The illusion of interactivity

We have a habit of naming new inventions and advancements in terms of their origins and of what they lack

We have a habit of naming new inventions and advancements in terms of their origins and of what they lack. The first motor car was called the "horseless carriage", the telephone was called the "electrical telegraph" and the radio is still sometimes referred to as the "wireless".

In this Internet world, we've carried on the tradition, and so we have misnomers such as the "electronic book" and "wireless application protocol" (WAP). This form of labelling is limiting, as it is based on the past rather than the future. The likelihood is that many existing Internet-related words and phrases will change and become more specific.

"Interactivity" is one such bandied-around word that should be clarified, because even though many different levels of interactivity exist, all are lumped together as one.

If we're to believe the hype, everything with even the vaguest connection to the Internet is fantastically interactive. Some aspects of this medium can indeed be described in this way, such as Web conferencing and, surprisingly, booking an airline ticket, but the interaction levels in each case are quite different.

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With Web conferencing, humans interact only with each other; their computers are simply the facilitating tools. On the other hand, booking an airline ticket online involves human interaction with a computer, but only because a particular seat on a particular plane is being booked using a particular credit card number. This makes the process interactive, albeit not very creative.

Reading a good book could be a far more rewarding interactive experience. Once the imagination is stimulated, endless permutations, not possible on a pre-programmed CD-ROM or a website, can be thought out.

The beauty of using the Internet, as opposed to reading a book, is, we're told, the depth and intensity of interactivity that can be achieved. On the Internet, we can chop and change from page to page; we can travel in any direction, spending as much time as we like on each site. Because website content changes regularly, the chances are that no two journeys from site to site, or even within one site, will be the same.

In contrast, reading a book is described as a passive experience because it precludes physical involvement and the ability to make changes. A book is generally read from start to finish, and the reader can interfere with no aspect of the story. Unlike a CD-ROM, its ending can't be changed, nor can we whimsically drag and drop images or lines of text, or choose multiple versions of the one story.

But does this so-called lack of interactivity between book and reader really mean that we get more, in terms of learning and involvement, from the Internet and its associated technologies?

Band-width is expanding all the time, and God only knows what we'll be offered in the future, but for the moment, the danger is that the more interactive we believe technology to be, the less able we'll be to interact with anything - books, technology, even each other.

No matter how much frantic clicking and explorative mousetrotting we do around the Internet or in a computer game, every single movement has been meticulously and mathematically pre-programmed. This leaves little room for human imagination, despite the dazzle and flash before our eyes. Although Internet technology is described in terms such as "limitless possibilities" and "ever-expanding worlds", the reality is that, due to pre-programming, creative restrictions are the norm. Humans are bound to find it increasingly difficult to be imaginatively involved in technology when such limits are imposed.

The problem is, we imagine we're absorbing information while reading online, because we think we're interacting with all the flashy distractions and movement. And because it's far more difficult to read from a computer screen than from the printed page, we may have inadvertently got into the habit of simply not reading while online.

Whether we're emotionally involved or not, this whole technological shooting match is here to stay. The question we have to ask ourselves is this: for how much longer will we be able to retain our inherent imagination while working with each emerging technology?

Just think of that blank stare you're faced with when the technology-addicted kid answers your knock at the front door. Even as your presence is being registered, an email message pops up and competes for attention. After that, more than likely, both phones ring - mobile and land line. You don't stand a chance. In the rush to answer the calls of technology, the overloaded kid might manage to answer the door, but, stuck between a knock and a hard drive, can barely see, let alone respond to, the hapless human standing there.

Catherine McDonnell writes about technology for nua at www.nua.ie