. These loops keep people from breaking away to healthier uses of their time. Apps are engineered specifically to keep people using them for as long as possible.

“Surfing As Solitude”

Turkle spoke with several college students and realized that they equated the online environment with solitude. Carmen, 20, described her version of solitude, called “chilling,” where she will sit alone and mindlessly browse countless photos on Facebook. She said that without looking at the photos, reminiscing about the past is too difficult. This story illustrates that it takes more effort to think about the past than to look at images of the past. Social media provides a version of revisiting the past that doesn’t require complex, intentional emotional engagement.

“Lightbulb Moments and the Value of Your Inner World”

Lightbulb moments—the moments when one has an idea or a creative breakthrough—are usually the result of preparation. Minds primed for reflection are more likely to experience lightbulb moments and to experience them more frequently. A mind that is allowed to wander can find creative paths.

Each time our phones buzz, we receive a new piece of information. Our minds are innately restless, always searching for stimulation, and when the phone buzzes, we naturally jump toward it as though it is urgent or even as though it may be a threat. However, this anxiety and constant stimulation are a barrier to daydreaming, and daydreaming is one step on the way to creativity. We therefore must change our behavior if we want to retain our creativity. If we are aware of our motivations for reaching for a phone, we will have a better chance of changing the behavior.

Part 2, Chapter 2 Summary: “Self-Reflection”

Solitude increases the capacity for self-reflection. This leads to a capacity for deeper relationships with others. However, self-reflection takes discipline and repetition. If we get caught in the cycle of reacting immediately to impulses, we can lose the ability to pause and think before taking potentially life-altering actions.

“And Then: The Algorithmic Self”

Self-reflection could potentially become more efficient with technology. Programs that analyze us—for example, apps that track our habits, addictions, goals, fitness, etc.—show us our “algorithmic” selves. These programs reduce people to numbers and algorithms. They are a digital account of our actions, but they say nothing about our character or motivation. Numbers don’t tell you who a person really is: “Apps can give you a number; only people can provide a narrative” (81).

“From a Journal to a Newsfeed”

Turkle interviewed Melissa, who keeps a journal. On that day, her journals were hastily done. After making a cursory entry into her blog, she used social media to share her thoughts instead. She said she wished she didn’t spend most of her time on Facebook, but nevertheless, she does. There are parts of Facebook where she finds a sense of community. For instance, she finds support in a Facebook group for people who got rejected by their first-choice colleges. Regardless, she feels stuck on Facebook, and it steers her away from real self-reflection. Additionally, she admitted that she is more honest in her diary than on Facebook, where she only wants to publish good news. The digital world allows more malleable identities.

“The Only Two People in the World”

Self-reflection often means being vulnerable, and this vulnerability is why self-reflection usually requires solitude; solitude means confidentiality and privacy. However, while privacy used to mean being unobserved, social media has changed this because of how it impacts the very process of self-reflection. When someone posts on social media, that post is often a form of self-reflection; in other words, that person reflects as they post. Being in front of a screen makes people feel alone, even if they don’t realize it. Thus, Turkle argues, social media warps our sense of privacy.

The author then compares this privacy loss to what happens on search engines. People conduct online searches for countless topics they would prefer remained private, yet most of us know these searches are tracked. Additionally, our search histories both record our interests and shape them through algorithmic suggestions. Surfing the Internet has, in this sense, replaced thinking out loud.

Another interviewee told Turkle that he feels his online life is a form of solitude because it lets him control which connections he engages. However, Turkle writes, solitude is not “time with a managed crowd” (85). Even email—a constant part of life—is not private, but we still treat it as such, often using it for intimate conversations.

“It’s Never Bad to Have a New Evocative Object”

On Facebook’s 10th anniversary, the company created a “biggest moments” collage that would show users which of their posts and images received the greatest number of likes. Not everyone enjoyed the algorithm, however. Turkle interviewed Sid, who has ALS disease, and his “biggest moments” collage included his diagnosis. While his diagnosis had received an outpouring of support, it wasn’t something he wanted to revisit. He couldn’t watch the collage comfortably, knowing it contained such polarized jumps between good and bad memories.

When something measures us—even something like a Facebook algorithm—our sense of identity can become tied to the numbers:

Self tracking does not logically imply a machine view of self, or the reduction of self-worth to a number, but it gets people in the habit of thinking of themselves as made up of measurable units and achievements. It makes it natural to ask, ‘What is my score?’ (89).

“Numbers and Narration”

Despite the potential problems of the algorithmic self, people like to track themselves with apps and devices. Benjamin Franklin monitored his performance against 13 daily virtues. However, without context—without a narrative—a number can be unsettling. Numbers cannot sufficiently describe a person’s identity.

Turkle talked to a woman named Trish about a project called 750 Words, a piece of journaling software that Trish uses online. The software users write 750 words a day, and the program then analyses a user’s writing against all of the other entries from people using the program. Then it tells that user what they write about the most, compared to others. 750 Words told Trish that she focuses on death more than most other users, but she didn’t understand those results. The algorithm’s results disturbed her. Not only did she disagree with it, but she didn’t have a way to argue against the number; she couldn’t convince the algorithm to show different results, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what it told her, either.

Similarly, another woman wrote a blog called “The Quantified Breakup” (91), where she tracked her texts, music choices, meals, and movies watched in the aftermath of her breakup. The data fascinates Turkle, but she does not believe that the numbers tell her anything about who the woman actually is or what her grieving process was like. The author insists that when technology quantifies so many aspects of our stories, those numbers begin to pressure us to constrict or otherwise change our stories. Tracking should be a conversation starter, not a conclusion.

“Performing for and Deferring to the Algorithm”

Linda was 33 years old and also used 750 words. After a few weeks, she was annoyed that it told her she was sadder than other people. Like Trish, her feelings contradicted the algorithmic “diagnosis.” Turkle wonders whether the outputs are a real clue or if the software is just an attractive idea that makes false promises of new insight.

A woman named Cara used an iPhone app, the Happiness Tracker. After weeks of use, it told her that she was sad. She couldn’t find any obvious clues to her unhappiness, so she wondered if her boyfriend was the source. She broke up with him, even though the app did not implicate him as a cause for her malaise.

“Insights and Practices: The Psychoanalytic Culture”

Turkle discusses strategies for talk therapy. One strategy is to not take words literally; if we can just let ourselves talk without the pressure of strict accuracy, this will encourage us to open up more. Another strategy is to realize how the past shapes the present, and this advice has a more complex meaning. For example, when the therapist abstains from sharing personal information or sharing subjective opinions, they eventually become a blank slate upon which the client transfers old emotions—anger, abandonment, longing. These emotions will have a complex psychological history worth examining.

Turkle believes that with some work, software engineers could develop algorithms that help people observe themselves in a way that is similarly therapeutic: “The psychoanalytic tradition suggests ways to approach technologies that try to capture us through algorithms” (97).

Talk therapy requires that we listen to our thoughts and that we relay them accurately to another person. The therapeutic effect of this process shows the depth and necessity of real conversation. A session with a therapist can be seen as joint solitude. 

Parts 1-2 Analysis

At the outset, Turkle outlines what she views as the major problem with technology:

Technology is implicated in an assault on empathy. We have learned that even a silent phone inhibits conversations that matter. The very sight of a phone on the landscape leaves us feeling less connected to each other, less invested in each other (4).

This is an insidious problem—for anyone who believes that it is a problem—because technologies such as smartphones are a constant fixture of modern life for most people.

Turkle’s militaristic term “assault on empathy” signals that the erosion of empathy is aggressive, sweeping, and cannot be stopped without resistance. However, so many people have smartphones—and so many of those people do not believe that their phones are a problem—that the buy-in must happen on a massive scale for change to happen. With this initial emphasis on empathy, Turkle foreshadows the consequences of letting technology shape our relationships instead of dealing with people face-to-face: “Real people, with their unpredictable ways, can seem difficult to contend with after one has spent a stretch in a simulation” (6).

The digital environment is mimicry of real life. As Turkle will demonstrate over the course of the book, the digital can take precedence over the real, altering behaviors, thought patterns, and future prospects. She prioritizes human relationships, despite the fact that they can be unwieldy: “Human relationships are rich, messy, and demanding. When we clean them up with technology, we move from conversation to the efficiencies of mere connection. I fear we forget the difference” (21). This theme of connection replacing communication is apparent in her conversation with Cameron, who talks to her about having phones at the table with friends: “Our texts are fine. It’s what texting does to our conversations when we are together, that’s the problem” (21).

Inadequate communication can alter how people think about themselves. Too much technology and too little conversation can cause identity crises, or an actual lack of identity. Much of these early sections focus on the nature of self and how technology can distort it. True self-knowledge, argues Turkle, requires solitude, and the constant interruptions by our devices do not encourage solitude. In her discussion on self-tracking apps, she writes,

Self tracking does not logically imply a machine view of self, or the reduction of self-worth to a number, but it gets people in the habit of thinking of themselves as made up of measurable units and achievements. It makes it natural to ask, ‘What is my score?’ (89).

Turkle’s point is that, if you were to ask someone about themselves and they responded by showing you an accumulation of data points across apps, you would not feel that you had learned anything significant, short of their propensity for tracking data: “Apps can give you a number; only people can provide a narrative” (81).

The “algorithmic self” is antithetical to Thoreau’s first chair. People can only craft rich narratives through conversation and solitude, which both require effort and discipline; in the absence of both, the bar of relationship standards gets lower as people seek efficiency over intimacy and empathy: “In order to get [immediate answers], we ask simpler questions; we dumb down our communications, even on the most important matters. And we become accustomed to a life of constant interruption” (35).

The relentless stream of interruptions robs us of opportunities for growth. When Turkle gives the etymology of the word conversation, it is clear that our modern version of conversation bears little relevance to its classical sense:

Conversation implies something kinetic. It is derived from words that mean ‘to tend to each other, to lean toward each other,’ words about the activity of relationship, one’s ‘manner of conducting oneself in the world or society; behavior, mode or course of life’ (44).

Turkle’s focus on empathy demonstrates the stakes of Reclaiming Conversation. Without empathy, people cannot understand one another or view things from another’s perspective. If people cannot understand one another, they will find it harder to care about one each other. This apathy and indifference stunts progress and cheats everyone of more enriching lives. 

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