I get it. And I appreciate the absolution, for lack of a better term at the moment. You’re championing a righteous cause in a fairly positive manner. Whatever pangs of guilt I may feel, they are entirely of my own making.
I feel a wave of guilt and shame every time I read a new installment of your take on the negative effects of social media. I know in my heart that you’re mostly right. But then I think about what I did this evening — saw a transcendent performance by Joan As Police Woman in Bushwick that I surely would have missed if not for social media — and the urge to log off fades. I have managed to cut way back, looking at Facebook once a week or less and splashing around in the Twitter cesspool only when I spot a notification of something “important.” But giving it up seems unthinkable.
Don't feel guilty! The point I'm trying to make is that, in the absence of a major systems change, we might think of it as the responsibility of those with large followings to reduce their output to the bare minimum, both to deprive surveillance capitalists of raw behavioral data, but also as a way of being respectful of the time of their fans and followers. (Just in the same way that, with respect to climate crisis, I'm not really concerned with whether or not you choose to eat a burger tomorrow, whereas I am concerned about the carbon emissions from David Geffen's yacht. Does that make sense?)
I get it. And I appreciate the absolution, for lack of a better term at the moment. You’re championing a righteous cause in a fairly positive manner. Whatever pangs of guilt I may feel, they are entirely of my own making.
I feel a wave of guilt and shame every time I read a new installment of your take on the negative effects of social media. I know in my heart that you’re mostly right. But then I think about what I did this evening — saw a transcendent performance by Joan As Police Woman in Bushwick that I surely would have missed if not for social media — and the urge to log off fades. I have managed to cut way back, looking at Facebook once a week or less and splashing around in the Twitter cesspool only when I spot a notification of something “important.” But giving it up seems unthinkable.
Don't feel guilty! The point I'm trying to make is that, in the absence of a major systems change, we might think of it as the responsibility of those with large followings to reduce their output to the bare minimum, both to deprive surveillance capitalists of raw behavioral data, but also as a way of being respectful of the time of their fans and followers. (Just in the same way that, with respect to climate crisis, I'm not really concerned with whether or not you choose to eat a burger tomorrow, whereas I am concerned about the carbon emissions from David Geffen's yacht. Does that make sense?)