Just a moment ago, my daughter Rebecca texted me for good luck. Her text said, "Mom, you will rock." I love this. Getting that text was like getting a hug. And so there you have it. I embody the central paradox. I'm a woman who loves getting texts who's going to tell you that too many of them can be a problem.
Prije samo nekoliko trenutaka moja mi je kćerka Rebecca poslala poruku za sreću. Njena poruka je glasila, „Mama, rasturit ćeš.“ Volim to. Dobiti poruku je kao da sam dobila zagrljaj. I eto vam. Utjelovila sam središnji paradoks. Ja sam žena koja voli dobivati poruke, no reći će vam da previše poruka može biti problem.
Actually that reminder of my daughter brings me to the beginning of my story. 1996, when I gave my first TEDTalk, Rebecca was five years old and she was sitting right there in the front row. I had just written a book that celebrated our life on the internet and I was about to be on the cover of Wired magazine. In those heady days, we were experimenting with chat rooms and online virtual communities. We were exploring different aspects of ourselves. And then we unplugged. I was excited. And, as a psychologist, what excited me most was the idea that we would use what we learned in the virtual world about ourselves, about our identity, to live better lives in the real world.
Zapravo, taj podsjetnik na moju kćer dovodi me do početka moje priče. 1996. kada sam održala prvi TEDGovor, Rebecca je imala pet godina i sjedila je upravo ovdje u prvom redu. Upravo sam bila napisala knjigu koja je slavila naš život na internetu i trebala sam izaći na naslovnici časopisa Wired. Tih iznimno uzbudljivih dana eksperimentirali smo s pričaonicama i online virtualnim zajednicama. Istraživali smo različite aspekte sebe. A onda smo se isključili. Bilo je uzbudljivo. Kao psihologa, najviše me oduševljavala ideja da ćemo upotrijebiti ono što naučimo u virtualnom svijetu o sebi, o svom identitetu, kako bismo živjeli bolje živote u stvarnom svijetu.
Now fast-forward to 2012. I'm back here on the TED stage again. My daughter's 20. She's a college student. She sleeps with her cellphone, so do I. And I've just written a new book, but this time it's not one that will get me on the cover of Wired magazine. So what happened? I'm still excited by technology, but I believe, and I'm here to make the case, that we're letting it take us places that we don't want to go.
Ubrzajmo sad do 2012. Ponovno sam ovdje na TED pozornici. Moja kćer ima 20 godina. Studentica je. Spava sa svojim mobitelom kao i ja. I upravo sam napisala novu knjigu, ali ovaj puta to nije knjiga koja će me dovesti na naslovnicu časopisa Wired. Što se, dakle, dogodilo? Još uvijek sam oduševljena tehnologijom, ali vjerujem i ovdje sam da bih to objasnila, da dopuštamo da nas odvede na mjesta na koja ne želimo ići.
Over the past 15 years, I've studied technologies of mobile communication and I've interviewed hundreds and hundreds of people, young and old, about their plugged in lives. And what I've found is that our little devices, those little devices in our pockets, are so psychologically powerful that they don't only change what we do, they change who we are. Some of the things we do now with our devices are things that, only a few years ago, we would have found odd or disturbing, but they've quickly come to seem familiar, just how we do things.
Tijekom proteklih 15 godina, proučavala sam tehnologije mobilne komunikacije i intervjuirala sam stotine i stotine ljudi, mladih i starih, o njihovim „priključenim“ životima. Ono što sam otkrila je da su ti naši mali uređaji, ti mali uređaji u našim džepovima toliko psihološki moćni da, ne samo da mijenjaju ono što radimo, već mijenjaju ono što jesmo. Neke stvari koje sada radimo sa svojim uređajima , a koje bi nam se prije samo nekoliko godina činile čudnima ili uznemirujućima vrlo su brzo postale nešto s čime smo upoznati, jednostavno tako radimo stvari.
So just to take some quick examples: People text or do email during corporate board meetings. They text and shop and go on Facebook during classes, during presentations, actually during all meetings. People talk to me about the important new skill of making eye contact while you're texting. (Laughter) People explain to me that it's hard, but that it can be done. Parents text and do email at breakfast and at dinner while their children complain about not having their parents' full attention. But then these same children deny each other their full attention. This is a recent shot of my daughter and her friends being together while not being together. And we even text at funerals. I study this. We remove ourselves from our grief or from our revery and we go into our phones.
Dat ću vam nekoliko brzih primjera: Ljudi šalju poruke ili mailove tijekom sastanaka odbora poduzeća. Šalju poruke, kupuju i idu na Facebook tijekom nastave, tijekom izlaganja, zapravo tijekom svih sastanaka. Ljudi mi pričaju o novoj, važnoj vještini uspostavljanja kontakta očima za vrijeme pisanja poruka. (Smijeh) Ljudi mi objašnjavaju kako je to teško, ali se može izvesti. Roditelji pišu poruke i mailove za vrijeme doručka i večere dok im se djeca žale kako ne dobivaju njihovu potpunu pažnju. Ali onda opet ta ista djeca negiraju jedni drugima tu punu pažnju. To je relativno nova slika moje kćeri i njenih prijateljica kako su zajedno dok zapravo nisu zajedno. Šaljemo poruke čak i za vrijeme pogreba. To ja proučavam. Odmaknemo se od svoje tuge i svojih sanjarenja i ulazimo u svoje telefone.
Why does this matter? It matters to me because I think we're setting ourselves up for trouble -- trouble certainly in how we relate to each other, but also trouble in how we relate to ourselves and our capacity for self-reflection. We're getting used to a new way of being alone together. People want to be with each other, but also elsewhere -- connected to all the different places they want to be. People want to customize their lives. They want to go in and out of all the places they are because the thing that matters most to them is control over where they put their attention. So you want to go to that board meeting, but you only want to pay attention to the bits that interest you. And some people think that's a good thing. But you can end up hiding from each other, even as we're all constantly connected to each other.
Zašto je to važno? Važno mi je zato što smatram da se uvaljujemo u nevolju -- nevolju zasigurno po pitanju kako se odnosimo jedni prema drugima, ali i nevolju po pitanju toga kako se odnosimo prema sebi i svom kapacitetu za vlastiti odraz. Navikli smo na nov način toga da sami budemo zajedno. Ljudi žele biti jedni s drugima, ali također drugdje -- žele biti spojeni s mnogim različitim mjestima. Ljudi žele prilagoditi svoje živote. Žele ulaziti i izlaziti iz svih mjesta na kojima jesu jer stvar koja se najviše vrednuje za njih je kontrola nad time na što usmjeravaju svoju pažnju. Dakle, želite ići na sastanak poduzeća, ali želite obraćati pažnju isključivo na dijelove koji vas zanimaju. I neki ljudi smatraju kako je to dobra stvar. No, možemo završiti skrivajući stvari jedni od drugih, čak i ako smo konstantno spojeni jedni s drugima.
A 50-year-old business man lamented to me that he feels he doesn't have colleagues anymore at work. When he goes to work, he doesn't stop by to talk to anybody, he doesn't call. And he says he doesn't want to interrupt his colleagues because, he says, "They're too busy on their email." But then he stops himself and he says, "You know, I'm not telling you the truth. I'm the one who doesn't want to be interrupted. I think I should want to, but actually I'd rather just do things on my Blackberry."
50-ogodišnji poslovni čovjek požalio mi se kako se osjeća kao da na poslu više nema kolega. Kada ide na posao, ne zastajkuje kako bi s ikim razgovarao, ne razgovara. I kaže kako ne želi prekidati svoje kolege zato što, kako kaže, „Previše su zauzeti svojim mailovima.“ Ali onda se zaustavlja i kaže, „Znate, ne govorim vam istinu. Ja sam taj koji ne želi da ga prekidaju. Mislim da bih trebao željeti, ali zapravo radije samo radim svoje stvari na Blackberryju“.
Across the generations, I see that people can't get enough of each other, if and only if they can have each other at a distance, in amounts they can control. I call it the Goldilocks effect: not too close, not too far, just right. But what might feel just right for that middle-aged executive can be a problem for an adolescent who needs to develop face-to-face relationships. An 18-year-old boy who uses texting for almost everything says to me wistfully, "Someday, someday, but certainly not now, I'd like to learn how to have a conversation."
U svim generacijama vidim da se ljudi ne mogu zasititi jedni drugih, ako i samo ako mogu biti udaljeni jedni od drugih, u količini u kojoj to mogu kontrolirati. Ja to zovem efektom Zlatokose: ne preblizu, ne predaleko, taman koliko treba. Ali ono što se može činiti ispravnim za tog sredovječnog izvršnog direktora može biti problem za adolescenta koji mora razviti odnose licem u lice. 18-ogodišnjak koji koristi pisanje poruka za gotovo sve mi sjetno govori, „Jednog dana, jednog dana, ali zasigurno ne sada, no volio bih naučiti razgovarati.“
When I ask people "What's wrong with having a conversation?" People say, "I'll tell you what's wrong with having a conversation. It takes place in real time and you can't control what you're going to say." So that's the bottom line. Texting, email, posting, all of these things let us present the self as we want to be. We get to edit, and that means we get to delete, and that means we get to retouch, the face, the voice, the flesh, the body -- not too little, not too much, just right.
Kad upitam ljude „Što ne valja s razgovaranjem?“ Ljudi kažu, „Ja ću ti reći što ne valja s razgovaranjem. Treba mu mjesto u stvarnom vremenu i ne možeš kontrolirati što ćeš reći.“ To je tako u konačnici. Pisanje poruka, mailovi, objavljivanje -- sve nam te stvari dopuštaju da se prezentiramo onakvima kakvi želimo biti. Možemo uređivati, a to znači da možemo i brisati, a to znači da možemo dotjerati lice, glas, tijelo -- ne premalo, ne previše, nego taman.
Human relationships are rich and they're messy and they're demanding. And we clean them up with technology. And when we do, one of the things that can happen is that we sacrifice conversation for mere connection. We short-change ourselves. And over time, we seem to forget this, or we seem to stop caring.
Ljudski odnosi su bogati, zamršeni i zahtjevni. A mi ih pospremamo tehnologijom. A kada to radimo, jedna od stvari koja se može dogoditi je ta da žrtvujemo razgovor zbog puke veze. Zavaravamo se. I s vremenom se čini kako to zaboravljamo ili se čini kako prestajemo brinuti.
I was caught off guard when Stephen Colbert asked me a profound question, a profound question. He said, "Don't all those little tweets, don't all those little sips of online communication, add up to one big gulp of real conversation?" My answer was no, they don't add up. Connecting in sips may work for gathering discrete bits of information, they may work for saying, "I'm thinking about you," or even for saying, "I love you," -- I mean, look at how I felt when I got that text from my daughter -- but they don't really work for learning about each other, for really coming to know and understand each other. And we use conversations with each other to learn how to have conversations with ourselves. So a flight from conversation can really matter because it can compromise our capacity for self-reflection. For kids growing up, that skill is the bedrock of development.
Uhvaćena sam nespremnom kada me Stephen Colbert pitao smisleno, smisleno pitanje. Rekao je, „Zar ti svi mali tweetovi, svi ti mali gutljajčići online komunikacije nisu dodani u jedan veliki gutljaj stvarne konverzacije?“ Moj odgovor je bio ne, nisu dodani. Povezivanje u gutljajima može upaliti prilikom okupljanja diskretnih dijelova informacija, možu upaliti prilikom govorenja, „Mislim na tebe,“ ili čak prilikom govorenja „Volim te,“ -- hoću reći, vidite kako sam se osjećala kada sam dobila poruku od kćeri -- ali one ne pale što se tiče učenja jednih o drugima, za stvarno poznavanje i razumijevanje jedni drugih. I mi koristimo konverzaciju jedni s drugima kako bi naučili kako imati konverzaciju s nama samima. Bijeg od razgovora zaista može biti bitan jer može ustupiti našem kapacitetu za vlastiti odraz. Za djecu koja odrastaju, ta je vještina temelj razvoja.
Over and over I hear, "I would rather text than talk." And what I'm seeing is that people get so used to being short-changed out of real conversation, so used to getting by with less, that they've become almost willing to dispense with people altogether. So for example, many people share with me this wish, that some day a more advanced version of Siri, the digital assistant on Apple's iPhone, will be more like a best friend, someone who will listen when others won't. I believe this wish reflects a painful truth that I've learned in the past 15 years. That feeling that no one is listening to me is very important in our relationships with technology. That's why it's so appealing to have a Facebook page or a Twitter feed -- so many automatic listeners. And the feeling that no one is listening to me make us want to spend time with machines that seem to care about us.
Stalno iznova slušam, „Radije bih pisao poruke nego govorio.“ A ono što vidim jest da su se ljudi toliko naviknuli na to da se zavaravaju stvarnim razgovorom, toliko su navikli na provlačenje s manjim, da su postali gotovo voljni biti bez ljudi u cijelosti. Na primjer, mnogo ljudi sa mnom dijeli ovu želju da jednog dana naprednija verzija Sirija, digitalnog asistenta na Appleovom iPhoneu bude nešto poput najboljeg prijatelja, nekoga tko će slušati kad ostali ne žele. Vjerujem kako ova želja reflektira bolnu istinu koju sam naučila u posljednjih 15 godina. Taj osjećaj da me nitko ne sluša je vrlo važan u našem odnosu s tehnologijom. Zato je toliko privlačno imati Facebook ili Twitter -- imate toliko automatskih slušatelja. A osjećaj da nas nitko ne sluša tjera nas da provodimo više vremena s aparatima za koje nam se čini da brinu o nama.
We're developing robots, they call them sociable robots, that are specifically designed to be companions -- to the elderly, to our children, to us. Have we so lost confidence that we will be there for each other? During my research I worked in nursing homes, and I brought in these sociable robots that were designed to give the elderly the feeling that they were understood. And one day I came in and a woman who had lost a child was talking to a robot in the shape of a baby seal. It seemed to be looking in her eyes. It seemed to be following the conversation. It comforted her. And many people found this amazing.
Stvaramo robote, zovu ih društvenim robotima, koji su posebno dizajnirani kako bi bili prijatelji -- starijima, našoj djeci, nama. Jesmo li potpuno izgubili povjerenje da ćemo biti tu jedni za druge? Tijekom svog istraživanja radila sam u staračkim domovima i donijela sam te društvene robote koji su dizajnirani da starijima daju osjećaj da ih netko razumije. Jednog sam dana došla i žena koja je izgubila dijete pričala je s robotom u obliku bebe tuljana. Činilo se kao da ju gleda u oči. Činilo se kao da prati razgovor. Utješilo ju je. I mnogi ljudi to smatraju nevjerojatnim.
But that woman was trying to make sense of her life with a machine that had no experience of the arc of a human life. That robot put on a great show. And we're vulnerable. People experience pretend empathy as though it were the real thing. So during that moment when that woman was experiencing that pretend empathy, I was thinking, "That robot can't empathize. It doesn't face death. It doesn't know life."
Ali ta je žena pokušala naći smisao života s aparatom koji nije imao iskustva u ljudskom životu. Taj je robot napravio pravu predstavu. A mi smo ranjivi. Ljudi doživljavaju umjetnu empatiju kao da je stvarna. Dakle, u tom trenu kada je ta žena doživljavala umjetnu empatiju, ja sam razmišljala, „Taj robot ne može suosjećati. Ne suočava se sa smrću. Ne poznaje život.“
And as that woman took comfort in her robot companion, I didn't find it amazing; I found it one of the most wrenching, complicated moments in my 15 years of work. But when I stepped back, I felt myself at the cold, hard center of a perfect storm. We expect more from technology and less from each other. And I ask myself, "Why have things come to this?"
I dok je ta žena našla utjehu u svom prijatelju robotu, ja to nisam smatrala nevjerojatnim; ja sam to smatrala jednim od najiskrivljenijih, najkompliciranijih trenutaka u 15 godina svog rada. Ali kad sam odmakla, osjećala sam se kao hladno, teško središte savršene oluje. Očekujemo više od tehnologije i manje jedni od drugih. I pitam se, „Zašto su stvari došle do toga?“
And I believe it's because technology appeals to us most where we are most vulnerable. And we are vulnerable. 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. We turn to technology to help us feel connected in ways we can comfortably control. But we're not so comfortable. We are not so much in control.
I vjerujem da je to zato što nas tehnologija privlači tamo gdje smo najranjiviji, a ranjivi smo. Usamljeni smo, ali se bojimo intimnosti. Od društvenih mreža do društvenih robota, dizajniramo tehnologije koje će nam dati iluziju prijateljstva bez potraživanja prijateljstva. Okrećemo se tehnologiji kako bi nam pomogla da se osjećamo povezano na načine koje s udobnošću možemo kontrolirati. No nije nam tako udobno. Nemamo baš toliku kontrolu.
These days, those phones in our pockets are changing our minds and hearts because they offer us three gratifying fantasies. One, that we can put our attention wherever we want it to be; two, that we will always be heard; and three, that we will never have to be alone. And that third idea, that we will never have to be alone, is central to changing our psyches. Because the moment that people are alone, even for a few seconds, they become anxious, they panic, they fidget, they reach for a device. Just think of people at a checkout line or at a red light. Being alone feels like a problem that needs to be solved. And so people try to solve it by connecting. But here, connection is more like a symptom than a cure. It expresses, but it doesn't solve, an underlying problem. But more than a symptom, constant connection is changing the way people think of themselves. It's shaping a new way of being.
Ovih dana, ovi telefoni u našim džepovima mijenjaju naše umove i srca jer nam nude tri zadovoljavajuće fantazije. Jedna je da možemo svoju pažnju usmjeriti gdje god želimo da ona bude; druga je da nas uvijek ima tko saslušati i treća je da nikad ne moramo biti sami. Ta treća ideja da nikada nećemo biti sami središnja je u promjeni naše psihe jer u trenu kad su ljudi sami, čak i na nekoliko sekundi, postaju tjeskobni, paničare, uznemire se, posežu za uređajem. Sjetite se samo ljudi na blagajnama ili na crvenom svjetlu na semaforu. Kad smo sami, to nam se čini kao problem koji se mora riješiti i onda ga ljudi pokušavaju riješiti spajanjem. Ali ovdje je spajanje više nalik simptomu nego lijeku. Izražava, ali ne rješava temeljni problem. No više od simptoma, stalna spojenost mijenja način na koji ljudi razmišljaju o sebi. Oblikuje nov način življenja.
The best way to describe it is, I share therefore I am. We use technology to define ourselves by sharing our thoughts and feelings even as we're having them. So before it was: I have a feeling, I want to make a call. Now it's: I want to have a feeling, I need to send a text. The problem with this new regime of "I share therefore I am" is that, if we don't have connection, we don't feel like ourselves. We almost don't feel ourselves. So what do we do? We connect more and more. But in the process, we set ourselves up to be isolated.
Najbolji način za opis toga je dijelim, dakle jesam. Koristimo tehnologiju da bismo definirali sami sebe dijeleći svoje misli i osjećaje baš kako ih doživljavamo. Prije je to izgledalo ovako: Osjećam nešto, moram obaviti poziv. Sada to izgleda: Želim osjećati, moram poslati poruku. Problem s tim novim režimom „dijelim, dakle jesam“ jest da ukoliko nemamo vezu, ne osjećamo se kao mi. Gotovo da ne osjećamo sami sebe. Što onda radimo? Povezujemo se sve više i više, ali se tijekom procesa izoliramo.
How do you get from connection to isolation? You end up isolated if you don't cultivate the capacity for solitude, the ability to be separate, to gather yourself. Solitude is where you find yourself so that you can reach out to other people and form real attachments. When we don't have the capacity for solitude, we turn to other people in order to feel less anxious or in order to feel alive. When this happens, we're not able to appreciate who they are. It's as though we're using them as spare parts to support our fragile sense of self. We slip into thinking that always being connected is going to make us feel less alone. But we're at risk, because actually it's the opposite that's true. 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.
Kako dođete od spajanja do izolacije? Završite izolirani, ako ne njegujete kapacitet za samoćom, sposbnost za razdvajanjem, kako biste stvorili sebe. Samoća je mjesto gdje pronalazite sami sebe kako biste mogli doprijeti do drugih ljudi i stvoriti stvarne veze. Kad nemamo kapacitet za samoću, okrećemo se drugim ljudima da bismo se osjećali manje tjeskobnima i osjećali se živima. Kad se to dogodi nismo u stanju cijeniti ono što oni jesu. To je kao da ih koristimo kao rezervne dijelove da bismo potpomogli ranjiv osjećaj sebe samih. Dolazimo do razmišljanja da će nam stalna priključenost omogućiti da se manje osjećamo samima. No riskiramo, zato što je upravo suprotno istinito. Ako nismo u stanju biti sami, bit ćemo još usamljeniji i ako ne učimo svoju djecu da budu sama, jedino što će znati jest kako da budu usamljeni.
When I spoke at TED in 1996, reporting on my studies of the early virtual communities, I said, "Those who make the most of their lives on the screen come to it in a spirit of self-reflection." And that's what I'm calling for here, now: reflection and, more than that, a conversation about where our current use of technology may be taking us, what it might be costing us. 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 grew up with digital technology and so we see it as all grown up. But it's not, it's early days. There's plenty of time for us to reconsider how we use it, how we build it. I'm not suggesting that we turn away from our devices, just that we develop a more self-aware relationship with them, with each other and with ourselves.
Kada sam govorila na TED-u 1996., izvještavajući o svojim studijama u ranim virtualnim zajednicama, rekla sam, „Oni koji većinu svog života provedu za ekranom, dolaze do duhovnog odraza sebe samih.“ I to je ono na što vas pozivam ovdje, sada: odraz i više od toga, razgovor o tome kuda nas vodi naša trenutna upotreba tehnologije, i koliko bi nas mogla koštati. Obuzeti smo tehnologijom. Bojimo se, poput mladih ljubavnika, da bi previše razgovaranja moglo uništiti romantiku. No, vrijeme je za razgovor. Odrastali smo s digitalnom tehnologijom i vidimo je sada kao odrasli. Ali nije, to su rani dani. Imamo mnogo vremena da razmotrimo kako je upotrebljavati, kako je graditi. Ne predlažem da se maknemo od svojih uređaja već da stvorimo samosvjestan odnos s njima, jedni s drugima i sami sa sobom.
I see some first steps. Start thinking of solitude as a good thing. Make room for it. Find ways to demonstrate this as a value to your children. Create sacred spaces at home -- the kitchen, the dining room -- and reclaim them for conversation. Do the same thing at work. At work, we're so busy communicating that we often don't have time to think, we don't have time to talk, about the things that really matter. Change that. Most important, we all really need to listen to each other, including to the boring bits. Because it's when we stumble or hesitate or lose our words that we reveal ourselves to each other.
Vidim prve korake. Počnite razmišljati o samoći kao o dobroj stvari. Napravite mjesta za nju. Nađite načine kako demonstrirati ovo kao vrijednost vašoj djeci. Stvorite sveta mjesta u domovima -- kuhinja, dnevna soba -- i raskrčite ih za razgovor. Napravite istu stvar na poslu. Na poslu smo toliko zauzeti komunikacijom da često nemamo vremena razmišljati, nemamo vremena pričati o stvarima koje su zaista bitne. Promijenite to. Najvažnije, svi zaista trebamo slušati jedni druge, uključujući i dosadne dijelove jer su to trenuci kad posrnemo, oklijevamo ili izgubimo, naše riječi otkrivaju nas jedne drugima.
Technology is making a bid to redefine human connection -- how we care for each other, how we care for ourselves -- but it's also giving us the opportunity to affirm our values and our direction. I'm optimistic. We have everything we need to start. We have each other. And we have the greatest chance of success if we recognize our vulnerability. That we listen when technology says it will take something complicated and promises something simpler.
Tehnologija nudi redefiniranje ljudske povezanosti -- kako brinemo jedni o drugima, kako brinemo za sebe -- ali nam također daje priliku da potvrdimo svoje vrijednosti i svoj smjer. Optimistična sam. Imamo sve što nam je potrebno za početak. Imamo jedni druge. I imamo najveću šansu za uspjeh ako prepoznamo svoju ranjivost. Da slušamo kad tehnologija kaže da će uzeti nešto komplicirano i obećaje nešto jednostavnije.
So in my work, I hear that life is hard, relationships are filled with risk. And then there's technology -- simpler, hopeful, optimistic, ever-young. It's like calling in the cavalry. An ad campaign promises that online and with avatars, you can "Finally, love your friends love your body, love your life, online and with avatars." We're drawn to virtual romance, to computer games that seem like worlds, to the idea that robots, robots, will someday be our true companions. We spend an evening on the social network instead of going to the pub with friends.
U svom radu čujem da je život težak, da su odnosi puni rizika. A onda je tu tehnologija -- jednostavnija, puna nade, optimistična, vječno mlada. To je kao prizivanje konjice. Reklamna kampanja obećaje da online i avatarima možete „Konačno, voljeti svoje prijatelje, voljeti svoje tijelo, voljeti svoj život, online i avatarima.“ Uvučeni smo u virtualnu romantiku, u računalne igre koje izgledaju poput svjetova, u ideje da će roboti, roboti, jednog dana biti naši istinski prijatelji. Provodimo večer na društvenoj mreži umjesto da odemo u kafić s prijateljima.
But our fantasies of substitution have cost us. Now we all need to focus on the many, many ways technology can lead us back to our real lives, our own bodies, our own communities, our own politics, our own planet. They need us. Let's talk about how we can use digital technology, the technology of our dreams, to make this life the life we can love.
Naše fantazije i zamjene su nas koštale. Sada se svi trebamo usredotočiti na mnoge, mnoge načine na koje nas tehnologija može odvesti natrag u naše stvarne živote, naša tijela, naše zajednice, naše politike, naš planet. Trebaju nas. Pričajmo o tome kako možemo upotrijebiti digitalnu tehnologiju, tehnologiju naših snova kako bismo ovaj život učinili životom koji možemo voljeti.
Thank you.
Hvala.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)