During term-time at university, there is so much happening, with so many last minute plans and messages (This event isn’t happening, but this event is happening… she isn’t coming but he is… WE’RE OUT OF TOILET PAPER PLEASE PICK SOME UP) that it’s unquestionable that I look at my cell phone whenever I’m going from one place to another. But, over this summer, where plans and messages were more independent from the cell phone, I experimented with phone use and its effects.
In the headlines and newspapers there is a growing discussion about the negative effects of social media on the social, mental and physical health of the younger generation. Recently, as reported by the BBC, the WHO has recommended that young children be given no ‘sedentary’ screen time. So, what is generally being said is that social media and ‘screen time’ technology is generally unfavourable for health.
Contradictorily, however, these apps were originally developed as a tool, intended to be positive, for the sharing photographs and experiences. In practise, though, social media tends to be described more often as ‘toxic’ than ‘uplifting’ (in fact, I’ve never heard someone describe social media as uplifting). I wondered: if used in a certain way, is it possible to glean any positivity from the otherwise negatively portrayed abyss of social media, specifically Instagram?
Of course, not all social media sites are the same. So what makes Instagram distinct? On Instagram, people tend to post more photos than on Facebook (Facebook is a dying social media site, according to the teens—yes, I can say that now, I’m 20) or Twitter. Instagram is more public than Snapchat (so you’ll see photos of mere acquaintances on the former while on the latter it’s generally private photos sent between closer friends), and Instagram involves more personal content than Pinterest or Tumblr. This means that there isn’t the news focus of Twitter, the information focus of Facebook, or the hobby focus of Pinterest or Tumblr. Instagram is more interesting because it’s more personal—you see in real-time what other people are doing, where they are going, what they are eating/wearing, who they are with, etc. etc. etc. I would say that this is what makes Instagram the most popular social media site at the moment: it’s personal and, toxically, a way to compare oneself.
I experimented with phone use and its reduction before. The book, How to Break Up With Your Phone by Catherine Price, is how and why I used my phone a lot less last August. I recommend it to everyone who owns a smartphone. The reduced concentration, the feelings of restlessness and the analysis of the reasons why and when you reach for your smartphone are totally relevant and central topics that are individually worth considering—and are all addressed in this thin guide. Additionally, Price’s break down of the way that the developers design these apps and sites to be addictive is particularly intriguing. There are neurological explanations—dopamine hit inclusive—for why phone use is genuinely addicting. While and shortly after I read this book (until university started again!), I was almost never on my phone. I was truly content, relaxed, and full of energy. This summer I experimented with a different approach: knowing what total phone abstention was like, I wanted to try to hack the good parts of these apps and to see if was possible to use their powers for good.
Conscious of these negative aspects (comparison, for example), I groomed my Facebook and Instagram feed with the aim that they would only show me positive ideas, inspirational quotes or photos to inspire my style, art, etc. and theoretically exclude all the sort of accounts or exposures that would make me feel ‘negative’ in some way. Therefore, in theory (which also wasn’t flawless in practise, but sufficient) I was only seeing ‘uplifting’ graphics and words. I predicted that, surely, when I see a photograph of close friends smiling, this would bring me joy, or if I encountered a quote along with a creative artwork, this would inspire me and motivate me to make some watercolour art of my own. The idea was, that I would be able to harness the positive side of Instagram while expelling the negative. I experimented with this during past few months, tracking the usage of my phone, Instagram and other social media sites. Why did I still want to reduce my use of all of it?
This—why—was the critical thought for me. Technically, my (still limited) phone use should have been adding something to my life. But it wasn’t.
The problem, I realised, with Instagram is like a black hole: the time you put in, you never get back. It is time wasted, in the worst case, corrupted. If you look at Instagram two minutes a day every 3 days, that’s a negligible amount of time wasted. But if you look at Instagram between 10-20 minutes everyday on average, that’s minimally about an hour per week spent on Instagram, and maximally about two hours per week spent on Instagram. The grey-area of this social media site usage is similar to junk food in that at some point there is a tipping point: it’s not going to make a difference if you get some French fries every once in a while. But once there are really losses that develop from the lack of nourishing food, or time spent doing things that benefit you, is when Instagram begins its black-hole-draining-powers, and starts to steal a part of your life.
Instagram is slowly chipping away at anything that isn’t worth being on Instagram. The subtle thoughts that you might have while hiking or the pleasure you have walking down the street, or maybe the pain you have while walking because of a recent muscle strain, are all eradicated by the mono-mindset of Instagram. The subtle hiking thoughts are harnessed through a posted photo but otherwise discarded from your brain; the pleasure from walking down the street can’t be posted, so is also quickly removed from the brain; and lastly, scrolling through Instagram distracts you from your muscle pain, only to see someone who is running a 10k with seemingly perfect anatomical functioning, which now extends your pain to melancholy, making the dissatisfaction with your situation more reachable. On a bigger scale, learning an instrument or spending hours on a piece of art that you can only post once is pretty much worthless in Instagram world. But, ironically, infinitely self-satisfying in a way that Instagram could never be.
After my ‘experiment’ I decided that there is a fundamental problem with the regular use of Instagram. Through reading various opinions on the matter, I came to the conclusion that the essence of the issue has to do with inner richness. Even when used carefully, regular use of Instagram robs individuals of their personal inspirations and their initiative to follow through on these aspirations. Instagram, like so many other social media sites, is a free platform that is full of advertisements, opportunities for comparison, and irrelevant and undesired information. I personally noticed that the combination of the visual stimuli and the time spent on Instagram didn’t leave any time left for my imagination for the things or the self I wanted to create. This is what I mean by inner richness.
Simply put, there is a loss of inner richness because it is too easy to yield, even subconsciously, to the suggestions of the Instagram feed. There are even certain people who manage well-known accounts and earn money in order to influence people. They post about fashion, or lifestyle, etc. and are aptly called ‘Influencers.’ Followers of these accounts want to look as appealing as the Influencers and, thus, try to fit the mould that the Influencers provide. These followers want to show they have met the criteria of being influential and attempt to be equally as acknowledged. Unfortunately that is where the flaw is. They abandon themselves.
Inner richness is curtailed. People are freed of self-exploration, self-consideration, experimentation— and most dangerously, failure—and instead take the simple, prescribed route provided by the Influencers. In a well-written article about the recent internet developments, the author explains: ‘What we risk losing to the emergence of big data is the richness of our interior lives. “The experience of empty space allows for the growth of imagination and independent thought, the ability to form ideas without being swayed by mass opinion or bot armies”‘ In following along, individuals may gain the ability to influence others, but not to inspire others. Followers are able to copy, but not create.
The cultivation of the self and its goals are replaced by the comparatively paltry Instagram scroll. This is reflected in society. Most clothing is made of bad material but photographs well. Food doesn’t have flavour but is shiny. There are fewer people who are really ‘characters’ anymore. Everything seems to have been drained and is continuing to be drained of inner richness.
Okay. Okay. That’s a bit dramatic, yes. Because arguably, in many ways Instagram seems like a modern format of a magazine. However, it is more pervasive than a magazine could ever be. You’re not just comparing yourself to Kate Moss, you can ‘be’ Kate Moss on Instagram by posting the right photographs and, therefore, amassing a truckload of likes for them.
A magazine photograph you see once, and it might not even speak to you. You have no idea how many ‘likes’ other people gave it. However, on Instagram, it’s much more personal. It’s also in your pocket; it follows you everywhere. Unless you are in love with Dolce & Gabana adverts, your magazine that you are obsessed with definitely stays at home when you go bowling; with your magazine you don’t have another pressure to be Kate Moss or Sofia Vergara or (fill in the blank with your chosen celebrity) whilst bowling. You had no choice before Instagram to just spend time with your friends without thinking about how ‘Instagrammable’ any activity or social situation was.
The problem with Instagram is the ‘Instagram headspace’, I’ll call it. Even when you’re not on Instagram, it’s possible you’re still in the Instagram headspace. It’s almost like a dream. You’re out of touch: with the world but also yourself. I speak from experience. It drains you and your creative powers.
The complete antithesis of this experience was during when I abstained from phone usage. I was constantly more settled. I adopted activities instead of phone usage, like writing this article, or reading books that were rewarding and furthered my sense of self. But not only was I doing other things with my time, I needed to take a conscious decision to destroy the Instagram mindset and reclaim my headspace. I had to decide: okay, let’s do something that is going to add to my life for me, my physical life. Not my virtual life.
It’s this destruction of the Instagram mindset that is crucial. Instagram, like I said before, is like french fries. A french fry won’t kill you. Neither will an Instagram scroll. But if french fries instead of spinach are an integral part of your diet, sooner or later your body and mind will notice the malnourishment.
But how? How, once Instagram is an ingrained part of your life, do you stop using it?
It can be an addiction, if defined by the dopamine-hit-effect. So it’s not an easy habit to change. But of course it’s possible. The book I mentioned above, How to Break Up With Your Phone is a fantastic place to start. Another good company is called Freedom, which has a blog with a headstart post on changing your phone habits. But, if you’re really looking to be inspired to get off your phone and change your lifestyle, in the same Guardian article as quoted above, the author discusses having an adventure. The author also mentions the socio-economic disparity that accompanies this new social reality. I’ll drop the quote here: ‘Have an adventure that is social media independent, even discouraging. More than anything, Harris worries that in future only the privileged few will be able to afford to take regular “digital detoxes” from the exhausting demands of the attention economy. As we talk, I think of my seven-year-old who, for the first time this summer, will fly with me to Ottawa then take a six-hour bus to the wilds of Northern Ontario where he will spend seven nights sleeping in a tent, canoeing and eating freeze-dried food cooked over a camp fire with 30 other kids. He won’t have electricity and plumbing, let alone the internet. I won’t disclose the fees except to say it isn’t cheap to abandon a kid in the woods these days.’
It’s true yes, that a long wilderness experience is one of expense, generally, depending on how or where one does it. However, it doesn’t need to be this way. And, it’s not the only option for getting away from Instagram. As easy as Instagram is to access, it’s as easy to remove. It’s the simple change of going on a walk and treasuring the walk, or reading a book and simply enjoying the book. I just wish for everyone that Instagram remains a choice rather than a reflex.
Paeonia blog 