Social Media, Mayhem and Movement
Part 1: Identity
I have been on social media since 2010. For as long as I can remember, my vocabulary of ‘sign in’, ‘update’, ‘un-friend’, ‘profile’ is warped to meet the expectations of my digital world. At that time, with limited users in my own peer group, being able to span into a world outside physical reach seemed unreal. Now, its dominance is pronounced to an extent that saying this seems like stating the obvious. Over the last 10 years, I have connected with numerous like-minded individuals online- some continue to be dear friends of mine. I have reaped the benefits of increased exposure and access. I have grown up watching videos, images, and ‘ordinary’ people go viral across platforms. And I sit here writing a story about the nature of the medium that permits this, in the middle of a virulent outbreak. But recently, I started noticing a strange streak in my usage. With a lockdown that took over two months to peel off, I had a ridiculous amount of free time. I have always maintained that I use my phone for a few hours scattered around the day. However, when my phone reminded me that I have been on my screen for two hours at a stretch, I was bewildered. I could have sworn that it had only been half an hour. Over the next few weeks, I realized that my screen time had progressively increased beyond four hours every day. In fact, the process of unlocking my phone, tapping on a preferred application, and browsing mindlessly had become a muscle memory- it required no cognitive labour or strategy. Now one can make the argument that because of my early and prolonged exposure to social media, such a development shouldn’t be surprising. However, to Socrates’ horror, human behaviour is neither unpredictable nor bound by wisdom.
In the last few months, social media usage in India alone skyrocketed. Unlike popular arguments about a particular cohort’s overindulgence, this is true for people across the lifespan. Indians spend up to four hours daily on Facebook, WhatsApp and Instagram on an average. Since the lockdown, there has been an 87% increase in usage. As of 2020, India has approximately 290 million Facebook users, with the USA tailgating at 190 million. The same is true for Instagram, where India has 100 million users- a close second to the USA topping the list with 130 million. India ranks third in the usage of Twitter with 17 million users, falling behind only the USA and Japan. However, there is another interesting statistic worth noting in the larger picture. The user demographic for these social media sites is homogeneously distributed from age 13 up to 64. This means that akin to India, worldwide social media usage is not predicted significantly by age, income, or education. This further implies that when analysing this data, any hypotheses I form would have to apply to these demographic groups to be plausible. Similarly, if I am an online developer, I could cater to each of these groups specifically- strictly monitoring content for minors, dishing out attractive prospects for young adults, and streaming survey-generated content for older individuals. If I am aiming at profit maximisation, my strategy would be more global. The desired outcome would be to have people continue engaging with the platform. Therefore, this homogenous use may actually be a consequence of this algorithm- people across ages use social media because of a universally relevant algorithm, and not the other way around.
What really is an algorithm? In simple terms, they are a way of sorting posts in your timeline. Typically, this sorting happens according to relevance and not time. This means that posts from accounts you frequently interact with will take precedence over other posts. For example, you may have a close friend’s story pop up first in line on Instagram because your level of engagement with their profile is relatively higher (regardless of when they posted it). Despite it sounding like a plain game of numbers, social media algorithms (unlike the human behaviour they aim to predict) are not always predictable. For instance, with Instagram’s new policy of circular engagement, a user whose content is shared/saved lesser, will end up lower on the rungs of reach, and therefore have lesser shares/saves in the future. But what does ‘relevant’ even mean? Let’s take a lesson out of the ever-controversial YouTube recommendations. There are three types of recommended videos: trending topics, user data-based interest, and gender appealing choices. This explains having a viral video unexpectedly knock on our doorstep. For one, viral content is often either controversial, relatable or humorous. This checks multiple quirks- the need for sensation-seeking, affiliation, or psychological relief in comic elements. This further increases the chances of engagement, contributing to the second type of recommendation which is user data-based.
I do not fall on the brighter end of the tech-savvy spectrum, and neither do most users I know. So, what does this information really mean? One hypothesis is a recurring dopamine loop. If my Facebook watch recommends videos that I happen to enjoy, I may not necessarily think of the order as intentional or premeditated. But clicking on another ‘makeover video’ or ‘crime watch’ episode activates a dopamine or pleasure pathway. My brain actively seeks that content, and even though the promised excitement is delivered, sometimes there is a knowledge gap.
Let’s say the video has you hooked with a clickbait thumbnail; maybe it is toothpaste smeared on a broken phone, chocolate oozing out of bread or a notoriously unclear object. However, when you watch the video- regardless of length-the promised clickbait doesn’t appear. Therefore, despite seeking the pleasure by clicking on the video, the need still persists and we continue watching. Even in the absence of clickbait, the shorter the video length, the lesser the likelihood of completing the dopamine cycle. Therefore, sometimes we may re-watch the same reel twice, or scroll into 50 15-second reels that just fall short of completing a pleasure pathway. A simple representation of this phenomenon would be an incomplete song. You’re expecting the beat to drop, but with sketchy internet, you only reach as far as the line just before. So, while you keep rewinding in hopes of an impending chorus, the song never actually finishes. In theory, you’re only spending 15–30 seconds on each video. In practice, you’re lost in multiple incomplete dopamine loops.
One may argue that this is only a part of social media usage. Afterall, we’re not passive spectators of others’ lives on the internet. We contribute to the massive network of virtual social connections. A part of our identity is always on the internet. Usually, this part shies away from pain and embarrassment, like wilted flowers on a rainy day. We want the best of our memories to go up on the internet. While this creates an unrealistic norm of living, I do not believe that social media alone has caused us to excessively hide our sorrows. As individuals, we co-create our personalities with extrinsic contributions from the environment. This includes agents of socialisation like parents, teachers, peers, and adult figures. How we see ourselves is a combined reflection of things we cannot choose, and things we can- like posting a certain kind of content. The latter is often impacted by something known as the Proteus effect, or our tendency to be affected by our digital avatars. While we create 0ur avatars online, by consistently engaging in online behaviours congruent with this avatar, we begin thinking of ourselves as being dominantly similar to this individual. Even though this may remind us of an eerie, uncomfortably familiar Black Mirror episode (you know which one), the concept itself is as old as Greek Mythology. By definition, the proteus effect is evasive. It adapts to its surroundings, helping us stitch a desired narrative of our identities. Therefore, let’s say that my projected avatar is always sorted, never acting without intention or forethought, and exuding positivity in every way. I may do this with or without social media in larger physical gatherings as well. However, if I deeply associate myself with this projection, any deviation from this image will create discomfort and self-consciousness. This is because the narrative I want is guided by something ‘I’ created- a digital image that is influenced by the reactions of others who follow me online.
In a book called The End of Forgetting: Growing up with Social Media, author Kate Eichhorn puts an interesting spin on the construct of memories. According to Eichhorn, in a now unimaginable world without social media, the agency of recording and remembering memories lay more on adults than on children. Adults would take pictures of their children, and store them in picture albums, and home videos. In an even earlier time, the same would be recorded and recounted in the form of stories that adults tell children- “when you were younger, you loved playing with our dog!” However, this agency has now moved to children. They are capable of choosing moments they want to record, remember and revisit with the internet. They are accessible in the form of pictures, videos, texts and posts. Apart from the change in ownership, there isn’t really an issue with this process. But Eichhorn feels that with our lives on the internet, nothing is ever really forgotten. No matter how many pictures we take off of the internet, a trace of our presence stays like a stubborn crease on paper. I disagree with the magnitude of the argument that Eichhorn creates. Neither is every post ‘permanent’ nor is it a plot of our larger life story. A selfie on a sunny day, posted on our stories for 24 hours is a perfect example of this rebuttal. And like I mentioned before, our social media content is only a meatier chunk of our entire life- much like our physical social life anyway.
Having said that, I think Eichhorn take pitches an interesting perspective on cancel culture/viral content and the evolution of identity. A very damaging aftermath of the proteus effect is how we look at people on social media in a unidimensional, and dehumanizing light. Fashion bloggers become just their choice of clothes, writers their choice of words, and activists their social stance. The assumption is that if this part of their lives is accessible to so many people, therefore it must be all of it- no questions asked and no boundaries respected. This in no way justifies the blatant disregard for human rights, decency and common sense on the internet- all of which gets recorded, posted, and criticised.
But as a community, are we mindful of the things we choose to forget? Can we really differentiate between the viral Kombucha girl who lost her job for becoming a meme, and racist rants on Twitter that faced rightful backlash? In fact, are we even at liberty to choose what impact the internet has on people’s lives? Every time a person ignorantly asks, “Don’t you think this generation is too sensitive?”, I say yes and I say it with pride. I say it as a matter-of-fact, with a conscience that is willing to accept personal contribution to things that offend me. But every time a viral post makes sense to me, I give in to my urge and look at the comments section. I want to know what other people think of it because the community’s opinions (however problematic) affect me. It makes me question the world I live in because that world is now fuelled by virtual affiliations. And even though I’ll never know that faceless keyboard warrior, their actions are associated with this affiliation. There is a desire to present rebuttal, and expectation of resolution. But in 9/10 cases, this doesn’t happen and the song never finishes.
