High-Tech Social Screening

Three Fridays ago I marched toward Sever Hall with the simple goal of registering for class. With my number two pencil in hand, I entered the Yard, said my faux-friendly hellos to unidentifiable acquaintances and stared at the hot young things (freshmen) sunbathing in front of their dorms. Before I could register, however, I had to overcome one daunting obstacle: the dreaded activities fair. Rather than succumbing to toothy smiles and offers of cheap candy, I decided to withhold my e-mail address and to avoid awkward social contact at all costs. I pulled from my pocket the stark white headphones of my sleek-’n’-sexy mini iPod, inserted them in my ears and made a run for it. I blazed past the Harvard Piano Society (I don’t play piano). I refused to be seduced by the Harvard Dance Team (I’m in a relationship). And I dodged the holy glances of the Korean Baptist Association (I’m not Baptist or Korean). Victory was mine.

I’m no curmudgeon, but I’m sick of talking to people when I have no desire to listen to them speak. The standard script of “My name is X,” “My name is Y,” “Nice to meet you” gets stale, especially during these first weeks of the semester. As a second semester senior, I’ve feigned enough smiles to decorate a dentist’s office and—just like all of you—I’ve said “nice to meet you” when it wasn’t nice to meet you more times than I care to remember. With the help of my mini iPod, I’m finally saying enough is enough.

The iPod can be used as a social caller ID to screen out unwanted contact. I learned this after purchasing my own iPod last May. During reading period I needed to review some material (read: actually do a semester’s worth of work) and I retreated into social isolation in the basement of Lamont. I couldn’t be bothered with small talk when I had Kissinger’s Diplomacy staring at me and a ginormous source pack for Hist A-12 weighing down my man purse. By wearing earphones, I could easily avoid hi-hello-how-ya-doings and proceed from Winthrop House to Lamont sans chit chat. Acquaintances no longer saw me as someone to greet—I was someone engrossed by my music. To Japanese tourists, I was not someone who knew directions around the square—I was just a lazy American bouncing to my funky beat. And best of all, that Spare Change man in front of ABP no longer saw me as a target—he stopped saying “Why hello, sir!” All I had to do was listen to Beyoncé, Christina and Hanson.

Before you label me a social accident or some type of pariah, hold your hypocrisy in check. The majority of Harvard students engage in some form of communication-resistant behavior via technology at least some of the time. Certainly you have put up your AIM away message the moment one of your best friends signs on. Certainly you’ve delayed replying to that lunch invitation sent by e-mail until lunch has already passed. And certainly you have turned your cell phone off after seeing “Mom and Dad” pop up in the caller ID. (Mom and Dad, if you’re reading this, I’m only kidding).

Our aversion to removing our earplugs, always answering the cell or responding to every e-mail doesn’t occur just because we may dislike the person attempting to reach us. It occurs because our now commonplace technologies—lauded for making the world a smaller place—are assaulting our solitude.

A smaller world means there is less room to breathe. Sitting in the library, you can be reached by e-mail via wireless Ethernet. In the middle of the night, you can be summoned to defend yourself—while on web cam—to your significant other who lives across the Atlantic. And so long as you aren’t riding subterranean on the T, your cell phone makes you instantly reachable. With Harvard’s recent initiative to make the entire campus wireless, we’re destined to become even more plugged-in.

As you should realize by now, being plugged-in is a mixed blessing. The constant connection and terminal state of being in touch dilutes the power of making contact in the first place. People seek connection to fulfill basic needs of affiliation, but once this need is met interaction becomes excessive and burdensome. Each conversation, e-mail or phone call drains a bit of our energy and a piece of our day, even when socializing is free of tension or awkwardness.

Point of story: at a university where life moves at a breakneck pace, we all need a little more time to ourselves. I say close your inbox, shut off your cell phone and if you’ve got the cash, purchase that iPod. Harvard may be connected, but you don’t always have to be.

William Lee Adams ’04-’05 is a psychology concentrator in Winthrop House. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.