avatarLisa Marie

Summary

The article discusses the superficial nature of social media support, contrasting the ease of showing sympathy online with the lack of genuine, real-life support during actual crises.

Abstract

The author reflects on the dichotomy between social media expressions of support and the depth of personal connection, noting that while online interactions can provide a sense of community and recognition, they often fail to translate into meaningful actions or relationships. Highlighting a personal experience with a neighborhood disaster, the author points out that despite receiving numerous likes and comments, only a fraction of social media connections reached out in a tangible way. The article criticizes the introduction of "Care" reactions on platforms like Facebook, suggesting that these features encourage performative kindness without the substance of true empathy or support. The author argues for a shift towards more authentic expressions of care, emphasizing that social media attention should not be mistaken for genuine connection or assistance.

Opinions

  • Social media attention, while rewarding and dopamine-inducing, is an inadequate measure of real-world success or connection.
  • The majority of social media followers are not part of one's close personal circle, and the attention received from them is often fleeting and superficial.
  • The author is skeptical of the sincerity of social media interactions, especially when faced with the silence of supposed well-wishers during real-life adversities.
  • The introduction of "Care" reactions is seen as a hollow gesture that promotes the illusion of support without requiring any real effort or commitment.
  • There is a call to action for individuals to substantiate their online expressions of care with real-world actions and to value deeper, more meaningful relationships over the transient approval of a broad social media audience.

Social Media and Fake Caring

It’s easy to be sympathetic when it doesn't require actual effort.

Image by Thomas Ulrich from Pixabay.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am currently working on writing reflections on social media: the good, the bad, and the ugly. This is my first attempt. If this sticks, there may be more to come later.

These days, with social media, it is easier than ever to unload. All you have to do is pick up a device and start typing (or photographing, or recording). You don’t even have to peel yourself off the couch. As a reward, you receive attention in the form of likes, comments, shares, and followers.

There’s no good way to say it: social media attention matters. It is interpreted as a direct reflection on success and power — and sometimes, it does translate to real-world power. There are people whose entire careers have been built on their social media popularity, from vloggers, to TikTok stars, to political commentators.

Granted, few of us will ever have the clout that major influencers have. However, we are impacted nonetheless.

We can’t help it. The effect social media has on our brains is similar to taking a chemical substance: this is because of dopamine, the chemical in our brain that motivates our sense of reward. This is the same chemical that gives us pleasure from things like having sex and eating our favorite food.

We crave social media attention because our brains enjoy how it makes us feel. Again: we can’t help it. We are human. We are driven by various chemical faculties nestled inside our skulls. We cannot simply turn this off.

It’s like one of my high school teachers used to say: “10% of the world loves you, 10% hates you, and the other 80% doesn’t care.”

The downside is the attention is not always genuine. Despite the value we place on it, social media attention does not necessarily correlate with a true connection.

Go look at your social media followers. Count how many of them are people you’d invite to your wedding. Or trust to have a key to your house to come to feed your pets while you’re out of state. Or willingly disclose your worst secrets to. Chances are, these lists are much, much smaller.

The feeling is mutual. You probably aren’t in many people’s close circles, either. It’s like one of my high school teachers used to say: “10% of the world loves you, 10% hates you, and the other 80% doesn’t care.”

In 2019, a tornado went through my neighborhood. While our home was relatively unscathed, the other side of my street was essentially wiped out. In the aftermath, it ended up on social media — as tragic circumstances are wont to do. Naturally, we received positive attention on social media in the form of likes and kind words —hundreds, actually.

Do you know how many took the time to reach out in real life, outside of social media? Outside of immediate family? Seven.

Seven people out of hundreds. Clearly, the others who claimed we were “in [their] thoughts” didn’t think about us for very long. As bluntly as I’ve been discussing all this, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt.

There were some people who we thought would care enough to reach out, but all we got beyond social media acknowledgment was silence. Although I didn’t openly talk about it, I was very upset by this. Even today, I am hesitant to trust these people; I question the sincerity of their affections for us. When the time to actually care about us came along, they failed to deliver. As petty as it sounds, that’s not something I can easily forget.

Social media attention has been given a lot more power than it can truly offer, and we are the ones who are going to ultimately suffer because of it.

In April 2020, Facebook unveiled a new “Care” reaction, claiming that it was a way to “show extra support” while in quarantine. When this was released, I mostly felt annoyed. Having just been through the aforementioned traumatic experience, to me this was yet another way for people to express fake empathy on social media. It’s performative kindness: all show, no depth.

“Care reacts don’t change the fact that you’re stuck at home worrying that we’re headed toward another 2008,” I muttered angrily as I flung my phone onto the couch.

How did we get here? How did we get to a point where our way of expressing support is a new reaction option on social media? Where low-effort acts of kindness are normalized?

I am not a doomsayer — I hate conspiracy theories and panic-bandwagons with a passion — but this is something that genuinely worries me. Social media attention has been given a lot more power than it can truly offer, and we are the ones who are going to ultimately suffer because of it.

We need to normalize putting our money where our “care reacts” are.

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Social Media
Society
Pop Culture
Psychology
Life
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