LiveJournal-era camwhoring, circa 2002
The internet and I have a very complex relationship. Look, I adore the ol’ World Wide Web. It’s been a part of my life since I was 13, with innumerable positive effects. But at the same time, I resent it for the social and psychological shifts that it’s provoked, both in myself and in the other People Of Earth. Chiefly, I feel weird about the the fact that it’s turning us into such self-involved, attention-craving, minutiae-chronicling screen-slaves.
In the real world, I feel uncomfortable engaging in self-promotional activity. I read stories about how actors and singers and writers made their way to the top by busting down doors and getting in people’s faces and asserting themselves and think, no way. There’s absolutely no way I’d have the moxie to do that.
On the internet, though, self-promotion is less confrontational. You’re not engaging with anyone face-to-face. No-one can see you, so it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable or intrusive. Gradually, you become more at ease with talking about yourself. Everyone else is doing it, so why can’t you? Why shouldn’t you tell people where you are and who you’re with? Why not post a photo of yourself that you just took five seconds ago? And if that’s okay, surely the next logical step is to sign up for Daily Booth, where you can sit in front of your laptop every day, pose for pics, then upload the cutest one so that your followers can tell you that they’re sooo jealous of your prettiness. Oh, sweet, crowdsourced validation. That’s what we all want in the end, innit?
Here’s why I’ve been thinking about this lately. A few months back I interviewed Cookie Monster for Rocketboom. In a fortuitous combination of luck, timing and pop-cultural relevance, the resulting video became very popular on YouTube, garnering over a million views in a matter of weeks. In the wake of this, a nice young man created a group on Facebook called “Fans of Ella Morton“.
Surprised and rather delighted by the emergence of the group, I posted a link to it on my Facebook profile, appending a mildly self-deprecating comment. Not five minutes later, my phone rang. It was my mother. The conversation went something like this:
“Hi mum!”
“Ella, take that down.”
“What?”
“That thing on your Facebook. You need to take it down right now.”
“The fan group thing? Why?”
“Because it makes you look really bad. You look like you’re full of yourself. People won’t like it at all.”
“Really? But I didn’t create that group –”
“It doesn’t matter, it still makes you look like you’re showing off. Trust me, you need to take it down, NOW.”
“But my friends will know I’m being ironic.”
“No — in America it’s normal to be pushy and self-promotional, but people in Australia will hate it.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll take it down.”
“Good. I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
(I hung up the phone and died of embarrassment, only to be mysteriously reanimated for the express purpose of suffering further indignities.)
It’s a tough call, this self-promotion thing. When does it become obnoxious? For many people, self-promotion is a professional necessity. I am a freelance writer, actor and host, which means I need to display and promote my work in order to keep getting hired. The easiest way to do this is online. And if I have a lot of fans and followers — I don’t really like those terms, but whatevs — that increases my value to potential employers and collaborators. I certainly have to prove that people want to watch me if I’m to stand a chance at succeeding in ultra-competitive New York. And, hell, I want people to watch The Elegant Guide, because I worked hard on it and I’m happy with how it turned out.
Here’s my big question: have we always been self-obsessed, show-offy types, or is the internet normalising and exacerbating such behaviour? We’ve become so accustomed to broadcasting our lives — assuming that everyone is hanging on our every Tweet and nonchalantly posed, self-taken photo — that it suddenly seems normal to think of people as “fans” and “followers”. Everyone can be a microcelebrity.
Man. There are so many issues at work here. Part of it might be cultural, too. In Australia we have a little something called Tall Poppy Syndrome. It’s the culturally enshrined conviction that it’s embarrassing for someone to be vocal about their accomplishments. Any time someone gets a bit boasty or displays unchecked pride, a bunch of their friends will swiftly tell them to get back in their box, mate. Oz-grown celebrities frequently experience backlashes if they start looking too happy with their successes.
What are your thoughts on this stuff? I’d love to hear ‘em. It’s a complicated issue, and I still don’t know how I feel about it all. In fact, part of the reason I don’t update this blog more frequently is that I am reluctant to post about my life and what I do from day to day. It would just feel a bit silly and self-indulgent. But I guess that’s what blogs are for. Oh internet, you make fools of us all.
{ 19 comments }
