It’s a sure-fire loser, but self-image and self-perception aren’t the same for all ages
By George Valadie
They’ve got me. I have to admit it, I’m addicted. It’s not tobacco, and it’s not alcohol. It’s not drugs or gambling or shopping at Amazon.
But in this one area, I’m hooked, weirdly but surely dependent.
I confess I am hooked on social media. I’m either weak, or it’s their fault. But either way, I’m doing exactly what they hope. Scrolling. Scrolling. And more scrolling.
I say that fully aware I enjoy the gift of free will and with that gift, I could probably walk away any time I want.
Probably. I think. Well, maybe.
Though I’m not really sure anymore because they’ve apparently been doing some funky stuff behind the scenes, tinkering with all those algorithms and possibly tinkering with—and maybe rearranging—the synapses in my brain.
In a recent court case in Los Angeles, NPR reported “a jury found Instagram owner Meta and Google’s YouTube deliberately designed their apps to be addictive, contributing to the mental-health struggles of a young woman who started using the apps as a child. It awarded her $6 million.”
“Deliberately designed their apps …”
I don’t know what that means exactly, but it does have a bit of a nefarious ring to it.
I’m not going to sue. Because regardless of what they’re doing behind the curtain, I’d like to think I’m tougher than that, better than that, stronger than that. I’d like to think I can use my phone to text, call, hit the snooze button, and leave it at that.
My phone might be smart. But me? I’m not so sure.
Just so the boss is clear, I’ve not been wasting my time at work. It’s not like that. But once at home, there we sit—my wife, too—spending more and more of our evening hours with the television no longer the focus, just there in the background. While way too often she’s staring at her phone and I’m staring at mine.
“What did you say? I was just watching this video.”
“Give me a sec, I’m reading this post.”
“Can you rewind that? I got distracted.”
But here’s the thing: we’re both in our 70s. We’re both pretty comfortable in our skin. We have a pretty good sense of ourselves, who we are, our strengths and weaknesses, and who and what is really important in the world.
But our grandkids? Your grandkids? I’m not so sure.
We have six, and four of them are old enough to have a phone. It won’t be long for the others. They’re on them a lot. And I worry about—pray about—how they and so many like them will be impacted.
Because they will be impacted.
In addition to luring them in, social media exposes young people to a world of perfection. It’s all fictional of course, but they don’t know that. They simply see it as a world they can never achieve or inhabit.
Perfect body shapes, perfect skin, perfect happiness, perfect boyfriends and girlfriends. Always invited, never excluded. Cool toys, cooler friends. Confident, collected, composed, capable.
And it’s not at all uncommon that when young people see what they are not and cannot, it changes their view of themselves. That in turn changes the way they view the world and the way they think the world views them.
In 1980, Dartmouth psychologist Robert Kleck conducted an experiment with a group of undergraduate students. The group was told that half would have a scar painted on their face while half would not. Then, all would be interviewed with the ultimate goal of seeing how the unknowing interviewers would react to these facial scars.
A makeup artist then created an ear-to-jaw visible and ugly scar on 50 percent of the undergrads. And each was given the opportunity to view their own scar in a mirror.
When all returned from the interview sessions, “… The participants with a scar reported the interviewers treated them differently. They felt judged, powerless, and noticed subtle slights which they attributed to their scars and their appearance.
“The participants without the scars reported no such feelings and no such reactions from their interviewers.”
Though sad for sure, none of that sounds dramatically unexpected, does it? We’re kinda weird about that which is different.
But here’s the thing. Just before the interview sessions were to begin, the makeup artist feigned a need to “touch up” the scars with moisturizing cream to make them more realistic. But, in reality, he removed the scars without their knowledge.
While half of the undergrads “believed” they had a scar, to the interviewers, all students appeared completely normal.
The difference in their responses? 100 percent self-perception. Their views about themselves and their expectations of how others would see them shaped and impacted their interactions.
I don’t think it’s too much of a reach to suggest that young people engrossed in social media may well see themselves as “less” in comparison to the many others who appear to have it all.
If they had 70 years of life behind them, maybe not. But they don’t, thus many of their interactions with the world will be shaped by their own self-image.
And it’s hard to be or have perfect.
It’s been said, “Your brain is wired to magnify what you focus on.” Young people may not have scars, but they do have beliefs about themselves. Some not so self-assured.
So, I worry. A lot.
As a result of how they see themselves in comparison to others on their screens, they may incorrectly interpret how they will be seen. And worse—they may incorrectly see themselves. Some are strong but some are not. And the news is way too full of way too many youth who have suffered depression, self-harm, anxiety, or suicide.
Smarter minds than my own will determine if these companies are playing dirty and have perfected the how-to of addicting humans.
But I know this: if a negative self-image can impact our world in such an undesirable manner, imagine the good that can come from a positive one. If anyone knows a young person, we can help with that.
All in all—I’ll be OK. I’m praying they will, too.
Dear God—Someone said, “God watches over children and fools.” Please let that be true. Amen.
George Valadie is a parishioner at St. Stephen Church in Chattanooga and author of the book “We Lost Our Fifth Fork … and other moments when we need some perspective.”