Which Digital Divide Is That?

by stephen wacker

A discussion between a close friend and his college-age nephew was the inspiration for this essay. And while thinking about how best to approach the topic, I had an interesting experience with my soon-to-be-teenage daughter that reinforced the concept in an interesting way. But first, a bit of social commentary is in order.

A somewhat new technology-related issue is being bandied about in the media these days. And while the issue deserves consideration, the cynic in me says that the main reason for its sudden visibility is the fact that it's an election year in the U.S. I'm talking about the access-to-information/technology issue, commonly referred to as the digital divide. Those with social consciences tend to wring their hands about people who don't have access to e-mail and the World Wide Web, and those concerned with power and challenge tend to do little more than pontificate about the issue.

This digital divide is primarily a political and economic issue, which sets the stage for that favorite old game of actors and politicians called "steal the spotlight". Discussion of the issue doesn't take long to degenerate into the old rhetoric of us/them, rich/poor, yes/no, etc. We fall into the old patterns of bipartisan politics, where taking sides becomes more important than communicating.

I don't dispute the concept of a digital divide. I also think there's a housing divide, and a food divide, and an income divide--I think you get the picture. I agree philosophically with those who work toward making information technology available to all social strata, but I don't want to hear political candidates drone on about it. I find it much more interesting to observe a different kind of digital divide: how the acceptance and use of information technology falls out among different generations of users.

Each new generation is better adapted to deal with advances in technology. And now that we have the perspective of a few generations, it's interesting to look for patterns in how each one deals with changing technology. For example, those born or raised in the Great Depression--like my parents--tend to be intimidated by transistors and most other technological advances. They're mostly concerned with making a wrong move, perhaps because they learned at an early age the consequences of miscalculations in a time when there wasn't much room for error. They're concerned about the possibility of pushing the wrong button, and are mystified by most of the advances in technology that they've witnessed.

Then there are the Baby Boomers, the generation to which I belong. We like to think we're computer savvy, but a great number of us can't--or won't--even program the VCR. We seem to be obsessed with pushing the right button for a given function, and it's a challenge for us to think about buttons that can perform more than one function.

Generations X and Y--our kids--are very comfortable with all sorts of technology. (They're also curious about what sociologists will do when they run out of letters to identify people of a certain age.) Members of these generations seem to have no problem working with a limited number of buttons that have multiple functions. Give 'em an inch, and they'll become a polygon.

Generations X and Y are modal in their thinking. I think their digital dexterity is due at least in part to all that time they spent playing computer games on PCs and televisions, games with a limited number of control keys and a joystick. They have few problems thinking abstractly about how to approach different programming issues. Don't believe me? Try eavesdropping on the conversation of kids between the ages of 11 and 15 when they're discussing their homework.

So what does all this mean? I think it might mean that the old us/them, rich/poor, yes/no patterns of thought processes really are starting to fade away, or at least become less dominant. Why? Partially because of a game I've been playing with my daughter, and partially because of a book I've been thinking about ever since I read it almost two years ago.

Set is a card game, but one that uses a unique deck of cards. Each card contains one, two, or three shapes, is in one of three colors, and also in one of three forms--outline, shaded, or solid. The challenge of the game lies simply in recognizing and calling out "sets" of three cards, sets that are combinations of the various forms displayed. The possibilities are many, and I was consistently amazed at the sets--or patterns--my daughter saw that weren't apparent to me until she called them out. In the process, of course, she beat the pants off of me. And while this is partially because of the fact that she previously played the game with her friends, I think it was largely because she recognizes patterns more easily.

The Alphabet versus the Goddess is a book by Leonard Shlain, a surgeon by profession and a wonderful thinker, historian and storyteller. The book is a fascinating theoretical rumination on the affects of literacy and the printed word on civilizations throughout history. Many of the stories Shlain relates are grim. However, he suggests that the intuitive capabilities of the brain's right hemisphere have been in ascendance since the nineteenth century. He also believes that film, television, graphics, and computers are all parts of an "iconic revolution" that emphasize the holistic, the intuitive, and the image over the logical and linear left-brain ways of thinking that developed alphabets, the written word, and patriarchal belief systems over the last few thousand years.

I'm starting to see an increasing number of patterns in the world. One of my goals is to loosen up the old gray matter sufficiently to beat my daughter in a game of Set. Now, what kind of digital divide were you talking about?

Copyright © 2000 by Stephen Wacker. All rights reserved.

Stephen Wacker writes essays about relationships and songs about machines--or is it the other way around?--from the upper left-hand corner of the United States. He also listens to music, plays guitar, and likes to drink strong coffee. Write to him--please--at swacker@accessone.com.