Maia Zasler
November
I will never forget the day my 10-year-old cousin shouted “gyatt” over FaceTime. Her text message rendition manifested in “gyattoose.”
When I sit on the train, stand in extended airport security lines, or futilely try to pay attention during lectures, I can see those around me engage in the never-ending consumption of internet content: manufactured, tailored, pixelated images and videos that please the synapses in our brains (re: something more scientifically accurate). I too have fallen victim. My vocabulary seems feeble, easily influenceable. I am ashamed to say I am entertained by some of the most ludicrous content produced in the name of “pop culture,” a means of garnering views. Why did I watch that video of Nara Smith in what can only be described as a ball gown making gum from scratch for her husband? I, along with countless others, consider what is mainstream to be normalized; beyond the beauty standards and gender gap implications that have been heavily critiqued and theorized, respectively, I have to wonder, is the culmination of human intellectual and artistic achievement really the streaming of Keeping up with the Kardashians? Is it staring at TikTok or Instagram reels for hours on end? In the social media realm, or performative virtual world, we are all audience members and performers. Can we, the masses, be trusted to spearhead culture creation? I would posit, after observing the consequences of the last decade, that the answer is an unequivocal no.
A quick Google search will provide a rudimentary definition of “culture”: the ideas, customs, and social behavior of a particular people or society. So, what has gone deeply wrong in the broader, global society in terms of the deterioration of our ideas, customs and social behavior? I fear that the first catalyst has been a descent into digital absurdity. I have no defense for the two hours I spent (wasted?) watching Amadeus on TikTok. The laughter of young Mozart will forever haunt me. Or perhaps, more embarrassingly, I can refer to the videos displayed side-by-side, staying online to view clips of shows I’ve never even watched as in the parallel window somebody randomly unboxes miniatures or makes slime. I share this because I know mine are not singular experiences. The internet lingo that has encroached on our daily lives pervades beyond our phone screens, a product of oppressive collectivity. And that is part of the issue; we are eroding individualism. We are becoming our greatest obstacles in the production of quality content. We repost and remake existing trends, regurgitating that which we’ve heard too much of and seen too much of (arguably taking away from the voices of individuals who are pioneering culture development and sharing stories worth listening to).
The linguistic evolution (or rather, devolution) of the “new generation” is yet another element of concern, a battlefront in this war to safeguard culture. The domination of nothing-words such as “skibidi” or “fanum tax,” or even worse, when combined to form nothing-phrases such as “skibidi Ohio rizz,” render centuries worth of linguistic maturation mute. We are inching closer and closer to a reality in which communication occurs solely through emoticons and TikTok dances. As Sciences Po students, we must ask ourselves: what if the future of diplomacy hinges on the mastery of the “Renegade”? You may think it extreme (it is), but at such an elevated rate of change and international exchange, it is a possibility.
We engage more with content creators than Nobel prize winners; Mr. Beast videos supersede poetry and eloquent prose. We constantly have audio playing in the background—“Get Ready with Me” videos roll while we pick out outfits for the day. Our lives are played back to us on Instagram and Snapchat stories. Perhaps we may not all want to go viral, but we are making a conscious decision to give our attention (a valuable thing!!) to actors and general content that is not worthy.
Maybe we should consider exploring the idea of a “Cultural Detox Camp;” we’ll read Dostoyevsky and listen to symphonies until we’re cleansed and inspired. Or are we too far gone?
Can we reform that which has already been unleashed? Will our hands remember how to take up a pen to write without the assistance of a keyboard and Grammarly? Will our eyes be able to adjust to words on paper rather than illuminated on a computer? Will we ever create an outline again without the assistance of ChatGPT? The words of my cousin’s “gyatt” echo into eternity, a siren call of the society we’ve become.