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

"If the punchy, claustrophobic anti-sociality of platforms in early lockdown suggested a particularly dark perspective of the future, the Motion for Dark Lives street uprising of the late spring believed like their joyous opposite—another where platforms were responding to and being organized by the functions on the ground, rather than those activities being structured by and shaped to the needs of the platforms. This is something worth our time and commitment, something which exceeded our compulsion to create, something that—for a moment, at least—the Twittering Device could not swallow.

Not so it was not trying. As persons in the streets toppled statues and fought authorities, people on the platforms altered and refashioned the uprising from a road action to a thing for the use and reflection of the Twittering Machine. That which was happening off-line must be accounted for, described, judged, and processed. Didactic story-lectures and photographs of well stacked antiracist bookshelves seemed on Instagram. On Twitter, the typical pundits and pedants jumped up demanding explanations for every mantra and justifications for every action. In these problem trolls and answer people, Seymour's chronophage was literalized. The social market doesn't only eat our time with countless stimulus and algorithmic scrolling; it takes our time by producing and selling people who exist simply to be told, individuals to whom the planet has been produced anew each morning, people for whom every settled sociological, clinical, and political argument of modernity must be rehashed, rewritten, and re-accounted, this time using their participation.

These folks, with their just-asking questions and vapid start letters, are dullards and bores, pettifoggers and casuists, cowards and dissemblers, time-wasters of the worst sort. But Seymour's book suggests something worse about people, their Facebook and Facebook interlocutors: That we want to spend our time. That, nevertheless significantly we would protest, we discover satisfaction in endless, rounded argument. That individuals get some kind of happiness from boring debates about "free speech" and "stop culture." That people find oblivion in discourse. In the machine-flow atemporality of social media, this seems like number good crime. If time is an endless reference, why not invest several decades of it with a couple New York Situations op-ed columnists, rebuilding each of European believed from first principles? But political and economic and immunological crises pack on each other in series, over the back ground roar of ecological collapse. Time isn't infinite. Nothing folks can afford to pay what's left of it dallying with the silly and bland."

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

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