The technological assemblage of the Jogger
I’m in the park looking at joggers, they are everywhere and difficult to navigate around, their tense faces alluding to a dystopian near future. Running is releasing endorphins and is meant to make you happy, these joggers look anything but. Most of them are strapped with devices: smart watches and phones tracking their movements, location, speed, heart and pulse rate.
I remember when I used to be excited about this type of tracking information back in 2013. I had an app called Moves and it tracked steps and location data following me around my daily journeys or on hols in Iceland where the points we visited created a nice data diary. It felt novel and helpful at the time. Then ‘tracking data and doing pretty things with it” was a cool thing and I enjoyed the company of their related quantified self apps. Sometimes I wondered what happened to my data, especially when different apps shared it. Now heart data is integrated in most apps and users are encouraged to look out for their loved ones. Interestingly insurers are also involved with notably different reasons to analyse our data. Facebook showed us recently the real commercial value of us handing over excessive personal information, often unknowingly by just liking posts. We are now targets and not just for commerce but also for political gains.
We are waking up slowly amidst the Brexit fog. The numbers and stats don’t feel good anymore. But maybe that’s just me and my reality looking at joggers?
What about our emotions? Our daily interaction with apps that are structured around the aggressive metrics of achieving fitness goals. We aren’t born with a natural talent to appreciate nor order the endless numeric distance/location details that are captured within these apps, as pretty as the numbers might be presented to us. What about exploring the personal sensorial emotion scape of a run?
Lucy Suchman asks us to consider what figures of the human are represented in these technologies? (Suchman, 2007. I write about this here) How many friends would you keep that treat you like your app does? The exercise content, the empty meaningless cheering, the cold numerical statistics that despite the often nice visual layout become very boring after repetitive use?
Yet there is a bigger picture to consider. Katherine Hayles calls the entanglements that we have with our devices “cognitive assemblages”. In the prologue of her latest book Unthought she writes:
“For example, when a person turns on her cell phone, she becomes part of a non conscious cognitive assemblage that includes relay towers and network infrastructures, including switches, fiber optic cables, and/or wireless routers, as well as other components. With the cell phone off, the infrastructure is still in place, but the human subject is no longer a part of that particular cognitive assemblage.” (Hayles, Katherine. Unthought. The University of Chicago Press. 2017. Prologue p3)
Could all these factors wether noticeable or unconscious become the dominant feature of our run? Do these apps ever tell us to stop and appreciate the wild life around us? There isn’t any commercial value in making people appreciate what they can have for free for the moment.
References
Hayles, N. Katherine. Unthought. The University of Chicago Press. 2017
Suchman, Lucy. “Human-Machine Reconfigurations: Plans and Situated Actions” (Cambridge University Press, 2007 )
Panja Göbel: Electric dreams of digital assistants
Panja Göbel: The fraying boundary of the human subject














