In his essay “The Precession of Simulacra,” author Jean Baudrillard discusses the way in which simulacra destroy individual identity and mask truth or reality. Baudrillard defines simulacra—or simulation—as “the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal.” To Baudrillard, simulacra manifest in almost every social construct: television, money, a restaurant, commercials and billboards, an amusement park, etc. Baudrillard argues that contemporary society’s position in technological history renders it especially vulnerable to the inundation of simulacra: a consumer, for example, can access whatever distraction she prefers simply by surfing internet websites, hyperactive malls, etc.
Jameson, in Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, links simulacra to what Marx originally called “Late Capitalism.” To Jameson and subsequent postmodern philosophers practicing in the Marxian vein, the open-market economy feeds an individual’s longing for meaning with more simulation. The process is cyclic. Baudrillard would agree. Disneyland is “a perfect model of all the entangled orders of simulation [in America],” Baudrillard writes. Baudrillard argues that “this imaginary world is supposed to be what makes the operation successful. But what draws the crowd is undoubtedly the social microcosm, the miniaturized and religious revealing in real America, in its delights and drawbacks.”
Umberto Eco argues that such a society fosters “total passivity,” and creates what postmodern philosophers call the paradox of freedom. The paradox of freedom entails the idea that, at the point that an individual accepts an open-market economy’s simulacra as real, she deludes herself into believing she is free (or that she has finally discovered her true identity) in this simulation, when, on the contrary, she is a prisoner to the simulacra, which, by definition, has no transcendent meaning, no meaning beyond itself.
It is as first difficult to perceive how Facebook lulls its users into total passivity and the paradox of freedom. Facebook enthusiasts argue that the website increases communication with those with whom one could not otherwise associate: high school friends now studying across the country, former professors, etc. Facebook’s 60 million regular uses indeed are able to communicate broadly, across geographical boundaries, fashioning themselves within Facebook’s specific, depersonalized categories: ‘interests’, favorite movies, favorite books, etc.—many of the subjects which face-to-face friends might discuss. Facebook admits its function. The Internet giant calls itself a social networking site or “a social utility that connects you with the people around you.” In some cases Facebook creates new friendships (a friend of a friend reads a ‘note’ post or status update) and in other cases Facebook simply adds another facet to old friendships (“get a Facebook profile so we can keep in touch, so you can see the picture of last night’s party”, etc).
Facebook’s status in contemporary American culture, like Disneyland, has grown to one of almost total recognition. The cover line on Dennis Publishing’s new Facebook magazine evinces as much: “How To Double Your Friends List.” Speaking of Facebook, spokesperson Chris Hughes said, “It’s embedded itself to an extent where it’s hard to get rid of.”
But Facebook functions as another simulation fueled by the open-market economy. In a 2008 article, Tom Hodgkinson writes, “On Facebook, you can be free to be who you want to be, as long as you don’t mind being bombarded by adverts for the world’s biggest brands.” Carol Kruse, Vice President for global interactive marketing in the Coca-Cola Company, said, “with Facebook ads, our brands can become a part of the way users communicate and interact on Facebook.” And indeed it’s true: users, while updating their personal profiles—essentially technological manifestations of themselves, which we’ll address later—are bombarded constantly with images and pop-ups of products new and old.
Alarming still is that Facebook tailors its advertisements to the profile a user provides. If, for example, a Facebook religious status box says “Christian—Baptist,” Facebook will tailor its advertising efforts to that specific demographic. The aforesaid phantom user might enjoy pop-ups from Christian Armory Bookstore or Strong’s New Testament Concordance.
The constant bombardment of a multiplicity of images seems to serve the individual users in that they may now choose from a number of items and advertisements specifically tailored to their interests, affiliations, etc. This system only fuels the simulacra more strongly because individual users are more likely to capitulate: these items apply to ME, they say, adding, in a society in which I feel so small, I should feel honored that a company so individually and personally addresses my material needs. That is to say: users believe they are free, that they have a multiplicity of personal (identity-forming) options from which to choose, when in fact the corporate giants running the company dictate very specifically what a certain set of users will and will not see while using Facebook.
But the paradox of freedom applies even in Facebook’s most basic design. Users employ Facebook’s programming to render a digital manifestation of the self. Although Facebook templates look the same generally (a profile picture in the upper-left corner, religious and political affiliations, interests, books, movies, etc), users are able to input their personal information in text boxes so as to establish a personalized, individualized identity. That users perceive Facebook’s template as media conducive to authentic self-expression and self-representation evinces the more basic fact that Facebook programmers understand the importance of leading users to believe they are in control of both their lives and the way in which others perceive them. Many users spend hours trying to capture the perfect profile picture, or articulate the ideal set of beliefs, interests, books, movies, etc. It’s a game of self-fashioning that even Milton would envy, and Facebook encourages it because it sells. The paradox of freedom sells.
