Feed the Machine, or, "You're A Content Creator, Harry"

in which I discuss the collapse of social media, and specifically, Instagram

Something we’re all familiar with in the 21st century—rather intimately, unfortunately—is this thing we call “social” media. It’s this place we go to “engage” with others in our “communities.” As artists, we will sometimes admit that we’re there to “build a following” or “gain exposure.”

And these things are fine, I guess. It’s fun to hop on and chat with others about a topic you’re interested in or passionate about—sometimes you’ll even develop a real relationship; and we all know that the business of building a following is a necessary evil for artists who don’t want to, you know, starve. The problem is that none of these things are what “social” media is for—not anymore.

Once upon a time, you logged into Instagram and saw photos, and they were photos from people you actually knew and/or cared about following. You’d read their caption with genuine interest, and, because you knew them and enjoyed their art, you’d tap the heart and leave a comment. Then, because the machine had not yet been built to completion, you could post your own art—whatever sort you enjoyed—and there was at least somewhat of a chance that you’d become successful, which is to say, not starving.

Then they oiled up the ‘ole algorithm. To “empower” growth and “promote” reach, they said. If you learned to work the system, you could earn a power-up: more likes, more comments, more followers, more exposure for the art that was still your own. A good thing, no?

So you entered the rat race, but it was okay, because at the end of the day, you were still free to post the things you wanted to. You still had a discernable identity—a sense of individual style and space. The integrity of your art was still intact. You could survive this.

Fast-forward to Instagram today and what do you see? Dozens and dozens—a mind-numbing amount—of reels using the same, tired sound-bytes (we call this “trending”), ads from companies and brands you’ve never heard of for products you couldn’t care less about, and almost zero unique artistic content from the people you came to the platform to follow. And the worst part is that this is not an organic evolution. You follow the prescribed formulas because, if you don’t, not only will your work not be boosted, it will be suppressed. You’re not an artist anymore; you’re a content creator, and you’d best be creating “approved” media.

With each new algorithmic update, the veil gets a little thinner: they aren’t doing this to “empower” or “promote” you or your art; they’re doing it to mold you.

“The ideal set up by the Party was something huge, terrible, and glittering—a world of steel and concrete, of monstrous machines and terrifying weapons—a nation of warriors and fanatics, marching forward in perfect unity, all thinking the same thoughts and shouting the same slogans, perpetually working, fighting, triumphing, persecuting—three hundred million people all with the same face.” – George Orwell, 1984

Feed Content A into Slot B. We call this “being a creator.”

Preach The Message, always. We call this “diversity.”

Why do we put up with it? Is it because we know that when we go to try and eek out a living from the things we make, the publisher is going to ask us something like, “Well, how’s your social media engagement? How many followers do you have?”—i.e. “How good are you at following the rules?” It’s a pipeline, see. Because in what we have come to know as “society,” we can’t have anything so dangerous as dissident art.

Best just feed the machine. You wouldn’t want to, what is it—starve—right?