I’m on Instagram a lot. I’m not generally prone to getting sucked into social media – I don’t use twitter much, I can honestly acknowledge that I never leave Facebook happier than when I enter it, so I don’t spend too much time there. But Instagram is a different beast. I enjoy photography – both taking pictures, and looking at them. The fact that it’s really difficult to share links, and large amounts of text are pretty unwieldy makes it pretty great in my book – there’s just so little opportunity for you to share your terrible political opinion with me. People try, sure – but it’s far less common than on other platforms. I don’t follow anyone who posts anything but photography. Very few memes, or political rants – just original content from people I know, or people I find interesting.
But there’s something insidious to Instagram, if you venture much outside people you actually know.
I like the outdoors. I like skiing, hiking, mountain biking, and just general exploration and travel. I’m not alone in this, my tastes are certainly not unique or particularly interesting. So I follow a smattering of popular instagrammers. They’re people with at least a reasonably good eye for photography, who spend a lot of their time doing interesting things.
But there are some red flags: Some people have obvious means of supporting themselves through adventure. Some are obviously just wealthy – family money, business success, whatever. Some are professionals doing something interesting – pro skiers, mountain bikers, etc. Some are photographers or filmmakers, sharing content from their work and adventures.
But some aren’t. They’re just normal-ish people, who like a lot of the same things I like. And this group has the potential to be the most interesting, because they’re the most relatable. But with followers come power, an audience – and any time you’ve got an audience, there’s danger. There’s danger because there’s value in a platform. And with value comes the opportunity for dishonesty.
So my feed is very often full of brand ambassadors, which is fancy talk for “people who get free stuff, and maybe money, because they’ve got an audience”. And that’s fine – I’m not really opposed to it, except that it undermines what made these people so great, so enjoyable to follow along and live vicariously through. Their value, their appeal, is in the honesty and authenticity of whatever they were doing: having an adventure because it’s exactly what they wanted to do, what they were driven to do. Coming up with a plan for something – a trip, and adventure, maybe just a particular photograph – simply because they wanted to. They needed to.
Once there are ulterior motives (money and followers), things aren’t so clear. Motives are tainted. Now there’s the question: are they doing this because it was their choice, their plan, a manifestation of their passions? Or are they doing it because they know people will like it? Because followers mean power? Because a brand will give them money to do it? Is it real, or is it a narrative they’re selling?
And I think this is a broader question, just another facet of the question about shoes: Why do we do what we do? Which motives are real, honest, acceptable, and which are unworthy of praise or attention? Which motives are acceptable to cultivate, and which do we scorn or hide?
Peter Butler 