Photo: Théo Gosselin
Blue-tacked on my
bedroom wall are magazine snippets and colour-pop posters, in the midst of
which sits a tiny block of text two inches tall, hacked from a Sunday
supplement during my college days. It used to disappear from time to time, only
to resurface in-between diary pages or stuffed in a scrapbook; until I decided
its message was too important to languish in my desk drawer:
"I'm finding it more and more difficult to figure out what's beautiful and unique about the world when I'm sitting in a room full of people looking at their phones and updating what they're doing right that instant. Am I interesting enough? How do I compete? How do I prove to people that I am subversive and unique and as cool as others? Am I taking this picture because I want it for myself or because I want other people to see it? I want them to know what I'm doing, and that I am funny and interesting and doing cool stuff all the time. HELP, PLEASE TELL ME I'M INTERESTING! VALIDATE ME!"
"I'm finding it more and more difficult to figure out what's beautiful and unique about the world when I'm sitting in a room full of people looking at their phones and updating what they're doing right that instant. Am I interesting enough? How do I compete? How do I prove to people that I am subversive and unique and as cool as others? Am I taking this picture because I want it for myself or because I want other people to see it? I want them to know what I'm doing, and that I am funny and interesting and doing cool stuff all the time. HELP, PLEASE TELL ME I'M INTERESTING! VALIDATE ME!"
Social
media. A subject to be reviewed, I concluded - at a later date. As an 18 year
old, I was cloistered away in the rural countryside, making dodgily constructed
dresses for A-level Textiles. Meanwhile, like a pimply youth with growing
pains, social media was going through an awkward adolescence - more college
campus than revolutionary digital trend. Fast-forward to 2015 and social media
has Jack-and-the-Beanstalked, affecting the way we work, shop and socialise.
According to a report by GlobalWebIndex, the average user
spends 2 hours, 25 minutes on social media each day, whilst the Pew Research Center has found that 52% of online adults now use two
or more social media sites. During my education, networking services such as
Instagram hadn't even been released. Now, roughly half of young adults ages 18-29 (53%) feed into the
photo-sharing behemoth - 49% of them daily users.
"We became social through a constant slew of commenting, posting, liking - our lives soundtracked by the beep or buzz of our devices"
As
my own life became besieged by the networking-powers-that-be, that hastily-torn
scrap of paper gained newfound significance. Squeezed for time to meet up in
person, I framed social media for my social transgressions. Texts and facebook
messages stacked up like dirty dishes in my inbox. Notifications ran like tickertape
on my timelines. And it wasn't just me that was feeling the strain. My
colleague reported to me that her not-even-teenage Year 7 son was likely to
switch secondary schools because of cyber-bullying. A new study by
researcher Mai-Ly Steers entitled "Seeing Everyone Else's Highlight Reels:
How Facebook Usage is Linked to Depressive Symptoms" observed that
"the act of socially comparing oneself to others is related to long-term
destructive emotions". And then there are digital detox weekends where you can go and learn how to live
without your phone.
In the beginning,
social media enjoyed a golden honeymoon. The ability to make contact in
quicker, easier ways eradicated the need for phone calls. We became social
through a constant slew of commenting, posting, liking - our lives soundtracked
by the beep or buzz of our devices. Technology made it easier to leapfrog
social responsibilities, because everyone else was doing the same. This
inevitably bled the effort out of communication, and our ability to physically
socialise suffered. We became virtually omnipresent, looming like holograms -
but somehow, we weren't really there at all.
There
were other things that bothered me too. I felt burdened knowing really personal
stuff about people that ordinarily, I'd pass by in the street. I had been taken
in, hook, line, and sinker by the illusion of being connected, just because I'd
scrolled through people's digital updates. The increasingly blurred boundaries
between the virtual realm and real life made it difficult to separate the
identities presented on carefully curated timelines before me, let alone my
own. And I was numbed to the immediacy of life - chattering voices, cherry
blossom unfurling, puffy clouds and towering spires, as I looked down at the
screen in front of my face. I was scared that the love of my life might waltz
past one day, as
Gary Turk forecasted, and I wouldn't even notice.
"It's no use sharing information and content, if we aren't sharing laughs, stories and crude jokes in person - because ultimately, human beings need company"
We would do well to
remember that it isn't social media that's made us unsocial. We simply
over-indulged, lured away from living in the moment as we hungrily traversed
the web. The platforms themselves enable us to make connections, bridge
time-zones and soar across oceans - by nature their vast reach makes them ideal
for proliferating dialogue, highlighting injustices and uniting people through
common causes. But these connections, borne from a place of positivity, need
reinforcement in the form of one-to-one contact if they are to truly become
something meaningful. It's no use sharing information and content, if we aren't
sharing laughs, stories and crude jokes in person - because ultimately, human
beings need company. Pixellated emoticons can't replace a vice-like hug, nor
does a 'like' constitute companionship. We expect technology to step up for
human interaction in ways it can never achieve.
So what's to be
done? We've got to find our own formula - one that encourages balance. I've
deactivated Facebook; a move greeted at first by friends with discombobulated
looks, swiftly followed by amusement. My willingness to opt-out of the loop,
they said, would cut me adrift from the tide of communications. Relinquishing
my log-in, it was inferred, would send me spiralling down the plughole.
It was quite
simple, I argued.
"If I want to
speak to someone, I'll ring them!"
Or arrive on their doorstep for dinner and conversation. They've been warned.
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