Left to Our Own Devices
When I began my journey into UX I read “The Guide to Design,” an open-source handbook on product design, and the chapter about accessibility stuck with me. The author encourages new designers to advocate for the boundaries of their users and acknowledge the limits of their technology. Those limits have been made more perceptible than ever in the context of the Coronavirus lockdown.
At the start of quarantine with my partner Max, I couldn’t stop saying, “Well aren’t you at least glad we’re experiencing this pandemic in 2020? We’re so privileged to not be in 1918!” This was a reflection of my relief that there was such an accessible and expansive digital landscape to help make our lives easier during a lockdown. Bored? Watch Netflix. Hungry? Order through Postmates. Need groceries? There’s Amazon, Instacart, and countless other options from family-owned stores.
This sentiment did not last the test of quarantine. It became increasingly clear to us that there would be no work to return to, no restaurants to frequent, no movie theatres to visit. Until there was a vaccine, we knew we were in this for the long haul.
Though my opinion up until a few months into quarantine was that we were lucky to rely on an expansive, developed digital landscape we could tap into to meet our most essential needs, under the constraints of being forced to be our most primary tools, the digital landscape often failed us.
There have been weeks that we have had to be quarantined inside because we were going to be visiting with an at-risk family member where we have been, quite literally, left to our own (digital) devices. Once the needs of groceries and entertainment are satisfied, we find ourselves disappointed when they can’t adequately provide us with love and belonging, our apps and technology just scratching the bottom half of the pyramid of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.
At the height of the Black Lives Matter movement in Chicago, all of the onslaughts of digital activism felt performative. How can you shout from the top of your lungs that we live in an unjust police state from an Instagram graphic? How can you put your body on the line in front of the black community from behind a smartphone?
Then, when Max and I got engaged, we met over Zoom in a bittersweet video chat where we could not hold our family members or hear the celebratory and resonant sound of Champagne glasses clinking. This enormous milestone was met with the smiling, pixelated faces of Max’s parents and delayed voices over their less-than-ideal rural network connection.
I recognize how privileged we are to have access to these different technologies, and to every point that I’ve made, I acknowledge the positive counterpoints. The resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement was able to gain national traction because of the expanse of digital content containing evidence and statistics that moved people to protest. We are lucky to have video chat technologies that allow us to see and communicate with our loved ones as we are separated.
When the digital landscape is shifted into the center-stage, the constraints are crystal clear. There is truly no replacement for the real deal. But how much should we really expect our devices to serve us? I believe it will always be part of a fully-realized human experience to live outside of the digital landscape. From the simple delight of choosing your groceries by touching and smelling fresh produce at the farmer’s market to showing up in-person to show support for vulnerable communities in our society.
By examining the shortcomings of our current technological landscape under the constraints of Coronavirus, this could be seen as an opportunity to innovate to make more immersive, tactile, and experiential technology, especially by way of VR and AR products. Or, by understanding the boundaries of where the digital landscape ends and where the human experience begins, we can take our insights from our reliance on technology during this pandemic to make sure there are boundaries in place that encourage us to live a full life, offline.
Technology at the scale of meeting our most basic needs has endless room for improvement and innovation. As my screentime skyrockets during quarantine, I am enticed by every notification to engage with my phone, even during the rare moments that I am enjoying the outdoors. I feel like many products, as they stand, are designed to be engaging to the fault of attempting to replace real, social experiences. But by designing products with a clear definition of the limits of how technology should serve us in mind, to enhance but not replace experience, we can better respect our user’s boundaries and improve both the digital and human landscapes.