The Casino Always Wins
I've been wary of the addictive nature of social media for years. Like a gambler, we slot emotional hope and attentive energy into the affective node and wait for payback - likes, loves, re-tweets, shares, more than before. But it is never enough. As per the old truism, the casino always wins. Except our casino is not a glittery neon behemoth on the outskirts of town - it is a small glowing rectangle - less than a second away, lurking on the devices we rely on to contact our family and friends.
When we share we are using our emotional and cognitive energy. But, of course - the payback is seldom. We never quite hit the jackpot like we once did. Just recall how we use our social media: we check, twitching and fevered, for updates - but how often do those updates, those interactions, that endorphin jacuzzi dopa-mine, warrant our efforts? 1/10...1/20? We spend a lot of energy on such things, hoping for attention, but the payback is scant. We put in more than we get out.
I believe that social media monetizes both loneliness and relationships - social interactions feed the revenue streams of the technocrats. Yet, at the same time, so does the striving, often never responded, call for some feedback, attention or interaction. So, if, for the gambler hope and winning are the cruel dynamic mode - hope, before let down in the search of an occasional win - then, for social media, hope is the loneliness and the effort of relieving it and the win is interaction and attention. Of course, it is a fool's pursuit. The casino always wins.
In Irresistible: Why we can't stop checking, scrolling, clicking and watching, by Adam Alter, the Moment app is described. It monitors a user's screen time. Not phone calls, but time spent using the seductive cyan touchscreen or staring at it. With a set of approximately eight thousand users the average screen-time each day was three hours. Let's be good little reductive capitalists for (a) (M)oment... How much is your three hours worth? (UK minimum wage is £7.20 - so minimum, £21.60 per day) Would you pay that for a service that shares staged disingenuous holiday snaps, political hot-takes, snide moral one-upmanship, and avocado fetishisms? When I see fellow writers and academics (no doubt assuming their time and energy market rate is more than the UK minimum wage) I wonder if the deal is as good as it seems. People say social media is necessary for self promotions in the gig-economy of intellectual labour - yet, I do not know of anyone who has got a gig through these vampiric platforms.
But let's now turn to this passion for self promotion. I accept that we live in a world of normalized disingenuousness. The vacant mirror snap stare and the grinning selfie facade is commonplace - as is social climbing via online sycophancy. We glibly re-tweet gesture politics #JeSuisCharlie #ICantBreath #Westminster #Solidarity yadadada. This is the rub for me. I could bear online 'social' self-entrepreneurialism if it was frank and honest. BUY MY BOOK is preferable to the din of smarmy smug lefty promotion. The hot-takes and 60 character put downs that exploded on the platforms in the aftermath of the Westminster attacks troubled me. I found it difficult not to be cynical about the busy ethical-trumping and event romanticization that seemed so prevalent. In between glamming up the jet-set #PhDLife or #Writerproblems, the passive-aggressive showing off (replete with filtered selfies, city-fawning and ubiquitous feline presence) felt utterly, and shamefully, opportunistic. Because - during tragic events what purpose do these posts serve other than to expose the user to others for attention and interaction. Surely the use of the hot hashtag is the junky's jump on the good shit?
Thank-you for arguing the toss about media coverage or the opinions of others, thank-you for that covert self-promotion veiled as outrage, moral high-ground or pithy gesture politics with your Patreon account linked in profile - how altruistic of you. But then, addiction does manifest as selfishness doesn't it?