Last two readings for last week (particularly Hayles's Materiality of Informatics) got me thinking about our relationships with our bodies, or what will become of our bodies in the post-human era. Will the body like on as a concept, as embodiment, can thinking of minds as being attached to bodies, or being representative of one, ever be an old way of thinking?
I really like the example of Foucault's work with bodies. Criticizing Foucault for his universality, and comparing his to newer ideas about "thinking about bodies," rather than one body with variations, or more importantly (and newer) to think about embodiment. (As were my fun explorations with the class on SL today) It is very comforting to my technophobia to read an article that explores the irreplaceable aspects of humanity that are embodied. All that can't be explain, programed or "formalized in a heuristic program" (Hayles 201). Heuristics and muscle memory, are comforting, but are they enough? Will they be charming the way vinyl is?
When discussing "habitus" (a new concept for me) Bourdieu picks apart pieces of Cartesian philosophy, reminding us that (in Hayles terms on 203) "embodiment emphasizes the importance of context to human cognition." This got me thinking about improvisation (something briefly touched upon in the article), computers can sort of improvise (random numbers corresponding to tonal notes could create a reasonable sounding jazz solo), but they have no ability to do so in a situational manner. A jazz pianist could sense a bored crowd and break into a upbeat boogie-woogie number, sending musical cues to his band that was prepared to do a slow minor-keyed number.
Audio-tape serves as a fitting example of what we can expect in an era of ubiquitous computers, and how embodiment can endure. Also the exploration of Burroughs's "The Ticket That Exploded," gave me a new respect for a writer that I never considered quite so prophetic and exploratory. If audio tape created an age where it's difficult to "think silence" for more than ten seconds, imagine an age where other senses become irresistible. If encryption with recorded sound affects our tranquility so, imagine what programs like SL are going to do to our minds eye. Our dreams....
I have actually made the same analogy Burroughs does, between language and viral infection before. As language changes shape again, in a more anthropomorphic form what could the consequences be? This really got me thinking about the differences between voice chatting and typing on second life. The differences in expression we subtler those between text and audio tape in, but the element of the visual avatar made the differences seem vaster than on old programs with voice chat capabilities and no avatars (ie: ICQ).
Reingold's "Smart Mobs" gave me increased optimism about the possibilities of social networking. The concept of mobile ad hoc social networks, specifically was thought-provoking. Weighing the pros and cons of having your friends being able to track your coordinates, can easily be tipped with "well you can always take it off..." As any of us who has ever tried to "commit myspace suicide" will tell you, it's not that easy. We grow strangely attached to these representations of ourselves and tend to think of them as extensions of the bodies. Imagine now trying to pull the plug on yourself. Also, paradoxically, the idea of being part of a swarm is reduces us to primal instincts through unfathomable technology.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Why people are so nice on Second Life (and not-so much on the subway)
Thinking about the infinite nature of hyper-reality, I considered this: the more people join SL the more diverse and interesting the community. Not so in RL. Overpopulation is a real issue. We are running out of space. It's hard to be friendly and accepting of every bumbling grad-student with stars in his eyes from Oregon, when you're already on an overstuffed 9AM subway. New York, like SL has enough to do to keep you busy for a theoretical life-time, but unlike SL, it could potentially become to crowded to live comfortably. Second-life will never experience this. As we continue to grow at an astronomical rate (ever look at a chart of the projected population in 50 years? 100?), tensions will mount and we will need some place accepting and infinite to hang-out. Any ideas?
This is a human, post
Get it?
I guess it's really a post-human post. More word play, when I first learned the term three weeks ago, I couldn't help but think of a corpse, like posthumous. Dead. Again, my misunderstanding held sophmoric truth. I'm not saying that modern cybernetic technology, or even an era of post-humanity that is distantly foreseeable, could be signs of the death of the human. I don't even think there is any good evidence that "Homo-Sapians have out-grown their use." But I do see a certain death, more of a death like the one that disco suffered (cliche, perhaps, but a more accurate analogy than dinosaurs, as Hayles debunks it in the introduction).
We are undergoing a rapid change. A change that will affect power in society, more so than the printing press. Like the printing press, much of this may be beneficial, may open expand the possibilities of the masses to be exposed to the wild variety of life's possibilities, and immortalized thereafter.
Searle's "Chinese Room" parable, really struck a chord with me. It so well articulates the sentiments of those who've responded skeptically to the idea of post-humanism being a death. Post-human, seems to be an inclusion, rather than a death. An inclusion of more useful tools to enhance the human experience, rather than replace it. My view may be influenced by my lack of acceptance of virtuality, including second-life. I just don't get sucked in. It's just a complex chat-room to me, I'm not accepting the illusion. I'm like a kid who's too old (read: grounded in my RL) for Santa. When I go on, I don't view my avatar as an extension of myself. I couldn't care less what it looked like or how it was perceived. All I care about is if I am an entertaining chat partner, which I would analogize to the desire to be a good conversationalist or writer. Some people might have different experiences. Although I was born to late anyway... I never really dug disco either.
In the "Semiotics of Virtuality" Hayles uses science fiction to help explain post-humanism. To me this is perfect (it might be better if I read the books, but hey...). A lot of the stuff we have read and discussed thus far, conjures things prophesized, or what I could imagine being prophisized, in science-fiction. Using four novels, Hayles explains the four "sides" to "The Semiotics of Virtuality." The ideas of being: duplicated like a photo-copy, having infinite resources (read my next post on this one), the idea that cyborgs will carry the weight of human feelings or that we already are essentially machines (and therefore post-human), are similtaneously great fiction, and telling of our uncertain future in a world of ubiquitous computing, and virtuality.
Hayles comes back to the question that is really on everyone's mind, it's answer determining your view of the post-human era, and perhaps (by extension) SL. Let's say we live our lives on second life as "Homo-Silicon", perhaps as a result of gradual selection, perhaps out of necessity. Will life as we know it be over? Yes, but certainly worth living. The most joyful journeys of anyone's lifetime are those of the mind, not the body, and if our minds are functioning on a higher plane of consciousness, why not get rid of the obsolete bags we keep them in. Is this an evolution? A dystopia? I don't think so. In my lifetime, I wont not giving up my trips to go take a sauna to make sure that my avatar is making lots of friends, but if I had to, I'd sew a lot of virtual oats along the way, blissfully unaware of the antiquated pleasures of the flesh.
I guess it's really a post-human post. More word play, when I first learned the term three weeks ago, I couldn't help but think of a corpse, like posthumous. Dead. Again, my misunderstanding held sophmoric truth. I'm not saying that modern cybernetic technology, or even an era of post-humanity that is distantly foreseeable, could be signs of the death of the human. I don't even think there is any good evidence that "Homo-Sapians have out-grown their use." But I do see a certain death, more of a death like the one that disco suffered (cliche, perhaps, but a more accurate analogy than dinosaurs, as Hayles debunks it in the introduction).
We are undergoing a rapid change. A change that will affect power in society, more so than the printing press. Like the printing press, much of this may be beneficial, may open expand the possibilities of the masses to be exposed to the wild variety of life's possibilities, and immortalized thereafter.
Searle's "Chinese Room" parable, really struck a chord with me. It so well articulates the sentiments of those who've responded skeptically to the idea of post-humanism being a death. Post-human, seems to be an inclusion, rather than a death. An inclusion of more useful tools to enhance the human experience, rather than replace it. My view may be influenced by my lack of acceptance of virtuality, including second-life. I just don't get sucked in. It's just a complex chat-room to me, I'm not accepting the illusion. I'm like a kid who's too old (read: grounded in my RL) for Santa. When I go on, I don't view my avatar as an extension of myself. I couldn't care less what it looked like or how it was perceived. All I care about is if I am an entertaining chat partner, which I would analogize to the desire to be a good conversationalist or writer. Some people might have different experiences. Although I was born to late anyway... I never really dug disco either.
In the "Semiotics of Virtuality" Hayles uses science fiction to help explain post-humanism. To me this is perfect (it might be better if I read the books, but hey...). A lot of the stuff we have read and discussed thus far, conjures things prophesized, or what I could imagine being prophisized, in science-fiction. Using four novels, Hayles explains the four "sides" to "The Semiotics of Virtuality." The ideas of being: duplicated like a photo-copy, having infinite resources (read my next post on this one), the idea that cyborgs will carry the weight of human feelings or that we already are essentially machines (and therefore post-human), are similtaneously great fiction, and telling of our uncertain future in a world of ubiquitous computing, and virtuality.
Hayles comes back to the question that is really on everyone's mind, it's answer determining your view of the post-human era, and perhaps (by extension) SL. Let's say we live our lives on second life as "Homo-Silicon", perhaps as a result of gradual selection, perhaps out of necessity. Will life as we know it be over? Yes, but certainly worth living. The most joyful journeys of anyone's lifetime are those of the mind, not the body, and if our minds are functioning on a higher plane of consciousness, why not get rid of the obsolete bags we keep them in. Is this an evolution? A dystopia? I don't think so. In my lifetime, I wont not giving up my trips to go take a sauna to make sure that my avatar is making lots of friends, but if I had to, I'd sew a lot of virtual oats along the way, blissfully unaware of the antiquated pleasures of the flesh.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Artificially Cultured
Gessler's "Ethnography of Artificial Culture: Specifications,Prospects and Constraints" really helped expand my thinking about my time in Second Life. I think I was even somorphically groping at some of the topics he discussed, in my previous postings.
Examining Artificial Culture (AC) has distinct advantages to consider, compared to Natural Culture (NC). AC (especially one as advanced as SL) gives the researcher the advantage of being able to capture, manipulate and study worlds, on an unprecedented level. Scenarios for experimental research could be attempted in ACs with affects much less adverse than such experiments in NC (although, as we learned in the previous readings on research ethics online, there are still certain concerns to consider). SL creates a world with that mirrors the physics, objects and sensuality of our own, but AL and the subsequent culture it creates is only as valuable as it's verisimilitude.
The T.I.E.R.S. program might better simulate our world NC than SL. The prospects of being able to use a world that so affectively simulates ours that it can be used to study our origins is mind-blowing. As much as I believe we can grasp new insights regarding human nature via SL, I wouldn't imagine that it, or any other program could unlock the mysteries of our development into and as hominids.
The processes of trade, information exchange and risk sharing, that have brought us into civilization, still are developing, as we evolve. Oddly enough this tool, which might enable us to better understand T.I.E.R.S, will also change our evolution and the way we trade, share information and the risks we share as a society. As an advancement of T.I.E.R.S, programs like SL change the way we communicate as people and might be an entirely new evolution (doubtfully on the level of "hominidization," but certainly worth studying). Based on my earlier reactions, you might guess that I will be most interested in the "T" in T.I.E.R.S....
Examining Artificial Culture (AC) has distinct advantages to consider, compared to Natural Culture (NC). AC (especially one as advanced as SL) gives the researcher the advantage of being able to capture, manipulate and study worlds, on an unprecedented level. Scenarios for experimental research could be attempted in ACs with affects much less adverse than such experiments in NC (although, as we learned in the previous readings on research ethics online, there are still certain concerns to consider). SL creates a world with that mirrors the physics, objects and sensuality of our own, but AL and the subsequent culture it creates is only as valuable as it's verisimilitude.
The T.I.E.R.S. program might better simulate our world NC than SL. The prospects of being able to use a world that so affectively simulates ours that it can be used to study our origins is mind-blowing. As much as I believe we can grasp new insights regarding human nature via SL, I wouldn't imagine that it, or any other program could unlock the mysteries of our development into and as hominids.
The processes of trade, information exchange and risk sharing, that have brought us into civilization, still are developing, as we evolve. Oddly enough this tool, which might enable us to better understand T.I.E.R.S, will also change our evolution and the way we trade, share information and the risks we share as a society. As an advancement of T.I.E.R.S, programs like SL change the way we communicate as people and might be an entirely new evolution (doubtfully on the level of "hominidization," but certainly worth studying). Based on my earlier reactions, you might guess that I will be most interested in the "T" in T.I.E.R.S....
Ethical Conduct in a Cruel, Cold Cyberworld
Before entering this class, I had no idea "netnographies" existed. When I we had the process described to us our first day, I felt like it was a total innovation, if not slightly farfetched. When I told my sexagenarian father about the concept of conducting research in a virtual world, he had the same reservations.
"Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me," he said.
He couldn't see how you could study humanity without actually making physical contact with their "person."
After going on second life, I immediately saw room for ethnographic study among the community, and the fears I had about the impersonal nature of net research were mostly dispelled. The Kozinets article on the netnographic method, describing it'sical morays, purpose and general ethical guidelines, showed me me the precedent had certainly been set. The article reminded me the mind-numbing "Intro to Social Research" textbook I hauled out here, because my Sociology professors told me it would help in grad school, except it was interesting. It was so relevant and described the things I did as an online socialite anyway. It was like the moment when I discovered that my obsession for social observation had academic ethos in the field of Sociology, only now my late night online wanderings could also be considered intellectually keen.
After reading Bruckman's guidelines, I felt good about being straight-forward with my first subject in SL, immediately admitting my purpose for being there, and even telling him I was recording the chat for my research notes. Even though our conversation was more of a dry-run, than actual research (mostly it consisted of him telling me how the damn thing works), his helpfulness gave me confidence to be straight forward with anyone else I should chat with. I don't think we're taking these before an IRB, but it's for our own benefit to treat this as if we were. Especially helpful were Brckman's levels of disguise, which I will keep in mind for the duration of my research on SL. The more sensitive the subject, the blurrier they will come out in my papers and blogs. I actually felt fortunate that I got to conduct my research online. Rejection of informed consent is, as dating is, easier to accept when not face-to-face, but avatar to avatar.
Bassett and O'Riordan's "Internet Research Ethics" immediately dispelled one of my assumptions about doing online research in the introduction. They write: "The understanding of the Internet-as-a-space supports a conflation between activity carried out through this medium and the action of human actors in social space. Further, it leads to the argument that any manifestation of Internet activity should be regarded as a virtual person." Remember there's people on the other end of those avatars, and when conducting social research, they should be treated as such, not like robots or guinea pigs.
They describe their research on the message board of a site pseudonymously referred to as gaygirls.com. They described the communicative style of the bored as it related to a sense of space, their space was more like a traditional text. Will the spacial differences in Second Life lead to more difficult ethical quandaries? It seems like the program does a fairly good job of up holding "parochial space," but will the increased visualization and the sense of talking to a person lead to more being accidentally disclosed? I believe the ethical challenges of Second Life will be more adverse than the authors of our ethical guidelines had in mind. On the plus side, this makes me feel like more of an innovator.
"Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me," he said.
He couldn't see how you could study humanity without actually making physical contact with their "person."
After going on second life, I immediately saw room for ethnographic study among the community, and the fears I had about the impersonal nature of net research were mostly dispelled. The Kozinets article on the netnographic method, describing it'sical morays, purpose and general ethical guidelines, showed me me the precedent had certainly been set. The article reminded me the mind-numbing "Intro to Social Research" textbook I hauled out here, because my Sociology professors told me it would help in grad school, except it was interesting. It was so relevant and described the things I did as an online socialite anyway. It was like the moment when I discovered that my obsession for social observation had academic ethos in the field of Sociology, only now my late night online wanderings could also be considered intellectually keen.
After reading Bruckman's guidelines, I felt good about being straight-forward with my first subject in SL, immediately admitting my purpose for being there, and even telling him I was recording the chat for my research notes. Even though our conversation was more of a dry-run, than actual research (mostly it consisted of him telling me how the damn thing works), his helpfulness gave me confidence to be straight forward with anyone else I should chat with. I don't think we're taking these before an IRB, but it's for our own benefit to treat this as if we were. Especially helpful were Brckman's levels of disguise, which I will keep in mind for the duration of my research on SL. The more sensitive the subject, the blurrier they will come out in my papers and blogs. I actually felt fortunate that I got to conduct my research online. Rejection of informed consent is, as dating is, easier to accept when not face-to-face, but avatar to avatar.
Bassett and O'Riordan's "Internet Research Ethics" immediately dispelled one of my assumptions about doing online research in the introduction. They write: "The understanding of the Internet-as-a-space supports a conflation between activity carried out through this medium and the action of human actors in social space. Further, it leads to the argument that any manifestation of Internet activity should be regarded as a virtual person." Remember there's people on the other end of those avatars, and when conducting social research, they should be treated as such, not like robots or guinea pigs.
They describe their research on the message board of a site pseudonymously referred to as gaygirls.com. They described the communicative style of the bored as it related to a sense of space, their space was more like a traditional text. Will the spacial differences in Second Life lead to more difficult ethical quandaries? It seems like the program does a fairly good job of up holding "parochial space," but will the increased visualization and the sense of talking to a person lead to more being accidentally disclosed? I believe the ethical challenges of Second Life will be more adverse than the authors of our ethical guidelines had in mind. On the plus side, this makes me feel like more of an innovator.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The Avatar and the Ego
The more I think about how ridiculous it is to me that people spend so much time customizing their avatar to meet some fantastic aesthetic, or how grossly people will miss represent themselves using their avatar, the more I consider how much I think concern over personal appearance is ridiculous in RL. This is a view that most would share, and so my judgment should be tempered with this consideration: Just because I think it's O.K. to look like a slob, and by extension have a half-assed sloppy avatar, doesn't give me the moral high-ground. At best it just saves me some time and hassle in favor of life's more important things.
The avatar is like the extension of your ego. Which makes me wonder how much of your design might depend on less conscious elements of your pyche, or where might your id manifest itself on second life?
The avatar is like the extension of your ego. Which makes me wonder how much of your design might depend on less conscious elements of your pyche, or where might your id manifest itself on second life?
Monday, September 10, 2007
Marxist Escape
My immediate, visceral reaction to SL was disgust at how realistic, yet (or perhaps hence) superficial the world was. I hope I don't reveal to much about myself here, but my immediate critical lens for this world was that of a Marxist. The sophistication of the avatars and props gave users a sense of the material. With this sense of ownership, came the forces of division of labor, hierarchy, and fetishism of props, invading what should be ( in my mind) a diversion from these social frustrations. When I expressed these to a chatter, he claimed that it was easy to live like a "SL vagabond" and just get by doing this and that, and only really use the chat functions, and enjoy the lifelike atmospheres. He assured me that SL could, like other internet world, be used as an escape.
SL was different than I expected. It wasn't just an animated chat room, in fact often took second tier to many of the program's other, more unique, functions. I went to a bar that was designed after the cantina in Star Wars. The owner seemed stressed out about making sure everyone was dressed in the proper attire to continue the illusion. She was very serious about it.
When I thought about it, it seemed that living out the dream of opening a strange business can be time consuming and costly on SL, but nothing compared to the toll it would take to do it in RL. Some people held propriety over businesses that didn't really make money, it was a labor of love, and a very creative one at that. They got to share their babies with the world, without having to deal with many of the realities of being a business owner. Like playing the "Life" board game, SL gives the player the opportunity for escapism, or to become embroiled in a second life that will just further pre-occupy you. I personally believe that the latter is more likely.
I guess it depends on perspective.
SL was different than I expected. It wasn't just an animated chat room, in fact often took second tier to many of the program's other, more unique, functions. I went to a bar that was designed after the cantina in Star Wars. The owner seemed stressed out about making sure everyone was dressed in the proper attire to continue the illusion. She was very serious about it.
When I thought about it, it seemed that living out the dream of opening a strange business can be time consuming and costly on SL, but nothing compared to the toll it would take to do it in RL. Some people held propriety over businesses that didn't really make money, it was a labor of love, and a very creative one at that. They got to share their babies with the world, without having to deal with many of the realities of being a business owner. Like playing the "Life" board game, SL gives the player the opportunity for escapism, or to become embroiled in a second life that will just further pre-occupy you. I personally believe that the latter is more likely.
I guess it depends on perspective.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
First Impressions of Second Life
Just as I get signed up and figure out how to move around life, my roomate asks me if I'd like to watch a movie with him. Lately, I've felt bad about choosing work and school over hanging-out, so in the spirit of roomately comradeship, I told him I'd join him with the caveat of multi-tasking. I'd seen Werner Herzog's "Invincible" before, so I figure that the pictures across the room won't be too distracting from the sights and headphone enclosed sounds of "Orientation Island." As I hone my body-shape in the islands booth, I find my eyes wandering more and more towards the screen of my roommates laptop, even succumbing to the urge to take my headphones off, just to remind myself of what is being said in the movie. I find the appearance adjustment process to be repetitive and it brings about unsettling questions about the shape of my face. Is my nose a 54? A 67? What about the bridge. Being that the movie that is my distraction has messages of Jewish pride, I self-consciously shrink my nose. In being so distracted I don't realize until I am almost done, that I am at a female body station.
The process stirs intense vanity. I can't help but admire how handsome I'd look in theory. But eventually the urge to make a joke of it takes over and I endow my character with a beard, and consider purchasing an eye-patch. I fret over the pukah shell necklace that is a part of my "city chic" clothing set, I desperately want to remove this, as I would never wear jewelery, especially jewelery that conjures memories of frat-boys. I can't figure out how to take it off, and am afraid go out in "public", to initiate conversation with an intelligent animation with such a gross misrepresentation of my fashion sensibilities. The only way to learn is to experience, so I abandon my vanity and fly to a more social atmosphere. After I finished my tutorials, I decided to go to where, I'd go to meet people: a night club. I found it charmingly realistic; the music sucked and people criticized my avatars dancing. I thought that the fact that they had a tip jar was charming and a sign of how far people will go to continue illusion.
As I explored looking for someone to talk to, like the traditional avatar based chat-rooms of my youth (the palace), I found that the emphasis on making Linden dollars made most of where I went a commercial wasteland. Everyone was selling something, whether it be food, fashion or "fake" estate. I went to a kitchen chat room in hopes of talking food and wine, but found that the avatars there were busy mopping the digital floor for 24 LDs an hour.
Finally, in the most random of rooms, I met a friendly soul who helped explain a few things to me and told me about "money trees," where newbies can get a base nest egg of Linden's to get them started. We also discussed the safety of this program, the social functions of it, and misrepresentation. After making introductions, he took me to meet a friend at a land that was designed after some village in Star Wars (not a fan, don't know the particulars). I got so wrapped up in learning about what people do on SL and speculating (somewhat critically) as to why they do it, that I completely abandoned the movie and stayed plugged straight in.
In my inexperience, I got disconnected and accidentally lost my conversation, but was able to find my tutor and he sent it to me.
The process stirs intense vanity. I can't help but admire how handsome I'd look in theory. But eventually the urge to make a joke of it takes over and I endow my character with a beard, and consider purchasing an eye-patch. I fret over the pukah shell necklace that is a part of my "city chic" clothing set, I desperately want to remove this, as I would never wear jewelery, especially jewelery that conjures memories of frat-boys. I can't figure out how to take it off, and am afraid go out in "public", to initiate conversation with an intelligent animation with such a gross misrepresentation of my fashion sensibilities. The only way to learn is to experience, so I abandon my vanity and fly to a more social atmosphere. After I finished my tutorials, I decided to go to where, I'd go to meet people: a night club. I found it charmingly realistic; the music sucked and people criticized my avatars dancing. I thought that the fact that they had a tip jar was charming and a sign of how far people will go to continue illusion.
As I explored looking for someone to talk to, like the traditional avatar based chat-rooms of my youth (the palace), I found that the emphasis on making Linden dollars made most of where I went a commercial wasteland. Everyone was selling something, whether it be food, fashion or "fake" estate. I went to a kitchen chat room in hopes of talking food and wine, but found that the avatars there were busy mopping the digital floor for 24 LDs an hour.
Finally, in the most random of rooms, I met a friendly soul who helped explain a few things to me and told me about "money trees," where newbies can get a base nest egg of Linden's to get them started. We also discussed the safety of this program, the social functions of it, and misrepresentation. After making introductions, he took me to meet a friend at a land that was designed after some village in Star Wars (not a fan, don't know the particulars). I got so wrapped up in learning about what people do on SL and speculating (somewhat critically) as to why they do it, that I completely abandoned the movie and stayed plugged straight in.
In my inexperience, I got disconnected and accidentally lost my conversation, but was able to find my tutor and he sent it to me.
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