Facebook and me

“Misery Has More Company Than People Think,” reads the title of a social psychology article now famous in the media, picked up most notably by Slate and used to reinforce a fundamental thesis of our generation: Facebook­—and, by extension, technology—is making us sadder. According to Libby Copeland, being constantly subjected to others’ success in the form of status updates and glamorous photo albums causes severe pangs of social anxiety. Seeing only what our peers choose to present on Facebook makes us insecure, as we are provided with an inescapable and constant source of comparison to others.

If real, this collective nightmare of virtual self-deprecation can be particularly daunting in a community like Columbia, where we spend a large part of our four years here asking ourselves how to live up to our light blue brand and our hyper-talented peers. But that’s a mindset that we shouldn’t blame on social media. Facebook is a mere reflection of how its users view themselves in real life. As Spectator columnist Aarti Iyer noted in her piece last week (“Facebook faux pas,” Feb. 22), Facebook is full of choices. Like any other medium of expression, it is simply making us more aware of our own individual values and thus giving us an opportunity to rethink them every now and then.

To be fair, Copeland’s article hits the nail on the head in many respects—online, we are what we post. More or less knowingly, we construct personae and alter our existence in a very deliberate way. And social psychology is confirming that because we see too little of what others struggle with, we tend to overestimate their happiness relative to our own. But this “grass is greener” syndrome varies widely from person to person. Just like some have no interest in small-town gossip, not everyone necessarily pays attention to Facebook in the narrow way Copeland suggests. Some are on Facebook simply to keep in touch. Many don’t even log in more than once a week. Others use it as a way to tune into the existence of friends and family who may be far away. There are as many ways to describe Facebook’s function as there are users. And it is entirely possible both to feel good about the most recent xkcd comic a friend has “shared” and, as these past weeks have shown, to have healthy, rich debates about issues like ROTC.

Yes, for people prone to searching for reasons for dissatisfaction with life, these are easier than ever to find online. But Facebook is not causing that tendency—it’s simply etching that particular force on our social space. Ultimately, it is up to individuals to decide how they engage with the online version of a reality they can change. Even without Facebook, a space for comparison would still exist on the Internet in many other forms. And so would the social frustrations. One thing that Facebook does besides reflecting them is allowing us to face these frustrations on a regular basis.

This is the great irony of Facebook—while it connects and constrains our identities in some ways, it also represents the peak of the Western culture of self-awareness. By giving us an audience and removing us from reality, it changes us as individuals more than it changes our relationships with others. Social media researcher Danah Boyd argues that real intimacy is not something we will find online. That only exists in the real world and relies on a mutual exchange rather than on just projecting one’s identity on someone. Observing people on Facebook does not mean we know them. But it may mean that we know ourselves better through them.

The core, constant novelty of Facebook is its ability to make those who socially function within it more aware and critical of themselves than ever. Feeling sad because we do not have it as together as others is one manifestation of that. Finding inspiration in others’ successes can be another. By having so much control over how we present ourselves, we often update the signposts that guide us through who we are. As Wired columnist Clive Thompson puts it, social media creates “a culture of people who know much more about themselves.” Whether that makes us sad or not will always depend on the lives we choose to live outside of Facebook.

So next time a friend’s post about finding her dream job gets you down, don’t sulk. Brush over the insecurities and do more than courteously “liking” her status: Buy her a drink at 1020 to celebrate. You may reminisce together about the time you first got carded as freshmen. You may tipsily admit to one another that with or without a job, neither of you has a clue what you are doing in life. And you may just become better friends.

Angela Radulescu is a Columbia College senior majoring in neuroscience and behavior. She is a former Spectator photo editor. The Rookie Brain runs alternate Thursdays.