Going Postal: A psychoanalytic reading of social media and the death drive

"If the punchy, claustrophobic anti-sociality of programs in early lockdown suggested an especially dark vision into the future, the Action for Black Lives street uprising of the late spring thought like their joyous opposite—another by which tools were responding to and being structured by the functions on a lawn, as opposed to these events being structured by and formed to the demands of the platforms. This was something worth our time and commitment, a thing that exceeded our compulsion to publish, something that—for a moment, at least—the Twittering Machine could not swallow.

Not that it was not trying. As people in the roads toppled statues and struggled authorities, people on the programs altered and refashioned the uprising from a street movement to an item for the use and representation of the Twittering Machine. That which was happening off-line must be accounted for, defined, evaluated, and processed. Didactic story-lectures and photos of well stacked antiracist bookshelves appeared on Instagram. On Twitter, the typical pundits and pedants jumped up demanding explanations for every single slogan and justifications for each action. In these issue trolls and answer people, Seymour's chronophage was literalized. The social business does not just eat our time with countless stimulus and algorithmic scrolling; it takes our time by producing and marketing people who exist simply to be told, individuals to whom the world has been developed anew every day, people for whom every settled sociological, scientific, and political controversy of modernity must certanly be rehashed, rewritten, and re-accounted, this time around with their participation.

These folks, using their just-asking questions and vapid open words, are dullards and bores, pettifoggers and casuists, cowards and dissemblers, time-wasters of the worst sort. But Seymour's guide implies anything worse about people, their Facebook and Facebook interlocutors: That we want to spend our time. That, but much we may protest, we find satisfaction in endless, rounded argument. That we get some sort of satisfaction from boring debates about "free speech" and "cancel culture." That we seek oblivion in discourse. In the machine-flow atemporality of social media marketing, this appears like number good crime. If time is an infinite resource, you will want to invest a few decades of it with a couple New York Times op-ed columnists, restoring all American believed from first rules? But political and financial and immunological crises pile on each other in sequence, around the back ground roar of ecological collapse. Time isn't infinite. Nothing of us are able to afford to spend what is left of it dallying with the ridiculous and bland."

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