I wish I came up with the term “algorithm-based character development,” but credit must go to friend of a friend, Omowale Afrika.1 I began thinking more about this idea after I watched a Youtube video2 that explored just how many of online culture’s most inflammatory figures became advocates of their ideas not out of deeply held lifelong convictions, but rather, after having stumbled upon an algorithmically winning formula following years of trial and error.
It's easy to judge these types of influencers who are desperate for fleeting e-fame and temperamental cash flow. But almost anyone who’s online is some form of a wannabe influencer in his or her own way, wanting to share and spread ideas publicly instead of keeping it private in a journal or IRL discussions among friends. And now, more than ever before, we can get instant feedback on which of our thoughts are popular and unfashionable, and among which crowds. Surely, that must have an enormous impact on the ideas and identities we choose to pursue vs. those we discard.
It’s not as if peer pressure didn’t exist in the past and school culture has never been one that’s kind to non-conformists. But I’m guessing that being shielded from lightning-quick judgment from thousands, even millions, of people regarding one’s aesthetics, cultural tastes, political leanings, etc. allowed for a longer gestation period for one’s core sense of self to form. And even then, that core would eventually become vulnerable to heightened external influence in one’s adulthood. So how much more difficult must it be now when that process begins during one’s younger years? Is this why we don’t have many subcultures now, because that necessary isolation stage when a subculture’s idiosyncratic traits develop is all too short?
I recently listened to a Default Wisdom podcast episode3 that reflected on the rise and fall of the “Millennial Left,” which they defined as the Bernie-inspired socialist movement that was all the rage from about 2015 to 2020. In 2019, I remembered reading a New York Magazine story that surveyed the whole Brooklyn socialist scene.4 The piece is neither fawning nor sneering, but the cover photo with a lineup filled with man-buns and ponchos seemed to be aiming for a specific response. With mentions of publishing parties, dating apps, and even Audrey Gelman, the scenes read more socialite than socialist. It now seems so long ago, but at one point, the coolest thing to be online was to be a Twitter addict with a punny handle who constantly dunked on Debbie Wasserman Schultz and Rod Dreher. Now, if you put “DSA” on your dating app profile, you’re probably tainting yourself as an unfuckable Millennial.
I still listen to Chapo Trap House every now and then and I have fond memories of that era, but I also have to wonder how in just a few short years, so many of us have seem to have totally forgotten about, say, Medicare for All, even though we’re probably further away from it than back then. Did we even really care about these things at all or was it all just to be part of the Discourse?
The Discourse! The Discourse! In the face of ever-shrinking box office revenue, the Discourse is really our new blockbuster, isn’t it? I may write something more in-depth about this topic, but for now, this paragraph will have to do. Unlike movies, the Discourse has the most important element today: interactivity. We all have main character syndrome, and a typical movie insults us by demanding that we merely be the audience. At best, we may get an avatar in the form of a lead actor/actress whom we feel represents us. But how can that compete against a form of entertainment that allows us to jump into the arena, even giving us a chance to become stars? Best of all, no real hard-earned talent is required: just be as yourself as much as possible, armed with opinions. The more outlandish and incendiary, the better. Notice me, algorithm!
Take the recent Caitlyn Clark-related discourse. Just a few months ago, almost nobody cared about the WNBA. And many of those who did talk about it derided its very existence, treating the league as a disgusting parasite in our sports ecosystem. Now, many of those exact same people’s top priority is to apparently protect their beloved WNBA by shielding its golden girl, Caitlyn Clark, from all her seethingly jealous anti-white haters. But of course, much of the other side isn’t all that much better, with their Johnny/Janie-come-lately passion for the WNBA fueled more by lingering resentments over high school prom than their love for sports. I’m sure it’ll all be over soon, though. If we can forget about health care, we’ll surely forget about women’s basketball. But in the mean time, way more fun than spending $20 to watch The Fall Guy.
In the past couple of months, there have been some sharp pieces56 on the ubiquitous girlhood essay. I enjoy reading this genre, both its good and its bad sort, as it’s certainly an edifying look into a world I don’t know, kind of like when a friend7 suggested the Nymphet Alumni podcast to me and I suddenly learned of the galaxy of “-cores” that are out there. But still, of course I notice the common tropes and patterns in these writings and wonder what different directions these essays might’ve taken if the writers weren’t all privy to which topics, tones, sentiments, and so forth garnered the most attention and favorable ratings.
And what of the boyhood essay? I’ve started to see some starting to broach this topic.8 But perhaps not algorithm-friendly enough? Does anyone really want to see a guy bare his soul? Or even worse, performatively do so? Another piece for me to write in the near future.
Recently, I went to an Asian American film festival where a friend’s short was being screened. I enjoyed his movie (an homage to Hong Kong gangster films), so I was glad I went. But whenever I go to these types of Asian American artsy events, I feel a sense of dread. At any moment, I fear I’ll be hit with cringe: a jump scare like Alan Arkin lunging at Audrey Hepburn in Wait Until Dark. Even before online algorithms became a thing, Asian Americans were particularly made all too aware of which life scripts were available to us, especially if we wanted to be the not-like-other-Asian Asians. Look, there’s the doctor/lawyer/engineer joke. And the Asian girl titillatingly complaining about yellow fever. And the self-deprecating Asian guy with the practiced smile. And the tearful immigrant parent sacrifice journey (or more commonly nowadays, the cute-ifying of Asian parents). We know what sells.
Pinkos Have More Fun by Simon van Zuylen-Wood
Really loved this analysis (also brilliantly written). It IS weird that so many people's ideas and convictions are being continually tested against real-time audience reactions—and it shapes people's personalities and political ideas in deeply strange ways.
As an example…I'm impressed and horrified by how an (imo necessary and even valuable) level of dirtbag left–y critique of identity politics, which seemed to be in vogue around 2016, somehow transitioned into outright revanchist racial insensitivity. It's surreal to see people totally shift their political convictions in such a short timeframe; it makes me feel like there weren't political convictions there after all, just personal ambitions (for fame, money, power) that were channeled into ANY discursive stance that was valuable.
Also very much relate to your closing thoughts on the repetitive narratives of the Asian American Narrative Industrial Complex (also there's surely some kind of psychological complex going on there too)…we know that actual people's lives/ambitions don't fit into the same tired tropes. And yet so much media produced by Hollywood—and independent sources—and random Substack blogs—are all so limited. Why are they so limited??? Because falling in with an existing discourse gets you attention; having your own thing to say, that can't neatly be categorized into some standard-issue party line, is a riskier strategy.
this is so thoughtful. i am really grappling with how people may have been aping their values before, so the switch-up facilitates whatever the new trend is.