In the previous edition of the #AtHomeWithArendt series, Katy discussed the value of temporal and spatial transitions in our workdays. And that got me thinking: what does space even mean now? All over the world, physical distancing is not just encouraged but actually demanded. So, what does it mean to be present when physical proximity is sometimes a matter of life and death?
Katy and I have been thinking and writing about what it means to listen solidaristically for more than a year, but the past few months have complicated things. Our original argument includes a special focus on spatial closeness, so the pandemic has thrown a wrench into our argument. In fact, one of the referees that reviewed our paper specifically asked, do we think we have lost something “after spending many months communicating electronically rather than face-to-face with most people”?
There’s growing evidence that communicating via a webcam and microphone can be challenging, draining, and even exclusionary. But beyond just the technical and psychological troubles, I think virtual meetings just don’t ‘hit the same’ (to use a popular phrase). There’s something missing.
Reality and fiction
It’s not quite the same, but the thought experiment proposed by Robert Nozick in his book, The Examined Life, begins to shed some light on the question. Nozick asks his readers to
Imagine a machine that could give you any experience (or sequence of experiences) you might desire. When connected to this experience machine, you can have the experience of writing a great poem or bring about world peace or loving someone and being loved in return. You can experience the felt pleasures of these things, how they ‘feel from the inside’. You can program your experiences for … the rest of your life. If your imagination is impoverished, you can use the library of suggestions extracted from biographies and enhanced by novelists and psychologists. You can live your fondest dreams ‘from the inside’. Would you choose to do this for the rest of your life? … Upon entering you will not remember having done this; so no pleasures will get ruined by realizing they are machine-produced (1989, 104).
Many people decline the offer. Their reason? Because it isn’t real. These experiences, they say, are meaningless. I don’t think that virtual meetings are quite this extreme, but I want to suggest that something similar is lost and that’s why so many of us want a return to ‘normal’.
Reimagining the experience machine
Let’s try reconfiguring Nozick’s thought machine to get more specific answers.
We could imagine that the machine is meant to connect people separated by great physical distances. Then, we might say that each person’s virtual avatar meets the other’s avatar in some virtual space. The avatars mimic our every move, down to the smallest micro-expressions, and we get auditory and tactile feedback in real time. Would this sort of experience be as good as meeting in person? Does our awareness of the machine affect our answer?
My purpose in asking these questions is not to start a new debate about Nozick’s experience machine. Rather, I want us to think about what it means to be together. That is, what do we mean when we say we are present with someone? Is it just a matter of being physically together?
A highly advanced setup like the one I describe above seems to address many of the concerns that have been discussed so far during the pandemic. But this is assuming that such machines could be freely provided to everyone who needs them. Besides, I also think that the same sort of fatigue that haunts users of Zoom and other web-based meeting programs would eventually start to haunt the users of our modified experience machine. Why? Because ultimately we are interacting with technology and other human beings. Think about it like this: our attention is divided. Half of it for the person. The other half devoted to the technology. (Give or take.)
The imagination
Whatever being present may actually entail, I think that technology makes being present more difficult. Some of us, some of the time, are still able to be present even on Zoom. Maybe they have a better sense of focus, have more energy, or possess higher levels of interest, etc. But some, and I think most, of us aren’t able to be as present as we could be in person. That’s because a machine stands in our way, demanding our attention, pulling our mental energy away from the conversation and away from our interlocutors. A blinking mouse cursor, pop up updates from various apps, the siren call of the internet, and even a dusty keyboard or a smudgy screen can make it more difficult to devote our full attention and imagination to our interlocutor(s).
Our attentions and imaginations still have to do a lot of work in real life encounters, but a sense of immediacy makes the work a little easier. For example, when we are with others, we still have to imagine what they’re thinking, feeling, even imagining. (That’s how I think we are present with others.) But being in their presence, that is, when we share space, we have access to more materials – more raw data – for our imagination. The more advanced technology becomes, the more ‘raw data’ we get in a virtual meeting, but it comes at a price: more technology to pay attention to too. (I’m thinking about my niece getting distracted with fun filters when we facetime.)
Arendtian imaginings
When it came to the imagination, Hannah Arendt was quite optimistic. For her, the imagination was key to a better world; we must first be able to imagine a better world in order to bring it about. That’s why the imagination is also key to her concept of visiting, of imagining the world from the perspectives of others. According to Arendt, we must exercise our imagination in order to understand others and ourselves. In fact, it is the latter that we’re really after, she thinks, because exercising our imagination breaks us away from a fixed perspective and allows us to make better informed judgements.
This is quite a lot to expect from a faculty that requires training. To be able to imagine as well as Arendt implies, we would need to expose ourselves to diverse imaginaries and become adept at reconfiguring them to produce novel imaginings. Not a simple task!
Arendt’s thoughts on the imagination are politically motivated and so, I think she has to be optimistic about the powers of the imagination. For her, the imagination was a safeguard against totalitarianism and oppression. So conceding that the imagination was vulnerable or weak could be deflating and even harmful. But when it comes to virtual, as opposed to in person meetings, I think it is safe to say that the imagination needs a little help.
Removing barriers, coming together
In order for the virtual be an adequate substitute for in-person conversations and meetings, I want to suggest that barriers need to be removed.
First, technology needs to be accessible. By this, I mean that tech needs to follow universal design principles but also be universally available. Full participation depends on technological cooperation and so, many of us will need an upgrade; financial resources should not get in the way of this.
Second, and more importantly, people need to be well. Hoping that virtual meetups can replicate pre-Covid norms is essentially hoping for disappointment. Many of us are going through challenging times without the support and comfort provided by physically being together. So expecting the same level of communication as pre-Covid is a bit silly. Our mental energies are getting depleted and we need some time to rest. (Katy suggests, maybe our sense of space and time has to change too.)
The anonymous reviewer that inspired this post was asking for insight on this issue as it relates to Katy’s and my paper. But I think the issue extends beyond communication problems. Maybe what we need to think about during the pandemic is what it means to be present with others and how we can be present, without sharing space. My thoughts? What we mean by space is changing, but that doesn’t mean that our commitment to others has to change.
Photo by Chris Montgomery on Unsplash