{"id":12629,"date":"2012-10-24T08:00:40","date_gmt":"2012-10-24T12:00:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/?p=12629"},"modified":"2012-10-24T01:48:04","modified_gmt":"2012-10-24T05:48:04","slug":"social-media-and-the-devolution-of-friendship-part-ii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/2012\/10\/24\/social-media-and-the-devolution-of-friendship-part-ii\/","title":{"rendered":"Social Media and the Devolution of Friendship: Part II"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>
Can being a ‘generalized other’ feel like being a friend?<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

How did<\/em> the Awkward Party Comment shift from \u201cI know, I read your Livejournal\u201d to \u201cYou read what I posted on Facebook, right?\u201d As I explained last week<\/a>, this change is related to what I call the devolution of friendship. In devolved friendship, we expect our friends to take on a greater share of the friendship-labor involved in being friends with us<\/strong>. I link the devolution of friendship to the affordances of social media sites, and particularly to general broadcasting and frictionless sharing. While I don\u2019t go so far as to say devolved friendship is necessarily a bad thing (or a good thing), at least two of its characteristics deserve a closer examination: the <\/strong>non-uniform rationalization of friendship-labor and the depersonalization of friendship-labor<\/strong>. I explore both below.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The Non-Uniform Rationalization of Friendship-Labor<\/em>
\nSocial media has rationalized \u201csharing with friends\u201d to the point of relentless efficiency, but it has not rationalized \u201cbeing shared with\u201d to the same degree. <\/strong>Instead, the ease of sharing means that we are now bombarded with \u2018shared\u2019 information<\/a>\u2014something Facebook itself has acknowledged with its new \u201csponsored\u201d status updates<\/a>, and that some of us acknowledge when we turn off frictionless sharing because we\u2019re concerned about \u201cspamming\u201d our friends<\/a>. We produce \u201csharing\u201d at a rate far greater than we can consume it, and we flood the marketplace for attention.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>In short, \u201csharing\u201d has become a lot easier and a lot more efficient, but \u201cbeing shared with\u201d has become much more time-consuming, demanding, and inefficient <\/strong>(especially if we don\u2019t ignore most of our friends most of the time). Given this, expecting our friends to keep up with our social media content isn\u2019t expecting them to meet us halfway; it\u2019s asking them to take on the lion\u2019s share of staying in touch with us.<\/strong> Our jobs (in this role) have gotten easier; our friends\u2019 jobs have gotten harder.<\/p>\n

Of course, some of our friends might not mind performing more friendship-labor. Their own friends:time ratios might be low, and therefore allow them to keep up with everything we produce and circulate. Other friends might decline to perform the extra friendship-labor we implicitly demand of them, but also not mind maintaining closeness across a more distanced engagement. Still other friends might be ok with the fact that, again and again, we still haven\u2019t seen whatever super-awesome thing of unbelievable awesomeness they posted, even though they posted it on whatever platform a week ago. Regardless, the shift from a \u201cpush\u201d model of friendship to a \u201cpull\u201d model is worth noting.<\/strong><\/p>\n

It\u2019s important to note here that, though I talk about our roles as share-producers and as share-consumers, these roles are deeply interrelated. This is because social media is something we prosume<\/a>, something we both produce and consume in a simultaneous bi-directional feedback loop not unlike the give-and-take of functional friendship<\/strong>. The shares we produce often contain the same content we consumed just moments earlier; even when we generate original content, chances are pretty good we’ll consume some of our friends’ shares while logged in to social media sites to produce our own shares. If any frictionless sharing functions are in play, our content consumption fuels a whole stream of newly-produced share content. Even if we’ve turned off frictionless sharing, and even if we don’t repost anything we consume, our content consumption still produces data through cookies and other online tracking devices, and this data in turn feeds back into the algorithms that shape and structure our social media experiences. Though how much deliberate effort we put into each role may vary, the reality of prosumption is that it’s essentially impossible to engage in either the production or the consumption<\/strong> of social media content without engaging in the other.<\/strong> (Make a mental note of this concept if you don\u2019t already know it, because I\u2019ll reference it again near the end.)<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
You are not a unique snowflake. Sorry.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The Depersonalization of Friendship-Labor<\/em>
\nThe second thing worth noting is that devolved friendship is also depersonalized friendship<\/strong>. Sure, we still send specific messages to specific friends through social media services, through other electronic media like email and text messages, and through non-electronic media; the personalized, hard-to-track shares that take place through email and text message communication (etc) may get called “dark social<\/a>,” but they’re still\u00a0social<\/em> and we’re still engaged in producing them. We also still post things on each other\u2019s individual Facebook walls, and we still send @replies on Twitter. Sometimes we share with specific friends within our generalized broadcasts, perhaps by tagging them in a Facebook status update or by slipping an @mention into the middle of a tweet. These things are not<\/em> examples of depersonalized friendship. Frictionless sharing and generalized broadcasting, however, do represent depersonalized friendship, because we\u2019re not sharing with any one or more of our friends in particular. <\/strong>Instead we\u2019re sharing generally, with an unknown subset of people who will self-select from whatever potential audience we\u2019ve allowed.<\/p>\n

I talked a bit about this difference between \u201csocial\u201d and \u201cpersonal\u201d sharing last week in an expanded version<\/a> of my August post<\/a> about the social music streaming service Spotify. To summarize, I signed up for a free trial of Spotify in order to update my essay, and found that being on Spotify isn\u2019t at all what I\u2019d expected. Given that Spotify is supposed to be \u201csocial,\u201d and that near a half dozen people had been pushing me for weeks to start using it, I sort of expected that\u2026you know\u2026being on Spotify would involve experiences that felt like socializing.<\/strong> I imagined Spotify would be like a geographically distributed, digitally-enabled version of the old H3W porch (that\u2019s Historic 3 Wadsworth<\/a>), where a certain group of my friends used to spend every Monday night listening to\u2014and arguing about\u2014music. Friends, conversations, shared songs, chaotic banter: personal, collective, reciprocal social interaction.<\/p>\n

Being on Spotify, however, is not like being on the porch.<\/strong> When you show up on the porch, your friends talk to you. Though a good deal of conversation (and performance) is addressed to the generalized audience of the group, your friends speak to you individually as well[i]<\/a>. There will also be times when you, specifically, are called upon to address the group, even before Monday becomes Tuesday and the world\u2019s most wonderfully esoteric word game<\/a> begins. Even when you are not speaking your friends recognize that you are there, and you recognize that you are there. Everyone on the porch knows that everyone on the porch knows who\u2019s on the porch.<\/strong> The group may be a generalized audience, but it is a specific<\/em>\u00a0and mutually recognized<\/em> generalized audience.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Do you see me?<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

When you show up on Spotify, however, your friends don\u2019t automatically talk to you. They don\u2019t automatically send you notes and songs either, the way I do with my friends via both email and snailmail. You can see when your friends are listening to something (if they scrobble, or have \u201cSpotify Social\u201d enabled), but you have no idea if any of them know you\u2019re there and looking. Scrobbling might be \u201csocial,\u201d but it\u2019s not very personal by default. <\/strong><\/p>\n

Personal interaction doesn\u2019t just happen on Spotify, and since I was hoping Spotify would be the New Porch, I initially found Spotify to be somewhat lonely-making. It\u2019s the mutual awareness of presence that gives companionate silence its warmth, whether in person or across distance<\/strong>. The silence within Spotify\u2019s many sounds, on the other hand, felt more like being on the outside looking in. This isn\u2019t to say that Spotify can\u2019t<\/em> be social in a more personal way; once I started sending tracks to my friends, a few of them started sending tracks in return. But it took a lot more work to get to that point, which gets back to the devolution of friendship (as I explain below).<\/p>\n

When I first started poking around on Spotify, I wasn\u2019t at all sure what the behavioral and interactional norms were supposed to be. Clicking on my friends\u2019 listening activity without talking to them felt a bit like rifling through somebody\u2019s CD collection without permission after they\u2019d stepped out to use the restroom<\/strong>\u2014which I recognize some people don\u2019t mind, but which to me feels like something of a transgression. One \u2018Spotivangelist\u2019 friend told me that I was being ridiculous, and that scrobbling (frictionless sharing of one\u2019s listening activity) is \u201cdonating your taste to a generalized other<\/a>.\u201d I wasn\u2019t sure I agreed exactly, but I took that one friend\u2019s statement as tacit, blanket permission to start checking out what any of my friends were listening to (without clicking into \u201cprivate\u201d mode beforehand, and then feeling guilty about it later).<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
We all blur together as the Generalized Other.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I\u2019ve been thinking since, however, on what it means to view our friends as \u201cgeneralized others.\u201d I may now feel like less of like \u201ccreepy stalker\u201d when I click on a song in someone\u2019s Spotify feed, but I don\u2019t exactly feel \u2018shared with\u2019 either<\/strong>. Far as I know, I\u2019ve never been SpotiVaguebooked (or SubSpotified<\/a>?); I have no reason to think anyone is speaking to me personally as they listen to music, or as they choose not to disable scrobbling (if they make that choice consciously at all). I may have been granted the opportunity to view something, but it doesn\u2019t follow that what I\u2019m viewing has anything to do with me unless I choose<\/em> to make it about me. Devolved friendship means it\u2019s not up to us to interact with our friends personally; instead it\u2019s now up to our friends to make our generalized broadcasts personal.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nathan Jurgenson (@nathanjurgenson<\/a>) has suggested that<\/a> my awkward feelings<\/a> about interacting with individual friends as a \u2018generalized other\u2019 are a form of cyberasociality<\/a> [pdf], but I\u2019m not certain I agree<\/a> with him. I think the key piece in my discomfort, in my inability to read frictionless sharing and generalized broadcasts as friendship-labor (or as \u201cpersonal social interaction\u201d) in and of themselves, is that these forms lack clear mutual acknowledgement<\/strong>. The problem is that they\u2019re depersonalized, not that they\u2019re digitally mediated. That said, for all the examples of interaction that is both digitally mediated & mutually acknowledged that I can list, I can\u2019t come up with an analogous non-digital form of depersonalized friendship-labor. If depersonalized friendship-labor is in fact unique to digitally mediated interaction, I can\u2019t dismiss \u2018resistance to depersonalized friendship as cyberasociality\u2019 as readily as I would like.<\/strong><\/p>\n

In any case, regardless of whether it brings more harms or benefits\u2014and regardless of my (potentially cyberasocial) relationship to it\u2014devolved friendship\u2019s attendant depersonalization deserves attention. When we consider the lopsided rationalization of \u2018sharing\u2019 and \u2018shared with,\u2019 as well as the depersonalization of frictionless sharing and generalized broadcasting, what becomes clear is this: the social media deck is stacked in such a way as to make being \u2018a self\u2019 easier and more rewarding than being \u2018a friend.\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Can anyone hear me?<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Jenny Davis (@Jup83<\/a>) recently highlighted the incentivization to share with her concept of FOBM, or “fear of being missed.”<\/a> FOMO, “fear of missing out,” is the anxiety we feel when we can’t keep up with consuming all the share-content our friends produce. Because it is now up to us to turn our friends’ generalized broadcasts into personal interaction, we can never know how many opportunities for connection\u00a0slip by and are lost when we get behind in sifting through our streams. But again, that sifting takes a lot of work<\/strong>: as Davis says of her experience watching the second Presidential debate without access to Facebook or Twitter, “I wanted to see what everyone was saying, but I also knew that the vast majority of [even the smartest members of my network] would not be saying much of substance.” Davis’s comment is not a snarky remark about her friends, but rather an acknowledgement of the fact that even if she’d had access to Twitter during the debate, she’d have been sorting through a lot of dumb “binders full of women” jokes to get to more substantive conversations about, say, sexism in the workplace.<\/p>\n

Fear Of Being Missed, on the other hand, is the anxiety we feel when we can’t produce share-content ourselves.<\/strong> As Davis explains in the comments, FOBM “isn\u2019t that others recognize and lament one\u2019s absence, but rather, that one is skipped over or unseen<\/a>.” If FOMO is the fear of being excluded and forgotten for failing to consume share-content, FOBM is the fear of being excluded and forgotten for failing to produce share-content.<\/strong> “Interaction begets interaction,” Davis explains. So assuming we want interaction with our friends, how do we go about getting it? On the one hand we can attempt to tackle FOMO, and knock ourselves out sorting through all of our friends’ share-content looking for individual instances of generalized friendship-labor that we can work to personalize. On the other hand, we can attempt to tackle FOBM–and skip the sorting, in favor of letting our friends respond to our own generalized friendship-labor. Obviously the vast majority of us take on both of these tasks, but the latter is a much more efficient way to harvest the attention and acknowledgment we crave.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s easy to share, to broadcast, to put our selves and our tastes and our identity performances out into the world for others to consume; what feedback and friendship we get in return comes in response to comparatively little effort and investment from us. It takes a lot more work, however, to do the consumption<\/strong>, to sift through everything all (or even just some) of our friends produce, to do the work of connecting to our friends\u2019 generalized broadcasts so that we can convert their depersonalized shares into meaningful friendship-labor.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
How much friendship can we create on our own?<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

We may be prosumers of social media, but the reward structures of social media sites encourage us to place greater emphasis on our roles as share-producers<\/strong>\u2014even though many of us probably spend more time consuming shared content than producing it. There\u2019s a reason for this, of course; the content we produce (for free) is what fuels every last \u2018Web 2.0\u2019 machine, and its attendant self-centered sociality is the linchpin of the peculiarly Silicon Valley concept of \u201cSocial\u201d (something Nathan Jurgenson and I will discuss together in greater detail next week). It\u2019s not super-rewarding to be one of ten people who \u201clike\u201d your friend\u2019s shared link, but it can feel rewarding to get 10 \u201clikes\u201d on something you\u2019ve shared\u2014even if you have hundreds or thousands of \u2018friends.\u2019 Sharing is easy; dealing with all that shared content is hard.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Obviously there\u2019s a whole lot more to friendship than sharing links, songs, and moving pictures<\/a> (even if they\u2019re pictures of spinning disco chickens<\/a>, or of an epic sports catastrophe<\/a>). But I wonder sometimes if the shifts in expectation that accompany devolved friendship don\u2019t migrate across platforms and contexts in ways we don\u2019t always see or acknowledge. Social <\/strong>media affects how we see the world<\/a>\u2014and how we feel about being seen in the world<\/a>\u2014even when we\u2019re not engaged directly with social media websites. It\u2019s not a stretch, then, to imagine that the affordances of social media platforms might also affect how we see friendship and our obligations as friends most generally.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

Whitney Erin Boesel does the majority of her generalized broadcasting<\/strong>\u2014and a good deal of specific broadcasting, too<\/strong>\u2014on Twitter: @phenatypical<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

Friend collage image from http:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2010\/05\/30\/fashion\/30FACEBOOK.html?pagewanted=all<\/a><\/em>
\nEnough friends image from http:\/\/avatar.hq-picture.com\/too-many-friends-avatar-36446.html<\/a><\/em>
\nThey are not you image from http:\/\/emiliesicons4friends.xanga.com\/<\/a><\/em>
\nCrowd at train station photo from http:\/\/lynan.wordpress.com\/2012\/07\/14\/what-does-it-feel-like-to-be-lonely\/<\/a><\/em>
\n Blurred people image from http:\/\/carlcj.tripod.com\/GalleryII\/<\/a><\/em>
\nBoy lost in crowd image from http:\/\/www.richwainwright.com\/blog\/foreign-assignments\/borders-barriers-israeli-separation-barrier\/attachment\/israel0023\/<\/a> <\/em>
\n Still from <\/em>Tideland from http:\/\/pj-shadow.blogspot.com\/2010_12_01_archive.html<\/a> <\/em><\/p>\n

\n
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[i]<\/a> If you\u2019re shy, or an introvert, or both: this actually matters.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

How did the Awkward Party Comment shift from \u201cI know, I read your Livejournal\u201d to \u201cYou read what I posted on Facebook, right?\u201d As I explained last week, this change is related to what I call the devolution of friendship. In devolved friendship, we expect our friends to take on a greater share of the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1875,"featured_media":12633,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[9967,892],"tags":[18551,18540,18541,942,18542,12596,106,18543,18550,18552,18544,9183,18545,732,12598],"class_list":["post-12629","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-commentary","category-essay","tag-depersonalization","tag-devolution","tag-devolution-of-friendship","tag-facebook","tag-free-labor","tag-frictionless-sharing","tag-friendship","tag-friendship-labor","tag-generalized-broadcast","tag-h3w","tag-interaction","tag-rationalization","tag-scrobbling","tag-social-media","tag-spotify"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/files\/2012\/10\/friend-portrait-collage.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12629","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1875"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12629"}],"version-history":[{"count":65,"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12629\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12677,"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12629\/revisions\/12677"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/12633"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12629"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12629"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thesocietypages.org\/cyborgology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12629"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}