The case for trusting yourself
Why disconnecting from smart technology is a smart choice.
One of my happiest childhood memories is the day Sonia’s Dad did the school run. I must have been about seven years old. Usually, Sonia’s mum took us, her dad was a Very Important Businessman and he’d never driven us before (it was the 80s). As we piled in, Sonia’s Dad turned to us and said: “I don’t know where I’m going, you girls will need to show me the way.”
This was BIG. Huge. We were in charge.
We nodded enthusiastically. Of course we knew the way. We set off directing him this and way that with authority. As time went by, Sonia’s Dad began to question our route. “Don’t worry,” we reassured him, “it’s just London traffic.”
We were definitely going the right way. Nearly, almost there. As we drove past Buckingham Palace an hour or so later, we finally confessed: we were lost.
Sonia’s Dad found an AtoZ in the glove compartment and took over. By the time we arrived at school it was so late that first break had started. I remember feeling utterly exhilarated - as though we’d taken a trip to the moon not just Marble Arch.
The knowledge problem
As school children, we’d travelled the same route every day for years, but we’d done so as passengers. We didn’t know when to turn left or right because we didn’t need to. We were just kids. When offered the opportunity to take charge, we desperately wanted to seize it, but we didn’t have the knowledge to do so.
To navigate our journey to school, we needed to know the streets of London. To navigate our journey through life, we need to know ourselves.
My school run adventure illustrates something important about agency; without knowledge it’s hard to make sound choices. To navigate our journey to school, we needed to know the streets of London. To navigate our journey through life, we need to know ourselves. Unless we know who we are (our likes and dislikes, our strengths and weaknesses, our values and beliefs), we will struggle to know where we want to go or to make the choices needed to get there.
Understanding who we are is the work of a lifetime. It takes practice. We need to be curious about what makes us tick, to tune in to our mind and body, and be open to what it tells us. For example, noticing when our raised heart rate signals stress, danger or lust, when our stomach is signalling we’re hungry, when an off-hand comment raises our hackles, or when a yawn means we should head to bed.
Listening becomes more difficult when we rely on behavioural technology to monitor and guide us. When we connect to devices, the risk is we disconnect from ourselves.
Thirst trap
A few weeks ago, I bumped into an old friend at the gym. She had just signed up and was determined to get healthy. As she discussed her plans, she held up her water bottle. “It’s my secret weapon.“ She explained the bottle was a smart device. It had sensors that monitored how much water she drank. These sensors connected to an app on her phone which set drinking goals, logged data and supervised her progress. The bottle flashed to let her know when to drink and buzzed a warning if she fell behind on her targets.
My friend’s decision to outsource responsibility for drinking water stayed with me. She was fit and well. She didn’t need help caring for herself or have any medical reason to monitor her water intake so closely. For her, the bottle wasn’t a necessity, it was a life hack. She knew drinking enough water was important for her health and she wanted to get better at doing so. Here was a solution made possible by combining technology and behavioural science. Progress bottled.
I understand why she felt that way. I felt the same when I bought my smart watch. Whether it’s a watch or a bottle, when we rely on behavioural tech to monitor our bodies and to direct our choices (when to stand, walk, sleep, eat or drink) we become passengers.
“I am tired“ becomes “Am I tired?“ and “I’m thirsty.“ becomes “Am I thirsty?“ Rather than being active participants, we get used to being directed - “Time to stand!“ “Keep moving!“ “Breathe“.
Individually, these nudges are benign, cumulatively, they a corrosive effect on our agency. We substitute external monitoring for self-awareness. Data sets for self-knowledge. Instruction for instinct. As a result, we become less intuitive about our health and wellness. Less able to listen to our bodies.
There’s wisdom in our wiring
We’re not deferring because we’re lazy. We do it because we’re told the tech is wiser. Smarter. In fact, delegating decisions about our bodies to behavioural tech is a downgrade.
Take hydration. Our water needs are monitored and controlled in our brain by our subfornical organ (SFO). It monitors how hydrated we are by sampling our blood as it flows through vessels in our brain. When we’re running low on water, or it anticipates that our needs are increasing, our SFO sends thirst signals (a dry mouth, perhaps a headache if we’re really parched) to encourage us to take on water. Our SFO also adjusts how thirsty we feel in real-time as we eat and drink which is why that first gulp of ice-cold water on a hot day tastes the most delicious. The system is remarkable: unobtrusive yet perfectly attuned to our needs and responsive to our environment.
Equally sophisticated systems manage temperature, sleep, nutrition and movement. It’s easy to take our body’s ability to self-regulate for granted. We don’t get a ping when we’re thirsty, we just feel the urge to drink. There’s no confetti to let us know we slept well, we just wake up feeling refreshed. Our stomachs don’t start flashing when we’re full, we just feel... full.
Notice the trade offs
There’s no universally correct way to incorporate smart gadgets such as watches and water bottles into our lives, but it’s important to reflect on the trade-offs for our agency and to strike a balance between utility and autonomy. You may decide you don’t need the latest gadget. Alternatively, you may still choose to buy it but be mindful about how and when you use it.
For example, I find the tracking capabilities of my smart watch useful, but the behavioural nudges and the gamification of my health and fitness makes me a bit queasy. I feel a buzz as I wait for my stats to update. I get butterflies when I hit my targets. I’m protective of my streaks. None of which feels agentic.
Smart(er) choices
I’m trying to do things differently and to use the watch in a way that works for me. I’ve dialled down the intrusiveness of the behavioural design. I’ve switched off all notifications and set my targets so high that I never hit them. As a result, I’m not summoned to engage in the game or congratulated for playing well.
“The man who has lived the most is not he who has counted the most years but he who has most felt life.“ Jean-Jacques Rousseau
I’m also trying to nurture my intuition and awareness. I want to connect to my body. To feel my movements, not count them. At the end of a workout, I no longer defer to my watch, instead, I notice how I feel. How much I’ve sweated, how much water I’ve drunk, the achiness of my limbs, whether I feel happier or calmer. If I feel tired, I listen to my body and rest even when the numbers on the app suggest it’s Time to move!
Like the lucky residents in Langer and Rodin's famous Arden House experiment who were given the choice to care for a plant or go to movie night, these acts of self-determination are small but meaningful. They transfer authority and accountability from the device back to me. As my self-knowledge deepens, so too does my sense of agency.
This is my body. I am in charge.