Content and digital society.

tldr - I think I hate it here

Howdy, it’s Nina. It’s about noon on a Monday, I’m on my lunch break, and instead of eating I am pondering the insanity required to put literally anything out into the ether. Who am I, I wonder, to write?

Naturally, in response, I might turn to Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art. It’s the kind of book that everyone has on their bookshelf, reads once in a fit of inspiration a la self improvement era, and then ultimately forgets about until it’s time to look smart in a group setting. If you haven’t read it, Pressfield is the tough-love creative dad everybody needs. The War of Art is equal parts you can do it! and pull your shit together in a way that makes you want to make him proud of you. Or maybe that’s just me.

The following is the most-liked quote from GoodReads:

“If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), "Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?" chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death.”

The War of Art was published in 2002. Pressfield, bless his heart, gives pre-social media insight here. It might be my burgeoning cynicism about the trajectory of digital society, but I can’t help wondering if this advice is outdated. In a world where anyone with an iPhone can create an online presence - and monetize it - I have to wonder if we’ve gone too far. Is “creating” too easy? What does it mean to create, and does process even matter anymore? Has audacity won out over thoughtfulness in the archetype of the artist, and is that a bad thing? I have a litany of morally-charged questions that I’m sick of journaling about. So I am here to simultaneously take a page from Pressfield’s playbook (I am a writer because I worry that I am not) and critique it (We might need to start gatekeeping again). Onwards.

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Further reflections on Pressfield

I chose the aforementioned quote by Pressfield for several reasons. One, I felt a simultaneous jolt of shame and satisfaction in Googling “The War of Art Quotes” and siphoning myself into GoodReads. There’s something poetic about writing a social critique on convenience and content while leveraging convenience and content. My underlying message here is, I am no better. And I’m prepared to sit with that.

Two, I think this quote holds an objective truth and a grave misdirection. On one hand, I am inclined to agree with Pressfield - imposter syndrome often strikes those most equipped to create. However, spending five minutes on Instagram begs a more critical lens to the message, anyone can cook, so to speak.

I am afraid that the nuance of “counterfeit innovator” versus “the real one” has collapsed in the age of social media. Where is the threshold between the real and the counterfeit; more importantly, what’s the difference? And who is to tell? That’s not the real world, my dad used to tell me about social media. In the 2010’s, socials were still emerging in their fledgling states. Back then, it felt easier to distinguish between “the real world” [trees, friends, dinner] and “the digital world” [Facebook statuses, selfies, IM’s].

That gap is now irretrievably fused. As soon as earning potential on platforms became democratized and ordinary people could tie their income and net worth to their digital presence, the material and digital world became one. Add the technological progression of smart phones, the emergence of the platform economy, and brands learning how to monetize our attention spans, and you’ve got a recipe for a cyborg world.

That’s all to say - once upon a time, we would have laughed at someone who makes their money doing impressions online. Not real, per 2002 when the War of Art was published. Very freaking real today.

The larger forces that concerns me are as follows: the co-opting of the word creation; the commodification of personality; brands harnessing already-toxic parasocial relationships; the death of intellectualism; the blurring of reality and the digital realm; and the widespread monetization of our attention. I sleep great at night, obviously.

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Creating and Commodification

There are a plethora of positives to the accessibility of social media. Unheard voices, underrepresented groups, marginalized perspectives, fringe cultures, and oppressed peoples can be given a seat at the proverbial table; or rather, they make their own. Subcultures can create community, activists can reach new audiences, and artists can control their own media. Those facets, among countless unmentioned others, are all great things. However, given the trajectory of the platforms they rely on (and the trajectory of our culture at large), those benefits are increasingly at risk.

The age of social media we are barreling towards is rife with rage bait, oversaturation, bots, and brands. [read: largely devoid of authenticity, originality, or integrity.] Gone are the wholesome days of look what I had for dinner! and can’t wait for summer!; the profit models of the conglomerates pulling the strings are too hungry for your sunset picture. Creation as a profession or hobby has filled the content void, and generously given us an intellectual one.

I can’t claim to be the purveyor of Good Taste. I’m not here to rage on a pedestal of elitism or hyper-intellectualism; art and content are dynamic, multi-faceted, diverse, and shape-shifting. What I like, someone else might not; this is a basic learning. What I am wondering, though, is what is real? Who is the real artist, the real writer? Who is counterfeit?

I think of the sculptor who spends months on a single piece of marble. I think of arts and music programs being cut in public schools. I think of immediate gratification. In a world where families are filming their children for ad revenue, I can’t help but wonder where the line is between creation as a spiritual and artistic act, and exploitation. I am not going to be the one to draw it for you. I just think there is one.

It feels like audacity is rewarded in the social media space these days; the loudest voices, well-polished personal brands, the most attractive faces seem to be reaping the benefits of content creation. Want to opt out? You can’t! One’s digital presence can impact their offline career. I’ve heard first-hand accounts from artists, dancers, writers being asked explicitly about their follower counts before a job is offered, a contract issued, a deal awarded. Digital and material reality have blended in a way I’m not sure they were meant to.

Who’s really winning?

Over years, we have been desensitized to the death of privacy, the harvesting and selling of personal data, and the commodification of our personalities. What started out as a revolutionary mechanism to expand human connection across the globe has become a capitalist hellscape where humans and their experiences are sponsored and brand-affiliated. I cannot stop thinking about e.l.f. sending a care package to the man sailing in the middle of the literal ocean.

Of course, people are waking up. But brands and host platforms are always one step ahead. When Big Influencers became too critiqued, micro-influencers became a thing. When photos became less compelling to eyeballs, video content was pushed. When user counts declined, bots entered. It feels like - similar to the endless scroll - this cycle never ends. And it’s fundamentally changing how we see ourselves.

The emergence of “-core” culture, microtrends, personalized ads, sponsored human beings, and sheer content overwhelm is commodifying our very self-image. I think now of a reel (of course) that commented on how we were never designed to see ourselves for prolonged periods of time. Similarly, we were never meant to endure this much sponsored stimulation. Something something late-stage capitalism. I’m no economist, but even I have a bad feeling about this.

Was it really wise to collectively sanction and consume a model of labor (influencing) that is entirely dependent on the politics and data controls of large-scale corporations? Should we have normalized monetizing digital personas and carefully cultivated parasocial relationships? Are filters ethical? My answer to all of these questions is: fuck no.

What now?

In a society where time and attention are currency, I think it’s up to us to start saving. I’m not about to tell you that a phone-free dinner with friends or 50% fewer screen time hours will take down Meta. However, I am a romantic at heart. What did Kant say? “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.” Think less categorical imperative and more what if we all did just a little bit more (or less, in this case?).

Autonomy looks different for everyone. Sitting with ourselves, sitting with each other truly is a radical act these days. I think it’s not uncommon to feel a little disconnected, a little disembodied. All I’m saying is, maybe there’s a way out. And maybe it really is the damn phone.

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Note: I don’t hate content creators; I know some, love many of them, and recognize the power of Good Influencers. More times than I can count, I have been positively politicized or had my consciousness raised by people who primarily present content online. People using these platforms to advocate for positive social change or personal development are not the target of this essay.