Tools are extensions of the body: glasses are an extension of the eye, a hammer is an extension of the hand, a hat is an extension of the hair on the head. What is a computer? An extension of our mind? Steve Jobs said that the computer is a bicycle for the mind. A beautiful idea. But if you look at what the cell phone in particular does to us, the contemporary computer seems more like a hamster wheel.
The old skeptics' favorite trick was to ask you to prove that life is more than a dream. With this trick, you can question everything, and that is the goal of the skeptic. Not to find the truth, but to always question everything.
Kant put a temporary end to the skeptical trick by explaining that there is something in us that even a radical skeptic cannot reasonably question: mathematics. Mathematics, according to Kant, is based on two principles that can no longer be doubted: Space and time. Everything we think, we imagine in space and time. And everything that happens in space and time, according to Kant, we place in causal connections, analogies and mutual relationships. In other words: Reality takes place in the continuum of space and time. The states through which we pass in this continuum are connected with each other. I am not in a position to judge whether this is exactly the case or not, but Kant has found a fairly reliable lever for distinguishing between dreams and reality. We cannot think clearly in dreams because of the lack of continuity. Dreams are not rationally connected. As soon as we ask ourselves: Where am I? How did I get here? Where am I going?", we are either torn out of the dream or, like idiots, put into another confused state that only seems to answer the question or makes us forget it. The stupid thing is that this test only works when we are awake.
Why am I interested in this as an information architect? Because we often behave exactly the same way in front of the screen as we do in dreams. As soon as we descend into the depths of the computer, operating system and browser and ride back and forth, up and down in the parallel worlds of Google, Facebook and Twitter, we lose our footing, just like in a dream, and start communicating with people in other places and times, clicking here, clicking there and forgetting where we are, where we came from and where we want to go.
The perfidious thing is that we think forgetting time is a sign of pleasure or happiness. We seek the loss of reality when we enjoy ourselves: forgetting where we are, where we came from and where we want to go.
This confusion of the digital dream with conventional pleasure is perfidious because we often don't really enjoy ourselves in front of the computer, i.e. we don't tense up and relax like we do at chess, in a movie or at a concert, but simply get bogged down. This can turn our now almost 24-hour dream program into a nightmare. If you only look at the screen, you come into conflict with reality. "First we shape our tools, then they shape us," says McLuhan. This becomes clear at the latest when you lose your bearings and the back button is missing. And why am I interested in this as an information architect? Because I don't see the general lack of orientation as the end of society or as a digital necessity, but rather as a sign of the dominance of poorly structured programs. The crazy thing is that the computer, the tablet and, above all, mobile telephony are so successful because they offer ubiquitous distraction. But we forget what the original promise was: the computer is supposed to help us think and work. It should save us time, not cost us time. We should control it, not the other way around. But perhaps, as is so often the case with technologies that we cannot relate to our bodies, this is itself little more than a silly dream. Steve Jobs was a salesman, not a designer.