Not so long ago, a guy came into my work wearing Google Glass. (Or, as the convention should go, glasses.) I responded . . . poorly.
It's hard to think of yourself as a person who would become affronted by the mere existence of an otherwise not-that-consequential a thing. In fact, it's weird thinking that I'd ever dislike Google Glass. It seems like something that the sci-fi nerd in me would love.
I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation as a kid, and was really in awe of Geordi's visor. I thought it would be cool to have access to all those parts of the electromagnetic spectrum that the human eye simply didn't evolve a need to see.
The idea of recording everything you saw had a kind of voyeuristic thrill to it as well. The beauty of a sunset was something that should be captured instantly; recording everything made recalling everything a snap; I believed that this kind of access would fundamentally improve lives in a still-as-yet-undefined way.
But when Google Glass actually entered my life, I was incensed. "Is that on?" I demanded. The wearer, to my chagrin, answered me literally. "Yes." And I was off. "You have no right, it's an affront, an invasion, blah blah blah."
The thing is, being on and recording are two different modes of operation for Google Glass. Yeah, it was powered on and he could access information and the like, but it wasn't recording. Apparently in a nod to Star Trek (I opine), you have to tell it turn on. "Ok, Glass, record a video."
So this poor fellow was not recording anything, as much as my tablet, or some random stranger's iPhone was not recording video, though it has that capability.
Glass, however, is a third eye that is forever looking out at the world, and the uncertainty of whether or not that eye was watching me left me uneasy.
This, I think, is a subject worth pondering. If the eye remains unseen, do we care that it's watching? Certainly, the revelations by Edward Snowden have revealed the unseen watcher watching with increasing watchfulness (say that five times fast). As American's (and differently-nationed citizens) grapple with that realization, the way in which they mediate their own lives also changes.
That, I think, is what offended me so much about Google Glass.
For a moment, let's consider that we are all mediated selves. That is, we understand our place in the world through our relationships with other people; we moderate our behavior to conform to social and cultural expectations. Our actions are mediated by how others perceive them.
Yet, we are also mediated by how we present ourselves to the world. Facebook and other social media allows us to edit ourselves -- to self-photoshop (metaphorically, but also literally) -- and though we can argue the fundamental philosophical implications, that mediation is under our control.
Google Glass eliminates that control. We no longer mediate ourselves as much as we are caught on camera unmediated.
The worst part of talking heads and the political echo chamber of the cable news cycle is that they so often take things out of context, or fail to treat the subject with humility or compassion. People misspeak. They sometimes speak out of ignorance. Or they have been purposefully misquoted. In effect, they are mediated by others without their consent. Google Glass highlights many more ways that can happen.
And frankly, I have the right to mediate myself however I choose. I may want every action caught on camera -- the wit with the wisdom with all the flatulence in between. But I may not. I have the right to be treated with compassion and humility. We all do. Part of what erodes that compassion is the increasingly sophisticated surveillance with which we have to contend.
The watcher may watch with increasing watchfulness, but the effect of being watched is to lose part of our own souls. That's why I don't like Google Glass.