| Tech Talk |

Tech Talk: Share the Wealth

By Aliza Feder | July 18, 2018

And after spending so much time seeking approval from the public sphere, do we even have anything left to give in private?

he problem with discussing social media is that the term is so hard to define. Some limit it to just Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram; others include Snapchat and other apps. Some even consider WhatsApp to be social media, because if you constantly revise your status and picture, then you’re using the app to send an ever-updated story about yourself to the public. For our purposes, let’s take a broad view of the topic: Regardless of which specific app you use, when you circulate a specifically chosen message or image to an audience, you’re on social media.

First, the obvious: When we constantly scroll through pictures of everyone’s clothes, social life, delicious food, beautiful homes, and adorable children, our own lives start to look shabby in comparison. Some people insist this is not a reason to stop — it’s a matter of personal weakness, and you should be able to look at other people’s glorious lives without feeling like you need to measure up.

But the reality is that by choosing to post — and view — blessings all the time, we inevitably create a culture of comparison and feelings of lack. Social media’s pervasiveness foments a permanent state of teen angst. We’re constantly being fed the message that other people are having a better time than we are. More than one psychological study has found that Facebook users are less happy than non-users. That result would probably hold true for Instagram and other similar apps. Even if we’re not posting, but rather merely scrolling, checking, and perusing, we are nevertheless contributing to the culture.

I once witnessed an elderly zeide being shown a post of a beautiful restaurant dish. This man simply could not figure out why anyone would take a picture of food and share it with other people. He was in equal parts amused and horrified. It was an “emperor’s new clothes” moment, where the only sane person in the room pointed out the obvious insanity of the situation to others who were thoroughly enmeshed.

And then there’s the age-old concept of tzniyus. Walking privately before Hashem is one of the fundamentals of Judaism. Our nation was lauded for taking care to position our tents so they did not face each other, and now we open windows wide to give lavish views into every house. Social media encourages you to announce every thought and to share every move you, your spouse, and your children make. The underlying motivation is to promote yourself — in direct opposition to tzniyus, for both men and women.

There’s another issue with all this sharing: Turning every third person into a minor celebrity brings upon us all the problems inherent in the celebrity lifestyle: image is everything, the goal is to look good and showcase a life of success and pleasure. But when you look behind the mask, what do you find?

Kol kevudah bas melech penimah means that who we are in private is what truly defines us. Our parenting behind closed doors when our children look less than delicious, the way you talk to your spouse when no one is watching. The actions that count the most are the ones we don’t submit for “likes.”

And after spending so much time seeking approval from the public sphere, do we even have anything left to give in private?

The stronger our core, the less we’ll need to seek approval from others. But first we must break the habit of automatically posting, sharing, and evaluating the feedback we get for every move we make.

Challenges:

This week, unfollow ten accounts of people who don’t know you, or to whom you regularly post things that would fall into the category of TMI.

Change your public profile picture to a quote or a scenic landscape.

Resist updating your profile picture more than once a month. Don’t use WhatsApp as Instagram.

Consider a social media fast: delete all forms of social media and focus on socializing in real time with real people instead.

Dina, age 16

I never thought I would be one of “those kids,” but I deleted Snapchat. I feel so stupid even writing this, because whenever other kids would say, “Ya, so I deleted Snapchat,” and everyone would go, “Oh, my gosh, you’re sooooo special,” I always rolled my eyes. What in the world is so great about deleting Snapchat?

And then it hit me. I was going on this really great trip, and was going to have a lot of opportunities to post pics taken in super cool places with super cool girls. I’m not sure exactly how it came up, but I found myself talking to other kids about how constantly showing off seems like a lack of tzniyus. And then I was like, That’s me on Snapchat! It’s a socially acceptable way of showing off your vacations, your social life, your “stuff” (generally resulting in a lot of jealousy). My close friends obviously know about my plans, but does that mean every other random person needs to?

And now I’m thinking, we’re kids, but how did it become okay for adults to use these platforms just to show off? It’s a little weird, no?

Ilana, age 26

When a woman my age posts photos of her three-course dinner (on a random Tuesday), on a gorgeous marble kitchen island, with coordinating fun-patterned, chill-but-fancy kitchenware, while wearing a freshly washed wig and also getting a head start on cooking for Shabbos while working full-time and being involved in community work… yeah, it affects me. We all want to be able to juggle the world flawlessly, and I’m no exception, so even when I know it’s all just posed to look perfect, it’s still a blow to my ego and creates that feeling of not measuring up.

Avigail, age 35

Interesting fact: Despite the fact that I happen to know a friend is having issues in her marriage, I still feel a ping of jealousy when I see the perfect family pictures she posts on Instagram. I’ll have a conversation with her where she’s frustrated almost to tears with the way her husband treats her, but then I’ll see them eating in some restaurant in the city, sharing perfect smiles over some delicious-looking dessert, and I’ll think, Why can’t I ever get out to an expensive restaurant in the city with my husband on a regular weeknight? It’s incredible — I am literally jealous of their imaginary life.

Shlomo, age 30

In my opinion, social media creates an inability to enjoy what you do have, to just live in the moment. You’re constantly looking at and longing for other, more exciting things that you see your friend just did or bought or has. Not in a jealous way, but more in an “Oh, wow, I need that also” way. It raises the bar for satisfaction and happiness. I also need to vacation in the Bahamas! I also need to go surfing! Skiing! Everything! It’s not jealousy exactly — I would call it dissatisfaction.

Sara, age 23

This whole culture of “sharing” definitely gets me down sometimes. I feel like all I see every day on Facebook and Instagram is that everyone is married, everyone has babies, everyone is buying a house or decorating their apartments nicely. Everyone is graduating and got fantastic jobs. Everyone I dated is marrying someone I know. I know it’s not really “everyone,” but it feels that way, because people who are in their pajamas applying for jobs all day, like myself, aren’t posting pictures.

But the worst posts, the ones I really find to be TMI, are the anniversary posts and birthday stuff between spouses. I just feel like there are certain things that should stay confidential. Maybe people shouldn’t really share pictures of their food, but it’s not inherently private. The relationship between husband and wife is private, though. That’s the only thing that I find distasteful. When people post pictures of private events, I think it screams insecurity.

Tehila, 24

I spend a lot of time updating everyone around me on my life. I’m always texting things like, “Coming home now,” or, “Sent in the application!” I decided to try living without that — just do my own thing and not broadcast it.

It was much harder than I expected. I was driving to a friend and passed a car accident, and I automatically picked up my phone to text, “Just passed a crazy car accident — so scary.” But I caught myself and put my phone down; if something is worth sharing, then I’ll tell her in person. But then I got nervous that I would forget to tell her every thought I had on the way to her house. Which led me to wonder, does she really need to know all that? Okay, fine, so I won’t tell her. Then maybe I should tell someone else? But why do I want to share this so badly?

I was spending way too much headspace on whether or not I should text someone about this crazy car accident I passed. Except really I was questioning why I text this kind of stuff.

Why did it become normal to share every dumb thing we do? Why do people even want to share a picture of their breakfast, or the car accident they saw? Is it because it gives us a feeling of connection? Is it because we don’t want to feel alone?

You know how it’s so much more fun to get a manicure with a friend than by yourself? If you go alone and you text people a pic of your manicure, it’s like they’re with you there. And when you send a picture of your breakfast to your sem roommate’s chat and everyone comments, it’s kind of like they’re having breakfast with you.

But on the flip side, I don’t live in the moment. Is it still fun to be on vacation if you don’t update your WhatsApp profile so everyone can see you’re on the beach? It almost feels like it didn’t happen unless everyone knows.

When something interesting is happening, everyone pulls out their phones to video it. Clearly they’re more interested in the attention they’ll get when they send out the video than in actually seeing it themselves.

I’m going to be really deep here. All this makes me question the purpose of having these experiences. When I passed the car accident, maybe Hashem wanted me to take a moment to appreciate that I arrive at places safely. But if my first reaction is always, “text this to someone,” I lose the value of being in the moment and what the experience was supposed to teach me. Texting is very useful… but this constant texting means I’m reporting my life instead of living it.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 719)

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