The work of developing new rules

            We’re thinking in this blog about the nature of the changes we are embracing, and/or are being imposed upon us, by the advent of the digital technologies. 

            One observation about all new technologies seems obvious:  they are neither good nor evil.  They simply represent a new kind of power, and as such are always used by human beings for both what we define as good and what we define as evil.  That means that at the advent of any new technology, we are faced with an obligation to figure out as best we can how to maximize the good and minimize the evil effects—provided we can figure out (and develop a consensus on) what those are.

            The examples are too obvious to belabor.  Trains and then automobiles changed the world—and have also killed a large number of people.  Movies and television have allowed great works of art—and also produced tidal waves of dreck.  Cell phones have already saved many lives . . . and trashed a number of marvelous concerts, films and academic classes, and caused tragic traffic accidents.

            My concern is that we be intentional about developing manners and mores around new technologies, rather than simply allowing them to coalesce.  The current controversy over phone calls while driving (I hope the texting controversy is nearly settled!) is an example of those new efforts.

            The thoughtless boor in line at the bank or grocery store who either holds up the process because s/he doesn’t notice what’s going on, or broadcasts intimate details to innocent victims who don’t want to hear them—may well have never had the chance to learn about the impact of these behaviors on others. None of us inherited a set of expectations about how those phones should be handled—because the phones simply weren’t there when we or our parents were small. 

            I gained a fresh (and chilling) understanding of one of the primary functions of the proliferation of cell phones when I saw a billboard that read, “Unlimited ‘whereyats’.” 

            The naïve young woman who allows her beloved to take intimate pictures of her on his cell phone may trust his assurances of intimate confidence—and not yet have discovered how many other young women have found their images floating around the world before they knew it was happening.

            It’s not just identity thefts that impact our lives in negative ways.  Creative criminals keep finding new tools, such as “phishing” scams and RFID digital theft.  And many people still don’t grasp that what the text of a link in an e-mail says may have no relationship to the actual cyberlink behind it.

            Intellectual property theft is obviously a huge economic and moral issue.  If I buy a cheap knock-off from China of an expensive American product, is that act immoral?  Or ethically neutral?  The theoretic answer often looks very different from the answer being acted out in the marketplace.

            And at a less financially risky level, Meryl Streep’s 2009 film, “It’s Complicated,” gives a hilarious (but blood-chilling) example of the danger of a Skype session gone awry—and it’s completely believable as a real-life relationship disaster, the happy ending notwithstanding.

            It’s incumbent on me, as a psychotherapist, to help my clients understand that what we are doing is not simply a conversation about issues of concern to them, but a delicate process of attending to habits and feelings at the very edge of consciousness (and beyond), and that even their simply leaving their phones on during the session (unless truly essential and agreed upon) can seriously impair the power and value of what we’re trying to do.

            What are the venues within which these conversations should take place?  The family, certainly, but that’s not enough.  Schools struggle to develop policies that protect the students, the staff, and the educational process, but often fight upstream against resentment of any infringement whatever on the total freedom of students and family to stay in touch with everybody at all times.  A few churches, here and there, sponsor conversations on the moral implications of ethics in the digital world.  And academic events such as the symposium sponsored by the Ethics Center on March 28^th offer a golden opportunity for scholarly consideration of the implications of the digital technologies on our life together. 

            But the law and social mores are always playing catch-up—we’re always behind.  New forms of theft, of manipulation, of victimization, always emerge faster than we can develop thoughtful responses to them.  If we are to be served by our tools and systems, rather than be victimized by them, we will need all the awareness and intelligent thought we can get to plan systems of visibility and accountability. 

            I wonder about our readership—what are the places where the abuse of digital technologies most concretely impact your lives?  And how do you think we should be thinking about those abuses and planning responses to them?