The self(ie) paradox
Last month I was in Sydney for the first time. I marvelled at the city’s organization, cleanliness and laid-back lifestyle as much as I was stunned by its visitors inability to appreciate those things. The reason: they were on selfie mode.
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For anyone who’s watched Finding Nemo, the Australian marine life holds an almost mystic quality. The Sea Life Sydney Aquarium presents over 700 species from different habitats. And yet, everyone there seemed more inclined to take pictures of themselves than to even notice that diversity.
One might argue that they weren’t much into animals though. Let’s turn to an example of human achievement then. The Sydney Opera House is probably one of the most iconic buildings in the world. It is a spectacular sight from the outside, and the inside is totally worth the guided tour. That being said, tourists seemed more inclined to take a selfie at every corner than to listen to the tour guide’s explanations or even to respect her instructions as to when or where to proceed next.
This is obviously not a contextual problem. Recently my husband snapped this picture:
Fontana di Trevi, Rome
When I was in Rome two years ago, I couldn’t help but notice that people visiting the Colosseum entered the few balconies from which you could see the interior of the amphitheatre in “selfie position”, that is to say, backwards. I waited to see if at some point they turned themselves to actually take a look, which they didn’t. All they cared about was getting the right framing for the picture.
According to writer André Dao, one of the primary performances of the Colosseum back in the old days was the re-enactment of famous battles from Rome’s past to remind the audience of the glory of the Empire and of being a Roman citizen (1). It seems odd that a place intended to glorify a Nation is now, as it seems, a stage to glorify the Self. Dr. Martin Seligman explains why:
“Faith in God, community, nation, and the large extended family have eroded in the last forty years.” (2)
He also sheds some light on how this happened over time:
“From the Middle Ages until the late Renaissance the self was minimal; in a painting by Giotto, everyone but Jesus looks like everyone else. Toward the end of the Renaissance the self expanded, and in Rembrandts and El Grecos the bystanders no longer all look like members of a chorus. The expansion of the self has continued into our times. Our wealth and our technology have culminated in a self that chooses, that feels pleasure and pain, that dictates action, that optimizes or satisfices, and that even has rarefied attributes — like esteem and efficacy and confidence and control. I call this new self, with its absorbing concern for its gratifications and losses, the maximal self.” (2)
The maximal self poses some threats to our connection to the larger context we’re part of. As I noticed in Sydney and in Rome, when people are on selfie mode they seem oblivious of their surroundings.
We could say that, by taking a picture, the memory of that place is actually being preserved, but unfortunately that is not even the case. In 2013 Cognitive Psychologist Dr. Linda Henkel published a study that demonstrated what she called the “photo-taking impairment effect” (3). She invited participants in her experiment to an art museum and told them to observe some objects and to photograph others. Results showed that when they took photos they remembered few objects and fewer details about them than when they simply observed them. Surprisingly enough, when they zoomed in to photograph a specific detail about an object, their memory was not affected and they were also able to remember the features that were not augmented. She explained that being focused on the details of the object was what offset the photo-taking impairment effect.
So, when we actually pay attention to the object we are photographing we are better able to capture and recall its details. The only problem is: when people are on selfie mode, they tend to briefly observe the area to select the perfect spot to frame themselves and then leave. And sometimes they even enter the place with their backs turned at the scene, as I noticed in Rome.
“There are two big problems associated with taking pictures. Firstly, we’re likely to be so busy taking the pictures, we forget to look at the world whose beauty and interest prompted us to take a photograph in the first place. And secondly, because we feel the pictures are safely stored on our phones, we never get around to looking at them, so sure are we that we’ll get around to it one day.”(4)
While people are busy photographing themselves, they also fail to pay attention to those around them. Taking the perfect selfie means rehearsing for a while, doing and redoing one’s hair a few times, taking a bunch of different shots, and sometimes even holding a selfie stick, the perfect object to keep strangers away. This often means preventing others from also seeing the view, object or work of art you’re trying to squeeze into the picture.
Museums are actually struggling to come up with a new digital etiquette. While concerned about the impact of this selfie obsession on the experience of visitors who are only interested in observing the works of art, they are also aware that instagrammable exhibitions have the potential to attract more young people and they want to capitalize on that. Recently a museum in San Francisco implemented a photo-free 150-minutes period on Friday mornings. On Wednesday evening, as almost everyone rejoiced over their freedom to photograph at will, one of the visitors reported feeling guilty for carefully observing the exhibits: “I felt bad blocking everyone’s photo,” she told the reporter from Time Magazine.(5)
If by now it seems obvious that this selfie obsession might have detrimental consequences to our relationship with the world around us, what might still come as a surprise is the danger it poses to the object of our adoration: the Self. Dr. Martin Seligman argues that the rise of the individual comes with a deeper experience of failure — if I am the center of my universe, I am probably to blame for everything — good and bad — that happens to me. He even takes his claim one step further:
“That is my diagnosis: The epidemic of depression stems from the much-noted rise in individualism and the decline in commitment to the common good.” (2)
Could we use social media to portray something other than ourselves? Could we use it as a platform to share knowledge? To bring us closer to each other? To commit to the common good? It might be worth the try.
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Footnotes
(1) Bread and Circuses, NewPhilosopher #20: Play
(2) Learned Optimism
(3) http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0956797613504438
(5) http://time.com/5204051/smartphones-instagram-museum-art-de-young/