In their original forms, the likes of MySpace, Facebook and Twitter provided users with platforms for connection-building through growing their network, adding friends, and maintaining relationships. Hence, social networks. These days, TikTok, Instagram and others are primarily content vehicles, optimised not for connection but for consumption and, increasingly, monetisation. Hence, social media.
There’s a powerful feedback loop between language and behaviour, and the terministic shift from social network to social media certainly transformed user behaviour. Once platforms became framed as 'media', the focus fundamentally shifted from “who do I know?” to “what can I share/engage with?” and success became measured in views/likes rather than meaningful connections. The language didn't just describe the transformation of these platforms, but instead helped enable and accelerate it; in the same way calling something a “news feed” versus a "friend updates" subtly shapes how we approach and consume that information.
More than ever, we’re in a state of perpetual performance through meticulously engineered attempts at authenticity. The ‘photo dumps’ – ostensibly casual collections of unfiltered moments – are ironically often more curated than traditional posts. In my view, the worst of these are ‘morning routine’ videos on TikTok. I get secondhand exhaustion from realising people are waking up to position their phones only to crawl back into bed to record the start of the day. Every “authentic” moment filled with oat milk lattes and randomly perfectly arranged dinner bowls requires extensive preparation, multiple takes, careful curation and constant editing. [1]
In a constant cycle of content creation or consumption, therein lies a pressure to participate in this aspirational theatre that is digital performance. Indeed, this phenomenon extends into every conceivable niche. I’ve experienced this myself — as a DJ years ago or more recently in powerlifting – where there is an immediate expectation to create content, or want to build a personal brand and monetise these interests. [2] What happened to being a chill guy with various interests without the need to perform them for a digital audience? [3]
I believe the constant pressure to perform alongside the abundance of consumable content has enabled the commodification of human experience. I think some types of content are worth monetising: cooking tutorials, fitness guidance, financial advice. But, we've extended beyond these into innumerable clusters where various aspects of the ordinary human lifestyle demand documentation and distribution. First dates. Grief. Self-care.
It’s rather homogenous, and subsequently quite exhausting.
The issue at hand supersedes the existence of social media platforms, but their impacts on our lives offline. There are now more ‘Instagrammable’ spaces than ever: focused on aesthetics and faux-ambience void of natural human insight.
More notably, I find it interesting how intimate moments like gender reveal parties, weddings, baby announcements have turned from sacred and personal to opportunities for documentation and distribution. Are we not exhausted from the constant curation?
The issue isn't documentation itself – we're privileged to be able to capture these moments – but my issue lies with documentation for posting & engagement, rather than memory preservation. I attended a talk last month where the speaker asked if we would do things knowing no one could like, comment or reshare… the silence was deafening.
Instagram 10 years ago was more normal. I personally preferred it when not everyone could be, wanted to, or felt like they had to be a celebrity. A lot of people have idolised celebrities for decades, but now it's easier than ever to become one. [4] Perhaps this represents a scary paradigm where digital maincharacterism has morphed into a hyper-individualism which exists offline?
Looking ahead, more people will want to become content creators, and there will be more accessible ways of doing so. I predict we’re a few years away from a world where people can create content with their avatars instead of their actual selves. Argil AI already lets people record with their avatars, and Meta and Apple’s wearables are providing the moat for a future where our digital selves can accelerate these capabilities. Not that I would subscribe, but the idea of my avatar co-hosting a Twitch livestream whilst autonomously editing & posting a TikTok is pretty intriguing (and scary).
The technology isn't quite there, but it's not hard to see how Unreal Engine's Creator and NVIDIA's ACE could be integrated with social platforms to let our digital twins post content while we're busy making more content. What happens in a world where we’re capable of creating on a 10x or 100x scale?
We’re further widening the gap between authentic human interaction – and connection – and engagement-driven performances; the lines may soon become impossibly blurred.
I suppose I wonder if we're heading towards a future focused on creating content rather than actually being content.
[1] I noticed the surge in aestheticised domesticity content notably aligns with the ongoing rejection of wokeism in return to traditional ideals where domestic, familial and gender norms are becoming both heavily produced, commercially distributed, and subsequently idealised.
[2] One could argue I’m doing the same here by writing my thoughts every week. But, I’d like to think there’s a slight difference: I'm writing for whoever finds these things interesting enough to read each week.
[3] The 'Chill Guy' is an ongoing internet meme inspired by an illustration of an anamorphic brown dog.
[4] Kai Cenat is perhaps the best example of this. Interestingly, I find his content quite refreshing given how authentic it seems.
