Mediatisation of Emotional Life

This volume brings together an international team of authors to investigate a

wide range of issues concerning the fundamental role of media technologies
in shaping contemporary emotional life. Chapters explore the key aspects of
the mediatisation of emotional life, feelings and interpersonal relations: love,
intimacy, loneliness, friendship, family relations, erotic, sexual and romantic
experiences.
The authors explain the key aspects of strong user–media relationships
and human relationships based on media use and investigate problems
such as the formation of identity based on social media, the role of
communication applications and the effects of mobile and locative media
on our relationships, as well as artifcial intelligence, on our perception of
our emotions. With a focus on new media, the book also draws on the scope
of traditional media that express and shape emotions, taking into account
the classic approaches to emotionality of messages from the perspective of
flm creators and recipients.
This cutting-edge collection will be of interest to scholars and students
of media and communication studies, especially digital media and new
technologies, psychology, pedagogy, sociology of everyday life and cultural
studies.

Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech is Assistant Professor with Habilitation at Maria

Curie-Skłodowska University in Lublin, Poland.

Mateusz Sobiech is a doctoral student in the Doctoral School of Social

Sciences at the Maria Curie-Skłodowska University in Lublin, Poland.
Routledge Research in Cultural and Media Studies

Language, Image, and Power in Luso-Hispanic Cultural Studies

Theory and Practice
Edited by Susan Larson
Illusion in Cultural Practice
Productive Deceptions
Edited by Katharina Rein
Activating Cultural and Social Change
The Pedagogies of Human Rights
Edited by Baden Offord, Caroline Fleay, Lisa Hartley, Yirga Gelaw Wold-
eyes and Dean Chan
The Covid-19 Pandemic as a Challenge for Media and Communication Studies
Edited by Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech and Bartłomiej Łódzki
Playing with Reality
Denying, Manipulating, Converting, and Enhancing What Is There
Edited by Sidney Homan
Celebrity Bromance
Constructing, Interpreting and Utilising Personas
Celia Lam and Jackie Raphael
Celebrity and New Media
Gatekeeping Success
Stephanie Patrick
Mediatisation of Emotional Life
Edited by Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech and Mateusz Sobiech

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com

Mediatisation of
Emotional Life

Edited by
Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech
and Mateusz Sobiech
First published 2022
by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2022 selection and editorial matter, Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech and
Mateusz Sobiech; individual chapters, the contributors
The right of Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech and Mateusz Sobiech to be
identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for
their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections
77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
With the exception of Chapters 5 and 10, no part of this book may be
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They have been made available under a Creative Commons Attribution
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British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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ISBN: 978-1-032-18106-6 (hbk)
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ISBN: 978-1-003-25428-7 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287
Typeset in Sabon
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Contents

Acknowledgement vii
List of contributors viii

Introduction 1
K ATA R Z Y N A KO P E CKA - P IE CH AN D MATE USZ SOBIEC H

PART I
Conceptualisations: mediatisation of feelings,
emotions and relationships 7

1 Mediatisation of emotional life: theories, concepts

and approaches 9
K ATA R Z Y N A KO P E CKA - P IE CH

2 Media love: on the mediatisation of love and our

love for media 26
MARK DEUZE

3 Emotion artifcial intelligence: deep mediatised and

machine-refected self-emotions 41
K ATA L I N F EH E R

4 Geomediatisation: a dialectical approach to close social

relationship dependence, normalisation and adaptation 56
H E L E N A ATT EN E DE R

PART II
Analysis: challenges caused by mediation to relationships 73

5 Love: interpretative flm strategy 75

J O N O VA N BE LL E
vi Contents
6 Intimacy: different dimensions of mediated relational lives 91
J A M I E F O S TE R CAMP B E L L

7 Attention and affective proximity: alleviating loneliness

and isolation through virtual girlfriends and boyfriends 106
I N G E VA N D E VE N

8 Romantic communication: affordances and practices

of mobile (dis)connection 121
A N A S TA S I A N I KITIN A

9 Friendship: communicative negotiation in proximity

and distance 137
J E A N N I N E TE I CH E RT

10 Family relations: emotional overload 151

TI I N A R Ä I SÄ

PART III
Explorations: key aspect of emotional lives with media 169

11 Moving pictures creating emotions: the flm-makers’

emotional strategies in pandemic 171
I WO N A G ROD Ź

12 Identity formation: mediated resilience of women

who go through dissolution of romantic relationship 183
S U C H E TA L A H IRI

13 Loneliness: generational differences in interpersonal

relationships of users 198
VA L E N TI N A MA RIN E SCU, B IA N CA FOX, RAMONA MAR INAC HE,
DA N I E L A ROV E NȚA - FRUMU Ș A N I A N D SILVIA BR ANEA

14 FoMO: envy, life satisfaction and friendship 213

S Z Y M O N Z Y L I N SKI A N D CH ARL E S H . DAVIS

15 Erotic experience: technology-mediated sex markets 234

L O R E N A CAM IN H A S

Name index 250

Subject index 252
Acknowledgement

This book would not have been published without the fnancial and organ-
isational support of the Academia Europaea Wroclaw Knowledge Hub and
the Wroclaw Academic Centre of the City of Wroclaw. We would also like
to thank Maria Curie-Skłodowska University in Lublin for their assistance
in realising the project of this book.
Editors
Contributors

Helena Atteneder completed her PhD at the University of Salzburg, Austria,

in September 2020 and now holds a postdoctoral position at the Institute
of Media Studies in Tübingen, Germany. Her research focuses on critical
theories of space, media and power and the associated phenomena of
geosurveillance, data protection issues and geoprivacy.
Silvia Branea has a PhD in Social Psychology and is Associate Professor at
the Faculty of Journalism and Communication Studies of the University
of Bucharest, Romania. Her research interests are the TV series about and
for the younger generation, political communication and media, persua-
sion and organisational changes. She is the head of the MA Programme
“Communication and Human Resources.”
Lorena Caminhas is a postdoctoral fellow in the Department of Anthropol-
ogy at the University of São Paulo, Brazil. Her research focuses on gender
and media studies. She is currently involved in an investigation about
digital sex trades in Brazil, mapping the changes in sex services and sex
labour in the country.
Jamie Foster Campbell is a PhD candidate in the Department of Commu-
nication at UIC, USA. Her work focuses on relational communication,
mobile media and embodiment. Specifcally, she studies how mobile media
becomes part of our identity, sets the tone for relational encounters and
offers a space to perform relational processes.
Charles H. Davis is Professor in the RTA School of Media at Ryerson Univer-
sity in Toronto, Canada, where he holds the ES Rogers Research Chair in
Media Management and Entrepreneurship. He also serves as the Associ-
ate Dean for Scholarly Research and Creative Activity in the Faculty of
Communication & Design. His current research interests are in the area
of audiences, media consumption and new product development in media.
Mark Deuze is Professor of Media Studies at the University of Amster-
dam’s (UvA) Faculty of Humanities in the Netherlands, with courtesy
appointments at the University of Technology in Sydney (Australia) and
 Contributors ix
Northumbria University in Newcastle (United Kingdom). Before that he
worked as a journalist and academic in the United States, Germany and
South Africa. He is also the bass player and singer of Skinfower.
Katalin Feher is Fulbright Research Fellow at Drexel University, USA, Senior
Research Fellow at Budapest Business School and Bolyai Janos Research
Fellow at the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Hungary, and Visiting Pro-
fessor at Masaryk University, Czech Republic. She is a member of the
editorial board of the KOME, a journal of pure communication inquiry
and the founder of AI Media Research.
Bianca Fox joined Nottingham Trent University in 2021 as a senior lecturer
after having held academic positions at the University of Wolverhampton
and University of Huddersfeld, UK. Her research interests lie primarily
in the area of youth studies, with a focus on technology use and mental
health, digital literacy and digital inclusion.
Iwona Grodź is Doctor of Humanities and a literary scholar, flm expert, art
historian, musicologist, art psychologist and academic teacher. Her affli-
ations include Adam Mickiewicz University and WSUS in Poznań, Poland,
and UW in Warsaw, Poland, alongside cooperation with many scientifc
and cultural institutions. She is interested in cultural studies, theatre, phi-
losophy and psychology, as well as the idea of “correspondence” of arts,
especially literature-flm-theatre-painting and music. She is in the process
of preparation for habilitation.
She is the author of, among others: Zaszyfrowane w obrazie. O fl-
mach Wojciecha Jerzego Hasa (2008), Jerzy Skolimowski (2010), Rękopis
znaleziony w Saragossie Wojciecha Jerzego Hasa (2005), Synergii sztuki
i nauki w twórczości Zbigniewa Rybczyńskiego (2015), Between Dream
and Reality (2018), Hasowski appendix (2020) and many other scientifc
publications.
Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech is Assistant Professor with Habilitation at Maria
Curie-Skłodowska University in Lublin, Poland, specialising in new media
technologies, mediatisation of everyday life and media convergence. She
is the author of Mediatization of Physical Activity: Media Saturation and
Technologies (2019) and Media Convergence Strategies: Polish Examples
(2011).
Sucheta Lahiri is a third year PhD student in the school of information stud-
ies and a graduate mentor for women of colour in STEM at Syracuse
University in upstate New York, USA. She is interested in social comput-
ing, social relations, critical design, critical disability studies, feminism
and mediatisation.
Ramona Marinache is Lecturer at the Department of Cultural Studies, Uni-
versity of Bucharest, Romania. Her main research interests are in the
x Contributors
social nature of embodiment in everyday life in the future of humanity
with two focuses: sleep and mobilities.
Valentina Marinescu is Professor Habilitated at the Department of Sociology
within the Faculty of Sociology and Social Work, University of Bucharest,
Romania. She teaches methods of research in communication sciences at
the BA and MA level. Her main research interests are communication and
media studies in Eastern Europe.
Anastasia Nikitina is a young Moscow-based media researcher. In 2020,
she received a bachelor’s degree in Journalism from the Higher School of
Economics, Russia. For the past two years, she has been working at HSE
as a teaching assistant for Media Studies Research Seminar.
Tiina Räisä is a senior lecturer in media culture, Arcada UAS, Finland. She
has a background as a journalist and media producer. Her research inter-
ests include mediatisation, media rituals, family communication, literacy,
discrimination and research methodology.
Daniela Rovența-Frumușani is Professora Emerita at the University of
Bucharest, Romania (Department of Cultural Anthropology and Com-
munication, College of Journalism and Communication Sciences and Doc-
toral School of Communication Sciences). Her research and teaching are
focused on gender studies, discourse analysis and semiotics (5 books, 20
coordinated books, over 100 chapters and articles).
Mateusz Sobiech is a PhD candidate at the Maria Curie-Skłodowska Uni-
versity in Lublin, Poland. He conducted research related to new media
during a scientifc visit at the University of Salzburg, Austria. His latest
publication in the Media-Business-Culture journal is about the image of
amateur football clubs. He has presented papers at the International Com-
munication Student Congress at Maltepe University in Istanbul, Turkey.
Jeannine Teichert is currently a research associate and PhD student at Pad-
erborn University in Germany. Previously, she has completed degrees in
Journalism and Communication Studies in Vienna, Austria, and in Media
and Political Communication in Berlin, Germany. Jeannine’s research areas
cover mediatisation, interpersonal communication, media and migration
and digital parenting, with a focus on qualitative methods.
Jono Van Belle is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Media and Commu-
nication Studies at Örebro University, Sweden. She is currently researching
the project Swedish Cinema and Everyday Life: A Study of Cinema-going
in its Peak and Decline. Her previous research projects have been on inter-
cultural reception and the sociology of love.
Inge van de Ven is Assistant Professor of Culture Studies at Tilburg University,
the Netherlands, and Marie Curie Fellow at UC Santa Barbara, USA. Her
articles have appeared in European Journal of English Studies, Journal of
 Contributors xi
Medical Humanities, Narrative, Digital Humanities Quarterly, Celebrity
Studies, Journal for Creative Behavior. Her monograph is titled Big Books
in Times of Big Data (2019).
Szymon Zylinski is Assistant Professor in the Institute of Journalism and
Social Communication, University of Warmia and Mazury in Olsztyn,
Poland. He researches media in Bhutan and mediatisation. He taught
at Maltepe University, Turkey and Royal Thimphu College, Bhutan; and
was a visiting scholar at Ryerson University, Canada; University of Turku,
Finland; and Simon Fraser University, Canada.
Copyright © 2022. Taylor & Francis Group. All rights reserved.

Mediatisation of Emotional Life, edited by Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech, and Mateusz Sobiech, Taylor & Francis Group, 2022.
ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/slq/detail.action?docID=6951864.
Created from slq on 2023-10-15 02:19:11.
Introduction
Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech and Mateusz Sobiech

With the development of new technologies, the process of mediatisation is

having an increasing impact on the reality around us, both socially and pri-
vately. Mediatisation is understood as interconnected processes of change: in
the media as well as in the sociocultural sphere (Krotz, 2007). So far, there
have been many publications describing this issue in the context of culture,
politics, sport, art and other areas of social life. However, there is a lack
of studies on the mediatisation of emotional and relational spheres. This
book is an attempt to fll the research gap in this area. Its aim is primarily
to present the results of research on various forms of the mediatisation of
emotional life.
In the scientifc literature on neuropsychology, emotions are defned as
subjective sensations corresponding to particular drives. Feelings, on the
other hand, are defned as mental states that express a person’s attitude
towards a particular situation, people or objects (Levenson et al., 1991). A
person can react to the same emotion or feeling in different ways, depending
on the situation. It is therefore undeniable that the common denominator for
emotions and feelings is subjectivity. In everyday speech, the two terms are
sometimes used interchangeably, but for psychologists, emotions and feelings
are two different affective states.
We sought to unveil and explore the media and communication aspects of
feelings, emotions and relationships by giving voice to researchers represent-
ing a variety of research paradigms and traditions. The publication is the
result of the collaboration between 22 researchers from 12 countries, both
experienced and novice, representing various sub-disciplines. Such a diverse
group of scholars makes it possible to look at a research problem from
many perspectives, which broadens the horizon of conclusions, especially in
research on individualised, personal and intimate phenomena and processes.
This collective work is characterised by its interdisciplinarity. It combines
research originating from the social sciences and the humanities. Although
qualitative methodology dominates, the chapters are characterised by the
use of diverse techniques and tools. The book consists of four parts, dis-
tinguished on the basis of the main axis of argument of all chapters. Part I
introduces the theoretical research on the mediatisation of emotional life.
DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-1
2 K. Kopecka-Piech and M. Sobiech
Part II explores the main challenges coming from mediation of relationships
by new technologies. Part III presents the research results on the key aspects
of emotional life with media. The last part refects on the role of media in
communicating and receiving emotions. The volume presents the fundamen-
tal role of media technologies in shaping contemporary emotional life, in
both qualitative and quantitative terms. The chapters derive from different
approaches to media and communication studies, creating a rich image of
contemporary emotional life embedded in media technology.
The frst part consists of theoretical studies. In the following chapter, based
on a review of the literature on mediatisation of emotional life, feelings and
interpersonal relations, Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech classifes the described phe-
nomena within the framework of mediatisation theories. On the one hand,
it underscores the main topics undertaken in the humanities; on the other
hand, it outlines interdisciplinary research areas bordering between com-
munication studies and e.g. sociology and management studies. The chapter
indicates the key research problems extending between the online and offine
worlds and outlines the main research trends: orientation towards social
media, algorithmisation, datafcation, applicatisation and smartphonisation.
In addition to the results of an extensive source search and literature review,
the reader will fnd here proposals for new conceptualisations related to the
mediatisation of the emotional sphere. Mark Deuze brings together in a
coherent theoretical framework the mediatisation of emotional life explored
by the authors of this volume. He shows that the theory and practice of
building relationships with and through media is multi-layered, ambiguous
and yet central to the building and sustaining of the emotional and relational
lives of contemporary humans.
The aim of the next chapter is to defne a conceptual framework in the
study of the concept of Emotion Artifcial Intelligence. Katalin Feher char-
acterises the technology that enables the detection of emotions. Today,
machines are able to understand not only cognitive but also emotional chan-
nels of human communication. Combining academic, artistic and business
sources in her analysis, the author uncovers not only key mechanisms and
trends but also discusses moral, cultural and social values, noting also pos-
sible future scenarios.
The fourth chapter takes a closer look at the theoretical basis of the analy-
sis of geomediated relations, with a particular focus on dialectical aspects,
ambiguities and contradictions. Reading Helena Attender’s text, the reader
is able to understand the essence and operation of interdependent socio-
technological processes of constructing intimacy, feelings and emotions. The
author explains the key challenges that geomedia generate for interpersonal
intimacy.
The second part of the book is an interdisciplinary excursion into human-
istic studies. The frst of them presents the process in which love as a socio-
cultural construct is present in the reception of the television series directed
by Ingmar Bergman “Scenes from a Marriage” (1973). The aim of Jono Van
 Introduction 3
Belle’s research is to determine how representations of love are enmeshed in
their sociocultural defnitions and how they connect to emotional life. The
author examines the reception of the series in Swedish and Belgian viewers
born before 1960, which allows her to determine the importance of cultural
frames and the viewers’ ability to negotiate them.
The sixth chapter presents research based on qualitative and mixed meth-
odologies. In Chapter 5, Jamie Foster Campbell continues the theme of
the mediatisation of intimacy. She defnes the validity of past practices in
this sphere and formulates a vision of the future of intimacy in the context
of access to newer technologies and changes occurring in contemporary
society. The conclusions are based on dozens of semi-structured interviews
conducted with a diverse group of US residents. They indicate, among
other things, the enormous role of mediation and, at the same time, the
low awareness of users concerning the importance of technology for our
intimate sphere.
In the following text, Inge van de Ven presents the results of content analy-
sis of materials made public during the frst eight months of the COVID-19
pandemic by ASMR Girlfriend Experience and Boyfriends POVs in social
media, that is, on YouTube and TikTok. Through the lens of mediatisation
theory, the author provides an in-depth account of two relatively new genres
of technologically mediated intimacy. She interprets scenarios for building
attention, relationships and bonds under conditions of crisis, of isolation and
dispersion, as well as mediated accessibility, at the same time.
The next chapter takes us from a Western to an Eastern cultural context.
Anastasia Nikitina seeks to answer the question of how Russian students
use mobile technology in romantic relationships. The research conducted
addresses categories such as co-presence, intolerance of loneliness and con-
trolling behaviour. Complementing the fndings present in the previous
chapter, the author determines how mobile technologies can change the
perception of human intimacy. Formulating a typology of communicative
opportunities to connect and disconnect through mobile media, she discusses
the potential for “endless” communication among young lovers.
Today, instant messaging is one of the most important tools in the interper-
sonal communication process. At the core of the chapter by Jeannine Teichert
is a literature review on communicative friendship practices. The author
focuses particularly on so-called distance friendships, which are changing
signifcantly as a result of increasing mediatisation. Asynchronicity, speed
and spontaneity are key categories of this mediated relationship.
Chapter 10 is an in-depth qualitative study of fve Finnish families, based
on interviews conducted during the COVID-19 pandemic. Tiina Räisä
describes the different types of families that emerge from digitally mediated
communication: the practical family, the distributed family, the entertain-
ment family and the emotional family. The author answers the question of
how, through technology and textual, visual and mainly multimodal com-
munication, “families become families.”
4 K. Kopecka-Piech and M. Sobiech
Part III of this collection begins with presentation of the results of research
on the mediatisation of emotional life on the example of short flms from
the Polish anthology “Dom”/“Home” (2020). Iwona Grodź characterises
the contemporary culture of emotionality and the role of the flm artist in
its creation. Moreover, she explains how artists create emotions and how
images and depicted stories affect the emotional condition of the audience.
Her analysis is situated in the context of pandemic and lockdown, which
makes her narrative multifaceted and complex, and provides conclusions on
the importance of particular flmic means of expression for building a world
of emotions.
Mediatisation has greatly affected the relationships of people who are in
love with each other. In the chapter by Sucheta Lahiri, the representation
of women in the media and the role of digital media and dating sites in
the context of emotional life is discussed in detail. This study is devoted to
describing the mediatisation transformation of emotions and relationships
in the lives of unmarried women. Using an auto-ethnographic narrative,
the author debunks myths and reveals the importance of media in building
women’s subjectivity.
The next chapter explains the role of new communication technologies
in modelling interpersonal relationships and emotions. The Romanian-Brit-
ish research team of Valentina Marinescu, Daniela Roventa, Silvia Branea,
Ramona Marinache and Bianca Fox provides answers to the question of
whether the use of technology can lead to feelings of social isolation and
loneliness. The results of this research are based on a comparative analysis
carried out on the basis of answers given by respondents of different ages.
This reveals a digital generational divide. While the young feel lonely due
to the overabundance of technology use, the elderly look to technology as a
solution to loneliness.
Chapter 14 deals with FoMO – defned in the scientifc literature as
a disease of modern civilisation, characterised by the Fear of Missing
Out on something important or attractive. The Canadian-Polish team of
Charles H. Davis and Szymon Zylinski, presents the results of a study of
social change in the negotiation and reconstruction of friendship using
the novel Q-methodology to explore the perspectives of participants who
represent different positions on an issue. The research explains how highly
mediatised living environments shape emotional lives and their subjective
perceptions.
The last chapter is the result of four years of ethnographic research, includ-
ing in-depth interviews with digitally mediated sex workers in Brazil. Lorena
Caminhas presents how mediatisation affects the sex market. One of the
important assumptions of the research is the distinction between sex, under-
stood as an intimate and embodied experience, and eroticism, considered as
an almost impersonal experience. The author juxtaposes the transformation
of women’s experiences of sex work with the technological transformation
of the media market.
 Introduction 5
For millennia, the lives of individuals and society have been in constant
change. Material and metaphysical phenomena and processes are subject
to constant transformation – all the more so in private life. One of the fac-
tors of change are technologies. Media technology has transformed many
areas of human life. In this book, we look at how the sphere of human
emotions, feelings, sensations and relationships is being modifed, reorgan-
ised and even built in new ways. We wonder whether the feelings of love
or hatred in the past and nowadays differ in any way? We wonder if it is
possible that something we have felt for millennia (a sense of joy, unity,
shame, fear or loneliness) can change? Has the reality around us and the
rapid technological progress affected how modern humans (re)defnes hap-
piness, contentment or sadness? The authors of this book try to determine
whether mediatisation, which is a multi-layered transformation, can affect
spheres that seem unchangeable and immanent to human beings. The vol-
ume responds to the challenge of seeking answers to the many doubts that
arise with the constant and growing presence of media technologies in our
everyday existence. As authors, we have set ourselves the task of answering
four key questions. What are the biggest changes in human relationships
stemming from the use of media technologies? How are key elements of
emotional life transformed by the use of media? How does media show and
create emotions, and how do the recipients perceive them? What are the
main theories, concepts and approaches that can support the development
of research into the mediatisation of emotional life, in which directions and
how can they be applied?
In doing so, we offer readers a look at emotions as an element of life, but
also as an element of the media. We recognise that intimate, personal and
private life today can hardly be unmediated. Although users make attempts
to cut themselves off from the media – and to isolate close relations – the
contemporary world increases mediation, which sometimes enables and
strengthens human relations, sometimes weakens them; each time transform-
ing them. The world of the media, in turn, has always been based on emo-
tions – used and shaped them. Creators of digital technologies want them
to be all the more present in the lives of their users, who, using devices and
applications, create them at the same time. The multifaceted transforma-
tion, which is a technological, sociocultural as well as commercial process,
is ongoing and accelerating, challenging users, designers and researchers.
Through this book, we seek to better understand the changes taking place
and to be ready for the challenges that the near future will bring.

References
Krotz, F. (2007). The meta-process of mediatization as a conceptual frame. Global
Media and Communication, 3(3), 256–260.
Levenson, R. W., Carstensen, L. L., Friesen, W. V., & Ekman, P. (1991). Emotion,
physiology, and expression in old age. Psychology and Aging, 6(1), 28.
Copyright © 2022. Taylor & Francis Group. All rights reserved.

Mediatisation of Emotional Life, edited by Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech, and Mateusz Sobiech, Taylor & Francis Group, 2022.
ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/slq/detail.action?docID=6951864.
Created from slq on 2023-10-15 02:19:11.
Part I

Conceptualisations
Mediatisation of feelings,
emotions and relationships
Copyright © 2022. Taylor & Francis Group. All rights reserved.

Mediatisation of Emotional Life, edited by Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech, and Mateusz Sobiech, Taylor & Francis Group, 2022.
ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/slq/detail.action?docID=6951864.
Created from slq on 2023-10-15 02:19:11.
1 Mediatisation of emotional life
Theories, concepts and approaches
Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech

Introduction
Today, emotions are linked to consumption and media, requiring refexive
analysis, response and management (Patulny et al., 2019). Emotionality and
communication are closely intertwined. Starting from interpersonal com-
munication, which is about emotions, based on emotions, builds emotions;
through to group, organisational/institutional, mass and network commu-
nication. Emotions are a personal element of human life and a sociocultural
element of the functioning of society. Therefore, no matter which channel,
infrastructure or mediation tool we are dealing with, emotional, relational
and sensory elements are present both in the message and in the structure
of the medium.
The emotional sphere is a constant element of the media sphere and in the
21st century also the other way round: the media sphere interferes more and
more strongly in the emotional life of a human being. While the beginnings of
the mediation of emotions can be traced back to the emotionalisation of the
media, when, for example, the press tried to convey the reported emotions
in words or photos, the radio with sound and television with audiovisual
content, the Internet has intensifed the processes of mediatisation of the
emotional sphere, in both the public and private spheres. As an interactive,
multimodal and networked medium, it is not only a platform for trans-
mitting, shaping and facilitating emotions, but is itself a space in relation
to which we nourish our emotions and which learns and responds to our
emotions.
We can have emotions in relation to each of the media technologies, also,
or perhaps especially, to a traditional book or a record. However, interactive
media, through their affordances, have led to a situation in which technology
not only determines, through its properties, the way emotions are transmit-
ted and built, but also initiates, sustains, models, weakens or strengthens
relations between communicating parties, as well as with the medium itself.
We are dealing with, for example, algorithmic social media. After all, the
development of artifcial intelligence, augmented and virtual reality and other
ubiquitous media has resulted in emotional life being heavily technologised,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-3
10 Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech
with technology becoming “interested” in emotions, becoming “empathetic.”
IT tools already enable the detection, modulation and simulation of emo-
tions. It can be said that because of their commercial and political potential,
technologies are orienting themselves towards emotions, the recognition and
use of which constitutes a great deal of power.
Such a multi-layered and complex issue as the relationship between media
and emotions can be studied in many ways: quantitatively and qualitatively,
drawing on the achievements of psychology, linguistics, sociology, culture
studies, computer science and also medicine. Not all approaches fall into
the tradition of research on mediatisation, but it should be emphasised that
the direction of development of this framework is evolving towards ever
stronger computing and learning about datafcation processes. Hence, in
order to perceive the direction of development of mediatisation, we need to
look at the sphere of media-emotional relations much more broadly than in
the traditional sociocultural perspective: be it institutional, constructivist or
technological-material.
This chapter provides an overview of the literature on the mediation and
mediatisation of emotional life, feelings and interpersonal relationships. The
analysis based on the literature review classifes approaches, perspectives and
thematic areas within this research feld. On the one hand, it underscores
the main topics undertaken in the humanities (mainly on the cusp between
media studies and psychology, but also cultural studies); on the other hand, it
outlines interdisciplinary research areas bordering between communication
studies and sociology or management and marketing studies. Focusing on the
most recent publications (from 2015 to 2020), the chapter outlines the main
research trends: for example, orientation towards social media, datafcation,
algorithmisation, applicatisation and platformisation. It provides a typology
of research topics. These include studies on the expression of emotions in the
media; the construction and creation of emotions by the media; building and
maintaining interpersonal and para-social relations thanks to the media; and
studies on relations with the media technologies and media services as such.

Media and emotions – methodological turns and main

concepts, defnitions and typologies

Methodological turns
The reorientation of research and scientifc discourse towards emotions, feel-
ings and affects is not new. It dates back a decade or even decades ago, when
the humanities and social sciences were increasingly talking about an “affec-
tive turn” (Clough & Halley, 2007; Clough, 2008) and “emotional turn”
(Lemmings & Brooks, 2014). The shift in emphasis, the focus on the emo-
tional dimensions and aspects of human life, including creativity, activity and
constructed collectivity has brought the development of new approaches,
such as proposals for conceptualisations of “affective culture” (Hjorth &
 Mediatisation of emotional life 11
Arnold, 2013), “affective capitalism” (Karppi et al., 2016), “affective soci-
eties” (Slaby & Scheve, 2019), “emotional refexivity” (Serrano-Puche &
Rojas, 2019), and consequently the dynamic development of the feld of
“affect studies,” or “emotion research.”
One of the main distinctions on which these methodological turns are
based is the separation of the social and cultural from the biological and
neurobiological. However, many of the proposals omit a key aspect in the
21st century, namely the technological aspect. Recent research shows that
refection must be complemented by it. Technologies and media are not just
a sociocultural creation. They are at the same time material and virtual, pro-
grammable, progressively more intelligent and ultimately autonomous, and
above all deeply embedded in human life – on numerous levels of existence.
Any emotional and affective methodological or conceptual turn, especially in
media and communication studies that ignores the importance and nature of
technology in the functioning of the modern human, does not seem complete.

Theories and defnitions

The relationship between media and emotions is studied within different dis-
ciplines, paradigms and traditions. The topic can be found in psychology
(including psychoanalysis), philosophy (especially phenomenology), cognitive
science, cultural studies, sociology, as well as neuroscience and psychiatry.
There are many approaches and theories and thus defnitions of the main
concepts related to emotional life (Lünenborg & Maier, 2018). The high-
est degree of identifcation of different concepts with each other concerns:
emotions, affects, feeling and moods. There is no complete agreement on the
defnition of each of these concepts, as they are conceived in a more or less
individual or collective way depending on the theory and framing.
The key distinction between emotions runs along the divide: individual,
personal, psychological versus collective, shared and social. Among the
psychological theories of emotions, we distinguish: constructivist theories,
appraisal theories, basic emotion theory and dimensional models. Among
the concepts oriented towards social aspects, we can distinguish emotions
as social objects (McCarthy, 2017) and “digital affect cultures” (Döveling
et al., 2018; Giaxoglou & Döveling, 2018).
For the purposes of social media and communication research, it can be
assumed that feelings should be considered as personal, emotions as social and
affects as prepersonal states (Shouse, 2005). Affect is impersonal and reac-
tive moving from emotions to feelings, the former we experience through the
latter (Tan, 2017). While distinguishing the category of mood: moods unlike
emotions are not directed towards something specifc (Eder et al., 2019).
We must remember, however, that the aforementioned concepts do not
exhaust the catalogue of phenomena falling within the area of broadly under-
stood emotional life, especially mediated life. In the discussed context, sensa-
tions, relationships and empathy are also very often studied. The research
12 Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech
takes up very specifc topics, problems and issues. In the case of research
into the mediated dimension of life, they concern in particular bonding,
excitement, anxiety, amusement, sadness, contentment, sentiments, hedo-
nism, eudaimonia, happiness, fear, enjoyment, anger, aggression, guilt, hope,
humour, expression, regulation, recovery, vitality, intimacy and many others.

Typologies
What makes up the mediated emotional life of the modern human? On
the one hand, it is their personal, intimate, individual sensations, feelings,
emotions and relationships that have been mediated by the media: either
as a result of representation (by press, radio, flm, television, video, photo,
podcast, etc.) or as a result of interaction (by digital media, including social
media) – in contact both with another person and with a device. On the
other hand, these are all socially and culturally shared emotional worlds:
perceived, reproduced by the user, as well as co-created by the user.
The areas, spheres and perspectives of research on the relationship between
media and emotions are typologised differently. Jens Eder et al. (2019) focus-
ing on flm studies, believe that the relationship between media and emotions
can be grouped into four areas: emotion representation, emotion elicitation,
emotion practice and emotion culture. Katrin Döveling et al. (2010) distin-
guish four domains: ontological status of emotion, elicitation of emotion,
emotion expression and social and cultural construction of emotion. Robin
L. Nabi (2016) distinguishes three approaches within media effects research:
emotion as a predictor of media selection, an outcome of media exposure
and a mediator of other psychological and behavioural outcomes result-
ing from media exposure. The literature review allows proposals for new
typologies to be formulated, refecting both the levels of research, research
perspectives and specifc research areas.
Emotions can be both the content of media messages (e.g. when television
shows hatred) and interpersonal communication (e.g. when we share our
everyday experiences through a messenger), an element of media structure
(e.g. when one of the functionalities of social media is e.g. the “like” button)
and an analysis tool thanks to which analysts know more about their recipi-
ents, clients and voters (e.g. thanks to sentiment analysis, facial recognition
and other artifcial intelligence tools). With the development of digital media,
media technologies have ceased to be just tools for refecting and building
emotions. Whatever the purpose of this process, they have become tools for
exploring human emotions: recognising, analysing and consequently applying
the knowledge gained in practice to manipulate the individual and society.
Few of the research approaches, theories and typologies are applicable in
the feld of mediatisation studies. This framework is narrower than general
media-emotional relations research, which can be studied in numerous ways –
sometimes contradictory (such as psychological versus sociocultural effects
of media use on children’s emotional life). In order to answer the question
 Mediatisation of emotional life 13
of how the feld of research on the mediatisation of emotional life is shaped,
it should be remembered that mediatisation is a two-way process of mutual
infuence and transformation of the media sphere and other spheres of life, in
this case the emotional sphere. And as postulated by theorists, it should not
be studied mediocentrically (Hepp, 2010). If we look at the discussed area of
research, we can see that such a study should not be emotiocentric either. It
cannot constitute an instrumental analysis of emotionality in isolation from
technological conditions. It should not omit the analysis of the properties of
media technologies in favour of a purely psychological interpretation of phe-
nomena. The study of mediatisation should balance media and non-media
elements; noticing mutual infuences and nuancing contexts. How does the
research on mediatisation of emotional life shape up against the background
of the research on the broadly understood relationship between media and
emotions?

Research on the current state of studies:

approach and methodology
In order to check the current state of research in the feld of the relation-
ship between media and emotions, especially the mediatisation of emotional
life, an analysis of the results of a search for scientifc publications and an
analysis of selected scientifc publications was carried out. For this pur-
pose, the Google Scholar search engine was used. Firstly, the search results
of a narrower issue, that is, the mediatisation of emotions were analysed
(“mediatization of emotion*” and “mediatisation of emotion*” keywords
were used), over a longer period of time, that is, from 2000 to 2020. Sec-
ondly, the search results of publications from 2015 to 2020 having the two
broader terms “media” and “emotion” in the title of the publication were
analysed (“media and emotion*” keyword was used). The frst round yielded
38 search results (25 for “mediatization” and 13 for “mediatisation”); the
second round yielded: 295 results. The results were grouped thematically
based on the key terms in the titles of the publications in order to identify
the main topic of the research. On the basis of the analysis of the titles of
333 total search results, 129 subcategories of topics were identifed, which
formed fve general categories.
A separate analysis of the blurbs and table of contents of key book pub-
lications from 2010 to 2020 and other scientifc publications in the area,
mainly journal articles from 2015 to 2020, for the analysed area was also
carried out.
Then, a meta-analysis of abstracts of 50 selected scientifc publications
from 2000 to 2020, representing the fve specifed general categories, and fve
selected recent synthetic and review articles in the area of the relationship
between media and emotions from 2015 to 2020 was made.
Typologies of paradigms, frameworks and approaches in which research on
the area is conducted, especially research on the mediatisation of emotional
14 Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech
life, were developed. This analysis is preceded by a characterisation of the
topics, key themes and problems that emerge as main research streams.

Key research areas

Moving on to the categorisation and analysis of specifc problems, issues
and threads taken up in recent studies, we will frst briefy characterise the
categories of book publications as synthetic, in-depth and comprehensive
publications, thanks to which they point to key and already more widely
known theories and issues in a given area. Then, other publications will
be characterised, especially journal articles, whose different nature, that is,
orientation at a narrower scope, and often at an earlier stage of a given
research trend, allows us to identify key themes and possible trends in the
development of a given area.

Synthesising publications
The analysis of recent publications can begin with the characteristics of syn-
thesising publications, that is, handbooks, monographs, edited collections
and encyclopaedias. Books aim at a relatively exhaustive study of a given
topic, are based on complex and/or multiple research projects, often long-
term, and thus, by accumulating knowledge, also provide information on the
most important issues in the feld.
The history of media and communication studies remembers the classical
theoretical approaches to mass media and so-called media effects. These,
however, appear less and less in media studies refection. Understandably, in
recent years, book publications on the relationship between emotions and
media have focused primarily on digital media, mainly the Internet. Let us
take a look at what the authors of books in this area have been aiming at in
the recent years.
The aim of the book “Internet and Emotions” (Benski & Fischer, 2014) is
to determine whether the Internet is a different medium in terms of arousing,
mobilising, internalising emotions and whether they themselves are no longer
considered in different terms and defned differently. “Digital Media, Friend-
ship and Cultures of Care” (Byron, 2020) describes how digital media are a
tool for emotional support, particularly in terms of caring for loved ones and
young people. “Emotions, Technology, and Social Media” (Tettegah, 2016)
answers – from a psychological and theoretical perspective – the question
of what feelings are associated with social media in the context of knowl-
edge creation and dissemination. “Emotions and Loneliness in a Networked
Society” (Fox, 2019) provides an interdisciplinary study of loneliness in the
age of new technologies.
We can distinguish fve main areas complementing the research on medi-
atisation of emotional life and falling within the feld of mediation of emo-
tions: linguistic communication and emotions; media, politics and emotions;
 Mediatisation of emotional life 15
emotions in mass media; media, emotions and the market; emotions and
media technologies.
The frst group includes “Emotion in Interaction” (Peräkylä & Sorjonen,
2012) which describes spoken interaction and expression of emotion and
the construction of emotional states. “Language and Emotion” (Wilce, 2009)
analyses signals people use to express emotion as well as social, cultural
and political functions of emotional language. “The Routledge Handbook
of Emotions and Mass Media” (Döveling et al., 2010) describes the ways in
which ideas about and experiences of emotions as well as linguistic encoun-
ter are shaping each other.
The second group includes, for example, “Media Solidarities: Emotions,
Power and Justice in the Digital Age” (Nikunen, 2018). The book explores
the way in which media can both enable and block solidarity and positive
social change. “Emotions, Media and Politics” (Wahl-Jorgensen, 2019) is
the book which explains the complex relationship between all three title
spheres. In contrast, “Affective Politics of Digital Media: Propaganda by
Other Means” (Boler & Davis, 2020) examines how digital practices and
technologies exploit and capitalise on emotions.
Group three is represented by “Emotional Lives: Dramas of Identity in an Age
of Mass Media” (McCarthy, 2017) which explores the changes in emotional
cultures made by entertainment, dramas and news. An example of the fourth
category is “Concepts of Quality Connected to Social Media and Emotions”
(Vlad, 2019), which highlights the infuence of social media and emotions on
the consumer and their perception of the quality of products.
The last category is well illustrated by “Emotional AI. The Rise of Empathic
Media” (McStay, 2018), which develops the construct and examines in prac-
tice the so-called “empathic media,” at the instance of both global giants and
small, local start-ups.

Problematic publications
The analysis of the search results of the publications and the content of
some of them allows us to determine the spectrum of undertaken problems,
themes and applied approaches, theories and methodologies. The analysed
publications are dominated by journal articles, but there are also conference
proceedings, less frequently books and book chapters.
The analysis of the search results led to fve categories of topics: media-
oriented subcategories (24); emotional-oriented subcategories (33); method-
ological-oriented subcategories (12); theoretical background and frame-oriented
subcategories (20); and sociocultural problem-oriented subcategories (40).
The analysis of the frst category, taking into account the 26 media-ori-
ented subcategories, shows that the dominant research in the area is on the
Internet and digital media. On the one hand, specifc platforms and tools
(e.g. Twitter, WhatsApp, dating apps), on the other hand, their core elements
(e.g. hashtags, emojis, status updates, geotags) are analysed. Furthermore, the
16 Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech
subject of the research (e.g. sentiment, resentment, recognition, detection,
identifcation, targeting, prediction) or the specifc issues explored (e.g. fake
news, hate speech, persuasion, media literacy, recommendations) might be
distinguished.
There were ten methodology-oriented subcategories, which on the one
hand pointed to specifc research approaches (e.g. meta-analysis, analytical
models), methods (e.g. machine learning, emotion mining, text mining) and
tools (e.g. facial micro emotion detection, sentiment analysis). Also in this
case, the research methods appearing in the titles of the publications pointed
almost exclusively to their application in the online area.
A slightly broader category was that of theoretical background and frame,
which includes both proposals for new conceptualisations (e.g. digital affect
cultures, affective images, emotion affordances, emotional labour in jour-
nalism) and well-known theories and approaches (e.g. affective comput-
ing, HCI, emotion management). The analysis of this category indicates the
strong IT orientation and interdisciplinarity of this area.
One of the two most extensive categories turned out to be the one aggre-
gating 33 subcategories oriented towards the emotional aspect. This includes
subcategories that can be considered classic in psychological terms (such as
fear, trauma, intimacy, empathy, addiction, void) as well as those pointing to
the object of research (emotions, relationships, strategies); in individual (e.g.
consumer emotion) as well as collective dimensions (social emotion, famil-
ial relationship, collective emotions, global emotions). Emotion-related pro-
cesses (emotion attention, emotion selection, emotion extraction, emotion
mapping) and metaprocesses (emotion themes, emotion taxonomy) were
also included in this category.
The most extensive category was the 40-subcategory group oriented
towards specifc sociocultural problems. These included very personal and
intimate issues (e.g. death, mourning, health, well-being), social issues (e.g.
migrants, religion), cultural issues (e.g. music, art, entertainment), public
issues (e.g. terrorism, politics, diplomacy), natural issues (e.g. climate change,
public health crises, pandemic) and economic issues (e.g. marketing, enter-
prise, business intelligence). This broad category shows how subtopically
diverse the research is in which the relationship between media and emo-
tions is fundamental, whether direct or indirect, that is, methodological or
metatheoretical.
Studies on mediation and mediatisation of emotional life constitute
a small part of the studied corpus, not only because of the scarce direct
references to mediation or mediatisation theory but also because of the
dominance of computer science research in the corpus. Studies that address
the crucial mediating role of media technologies in emotional life, or their
mutual transformation, are primarily concerned with issues such as friend-
ship, love, hate, loneliness, romantic, sexual, parasocial relationships; as
well as pleasure, frustration, trust and fantasy. Thus, to a much greater
extent, mediatisation concerns rather the micro than the meso level, and to a
 Mediatisation of emotional life 17
far lesser extent – the macro. The analysis also indicates that recent research
on mediation and mediatisation of emotional life is primarily concerned
with the Internet and is intertwined with processes such as datafcation,
algorithmisation, applicatisation and smartphonisation and, above all, the
orientation towards social media.

Media and emotions: main approaches,

perspectives and thematic areas

Mediocentrism and emotiocentrism

Depending on the research perspective, we can say that research is conducted
either mediocentrically or emotiocentrically. In the frst case, emotions,
becoming an element of media messages and media practice, are considered
as an object of media infuence or mutual transformation. In the second case,
it is the media that constitute a tool for managing emotions and are consid-
ered from the perspective of the interests of an individual or the interests of
some entity.
In the context of the mediatisation of emotions, it seems crucial to distin-
guish between two main functions and types of media: representational and
interactive, or presentational and experiential. While new media fulfl both
functions, traditional media mainly fulfl the frst one, due to poor opportu-
nities for the audience to interact with the content or its creators, let alone
with other audiences.
Thus, the media represent emotions in an institutionalised way: they refect
the emotions experienced by others and they build target or sometimes unde-
sired emotions in the recipients of published content. They do it not only
through the message but also through the form: editorial and production
style, properties and features of media material. Digital media, on the other
hand, allow for individual expression and communication of emotions that
serve to build relations either with other people or with the media. In the
latter case, media can be understood as both the content received and the
devices and the institutions behind them. A whole arsenal of means is used
to express and convey emotions to others: from textual, visual, auditory,
audiovisual and multimodal. The contemporary media environment is con-
vergent and hybrid, so it is fair to assume that old media logics of transmis-
sion/reception and new media logic of (re)circulation/negotiation intermingle
(Chadwick, 2013).

Process, content and structure

Research on the relationship between media and emotions is conducted along
three main dimensions: content, process and structure. Research at the level of
content is concerned with the message, that is, what is transmitted and how it is
transmitted; alternatively, with discourse, it is concerned with how the message
18 Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech
functions more broadly in culture and society. Research at the level of the mes-
sage is characteristic of traditional media (cinema, press, radio, television). What
is studied is the representation of emotions, for example, in specifc genres,
or the building of emotions in the viewer, for example, by means of specifc
linguistic or visual tools. In the feld of digital media, different modes of com-
munication are studied: textual, visual, auditory, audiovisual and multimodal.
Research on the processual level concerns the way and practical realisa-
tion of the acts of communication of emotions and, more broadly, emotional
action with the help of media. Thanks to the research, we have gained insight
into the building of relations of media users among themselves and users
with media: technologies and contents. In digital media, the main processes
that make up communicative action are watching, viewing, reading, monitor-
ing, checking, snacking and scanning (Meijer & Kormelink, 2015).
The study at the level of structure consists of a meta-analysis of the infra-
structure and mechanisms of the tools used by users. Contemporary online
communication is based on algorithmisation, datafcation and increasingly
on artifcial intelligence. This means that these mechanisms shape users’ com-
munication and relationships, as well as their inner lives, including their
emotional lives. Highly developed technologies provide a tool for identi-
fying emotions, but also for shaping them, through appropriate detection
and simulation of, for example, images or sound. Therefore, the study of
structure largely concerns the ethical aspects of the technologisation of life.

Emotions in media

Portrayal and reception side

Emotions in the media can be studied from two fundamental sides of the com-
munication process: production and consumption; broadcasting and recep-
tion; selling and buying. In the frst case, the whole process of creation and
transmission is studied, for example, in journalism, flm or entertainment tele-
vision. Research answers the questions of what the workshop of the creator
and portrayer of emotions (reporter, director, television producer) looks like;
what their work looks like and how its social distribution takes place. In turn,
the fnal stage: the perception, reception and circulation of this work is sub-
jected to refection within the framework of the so-called audience studies and
user studies, which, from the psychological, anthropological and sociological
point of view, study who and how the media are received, and more and more
often simultaneously prosumed: consumed and produced at the same time.

Private and public sphere

Another key distinction concerns the spheres subject to analysis, that is, on
the one hand, the relations between the media and emotions at the level of
the individual and their private life: personal, family, the closest circle of
 Mediatisation of emotional life 19
acquaintances and friends; and on the other hand, the public sphere: that
which is open, accessible to others, and therefore social. Emotions analysed
in the frst case are primarily the domain of psychology. It is studied how the
media shape people’s emotions (e.g. how computer games generate aggres-
sion in children or how pleasant content relaxes adults) and, conversely, how
people give vent to their emotions in the media (e.g. how they express fear,
dissatisfaction, joy, for example in social media).
The public sphere, in turn, is the domain of sociology, political science, social
psychology, as well as marketing and management studies. On the one hand, we
study, for example, the social sharing of emotions as a result of the circulation
of media discourse (e.g. compassion after a tragedy or hatred after a crime), and
on the other hand, the mechanisms of generating specifc emotional states in
the community (e.g. empathy or belonging to others in closed Internet groups).

Micro, meso and macro level

Research on mediatisation is often classifed and implemented within three
levels of analysis: micro, meso and macro (Kopecka-Piech, 2019; Serrano-
Puche & Rojas, 2019; Döveling et al., 2018). The frst level is concerned with
individuals, individual audiences or media users and their practices. This
research focuses on the individual’s use, experience and evaluation of media.
The meso level is social in nature – populations, groups, communities, etc.,
are studied. At this level, mediatisation is best captured because the medium
level of analysis allows for the identifcation of patterns, mechanisms of
change and the transformations themselves in the collective dimension: cul-
tural, social, political, economic, etc. The macro level deals with general and
global tendencies, quite abstract in relation to those analysed at the lower
levels. Mediatisation is treated here analogously to other metaprocesses
(such as commercialisation) in a broad and long-term perspective.
Referring to the examples of mediatisation of emotions, we can say that at
the micro level mediatisation occurs, for example, due to specifc affordances
of technologies and communication platforms. It transforms the everyday
life of an individual due to its specifcity. At the meso level, we can observe,
for example, the building of communities of co-feeling, for example, in closed
groups in social media, which through the use of the functionalities of the
platforms build relationships, group identity and with the use of subsequent
technical possibilities evolve in new directions. Finally, at the macro level,
we can talk about building a media culture of emotions, such as the culture
of fear (e.g. because of war, terrorist attacks or pandemics) or the culture
of unity and support (e.g. in the face of natural disasters, protests or politi-
cal upheavals). What and how mainstream media communicate and what
becomes the content of circulation in social media, directs and builds certain
atmospheres, impressions and perceptions of people around the world.
At each level, the research uncovers particular media logics (Altheide &
Snow, 1979), media mechanisms (Kopecka-Piech, 2019) or moulding forces
20 Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech
(Hepp, 2012) of mediatisation, which make it possible to determine which
principles, media characteristics and processes triggered by them are impor-
tant in shaping people’s emotional sphere, regardless of the level, scale and
scope of the studied slice.

Media for emotions

Individual perspective
Reversing the perspective – it is not only emotions which are present in the
media and through the media, but the media play specific roles in emotional
life. Therefore, from an emotional perspective, which are the media for indi-
viduals and which for entities, especially commercial and political ones?
The media satisfy specific needs of human beings, who want to feel a certain
way, experience something concrete. The media are also part of an emotional
regulation strategy (Schramm & Cohen, 2017) and emotional coping (Nabi
et al., 2010). The media can serve to replace bad emotions with good ones, but
sometimes it is the other way round (Schramm & Cohen, 2017). Generally, it
depends on the mood or arousal state: negative, positive or neutral, like bore-
dom. And there is no perfect strategy that suits all (Schramm & Cohen, 2017).
Media issues find a place in studies of mood management theory (Nabi,
2016), from which we can learn, among other things, on what basis users
make media selections; and in studies of well-being, from which we learn
how media help in recuperating from stress or increase feelings of energy
(Nabi, 2016). We also find them in research on models of emotional regula-
tion (Schramm & Cohen, 2017).
Of course, not every contact with media is intentional, based on reflection
and has specific motives. Recipients of the media are exposed to their uncon-
scious influence, which includes the arousal of specific emotions that can
lead to some consequences. Their exploration is dealt with, for example, by
excitation transfer theory or desensitisation theory (Nabi, 2016). Psycholo-
gists are interested, for example, in how it happens that we feel emotions
towards fictional characters, fear as a result of an appropriate narrative of
a film or the need for social sharing of felt emotions. An area identified as
an important research direction is also strategies of emotional regulation
through media, not only of one’s own but also of others (Schramm & Cohen,
2017); and furthermore, new forms of digitally mediated social interaction,
intimacy, emotional support, connotations and etiquette, control and emo-
tional manipulation as well as emotional contagions (Patulny et al., 2019).

Relational perspective
The affective capacity of the media is influenced by numerous factors, includ-
ing those that differentiate the media from each other (Eder et al., 2019).
Ultimately, we can look at the relationship of media and emotion through
 Mediatisation of emotional life 21
the lens of interconnectedness. On the one hand, media make it possible to
build and maintain interpersonal relationships: intimate, family, friendship;
on the other hand, they are tools for building social relationships at the meso
level, when communities and other collectivities are formed. In the frst case,
digital media, especially social media, are crucial. In the second case, both
traditional media and new media form the basis for building social rela-
tions. Relationships are also formed by users with technology. Attachment
to a smartphone, to one’s computer, treating the device in a way similar
as treating another human being (Reeves & Nass, 1996), and especially
attachment to certain applications or content builds new human–machine
relationships, often based on habit, routine and sometimes addiction. Finally,
media provide a platform for building parasocial relationships, such as with
infuencers, celebrities or other members of the online space. They comple-
ment a gallery of other characters, mainly fctional, such as adored heroes of
series, flms or books, for whom children, adolescents, but also adults, have
specifc feelings.

Institutional and technological perspective

The media plays a key role in the study of emotions, which is of great com-
mercial and political importance. Available information tools detect, learn and
interact with human emotions (McStay, 2018). The right media tools allow
us to analyse users’ spontaneous emotions, to check technology-induced emo-
tions, and fnally provide a tool for modulating them beyond users’ conscious-
ness. As Andrew McStay (2018) writes, artifcial intelligence, machine-learning
methods, sentiment analysis, facial expressions, gaze direction, gesture and
voice analysis and even data from the use of chatbots or home assistants are
the main avenues to gaining further knowledge about the user.
It can be concluded that biofeedback, biometrics and biomedicalisation
serve to develop the next stage of media emotionalisation, or rather meta-
emotionalisation, as media technologies are not treated here as tools directly
aimed at users, but as tools of technology creators, on which they base their
decisions and next media design pattern.
Users also directly provide the basis for analysing their states, condition
and moods. They use wearable technologies measuring heart rate, monitor-
ing sleep and other body parameters, and even directly for emotion tracking.
On the one hand, these data are used to provide better services, products
and practical opportunities to customers, but, on the other hand, emotions
are valuable in an economic sense (McStay, 2018) and they are used to
make concrete profts: fnancial and political. After all, we must not forget
that emotions are the lifeblood of business, not only online. Social media
have an emotionally based architecture (Wahl-Jorgensen, 2019). They are
structured so that emotions are present in them and drive activity. This also
means, commodifcation and marketisation of emotions (Serrano-Puche &
Rojas, 2019). Artifcial intelligence has even more at its disposal: a synthetic
22 Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech
emotionality that can infuence not only what we know about human beings
but also what human beings are like.

Conclusions
In conclusion, it is worth asking what, then, constitutes the mediated emo-
tional life of modern humans. It is a mixture of complex and multi-level
processes and phenomena that strongly interferes with the life of the indi-
vidual and society. As it was established in the course of the analysis, they
take place on many levels: from micro, through meso, to macro. They affect
many spheres: from private to public. They affect the individuals themselves,
their interpersonal relations and entire social groups. Mediatised human life
is still the result of the use of traditional mass media, but frst and foremost
of new, digital, Internet technologies.
Mediatisation is the result of mediation – that is, the presence, use and
infuence of the media on various practices, the implementation of which
does not mean a direct transformation of our everyday life, but indirectly,
on a meta-level, it means a profound transformation. Internet content, online
behaviour, data and metadata are currently a reservoir of resources and a
tool used to change the media environment, its mechanisms and rules, which
affects how we use them and, consequently, how our lives change. Analys-
ing emotions online and then modelling them at an individual and social
level; re-detection and stimulation lead to a looping of what we depend on
directly and indirectly in mediating our feelings, emotions, relationships,
moods, affects, sensations, etc.
We must not forget, however, that with the mediatisation of emotional life
also comes the emotionalisation of the media, which means that not only do
emotions fnd a place in the media and through the media, but that the media
are used at the individual and social level to manage emotions, to deal with
emotions and to solve emotional problems. Here too, because of the con-
verged environment, we see a fusion of what is happening at the direct and
indirect interaction level. Both trends: mediatisation and emotionalisation
are becoming increasingly diffcult to separate in the face of computation
and in the particular entry into our lives of new dimensions of the presence
of media technologies: virtual reality, augmented reality and the hybrid space
of artifcial intelligence, the Internet of Things and biotechnology. They will
process data about us and for us, as well as for others; for different purposes;
in complex ways; bringing profound consequences.
Given the delicacy of this sphere of human life, the need therefore arises to
defne the priorities and, at the same time, the still underdeveloped research
gaps in not so much the “emotions-and-mass-media-nexus” (Döveling et al.,
2010) but the “emotions-and-media technology-nexus.” As McStay (2018)
states, interest in mediated emotional life is growing, user-generated data are
increasing, and there is still insuffcient knowledge about the positives and
negatives of these phenomena.
 Mediatisation of emotional life 23
It seems necessary to defne how media and communication studies can
beneft from actual interdisciplinary cooperation with representatives of
other sciences, especially computer science, but also medicine, psychol-
ogy, cognitive science and philosophy. Secondly, in the case of cooperation
with the latter academic discipline, it is crucial to recognise the deeply
ethical dimension of mediation, mediatisation and more broadly under-
stood media-emotional relations. As research shows, knowledge about
human emotions is increasingly easy to acquire, not necessarily without
violating ethical principles, and its use gives a huge advantage to political
and business power based on this knowledge, but also its application in
the form of intentional infuence. This raises questions about boundaries
and concerns about adherence to ethical principles and, above all, their
establishment with full sensitivity, in advance and among interdisciplin-
ary groups.
Finally, research into the media aspects of emotions and the emotional
aspects of the media should be refected in research into the medical (includ-
ing not only psychiatric) dimensions of the phenomenon, but also in the
broader health discourse. For the comprehensive well-being of contemporary
humans means a balance also in the media sphere, which has its psychologi-
cal, physical and spiritual aspects. An integrated perspective on contempo-
rary human entangled in the media appears to be the only way to understand
the processes in which we participate and to prevent its irreparable and
irreversible consequences.

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2 Media love
On the mediatisation of love and
our love for media
Mark Deuze

In this chapter, I outline a theory of “media love” based on the presump-

tion that love undergirds many, if not most research and theory in the feld
of media and (mass) communication. This perspective is established frst
through a consideration of love-related topics and themes featured in media
studies and communication research, second through an assessment of the
feld’s continued concern with the impact and effects of mediated commu-
nication from a perspective of love, and third through an appreciation of
John Durham Peters’ (1999) celebration of love in communication – not
as the aspiration to “perfect” communication, but rather its opposite: as an
embrace of the possibilities and potentialities of mediated interaction based
on the imperfections inevitable in all communication.
Given love’s paramount position in media and communication scholar-
ship, I move on to explore the contours of a categorical appreciation of
media love, following a distinction between media practices related to love,
the mediation of love and the mediatisation of love. Using this taxonomy,
I outline the various ways in which we can map and consider media love
with examples from everyday media use and popular culture. In conclusion,
I draw the various strands of thinking on media love as explored in this
chapter together to consider their usefulness to current debates about media
(or “transmedia”) literacy, in the hope that this may contribute to more
imaginative, co-creative, collective and playful approaches.

We love media
We love media. Couples, sports teams (and their supporters), even entire
revolutionary social movements have their favourite song signifying their
passion and commitment, teenagers experience symptoms of depression and
anxiety when going offine for a while, parents use the threat of shutting
down their kids’ game console as a way to exert parental authority, fans fawn
over their favourite character in a book or television series, motion picture
or digital game, many households have storage boxes in garages and attics
full of “ancient” media technologies that are not discarded because they have
some emotional signifcance. Our media are intimate and intensely personal
DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-4
 Media love 27
(Deuze, 2012). We genuinely care about media and about the experiences we
have in and through them. And let’s not forget it is not just the users of media
that are so deeply enamoured – the people who make media are generally in
it for the love, too. “I can’t believe I’m getting paid to do this!” expresses a
common sentiment among those who get to make media for a living (Deuze,
2007). Media love, in all its manifestations, truly is everywhere.
For me, the question is what we, as media and communication scholars
and students, can do with all this wondrous love. For sure, this is not just
a naive celebration of media love, as the media professionals’ passion for
the work in part contributes to their exploitation, and people’s problematic
media use can sometimes lead to addiction or disorder. Yet, I do use “won-
der” as an adjective for love deliberately because I acknowledge the increas-
ingly signifcant, transformative, creative and altogether powerful role love
plays in life, both at the particular level of the individual, when we consider
society and its institutions, and more generally, when imagining the future
of humanity (Jónasdóttir, 2011; Illouz, 2012).
Admittedly, when I started doing the research for this argument, my work-
ing hypothesis was that our feld had a blind spot when it comes to media
love. But I was wrong. In fact, it can be argued that love runs through pretty
much all research in media and communication – it is just not generally made
explicit, nor has it been developed into a cohesive theory (or grand narra-
tive) informing our work and explaining our fndings. In his very personal
introduction to the study of media, Roger Silverstone (1999) calls on schol-
ars to consider the signifcance of “erotics” as a product of any relationship
between the makers of media, the content of the media and the audiences of
media. He regrets, however, that we generally do not discuss all the associ-
ated feelings of the erotic – sensation, desire, pleasure, excitement, so on and
so forth – in our theories. “The erotic escapes. Shame and reason conspire to
repress it. The body disappears behind the curtain of the mind” (1999: 49).
When we study people and their media devices, the way people respond
and give meaning to mediated messages, how people make media profes-
sionally, we are studying love. Yet, we rarely recognise this. Scholars either
problematise such love – passionate media professionals are clearly blind to
their own exploitation, fans are suckers for corporate franchising practices,
device love gets classifed as addiction – or bury all the love we have under
euphemisms such as “care” or “passion” and redirect through a theoretical
discourse of affect. An explanation might be that love as a feld of study –
love studies (Jónasdóttir, 2014) – is a nascent feld, its practitioners still
experiencing uncomfortable or surprised emotions when presenting or trying
to publish their work (Ferguson & Toye, 2017: 8).

Media love as a problem

Generally speaking, media and (mass) communication theory and research
(McQuail & Deuze, 2020) tends to take love either as a given, it is studied
28 Mark Deuze
in “extreme” manifestations (e.g. in studies on fandom), or otherwise seen
as troublesome: consider, for example, work on media dependency, limited
capacity information processing and overload, on various addictions and
disorders associated with problematic media use. Other references to our
media love pop up in recurring debates about whether we feel more or less
now that our lives become digital – including the question if our feelings in
media are even genuine or just performed and always over-the-top.
Beyond such explicit references our feld is suffused with love. I would
challenge any media and communication researcher to show that their proj-
ect and work is not, in one way or another, about love! Its subterfuge may
be because we feel some discomfort, embarrassment and shame about this,
so we explain it away – or we turn it into a problem to be solved. Consider
for a moment the current worldwide research fascination with fake news,
misinformation and disinformation campaigns. Love may help us explain
the problem of misinformation in both Western and non-Western societies.
Why would people willingly and voluntarily ignore the truth, even when
confronted with irrefutable evidence as provided by the falsifed work of
scientists, the reasoned voice of institutional authorities and diligent fact-
checking efforts by journalists? One answer could be that people are more
loyal to the people and ideas they already know and love – including a
slightly narcissistic self-love fuelling the feeling of being “right” – than to the
rational discourse of strangers.
It is my contention that many, if not most of the real or perceived problems
associated with media and (mass) communication would beneft from a more
explicit articulation with love, broadly conceived. This would not negate
existing approaches, theories or methods but add a signifcant repertoire of
possible hypotheses, stories and explanations to the feld at a time when the
world, shaken to the core by a parallel pandemic and infodemic, needs us to
help make sense of what we have lost, and possibly gained, from staying at
home, managing the complexity of our life stuck behind the screens of our
media devices. Media love is not an either/or between humanity and technol-
ogy – it is a not only, but also.

Media love as desire for communication

Beneath the largely latent and oblique relation with love runs another cur-
rent throughout all the research and theorising about media: our implicit yet
heartfelt obsession with what John Durham Peters (1999) saw as “angelic”
communication: the desire for perfect union with one another, a true fusion
of souls – whether between romantic partners, between citizens and society,
or all of us together in humanity vis-à-vis the vast emptiness of the cosmos.
Peters’ notion of communication as desire is perhaps the fullest articulation
of media love I have found anywhere in the literature of media and (mass)
communication research. Desperately wanting perfect communication to be
possible – in our shared all too human quest to be heard, seen, understood
 Media love 29
and recognised – we turn to the rigorous study of media and communication
in order to control, fx or restore the process. The origins and foundation of
the feld of media and (mass) communication studies can be characterised as a
quest to solve the profound problem of communication: its imminent imper-
fection. Hence, the more or less exclusive direction of early-20th-century
studies towards media effects focusing either on achieving those that were
preferred or on preventing those that were considered to be problematic.
Love is not just something media scholars articulate, however implicitly,
in their work on popular culture, fandom or problematic media making and
use, nor is solely a smouldering fre inspiring so many questions, concepts
and themes in media and (mass) communication research – it can also be
considered to be the underlying energy fuelling the feld as a whole. I would
therefore like to argue that what could perhaps be a useful addition to the
literature is a categorical appreciation of how our love for media is every-
where. How it is not some idealist expectation of beauty and perfection, but
rather a much more messy, mundane and banal part of our “everydayness”
when it comes to media life. Especially during the global coronavirus crisis
of 2020 (and onwards), we have witnessed variations of “media love” in full
swing during the various lockdowns and social distancing protocols, policies
and experiences around the world: consider, for example, the exponential
growth of video calling, streaming services (for games, flm and television)
enabling connections and shared experiences. Another example would be the
rapid rise of telemedicine and digital health applications such as smartphone
contact tracing apps, as well as social media hashtag campaigns and activism
connecting us all in the fght against the virus. Even the rise of social move-
ments around conspiracy theories and other so-called “alternative” truths
can be seen as an expression of love, however problematic. It is all indicative
of our desire to connect and communicate with ourselves and each other,
and of our inexorable interdependence with information and communica-
tion technologies.

Media love and media life

Early in 2020, something signifcant happened, which fast-tracked my inter-
est and work on the concept of media love. The World Health Organisa-
tion (WHO) described the disinformation swirling amidst the COVID-19
pandemic as a “massive infodemic” – a major driver of the pandemic itself.
“We’re not just fghting an epidemic; we’re fghting an infodemic,” said
WHO Director – General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus at the Munich
Security Conference on 15 February 2020. This public recognition of how
the realities inside and outside of media have collapsed, how there is indeed
no “outside” to media anymore, was eye-opening for me. Such an apprecia-
tion of the inevitable interwovenness of the real and the virtual was once the-
orised by Manuel Castells in 1996 as an emerging culture of “real virtuality,”
where the online world of appearances would become part of everyday lived
30 Mark Deuze
experience instead of just existing on our computer and television screens.
With the WHO announcement of a parallel pandemic and infodemic in Feb-
ruary 2020, we have signifcantly moved beyond the realm of science fction
and academic theorising into the humdrum of day-to-day life.
Such recognition of the porous, disintegrating or even disappearing bound-
aries between the real and the virtual – between media and life – potentially
opens our eyes to the deep love we have for media, and how intimate our
relations with and through media have become. In doing so, we gladly (or
begrudgingly) accept that our lives have become enmeshed with media to the
extent that we can fnally move beyond arguments about forceful separation
towards a discussion about meaningful cohabitation. It is at this point, at
this stage in the evolution of media studies, that my suggestion for our feld
to take love seriously comes in – as is happening in many of the disciplines
for which media studies and communication research act as “intellectual
trading zones” (Waisbord, 2019: 127), including as (parts of) philosophy,
literature studies, and more recently, biology, neuroscience, psychology, soci-
ology, anthropology and political science.
Considering love’s paramount position in media and communication
scholarship, a categorical appreciation of media love could consider love’s
signifcance in the various ways in which people use media in everyday life,
in the circulation and appropriation of information and ideas via media
as institutions about and regarding love, and how in this process both our
understanding of media and love develops. This tripartite classifcation of
media love follows a conceptual taxonomy developed by Alice Mattoni and
Emiliano Treré (2014) between media practices related to love, the mediation
of love and the mediatisation of love. Within each of these areas of investiga-
tion, I offer examples as potential building blocks of an overall theory that
enable us to make media love explicit and put it to work to describe and
explain our evolving relationship with media.

Media love as practice

As Thomas Pentzold (2020) notes, a focus on what people do with media –
on a praxeological perspective – has a rich genealogy across a variety of dis-
ciplines, becoming more established in media and communication research
since the start of the 21st century. A practice perspective is particularly use-
ful for the study of media as it prevents us from becoming perhaps a bit
too “blinded” by the deluge of shiny new toys that the global consumer
electronics industry incessantly produces, instead focusing on not just what
people do with all these technologies, but also how these practices arrange,
combine, and more generally, intersect with other social practices (Mattoni
& Treré, 2014: 259), how people talk about and make sense of their media
practices (Couldry, 2004: 118) and how the use and appropriation any par-
ticular medium fts with the broader media ensemble or “repertoire” of all
other media we use in all kinds of routinised and recurrent ways (Pentzold,
 Media love 31
2020: 2978). A practice-oriented point of view reminds us of the embodied
nature of everything we do with media, of how bodily skills (such as reading
and writing) are involved and how we express ourselves in as well as about
media. In all of this, we should acknowledge “the world-making capacity of
practices” (ibid.: 2969), as by using media in certain ways and giving such
practices specifc meanings, people also produce a particular way of being
in the world.
A specifc example of media love as practice would be the use of media
to fnd and maintain romantic love. In the current context, this has led to
much interest for the ways in which people use dating sites (such as Badoo
and Plenty of Fish) and mobile applications (including Tinder and Bumble).1
Finding love in media, whether through dedicated services or via all the other
ways in which people come into contact with each other, has become a com-
mon, normalised aspect of romantic life – and certainly is not particular to the
online environment as love letters, talk radio programmes and dating reality
television programmes predate the current “platformization” of love online
(Helmond, 2015). Online dating, as an industry, gets little love from scholarly
observers, maligned for its muddying of romantic waters with cold-hearted
mass consumption, endless choice, effciency and standardisation (Illouz,
2007). On the other hand, the ultimate goal of people using these services is
still to meet someone new, a stranger – and “this alone makes the sites poten-
tial reservoirs of resistance, of troubling and revivifying otherness, of neces-
sary self-dismantling.”2 This confrontation with otherness in the pursuit of
love is perhaps the closest we can come to a defnition of true communication.
An extension of our quest for love in media is the practice of enacting,
sublimating, automating sex and sexuality in media – from consensual sex-
ting, consuming (and producing) pornography to using teledildonics to be
in touch despite distance, all the way to the 2018 launch of the world’s frst
commercially available sex robot (called Harmony). I also want to acknowl-
edge in this context the at times devastating consequences of sexting without
consent, rampant exploitation in the porn industry and the arguments of the
Campaign Against Sex Robots (starting in 2015, see: campaignagainstsexro-
bots.org) about the objectifcation and commodifcation of the human body.
In all these activities, media play a formative role, and in the process, our
ideas about love and sex both change – yet also stay very much the same,
requiring careful attention to detail, and respect for all possible positions.
The research on sex robots signals the continuation of established practices
and routines – for example, the reinforcing of the “coital imperative” in the
design and marketing of devices for virtual sex (Faustino, 2008). On the
other hand, Belinda Middleweek (2021) found in her study among male
users of Harmony quite nuanced, emotional and refexive expressions of doll
relationships, contesting normative defnitions of masculinity. Porn studies
tend to highlight the emergence of new, often playful yet also sometimes
exploitative rituals around romance and sexual activities. Feona Attwood
and Clarissa Smith, when introducing the new scholarly journal Porn Studies
32 Mark Deuze
in 2014, outright rejected “either antagonistic or celebratory” research and
warned against “assumptions about porn as essentially oppressive or cor-
rupting, liberatory, subversive, conservative, empowering, harmful or dan-
gerous”, instead suggesting that we should take all the different ways in
which sex is produced and consumed in media seriously.
Beyond dating apps, sexting, pornography and sex toys, media play all
kinds of roles in love life, such as through music – with couples identifying
their love through particular tunes that played when they met, when they
made love for the frst time and when they got married, or when romantic
lovers draw on various media to express their adoration (e.g. when one lover
says to another “You are the Mork to my Mindy,” “the Kirk to my Spock”
or “the Bella to my Edward”). Tama Leaver (2017) additionally identifes
“intimate surveillance” as an example of where the use of media in love
extends existing routines and introduces new ones, for example through
parental monitoring of children through their media, or between (poten-
tial) partners – as Ilana Gershon (2010) explored in-depth when she studied
media’s complex role when people break up.
Beyond such literal instances of media love, scholars can ask questions about
what can happen because of our love for media – especially when such attach-
ment leads to problematic media use (see McQuail & Deuze, 2020: 568ff).
Excessive media use has often been viewed as harmful and unhealthy, leading
to addiction, dissociation from reality, reduced social contacts, diversion from
education and displacement of more worthwhile activities. Television has tra-
ditionally been the most usual suspect, and before that flms and comics were
regarded similarly – even radio was once considered harmful to children (Eisen-
berg, 1936) and book reading before that. Today, digital games, the Internet and
social media have become the latest perpetrators. Specifc genres – especially
those related to sex – tend to be singled out for concerns about media.
Overall, there is much debate about the difference between addiction and
“high engagement” with media, about the appropriateness of addiction crite-
ria, the neglect of context and a general lack of expert consensus on how to
approach and measure disorders and addictions regarding media content and
use (Kuss & Lopez-Fernandez, 2016). What is uncontested, however, is that
people’s relationship with media is increasingly intimate which at times can
lead to problematic media use (Valkenburg & Piotrowski, 2017). While many
media scholars would hesitate to contribute to the medicalisation of media use,
it would behove our feld to stay mindful of our intense, intimate and indeed
loving relations with (our) media in all their various forms and manifestations.

The mediation of love

Mediation is a concept for media research generally inspired by the work
of Jesús Martín-Barbero (1993) and Roger Silverstone (1994). Although the
study of mediation would most certainly include what people do with media,
the concept tends to get used more broadly to account for the various ways in
 Media love 33
which “media supports the fow of discourses, meanings, and interpretations
in societies” (Mattoni & Treré, 2014: 260). Silverstone somewhat similarly
defnes mediation as “the fundamentally, but unevenly, dialectical process
in which institutionalized media of communication . . . are involved in the
general circulation of symbols in social life” (2002: 762). Barbero has urged
researchers to move from studying media to exploring “mediations” in order
to account for how people enact resistance and resilience to whatever they
experience in and through media.
From a mediation perspective, meanings are formed and social and cultural
forces operate freely according to various logics, with no predictable out-
come. The process of mediation inevitably infuences or changes the meaning
received, and there is a documented tendency for “reality” to be adapted to
the demands and criteria of media presentation rather than vice versa. In this
context, the concept of mediation inspires us to look at the different (re-)-
presentations of media love in, for example, literature and cinema. Examples
of love and sex in media are countless – it is safe to say that it is the dominant
theme in the world’s literature, in music, in flm and in television.
To reconstruct a general picture of the stories we tell and are told about
love, and how we in the process construct an idea of what love is, regrettably
falls beyond the scope of this chapter. Here, I would like to focus on the spe-
cifc issue of love for and with media as a theme in popular culture: consider,
for example, narratives about the human love for artifcial beings, dating as
recently as Nobel Prize winner Kazuo Ishiguro’s 2021 novel “Klara and the
Sun” about the love of an ‘Android Friend’ for children from the perspective
of a non-human actor, and as far back as E.T.A. Hoffmann’s infuential short
story “The Sandman” from 1819, wherein the protagonist falls in love with
an automaton (see also Deuze, 2012: 20ff). Hoffmann’s narrative is particu-
larly interesting, as its profound sense of uncanniness is generally considered
to be one of the main sources of inspiration for the contemporary science
fction genre, such as the computer Hal in Arthur C. Clarke’s 1968 novel
“2001: A Space Odyssey” (and in Stanley Kubrick’s famous flm version of
the book) and the biologically engineered humanoids called “replicants” in
Ridley Scott’s flm “Blade Runner” from 1982 (with a script based on Philip
K. Dick’s 1968 short story “Do androids dream of electric sheep?”, followed
up by the 2017 flm “Blade Runner 2049” directed by Denis Villeneuve).
Hoffmann’s story centres on the rapturous love of the young poet
Nathanael for Olimpia, the daughter of Spalanzani, a famous professor of
physical sciences. The poet meets Olimpia at a ball – after frst noticing her
across the street through a pair of binoculars – and immediately falls in love.
Although friends warn him that Olimpia is nothing but a dummy, Nathanael
proceeds to ask her hand in marriage. When he fnally fnds out she is an
automaton, Nathanael goes berserk. This theme, of the romantic incompat-
ibility of humans and machines, recurs across the literature and the arts more
generally, at least until the 2000s, when more generous readings of our inti-
macy with technology emerge: consider, for example, the role of cybernetic
34 Mark Deuze
organisms such as the Cylons (short for “cybernetic lifeform nodes”) in the
“Battlestar Galactica” TV series and movies (in 1978, 1980 and 2004), the
Terminators in the “Terminator” franchise of motion pictures and TV series
(from 1984 to 2009) and the Borg collective as part of the “Star Trek” uni-
verse (originally appearing in 1989 in the second season of “Star Trek: The
Next Generation”). Cyborgs were originally depicted as cold, heartless vil-
lains, murderers and assassins, refecting the kind of deep-seated anxiety
about human–machine mixing also found in Hoffmann’s work, whereas in
later iterations of these respected franchises more personal, even intimate
relationships between humans and cyborgs evolve, featuring Cylons, Termi-
nators and even the Borg as creatures capable of love and being loved.
The history of human sexuality as interfaced in all kinds of fascinating
ways with technology fnds glorious expression in the genre of speculative
fction, as it gives artists considerable freedom to imagine alternate universes,
different societies and spectacularly atypical realities. A prominent theme
running throughout late-20th-century and early-21st-century popular cul-
ture is that of technologies providing people with sexual pleasure – such as
the “orgasmatron” in the 1964 French science fction comic book created
by Jean-Claude Forest, and its motion picture adaptation “Barbarella” (from
1964, directed by Roger Vadim and starring Jane Fonda), an electromechani-
cal cube also called “orgasmatron” in Woody Allens’ flm “Sleeper” (1973,
starring Allen and Diane Keaton) and high-tech headgear intended to substi-
tute sexual intercourse in “Demolition Man” (from 1993; directed by Marco
Brambilla, starring Sandra Bullock, Wesley Snipes and Sylvester Stallone). In
all instances, people achieve sexual pleasure by outsourcing their orgasms
to machines. In “Barbarella” the orgasmatron was designed for torture but
conquered by Barbarella for pleasure, whereas the orgasmatron in “Sleeper”
and the simulation headgear in “Demolition Man” are a rather mundane
feature of people’s sex lives in a near-distant future. Despite this normalisa-
tion of human–machine relations, there still seems a slight unease at work –
as exemplifed by Sandra Bullock’s character in “Demolition Man” who
appears appalled (as are all other people in her time) by the idea of sexual
intercourse without mediation:

JOHN SPARTAN [Sylvester Stallone]: Look, Huxley, why don’t we just do it

the old-fashioned way?
LENINA HUXLEY: [Sandra Bullock] Eeewww, disgusting! You mean . . . fuid
transfer?3

Another fascinating example of media entering into our innermost feel-

ings and experiences related to love and sex is the 2013 flm “Her” written,
directed and produced by Spike Jonze (who won an Oscar for the screen-
play), where the main character (Theodore Twombly, played by Joaquin
Phoenix) develops a romantic relationship with Samantha (voiced by Scarlett
Johansson), an artifcially intelligent virtual assistant living in the operating
 Media love 35
system of his (and everyone else’s) computer. It is both an unusually warm
and intimate story about human–machine relationships, as it is a stark
reminder of technology’s “otherness” in that Samantha in the end abandons
Theodore, leaving him desperate and alone.
The mediation of love (and sex) in media can be articulated with an evo-
lution of media love from scary, unsettling and even hostile to ambivalent,
sometimes reciprocal and possibly benign. This is not a linear progression,
of course – I am reminded of the Oscar-winning 2014 thriller “Ex Machina”
(written and directed by Alex Garland, starring Domhnall Gleeson, Alicia
Vikander and Oscar Isaac), where a computer programmer falls for the intel-
ligent humanoid robot Ava who ultimately manipulates and betrays him, in
the process making him question his own humanness.

Mediatisation of love
In recent years, it has become clear to many, if not most scholars that media
and mass communication are not just acting upon established processes in
society but are also creating routines within and across society’s institutions
on their own. In order to grasp the far-reaching consequences of this double
articulation of media and society, the concept of mediatisation has been
introduced (Hjarvard, 2008; Couldry & Hepp, 2013). Mediatisation can
be seen as a conceptual extension of mediation, not a replacement theory,
adding awareness about historical co-evolution and parallelism between the
role of media and other meta-processes in society such as globalisation and
individualisation (Lunt & Livingstone, 2016). In a relatively short time, it
has been taken up far and wide in media and mass communication research,
inspiring work in “institutionalist” and “constructionist” directions (Hepp,
2013). In institutionalist accounts, mediatisation is seen as a process in which
non-media social actors have to adapt to “media’s rules, aims, production
logics, and constraints” (Mazzoleni & Schulz, 1999: 249). In social construc-
tionist accounts, it is seen as a process in which changes in media, informa-
tion and communication technologies infuence and shape the way culture
and society function and evolve.
The mediatisation of love manifests in two ways. Firstly, as a consider-
ation of the pervasive and ubiquitous role, media play in all aspects of life,
including specifcally in the arrangement, experience and expression of our
intimate feelings. Most scholars in the feld today would acknowledge that
it has become less than useful to study media in isolation and out of context,
suggesting that our relationship to media has become too intimate – both in a
technological sense, as our devices feel and “live” quite close to us, and in an
affective sense, as we clearly love (and sometimes hate) our media. Although
such an approach to media as an ensemble of devices and activities collec-
tively constituting how people feel about, give meaning to and coordinate
their everyday life has been advocated in the literature for many decades
(Bausinger, 1984), only quite recently such arguments have become more
36 Mark Deuze
common. In the process, we scramble to fnd appropriate concepts, labels and
metaphors for such a weighty role. All of this is, mostly implicitly, intended
to grasp what happens when we use and engage with the media we love so
much, over time, in all aspects of society and everyday life.
A constructionist view on the mediatisation of love would carefully con-
sider all the feelings people have for their media. These are feelings of frustra-
tion, anger, fear and hate as well as very warm, affectionate, pleasurable and
even passionate emotions. Capturing such feelings, exploring what they tell
us about our relationship with media and considering how this contributes
to our understanding of the role of media and (mediated) communication in
society and everyday life are doubtlessly of great signifcance.
Since 1998, I have been teaching a course about our life in media to under-
graduate university students. These courses generally attract hundreds of
students, with on average at least one-third of students coming from coun-
tries outside the one I happen to be teaching in. As part of my pedagogical
approach, I regularly conduct an exercise inviting the students to talk about
why they love (their) media so much. They, for example, do this by post-
ing their personal answers on the group weblog “Why I Heart My Media”
(whyiheartmymedia.com; started in 2011). Beyond love, students are free to
share their concerns or fears about media as well – the exercise is all about
unearthing the full bandwidth of feelings about media. After perusing the
responses of these young people over the last decade or so, the affective
motivations they have for (their) media can be divided into four thematic
categories: self-expression, identity, belonging and passion. These are four
themes that are part of what it means to be human and in which humanity
media play a formative role.
First of all, my students love media because these devices allow them to
express themselves. This can be done by sending or uploading something
yourself – such as making a video and putting it on YouTube or keeping
a photo gallery on Instagram – but also by simply enjoying a nice movie
or cool game. As one student puts it, “I like media because it allows me to
escape from everyday problems.” One could argue that media are primar-
ily so seductive because they offer us the opportunity to express ourselves
and thus be ourselves (in whatever form or version of ourselves), and media
companies and professionals tend to make good use of that temptation.
In addition to self-expression, the ability to discover who we are explains a
large part of our strong feelings about media. “Media is my life,” writes one
of the students, “I wouldn’t know what I would do without media.” Another
student has added: “I don’t exist without media,” referring to maintain-
ing a profle on social networks such as Facebook. Others note that media
benchmarks their existence, for example by recording the places they have
been, including the people they were there with at the time. We furthermore
associate media with who we are – our identity – mainly because we can use
and shape media in all kinds of ways as we please: “media is practical, it is
entertainment, media is really whatever you want. Maybe that’s why I love
 Media love 37
media: the way media can adapt to any lifestyle, including the kind of life
you’d like to lead.” Here, one of the students points out something signif-
cant: in the game that we play with our identity in media, we can give free
rein to our hopes and ambitions. From a critical perspective, we might raise
questions about how we create a fantasy world for ourselves in media and
lose all sense of “reality” in the process. A more optimistic look at this phe-
nomenon considers how media provide a space for people to be themselves
in a way that is perhaps not safe elsewhere (especially at home) because of
issues related to their identity, such as (aberrant) sexual orientation or (lack
of) religious beliefs.
Looking around to see where you belong and how you ft into the group
is a natural desire to us as social animals. A third aspect of our media love
concerns all the feelings that accompany this aspect of (wanting to) belong
somewhere. “I love my media because it keeps me in touch with my family
and friends,” says one student after another. One of them further explains:
“Last night when I was in my room my phone stopped working. I felt lost
and cut off from everything and everyone. It’s sad but my phone is my con-
nection to the world. That’s why I love media.” For many people, their sig-
nifcant others – loved ones, friends and relatives – are scattered everywhere,
across the country, region and world. For them (and especially in pandemic
times for all of us), media are indispensable.
Beyond self-expression, identity play and developing a sense of belong-
ing, a fourth love for media can be distinguished from the various accounts
on the WhyIHeartMyMedia website: the ability to have, express and give
meaning to “extreme” emotions. The chance to express strong emotions, to
be passionate in whatever shape or form, for which there is or seems to be
no space elsewhere, makes media powerfully attractive.
This is by no means a complete or comprehensive study on media love,
but I hope this account of the mediatisation of love – in institutionalist terms
as the ways in which media scholars come to talk about and conceptualise
our affective digital environment, and in constructionist terms how we, in
everyday life, give expression to our love for media – may be useful to further
explore the concept, make it explicit and contribute to our understanding
of media.

In conclusion: media love as a media literacy

In conclusion, I would like to advocate a particular use of the “media love”
concept as roughly outlined in this chapter: to inspire and inform a particular
approach to (developing and teaching) media literacy. In recent years, organ-
isations, governments, educational institutions and scholars coming from a
variety of academic disciplines have been developing numerous approaches to
media and information literacy (MIL) all over the world. There seems to be an
emerging consensus among policymakers and educators alike that some form
of MIL should be part of the curriculum in primary and secondary schools,
38 Mark Deuze
and interest in adult learning and the inclusion of senior citizens in MIL pro-
tocols is growing. Despite my enthusiasm for all of this, a sincere concern I
have is that much of the various approaches to MIL tends to be rather instru-
mental and driven by fear. It is instrumental, as it limits MIL to learning how
to navigate the technological affordances of media (e.g. “button-pushing”),
and it is fearful as it seems to be largely inspired by a desire to protect people
against media. While relevant, such approaches tend to bypass or ignore the
most fundamental aspect of the relations we have with (our) media: love.
Roger Silverstone, in his earlier mentioned exploration of why we should
study the media, called attention to the “erotic” dimension of mediation: to
seriously consider the pleasures we derive from using (and making) media,
imploring us to consider emotions as much as the intellect when making
sense of the media. When we do take love seriously, as I have argued in this
paper, we frst recognise the porous boundaries between the media and life,
opening our eyes to the intense feelings we have for and about media, and
how intimate our relations with and through media have become. Secondly,
we begin to appreciate how love is not just something sometimes studied
directly or indirectly, but that it can be considered to be the underlying
energy fuelling the whole feld of media studies and (mass) communication
research. When operationalising media love as practice, we can take this
literally and explore the use of media to fnd and maintain romantic love or
ask more fundamental questions about what happens because of our love for
media – for example, when all this infatuation leads to problematic media
use. When exploring the mediation of love (and sex) in media, we fnd an
evolution of love between humans (wetware) and media (hardware and soft-
ware) from scary, unsettling and even hostile in the past to mostly ambiva-
lent, sometimes reciprocal and possibly benign in contemporary literature,
music, flm and television. Finally, when considering the mediatisation of
love, we appreciate the affective role media play in people’s lives through
increasingly complex discursive renderings of these relationships across the
scholarly literature, while also developing an empathic appreciation for the
various reasons people have for loving (their) media.
It is for all these reasons why I consider love as the central organising concept
of looking at, understanding and using media – both in scholarship, in everyday
life, and when considering the way society and its institutions function. When
it comes to literacies developed in the context of omnipresent media, I cannot
help but wonder whether love might be a more useful teacher than fear – while
acknowledging that choosing to love always includes an element of risk.

Notes
1 Source for most-visited and most-downloaded online dating services worldwide
provided by Statistica: www.statista.com/statistics/1115157/most-popular-dating-
sites-globally and www.statista.com/statistics/1200234/most-popular-dating-apps-
worldwide-by-number-of-downloads (last visited: March 15, 2021).
 Media love 39
2 Source: Horning, R. (2013). What does OKCupid want? The New Inquiry/Salon,
February 16. URL: www.salon.com/2013/02/16/single_servings_partner (last vis-
ited: March 15, 2021).
3 Source: www.imdb.com/title/tt0106697/quotes (last visited: March 15, 2021).

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3 Emotion artifcial intelligence
Deep mediatised and
machine-refected self-emotions
Katalin Feher

1 Introduction
“Love Me AI.” This was the original title of the presentation for the frst
discussion at the Mediatization of everyday life: Media and love – transfor-
mation of emotions and relationships workshop in 2020. The title captured
the duality of the mediatised self, connected to the machine-driven emotion
services. This approach emphasised both expectations and concerns when
humans face AI with feelings, sentiments or senses. Specifcally, it is consid-
ered the moment when the human self starts interacting with an emotional-
mimicking AI process.
There is no comprehensive summary of this feld available. Thus, this book
chapter investigates the mediatised self that faces the artifcial intelligence
technology (AI) recognising and infuencing human emotions. To put it dif-
ferently, artifcial EQ (emotional quotient) will be the focus of this chapter
rather than the cognitive capabilities of AI in the context of mediatisation.
The question is, how the complexity of emotions is explored along with the
frst developments in Emotion AI technology and how the self is challenged
in this process. This question requires conceptual analysis and interpretation.
The self is fundamentally considered in this argumentation as a digitally
quantifed and mediatised entity. The convergence of Emotion AI and the
mediatised self will be discussed along with relevant approaches and devel-
opments. The theoretical consideration discusses the emphasis on mediatisa-
tion with hidden patterns of mediation, as well as the emerging AI-driven
media services to code culture and society by human activities and emotions.
To extend the theoretical considerations, an interpretative metaphor and an
illustrative art project will support the cultural approach.
The goal is to summarise the emerging feld of Emotion AI in its inter-
relation with self-representations and digitally coded self. Considering the
emerging AI technology, two probable future scenarios are proposed for the
digitalised-mediatised self. Firstly, in the future, immersion into AI systems is
an option for human senses by the digitally coded or quantifed self resulting
in a blended self-AI. Secondly, an expansion is another option for the self via
personalised and self-tracked media technology producing an AI-augmented

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-5
42 Katalin Feher
self. The closing question is: which will be more relevant for the self in
connection with feelings and sentiments? For a deeper understanding, these
options will be discussed in a machine-driven context.

2 Purpose, research questions and conceptualisation method

The purpose of this chapter is to outline the overlapping felds of Emotion
AI and mediatised self. Regarding this abstract feld, the method is concep-
tualisation (Jabareen, 2009). Two reasons are behind this choice. Firstly, an
abstract feld requires a concept-based approach with a clear understanding
of the terms used in this investigation. Thus, abstract words, such as self
and mediatisation, will be specifed to build the base. Then, a complex set of
concepts allows an interpretation via closely related terms, such as media-
tion, quantifcation, or representation. Secondly, conceptualisation also helps
to reveal a key area of development with expectations and concerns. Thus,
the connected types of media innovation technologies will also be outlined.
Defnitions of mediatisation and emotion technology have different inter-
pretations with changing academic trends. Consequently, the concepts need
to be explored along with the changing approaches, even if a shorter period
is studied. The reason behind this shorter term is the initial history of Emo-
tion AI, emerging over the last few years. On the other hand, this short period
already allows the frst conceptualisation with selected concepts (Jain et al.,
2020).
The purpose is to interpret the terms “Emotion AI” and “mediatized self”
in one context to explore the upcoming tech-driven human being in media-
related environments. Accordingly, the questions are as follows.

RQ1 Who is the mediatized self?

RQ2 What is Emotion AI?
RQ3 How does Emotion AI affect the mediatized and quantifed self?
RQ4 What is the future perspective of the mediatized-self in the context
of Emotion AI?

In an attempt to answer these questions, this book chapter summarises the

related key academic literature and trend reports with an illustrative meta-
phor and an art project. The research questions will be answered in this order
by the main chapters.
The selection criteria were to fnd the keywords “Emotion AI” and “media-
tized self” in one context via academic databases and available trend reports
of the feld. Then, the most cited and relevant academic sources were inter-
preted for a framework concept. The selection criteria resulted in limits due
to the emerging technology and its defnition problems. The development
of terminology is at an early stage, and comprehensive typologies have not
yet been formulated. The limitation is partly offset by the broader spectrum
of mediatised self and its related concepts with changing interpretations. To
 Emotion artifcial intelligence 43
fnd a balance between recent and older concepts, metaphorical and artistic
meanings were also fltered to fnd the most connected approaches. This
additional part supports the abstract conceptualisation to refect a changing
media technology. The goals are (1) to comprehensively conceptualise the
converging felds of the mediatised self and Emotion AI and (2) to predict
the optional future scenarios of the self embededdnes in media technology.

3 Conceptualisation
The term “mediatized self” recalls uncountable concepts with terms of
“mediatization” and “self” in social science and the humanities. However,
it is possible to discuss the terminology briefy along with the approach of
digitalised-mediatised self. Together, this approach highlights the represen-
tation via new media and analysis via big data-based services (Feher, 2021,
2017). In line with this, mediatisation will be defned frst as a representation
process, and then the self will be interpreted as a quantifed entity.

3.1 Mediatisation versus mediation

The interpretations of mediatisation focus mostly on new media technologies
and their social–cultural impacts. The frst comprehensive and widely consid-
ered approach of mediatisation by Hjarvard (2013) and Couldry (2008) high-
lighted the role of media technology in distributing sociocultural symbols and
activities. Therefore, concepts of representation, politics, religion, or languages
were in the focus of mediatisation theory. On a more abstract level, mediatisa-
tion was also interpreted as an interplay between society, culture and media
via common practice and inter-subjectivity (Jansson, 2015; Hepp et al., 2015).
Summarising these holistic approaches, the term mediatisation highlights those
cultural dynamics which are driven by technological structures on individual
and collective levels (Villanacci, 2017). These sociocultural approaches have
highlighted the fundamental role of media technology in society and culture.
If so, three concepts reveal the key mediatisation aspects of the self. These
are dependence on media technologies, the disappearance of media and deep
mediatisation. Firstly, Jansson (2015) argues that growing dependence on
media technologies should be interpreted as mediatisation. In his concept,
more levels of social–institutional life are increasingly dependent on media,
which was not the case before. This extension of digital media also intensifes
the functional, transactional and ritual dependence of society and culture.
As a result, the dynamics of everyday media point to a growing dependence
in everyday life. The second concept by Mark Deuze (2014) detected the
disappearance of media into the lifeworld. According to his approach, the
completely mediatised, multisensory and interactive environments result in
a disappearance of media into user interfaces, convergence, portability and
infrastructures via everyday interactions. This multimediatisation of the life-
world has brought new cultural and ethical challenges for the self. Thirdly,
44 Katalin Feher
Andreas Hepp provides a critical refection on how media technologies pen-
etrate all aspects of communication and media by deep mediatisation (Hepp,
2020). According to this concept, all elements of our social world are intri-
cately related to digital media. This concept highlights the infrastructural and
quantitative transformations of digital mediatisation with datafcation and
omnipresent media. In this way, deep mediatisation of society and culture
assumes a collective responsibility and expected public good for the self.
This conceptualisation by the essential theories is abbreviated as “3D”
(Dependent-Disappearing-Deep mediatisation). The 3D reveals the ongoing
digitalised-mediatised interaction in a dynamic way. The embeddedness of
the self into digitalised-mediatised environments is expected to expand with
further cultural convergence (Jenkins & Deuze, 2008), emerging platform
economics (Mansell & Steinmueller, 2020) and trust in AI technology as
social-emotional intelligence (Feher & Zelenkauskaite, 2020).
Taking this discussion to another level and beyond mediatisation, it is also
necessary to mention an associated term called “mediation.” Previously, this
term was highlighted as the social–cultural impact of technology-based com-
munication and media by Silverstone (2002) and Couldry (2008). Although
the meaning of “mediation” was intentionally broad, it was also associated
with a specialised communication and negotiation technique. The term
“mediation” was fuzzy in cultural studies this way. Thus, it was replaced by
the term “mediatization.” “Mediation” and “mediatization” are not mutu-
ally exclusive, but rather complementary if the meaning can be transmitted
through the media. However, “mediatisation” refects representations and
symbols, while “mediation” is a reference to the communication process
in any form. If so, the AI-generated or AI-driven media (Whittaker et al.,
2020; Feher, 2020) can recall the term “mediation” again, along with con-
versational media (Rheault & Musulan, 2021) presented by chatbots or per-
sonal assistants. Therefore, the term “mediation” will be available for every
digitalised communication process while the term “mediatisation” probably
keeps its meaning in media and cultural studies as circulation of sociocultural
symbols, representations and inter-subjectivity. In this case, the term mediati-
sation supports the understanding of the self in a media context.

3.2 Mediatised self

Repeating the frst research question, who is the technologically mediatised
or mediated self? As mentioned previously, the representative character of the
self is strongly highlighted in the context of mediatisation. Digitally mediated
and online-mediatised selves (Feher, 2021) produce transactions and pres-
ence with media technology. In this process, they create emotions, feelings,
memories and archives (Villanacci, 2017) to capture the current self.
The contemporary approach of the mediatised self follows this direction
highlighting the mediatised self-expression via social media, self-portraitures,
social consumptions and further online self-activities (Pitches, 2020; Faimau,
 Emotion artifcial intelligence 45
2020). The self is not simply individual in this way but also relational and
collective at the same time for an audience and for augmentation to differenti-
ate a person from other people producing unique characteristics (Sedikides &
Brewer, 2015). These selves are available in NetFrameWorks (Feher, 2017) via
Internet-based services (Net) in a frame where “always-on” interactions work
(FrameWork). The selves are also available in online communities with signif-
cant others, but every self also joins others dynamically. Connecting and sharing
is the usual practice of the mediatised self through digital screens or services.
These screens and services have become digital mirrors drawing attention to the
role of new technologies in practices of the self (Rocamora, 2017).
Self is “liquid” (Accenture, 2020) and transformative in a data fow, regu-
larly connecting to their representations (Feher, 2017). This liquid and trans-
formative self is a quantifed self (QS) to be tracked in digital services (Hepp,
2020; Hepp et al., 2020) via biometrics, sociospatial transformations, fnancial
transactions and fuid media use (Feher, 2017; Jansson, 2015). The practice
of self-measurement and self-tracking (Neff & Nafus, 2016) also boosts the
entanglement with digitally mediatised services from health records to naviga-
tion systems. The constant immersion and dependence of QS and mediatised
self are driven by social networks, the Internet and mobile devices (Faimau,
2020). The self needs to defne itself in this complexity with cognition and emo-
tions, interacting with technology-based platforms and services (Feher, 2021).
In line with this, the digitalised-mediatised self flls the learning machines
with social activities, cultural codes and social norms (Van der Nagel, 2013),
while media services utilise the data and representations to develop the next
media form. This circulation results in intensive convergence between the medi-
atised and quantifed self via intelligent services. In parallel, the self is engaged
via AI-driven media personalisation (Feher, 2020; Vohra & Bhardwaj, 2019).
Beyond its representation and datafcation, the self also expresses its emo-
tions and fnds communities via cultural functions (Andalibi & Buss, 2020;
Ting-Toomey & Dorjee, 2018). One of the most noticeable phenomena of
this was the selfe movement when users directly started to practice self-
expression by putting their faces on the screen. With the selfe movement,
cultural analytics (Manovich, 2020) explored emotions with the help of big
data and social media services. This movement and the emerging AI technol-
ogy triggered the recognition and refection systems to interact with the emo-
tions in human–machine relations. This way, the next milestone is the Emotion
AI which will be summarised later.

4 Emotion AI and mediatised self

4.1 Emotion AI in the context of media

What is Emotion AI in a digitally mediatised context? The second research
question deals with a relatively new term and technology. Thus, only experi-
mental defnitions are available, even if certain applications or developments
46 Katalin Feher
are being used in practice. This section will only outline the frst key concepts
of emotion- and behaviour-focused digital technology.
Starting with general AI, simulated human cognition was the frst goal of
the innovations. After this, a more complex approach of human–computer
extended intelligence (Guszcza, 2019) was created by machine learning,
deep learning, natural language processing, automation, neural networks,
machine-supported decision-making and voice or face recognition. Due to
these more sophisticated AI directions, there has been a growing interest in
emotion recognition affecting human behaviour and emotional decisions.
There are clearly high expectations in this feld. According to Gartner, a lead-
ing research and advisory company, a human emotional state will be better
known by personal devices than related people (Goasduff, 2018). However,
concerns are also formulated as extending media technology is one of the
most criticised felds. The interpretation of the Cambridge Analytica scandal
(Aliman et al., 2020) or the message of the Netfix-produced documentary
entitled “Social Dilemma” are great examples of fears formulated about non-
transparent media operations if issues in privacy and media control affect
society and culture. As a result, the media has become a highly focused feld
on Emotion AI technology.
The question is, what is Emotion AI in action considering the era of depen-
dent-disappearing-deep mediatisation? Affective computing by emotion rec-
ognition (Kratzwald et al., 2018) and sentiment analysis quantifying the
emotional tenor of text samples (Gossett, 2021) are the predominant emerg-
ing felds. Similarly, large-scale samples of texts and audio or video contents
are analysed for personalised interactions via recommendation systems or
review platforms. Video and audio streaming also allows the investigation
of physiological signals emotion recognition. Additionally, conversational
agents and bot-generated media content are also emerging. In conclusion,
every user interface supports the understanding of human feelings and even-
tually mirrors them to the self.
Hence, the simple goal of Emotion AI is to add an emotional quotient
(EQ) to tech-IQ at scale (Deloitte, 2020) to better understand the human
needs and context for suitable system response. Interpretation and reaction
are also crucial to cataloguing the micro-expressions of users in empathic
media (McStay, 2018). Several markets expect the fne-tuning of human–
machine relations from customer services to entertaining self-driving cars if
Emotion AI measures, understands, simulates and reacts to human emotions
(Somers, 2020). This technology was already anticipated over a decade ago
when human behaviour was defned as a quantifed form to analyse (Mayer-
Schonberger & Cukier, 2013). Recently, interest in it is rapidly growing.
According to the Dimensions database, the number of publications in
“Emotion AI,”“sentiment analysis” and “opinion mining” multiplied between
2011 and 2019. It is supposed that more complex analysis types will be found
in the next decade if different AI technologies are mixed and merged for valid
data about emotions.
 Emotion artifcial intelligence 47
Highlighting the mediated dimension, billions of devices are already avail-
able to analyse QS by voice-face-body recognition, social media behaviour
measurement, or health and ftness tracking. Additionally, age, gender, per-
sonality, mood, the neural and hormonal system will also be incorporated
in the human emotion models (Wilson, 2004) to understand or infuence
the emotional state of the self. The current goal is to use these emerging
developments in numerous felds, such as health care, recruitment, educa-
tion, decision-making, politics, marketing, advertising, media manipulation,
customer service, city experience, automotive-human transport, or the music
industry (Andalibi & Buss, 2020; Huang & Huang, 2020; Holmes, 2018;
McStay, 2018; Muriello et al., 2018).
Although these AI services are controversial for the individuals (Andalibi
& Buss, 2020) regarding surveillance technology, privacy issues and person-
alised microtargeting (Aliman et al., 2020; Zuboff, 2019), the related devel-
opments promise a favourable future for the self with emotional advantages,
such as permanent satisfaction, increased positive feelings, decreased stress
level, or the avoidance of negative moods (Somers, 2020; Holmes, 2018).
Currently, an average development can analyse 50 or more emotional signals
(Lassalle et al., 2019), and behavioural research has great potential to sup-
port the self in its well-being. Emotion–recognition technology has begun
to fourish.

4.2 Mediatised self affected by Emotion AI

Recalling the RQ3, how does Emotion AI affect the mediatised and quanti-
fed self? Emotion AI is shaping life opportunities and signifcantly blurring
public and private experiences (Sanchez-Monedero & Dencik, 2020). The
coded–decoded QS and the mediatised self are transformed into databases
and AI-driven virtual scenes. Needs, desires, fears and joys are becoming
more transparent for media service providers and their third parties. With
representations, the surface of the AI-mediatised self is available to human
users, Internet bots and digital agents or recognition systems. However, meta-
data of the AI-supported representations are also part of QS.
With QS and the increasing AI-based media services, the human actor is
becoming less distinguishable from the artifcial one in the communication
processes. Therefore, the mediatised self has two options concerning Emo-
tion AI. Firstly, the self confrms the social illusion of interactions without
intentional awareness of recognition–emotion technology. Secondly, the self
intentionally applies perceptual AI services, such as conversational media or
personifed AI (Donald, 2019), thus empowering emotional systems for col-
laboration or infuence. In both cases, the decisive factor is what guides the
self from personal to privacy or security issues (Stark, 2016).
Although this chapter does not focus on the abuses of AI usage, misin-
formation technology (Sherman et al., 2020) should be considered as an
optional investigation feld in the context of self-related media. Perhaps the
48 Katalin Feher
most related example is deepfakes as synthetically generated audios and
videos (Iacobucci et al., 2021). These media products break the confdence in
self-networks and reference points, resulting in social–personal effects of defa-
mation, harassment, or revenge (Feher & Katona, 2021; Aliman et al., 2020).
These effects are critical if the question is related to trust in Emotion AI.
The research of Andalibi and Buss (2020) reveals that users mostly share
their dilemmas and fear of losing control over their privacy and online deci-
sions in an Emotion AI context. Investigation of non-verbal communication
or stress level analysis keeps the self in uncertainty without clear information
about who will use the related data and for what purposes. A more sophisti-
cated personalisation probably supports the proper inputs for the technology
and a more acceptable output for the users. Gender, age, ethnicity, cultural,
moral and mental states or psychological disorders should be considered
frst to avoid biases or unexpected consequences formulated by the feld of
AI ethics (Coeckelbergh, 2020).
However, there is no guarantee that the self will not be exposed to the
mistakes of Emotion AI if humans are also non-perfect and these imperfec-
tions are also coded. Yet, the precautions are starting to be visible. A case that
illustrates this direction well is when New York University’s AI Now Institute
called for legislators to prohibit the use of affect recognition in high-stakes
decision-making (Barrett et al., 2019). This approach is especially noticeable
if Emotion AI can trick the human senses (Amores Fernandez et al., 2018)
and manipulate decisions on an emotional basis.
Mediatised self will be supported or protected only if the regulation and
ethics of Emotion AI focus on individual and social well-being beyond the
development pressures. Coding the basic social–cultural values and recognis-
ing the diversity of human emotions should be considered for fair, trustwor-
thy and responsible AI (Feher & Zelenkauskaite, 2020). By expert agreement
and responsibility, the AI-driven cultural and moral codes can support an
artifcial wisdom (Jeste et al., 2020; McGrath & Gupta, 2018), counteracting
biases and a trustworthy Emotion AI technology in the context of AI ethics.

4.3 Interpretative metaphor and illustrative art project

According to the research in socio-cultural AI (Feher & Katona, 2021), cul-
ture studies are still underrepresented in the research of AI. Additionally, the
cultural landscape is regularly fuzzy to a comprehensive analysis (Marshall et
al., 2019). However, a key cultural function of art in relation to AI is clearly
defned (Feher & Katona, 2021; Ting-Toomey & Dorjee, 2018). Therefore,
an extension of theoretical consideration via a metaphorical and artistic
approach supports a deeper understanding of mediatised self in the context
of Emotion AI. This cultural approach also allows the revelation of the future
perspectives of the self in an AI context.
These types of concepts not only describe the impact of a technology
but also place a phenomenon in an easy-to-interpret framework. Since the
 Emotion artifcial intelligence 49
mediatised self is a very complex issue in the context of Emotion AI, it is
particularly relevant to present these alternative approaches.
Firstly, consider the metaphor called “water refection.” As mentioned pre-
viously, digital mirrors determine practices of the self (Rocamora, 2017). The
meeting of the self with AI-mediatised selves works as an interface producing
various types of emotional refections. When the codes and the surfaces of
mediatised technology are well suited for this meeting, the self faces a refec-
tion. This meeting carries several risks if the self underestimates or overes-
timates its refection, just as happened with Narcissus in Greek mythology
who fell in love with his own image (Jin & Ryu, 2018). Similarly, the self
can move away from its original reality if Emotion AI captivates digital
engagement. This also happened in the futuristic story “Her” from 2013,
where refexive technology facilitated a peculiar self-image and self-love. The
question is, where is the boundary between a refective AI-mediatisation and
immersion in the technology? Considering the previously mentioned devel-
opments of self-tracking (Neff & Nafus, 2016) or deep mediatisation (Hepp,
2020), the boundaries can disappear, resulting in blended self-AI.
Secondly, a future-oriented art project also gains relevance in the context
of Emotion AI and mediatised self. Monash University’s SensiLab presents
their project “Mirror Ritual,” where the role of AI technology is to reframe
the emotions of the self via media production (Rajcic & McCormack, 2020).
A face recognition system is placed behind a mirror glass to search a human
face in front of the mirror. When it fnds a face, a neural network analyses
the emotions on the face, and the system creates a personalised poem in the
process. The unique text of the poem appears in the mirror for the viewer,
“speaking” to them in a mediatised way. Thus, the viewer becomes a co-
author of an art project through a real-time emotional interface. Recognised
and refected emotions are represented as a narrative media form in this proj-
ect. Therefore, the mirroring effect is emphasised here as was outlined along
with the metaphor of “water refection.” As a result, the self is empowered by
emotion-driven technology to improve and produce an AI-augmented self.
In conclusion, the common concept of the metaphor and the art project is
the Recognized and Refected (2R) emotions mirroring human beings by AI.
This interactive and dynamic process describes the dynamics of AI-facilitated
and mediatised self-emotions.

5 Future perspectives of blended self-AI and AI-augmented self

The last research question is interested in the future perspective of the
mediatised-self in the context of Emotion AI. Considering the summarised
concepts with the abstract metaphor and art project together, the self is
expected to be “in” the technology or “with” the technology. In detail, the self
will be embedded and quantifed into the Emotion AI, or it will be expanded
with data sets and digital media representations. Formulating with simplifed
concepts, blended self-AI or AI-augmented self will be immersed in emotion
50 Katalin Feher
technology. The question is, which will be the more dominant as the feelings
of the self? In other words, is blended self-AI or AI-augmented self expected
as a result of Emotion AI? Considering the comprehensive 3D and 2R con-
cepts with the idea of QS and the mediated self, both scenarios are foreseen
in parallel and with a common dynamic as follows:

• Blended self-AI assumes the fow of data sets and interchangeable roles
of human and artifcial participants. The self immerses itself into the
recognition–refection dynamics by non-neutral algorithms (Klinger &
Svensson, 2018). The QS dissolves in the machine-human symbiosis
and outsources personal or sensitive decisions both cognitively and
emotionally.
• The concept of the AI-augmented self ignores the “machine” versus
“human” distinction in itself. The focus is on the self who can expand
and improve by Emotion AI services. Augmentation via mediatisation
also allows the self to differ from other selves with representation
forms or 2R due to cultural and moral codes. Hence this concept also
highlights the sensitive aspects such as privacy, social manipulation, or
digital well-being (Raisamo et al., 2019; Zimmer, 2018).

These two optional self outputs are proposed for consideration in future
research: frstly, an immersion into AI systems and secondly, an expansion
via technology, keeping variations.

6 Conclusion
The concepts of Emotion AI, quantifed-mediatised self and AI ethics meet in
this chapter (Coeckelbergh, 2020) when users are falling in love with their
own augmented image and blended offine–online existence via emotion rec-
ognition and refection.
The key concepts of dependent-disappearing-deep mediatisation (3D)
and emotion recognition–refection dynamics (2R) of interpretive metaphor
and an art project support the exploratory conceptualisation in an emerg-
ing feld. Considering the results, the parallel options of blended self-AI and
AI-augmented self are envisaged due to the diverse landscape of Emotion AI
developments and its considerations. As a contribution, the suggested con-
ceptualisation introduces the key terminology of the feld for consideration
as data-driven technology and AI ethics.
Considering the complexity of the feld, two research directions are
proposed. Firstly, social–cultural issues should be discussed (Feher and
Katona 2021), with a special focus on the impact of Emotion AI. As was
mentioned previously, the cultural aspects are still underrepresented in a
social–cultural context. Thus further investigations are required. Especially
if technological structures facilitate cultural dynamics on individual and
collective levels (Villanacci, 2017), resulting in human–computer extended
 Emotion artifcial intelligence 51
intelligence (Guszcza, 2019) and challenging AI ethics (Coeckelbergh,
2020). The mediatisation is expected to be deeper in this way, with two
outputs. The frst output presents supportive media for human beings, such as
empathic media (McStay, 2018) or microtargeting (Aliman et al., 2020). The
second output shows destructive media with misinformation technology (Sher-
man et al., 2020) or coded social–cultural biases. These felds require research
in regulation and ethics for a trustworthy and responsible AI (Feher & Zelen-
kauskaite, 2020) and, in line with this, for social and individual well-being.
On the other hand, a self-related research approach is also relevant. The
quantifed (Hepp, 2020) and represented (Feher, 2017) self should be studied
with blurring public and private experiences (Sanchez-Monedero & Dencik,
2020). As a result, privacy issues (Stark, 2016) are as fundamental for the
self as related emotional states from trust to fear.
Both research directions foreshadow a redefned meaning of life as medi-
atisation. Competition of AI media developments for infuenced behaviour or
guided decisions draws attention to how AI algorithms restructure the sense
of human beings by Emotion AI. The future question is a balance between
AI Ethics and Emotion AI for the well-being of the mediatised self.

Funding
Sincere gratitude to the Fulbright Research Grant for the opportunity to
work on this project. This paper was also supported by the Janos Bolyai
Research Scholarship of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences.

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4 Geomediatisation
A dialectical approach to close
social relationship dependence,
normalisation and adaptation
Helena Atteneder

Introduction
Social relationships have always been shaped by underlying power structures
and by questions of (spatial) proximity, timing and distance. When the frst
media (technologies) emerged, they played a mediating and contextualising
role for communication. It is therefore not surprising that discussions about
social relationships are conducted with a direct or indirect reference to a
spatial framework and often in their dependence on media (technologies).
Mobile-networked Internet technologies facilitate fundamental qualitative
changes in shaping of social relationships in the form of greater spatio-
temporal autonomy, a changed perception of space and time, and possible
intercultural encounters regarding beliefs, values and practices. This inde-
pendence points to the “overcoming” of space and time and a reorganisation
of existing social spaces. While new forms of interaction and relationship
maintenance are emerging through these functional social networks, such
theorisations have a certain blind spot regarding the irreducible materiality
of technology. Opposing the increasing independence of location, the integra-
tion of sensors that enable smartphones to be located (e.g. via GPS, RFID,
GSM, Bluetooth) is making space increasingly important again in terms of,
for example, location-based services. This technological change, which ini-
tially focuses on the physical-material space, gains a social impetus through
processes of (geo-)surveillance (Kitchin, 2015), spatial profling, sorting and
prediction (Murakami Wood, 2017) and through algorithm-driven, person-
alised services and products. For close social relationships, this results in
completely new contiguities between relationship management and loca-
tion tracking, which in turn affects intra-relationship negotiation processes.
Mancini et al. (2011: 2426), for example, describe “a dialectical interplay
between what location-tracking technology may afford and what family
contracts, in terms of their social roles and relations, may allow or require.”
Potential conficts between the argument of child safety (Gilmore, 2019;
Hasinoff, 2017), ethical considerations (Swanlund & Schuurman, 2018) or
“non-adoption” (Vasalou et al., 2012) also arise in particular from loca-
tion monitoring tools for children or older adults (Berridge & Wetle, 2020).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-6
 Geomediatisation 57
Location and performance data also play a major role in so-called “quanti-
fed sex tracking technologies,” which allow users to rate sexual encounters
and in turn compare their own ratings in the community (Kreitmair, 2018).
A more nuanced, but holistic understanding is provided by Vanden Abeele
et al. (2018). The authors describe how the interplay between social struc-
tures, changed processes and routines of an “anytime, anyplace connectiv-
ity” changes social space on a micro-level and society on a macro-level.
The core message is, referring to the concept of a “media logic” by Altheide
and Snow (1979), how a social logic, a network logic and a personal logic
shift responsibilities and distributions of power. In terms of social logic, this
means perpetual contact and permanent networking. At the level of personal
logic, a new form of personalisation of access, activities, objects and services
is taking place. The underlying network logic promises individual autonomy
and changes processes, routines and activities in social relationships so they
occur largely independent from space and time (Vanden Abeele et al., 2018).
These fndings refect a “mediatization of social life,” where media tech-
nologies “are perceived as indispensable for maintaining close relations with
family and friends” (Jansson, 2015: 397–398) but at the same time high-
light technological affordances and increasingly growing dependencies on
platforms and services (ibid.). However, the current media reality is twofold
spatial as the aforementioned studies have shown by way of example. In
addition to an apparent independence of time and space (=network logic)
that creates new places of communication, geospatial data are increasingly
indispensable for various industries, economic sectors and especially for the
basic functioning of apps and services (Wilken, 2018), which are then offered
in an increasingly personalised way according to the location (=personal
logic). So, we have two (seemingly) opposing developments: the potential
of transcendence of space and time through technology and the emergence
of services that are increasingly dependent on spatial coordinates. These
services continue to evolve and become individualised through interactions
with them far beyond the mere rendering of coordinates. Through func-
tional social networks of users, infuenced by algorithmic decision-making
processes, economic conditions, past behaviour, etc., people consciously and
unconsciously locate themselves in places that are produced and reproduced
through social interaction and relationships.
Referring to these processes, the term “geomedia” (Fast et al., 2018) was
established as a relational concept that captures “the fundamental role
of media in organizing and giving meaning to processes and activities in
space” and incorporates “both mediated representations of space/place and
the ‘logistical’ properties of media that ‘arrange people and property into
time and space’” (Fast et al., 2018: 5). The concept does justice to both the
increasing “spatialization of media” and the “mediatization of place” (Jans-
son & Falkheimer, 2006) and describes a new socio-technological regime
with far-reaching consequences for social, economic, cultural and political
developments (McQuire, 2016). Furthermore, the term “geomediatisation”
58 Helena Atteneder
comes from a critical–dialectical mediatisation perspective (Jansson, 2018)
focusing both on the increasing penetration of society with geomedia tech-
nologies, but above all on the perceived indispensabilities, naturalness and
normalisations of these socio-technological processes and the correspond-
ingly increasing adaptation of communicative practices (Fast et al., 2019;
Jansson, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2019). It can be assumed that processes of geo-
mediatisation with their ambiguous character of potentially abetting surveil-
lance and control while at the same time expanding one’s own freedom and
security not only reciprocally infuence individual localisation in spaces and
places, and in this sense, change the appropriation and perception of space/
place, but also have a fundamental infuence on the interpersonal mesh of
relationships.
While previous studies have considered different spatial aspects and con-
cepts in relation to close social relationships, there is a need for further
research on the specifc quality of geomediatised relationships. This contribu-
tion presents a theoretical approach that acknowledges the concept of geo-
mediatisation in its dialectic nature, discusses the effects and consequences
of geomediatisation on close social relations and explores special aspects of
geomediatised relationships in their dialectic nature.

The dialectics of geomediatisation

From theories of mediatisation to geomediatisation

Although much criticised, the concept of mediatisation can be understood
as a helpful concept to advance a more in-depth analysis of media’s role
in culture and society. Jansson’s (Jansson, 2013, 2018) critical–dialectical
perspective, which can be described as a “holistic, nonmedia-centric view
of mediatization,” is particularly suitable as a framework for analysing the
complex relations between space (re-)productions and media. Against this
background, the term geomediatisation refers to the changing relationship
between space, place and media and is marked by the indispensability of,
and growing reliance on, geomedia technologies in almost every area of
social life (Fast et al., 2018, 2019). In the following, I will explore the con-
cept of geomediatisation systematically by transferring some premises from
mediatisation theory and expanding them to include essential points of the
geo-component:
Media technologies integrate seamlessly into environments, literally “dis-
appear” and become an “infrastructure” whose presence only appears when
there are breaks or inconsistencies – in other words, when something does
not function smoothly. This has previously been described as an aspect of
life “in” (instead of “with”) media, where media technologies are virtually
described as a habitat or vital sustenance (“like water for fsh”) (Deuze,
2012). But there is another side to this: these described technological changes
are driven by and in turn permeated by geospatial data. The pervasive, but
 Geomediatisation 59
usually hidden, use of geospatial technologies has given rise to the post-GIS
era (F. Harvey, 2013) or to a fundamental shift towards “ubiquitous geodata
capture” (Wilken, 2018) where the (frequently hidden) integration of loca-
tion into services comes to the fore.
The increasing importance of geodata inevitably raises questions about a
temporal component: the question of “where” is always linked to a ques-
tion of “when.” As will be shown in the following sections of this chapter,
space and time can be seen as (two sides of) the same thing. Through ubiq-
uitous computing, cloud technology and extended network paradigms, that
is “anytime, anyplace connectivity” (Vanden Abeele et al., 2018), we are
furthermore experiencing an enormous acceleration. This means that this
increasingly important geospatial data, through this aspect of rapid accel-
eration, is facilitating a reordering of spatio-temporal aspects. Movement or
trend can be displayed and measured; the spatio-temporal analysis quality
opens up a new spectrum of predictive potential.
Media and technology in general are increasingly perceived as indispens-
able (Fast, 2018; Jansson, 2014, 2015) and as normalised parts of the envi-
ronment. The increasing naturalness and normalisation of the mechanisms
underlying both technology and society, or the perception of such tenden-
cies, is based on the ideological assumption of communication as a positive,
socially integrating force (Lievrouw, 1998) and on the guiding notion that
information and communication technologies are the basis for the devel-
opment of modern societies (ibid., 88). On the basis of these ideological
assumptions, technological development, progress and growth are discur-
sively constructed (Fast, 2018) and stylised as the desirable norm, whereas
non-use or the lack of access is constructed as a defciency (Selwyn, 2003).
Consequently, “geomediatization” culminates in a reorganisation of social
life “that takes place as geomedia technologies become increasingly indis-
pensable in [ever] more social spheres – from fnancing and trade, travels
and sports, work and transports, to family life and love – and as people
begin to adapt their actions and interactions accordingly” (Adams, 2017:
10; Fast et al., 2019: 91).
From Jansson’s (2017, 2018) “cultural materialist approach” with its crit-
ical–dialectical perspective on mediatisation, taking into account qualita-
tive changes in socio-material relations, we can extrapolate questions about
power relations (Jansson, 2018). Against this background, we can conclude
that a theory of geomediatisation must take into account the social, tech-
nological, economic and cultural aspects of geomedia technologies and that
the respective scope of action must be analysed in its dialectic form. Geo-
mediatisation therefore is not at all a “neutral” process but is described as
a “socio-technological molding force” (Fast et al., 2019: 91), as a social
regime in which human subjectivity, media and space/place are mutually
dependent (Fast et al., 2018). In the following section of this chapter, the
dialectic inherent in the processes of geomediatisation will be examined in
more detail.
60 Helena Atteneder
Dialectics as a concept to describe the current media reality
On the basis of theories of mediatisation, geomediatisation describes the per-
vasion and densifcation of and with geomedia technologies, their perceived
indispensability and dependence in a variety of everyday contexts, processes
of normalisation and increased naturalness and the mutual adaption of social
communication practices, social structures and space/place. In the following
paragraphs, I will defne the underlying dialectic as a concept to describe the
current (geo)media reality, or rather its underlying dialectics (plural).
There is a wealth of concepts and terminology to describe a relation between
(supposed) pairs of opposites that are characterised by varying degrees of
complexity (for a conceptual overview, see: Putnam et al., 2016). What is so
distinctive and particularly productive about the concept of dialectics is that
it does not focus on mutual exclusivity or interdependence but on bringing
the contradictions together and emphasising their processual nature. German
philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel describes dialectical thinking as
a rhythm of cognition and as a movement of thought. Thoughts, according
to him, would be fuid and moving and, following a certain rhythm, would
transcend themselves and turn into their opposite. In addition to this negating
aspect, which produces opposites, dialectical thinking also has an opposites-
reconciling side: the speculative (in German “das Spekulative”). The specula-
tive unites the opposites and abolishes them (Ostritsch, 2020: 17–19). This
process is summarised under the term “sublation” (in German “Aufhebung”).
The term has three meanings in German: frstly, to eliminate something; sec-
ondly, to preserve something; and thirdly, to place something in a higher state.
Hegel uses this play on words to describe how change happens. Karl Marx
later applied this concept under the term “negation of negation” to describe
societal change (Fuchs, 2021). Following Engels (1925), who developed these
approaches further, dialectics means focusing even more on the conditional
contradictions that must be seen as two sides of the same coin. This under-
standing allows us to overcome traditional dualisms and replace them with a
fuid notion of everything that lies in-between, of constant movement, change
and transformation that constitutes being human (Engels, 1925: 493–494).
The recognition of this constant of perpetual change (an apparent paradox
in itself) and the approach to a dialectical understanding, even if not always
explicitly so named, can be found in current research on digital phenomena
or on the constitution of (post-)modernity in an accumulation of terminology
that metaphorically uses the term “fuid” or “liquid” (Atteneder, 2018; Bau-
man & Haugaard, 2008). “Rather than being fxtures . . ., boundaries have
become fuid, feeting and unable to maintain their shape, form or function
over time” (Putnam et al., 2016: 74).
In this context, it is crucial to understand human capacities to live geome-
diatised relationships as a dialectic between space and place, body/feeling
and ratio, media context and media content, human and non-human, etc. as
a transcendental whole. Let me elaborate on this in detail.
 Geomediatisation 61
An important aspect of Engel’s dialectic is to describe how humans, on
the one hand, distance themselves from nature and try to control it via the
emphasis on natural sciences, a paradigm that has been strongly voiced
since the enlightenment, while these same humans have always been part
of nature. For the analysis of relationships, relationship skills and emotion,
this means that, for example, psychophysiological approaches to measur-
ing emotions would only be one side of the coin. These theories of emotion
focus on the assumption that emotions are fully expressed on a physical level
and are thus measurable by natural scientifc methods. According to such
approaches, physiologically measurable phenomena such as skin conductiv-
ity, pulse, breathing, muscle or brain activity are used as indicators of emo-
tions and also cognitive processes and their courses (Fahr & Hofer, 2013).
The body image underlying these approaches can be described as biologistic,
based on the assumption of a physical entity that can be fully captured by
sensors. Engels (1925: 498) criticises the classical natural scientifc paradigm
for excluding any form of chance in the process of human development,
decision-making and cognition. For this would lead to the false assumption
that people in their original form were independent of each other (and of
nature), that they were predictable in terms of actions, decisions and feel-
ings that could be reproduced in a classical stimulus–response scheme. This
absolute understanding of sociality, however, hinders an understanding of
the interconnected and context-dependent processes in close social relation-
ships. In terms of a dialectical understanding, I would therefore argue for
an understanding of research that conceptualises being human, technology
and nature as much more intertwined. Much could be gained by a non-dual,
gradually shifting understanding of relationships that acknowledges emo-
tions and affect, for example, as an essential part of the individual human
experience of social space (Thrift, 2008: 174).
The same applies to the part played by algorithms, whose function goes
beyond that of a scientifc–mathematical understanding. The abolition of
the human versus non-human dualism would grant the role of algorithmic
actors a certain agency (Rose, 2017; Greenhough, 2014; Whatmore, 2002).
The entire process of getting to know each other and the subsequent cul-
tivation of relationships is thus no longer determined only by conscious
human actions controlled by reason but also mutually reproduced by an
algorithmic logic. This logic is part of the social (re-)production and thus
inextricably linked to capitalist productive relations in our current social and
economic order, following the principles of generating proprietary surplus
value (Zuboff, 2019).
In summary, dialectics as a concept goes far beyond the description of pairs
of opposites but transcends dualities. Likewise, geomediatisation processes
can be characterised, for example, by acting as “liberating” and “trapping”
(Fast et al., 2019), as a state of “growing contradiction, ultimately boiling
down to the tension between autonomy and dependence” (Jansson, 2018:
7), as a “fuid” oscillating between productive elements and elements of
62 Helena Atteneder
oppression (Atteneder, 2018), and by promoting transparency and surveil-
lance (Elwood & Leszczynski, 2011).
The following section of this chapter will contextualise the outlined con-
cept of dialectics within geomediatisation research and apply this grid to
close social relations.

Advancing a theoretical model for the dialectics of

geomediatised relationships
Through the lens of the outlined geomediatisation concept, which cen-
tres around a spatial and media perspective, the aforementioned, society-
constructing dialectics need to be supplemented by two further perspectives:
a dialectic between spaces as physical–material “containers” and spaces
as relational social constructs, as well as a media perspective that spans a
further dialectic between media as infrastructure, as context, and media as
content, as representation.
The following concept is based on Lefebvre’s theory of space (Lefebvre,
1993), which describes different spatial dimensions as “First Space: Espace
perçu,” “Second Space: Espace conçu” and “Third Space: Espace vécu,” is
supplemented by a typology according to D. Harvey (2005), who distin-
guishes between absolute, relative and relational space and has also been
applied to communication and space in the pandemic, for example, by Fuchs
(2020).
It seems essential to me to apply Lefebvre’s triadic model in an interpreta-
tion (Rogers, 2002; Soja, 1990) that emphasises the strong link between the
three spatial dimensions. Or rather, the emphasis on the third space as the
“here and now” of lived existence and interaction between inhabitants and
users and their constructed spatial worlds (and not just any kind of mental
representation). This leads to the following consequences: perceived and con-
ceived spaces play a crucial role in these processes; they are at the same time
different from and part of the espace vécu. Or vice versa: the espace vécu
is distinct from and encompasses the other two spaces. Following dialecti-
cal thinking, the “frst space” would be refected reciprocally in the form of
opposites in the “second space.” “First” and “second” space would thus be
reversed into their opposites by the respective other and fnally be united
by “the speculative” in the third space. The process of “sublation” would
thus mean, according to a dialectical analysis, that certain qualities in the
opposites (frst and second space) would be eliminated, but at the same time,
aspects would be preserved and transferred to a higher stage of development
in the third space.
This processual perspective results in a complete dissolution of time and
space and thus demands a completely reconceptualised way of thinking
about space, epistemology, and therefore, the way scientifc knowledge is
generated! The third space cannot simply be seen as an “add-on” to the
frst and second space but becomes “more than” in the “both this and that”
 Geomediatisation 63
Table 4.1 “Matrix of geomediatised close social relationships”1

Material Space Representations Spaces of Representation

(Experienced of Space (Lived Space), Third Space:
Space); First Space: (Conceptualised Espace vécu
Espace perçu; Space); Second
Perceived Space Space: Espace conçu;
Conceived Space

Absolute Walls, bridges, Cadastral and Enclosures providing

space doors, buildings, administrative maps; either a sense of security or
cities, physical Euclidean geometry; confnement; sense of power
boundaries and placement and from ownership; fear of
barriers and media positionality; others “beyond the norm”;
infrastructure Representations of alienation versus creative
space and place in satisfaction; isolated
media (e.g. tourism individualism versus
destinations) social solidarities; loyalties
to place, class, identity,
etc.; relative deprivation;
injustice; lack of dignity;
anger versus contentment
Relative Circulation Non-Euclidean Humans as social actors
space and fows of geometries and acting in social roles;
(time) energy, water, topology; metaphors Convergence of different
air, commodities, of situated social roles, which are
people, information, knowledges of relative to certain media
money and capital; motion, mobility appropriation practices;
Speed, acceleration and displacement, Relationship as a relative
and movement acceleration; link (at a certain time)
Media infrastructure Symbols used and between human and non-
in its role as a meanings created by human actors;
connector (between humans Increased naturalness and
two points; e.g. normalisation of media
fbre optic cable at practices;
the bottom of the Anxiety about being late
Atlantic Ocean). and thrill of moving into
the unknown;
Relational Social relations Language as The relational
space (of humans in a social and societal (re-)production of close social
(time) physical locale, structure; relationships as convergence
bound to relational Metaphors of between negotiation
time-concept) internalisation of processes (by means of geo-
at a physical forces and powers; mediatised communicative
distance organised Internal relations; practices); Power geometries,
via geomedia Discursive sociality and social places;
technologies; construction of the Relationship as a process;
sounds, odours indispensability Visions, fantasies, desires,
and sensations of geomedia frustrations, emotions,
wafting on a breeze, technologies memories, dreams, empathy
electromagnetic with others and affects as
energy fows supra-individual “lines of
force” (Thrift, 2008: 175)

Source: Own illustration based on: Fuchs (2020), D. Harvey (2005) and Lefebvre (1993)
64 Helena Atteneder
perspective in its entirety. The wholeness of the frst-, second- and third space
is ultimately more than the sum of its parts.
As always, schematic visualisations harbour the danger of perpetuating
dualistic or categorical thinking. Nevertheless, the matrix is an attempt to
understand close social relations in their interplay between technology, media
and space in their dialectical nature and to focus less on opposing poles, but
rather on gradations and the spaces in-between. Using this model, I will now
offer two examples in which geomedia technologies have a direct impact on
a close social relationship. We will analytically “walk through” the felds of
the model line by line from left to right.

Example 1: tracking children on their way to school

Imagine a parent–child relationship where the child is tracked on the way
to school by a GPS tracking app. There might be physical boundaries and
obstacles on the way to school and the whole way to school could be mapped
on a city map. For the child, this journey to school as an “absolute” and
“lived” space could have different meanings, such as a sense of home, belong-
ing, routine or as a form of developing autonomy from the parents. In relative
space (time), we see the path as a movement from A to B. This movement on
this route can be displayed and tracked in real time on the parents’ digital
tracking app map, the symbols used attain their meaning through a tempo-
ral component. For example, parents can use the time factor to determine
whether the child is dawdling on the way to school or making a quick stop at
the bakery. It becomes obvious here that certain physical circumstances only
make sense in their relational context: for example, when the child walks past
his grandparents’ grave every day, discovers damage one day, photographs it
on his smartphone and shares it with his parents. It is only through relational
aspects that the gravestone becomes charged with meaning. These processes
are embedded in norms that are attributed to the parents’ role, for example.
Parents may see tracking as a necessity to fulfl their role as guardians of
their child’s safety. At the same time, the parenting role converges with that
of consumers of certain services for tracking children. In doing so, parents
control the corresponding data streams, consent to the use of the data by third
parties and thereby turn part of the parent–child relationship into a commer-
cialised practice. The child may perceive tracking through the app as normal,
increasingly see it as a natural part of the relationship with their own parents
and also adjust social relationships with schoolmates accordingly. Roughly
speaking, two scenarios are conceivable here: knowing that the parents can
see exactly where they are, the child may behave in accordance with expec-
tations and, for example, no longer meet up with schoolmates on the way
home. The other possibility is that the child rebels against the parents through
practices of disobedience and the tracking app becomes the arena of a power
struggle. Various disconnection strategies can be used, such as manipulating
the gadgets and not taking the sensor/smartphone to school.
 Geomediatisation 65
This results in spatio-temporal tensions for the relational aspects, the
relational space (time) that determines the quality of the parent–child rela-
tionship. Thus, a certain parenting style can have an impact on the mutual
.

relationship between technology and social space, as can the different

personalities of the people involved. According to the parents’ discursive
embeddedness (such as a safety discourse in the social environment or in
the media, which constructs geomedia technologies as an indispensable part
of basic technological equipment), certain ways of thinking and acting can
be transferred to the child and internalised (e.g. the belief that the way to
school is unsafe). Regarding the relational space (time) as lived space, all
of the aforementioned components ultimately merge and lead to the rela-
tional (re-)production of the parent–child relationship. In this way, a certain
power imbalance is also constantly renegotiated through geomediatised com-
municative practice. Emotions, affective aspects and memory briefy come
together in this feld and form dialectical “sublation.”

Example 2: maintaining an intimate relationship through geomedia

The second example brings us to an intimate couple relationship that is to
be maintained over a greater physical distance. Let’s assume, both partners
agree to use a partner tracking app to establish closeness in the absence of
physical proximity. To make the analysis of this example a little more com-
plex, let’s assume that one of the partners keeps looking for short-term sexual
experiences via Tinder, even though this was not explicitly agreed upon in the
relationship. In addition to the physical locations of the two partners, aspects
of the experienced absolute space can also be found in the feld of absolute
space as lived space, as, for example, certain loyalties to a space may have
led to the long-distance relationship. Or the lack of fnancial means to move
into a shared fat close to the workplace, that is, the conditions of a particu-
lar job that require becoming a weekend commuter. Referring to the relative
space (time) perspective, on the one hand, the media infrastructure plays a
crucial role in maintaining the relationship. For example, if the two partners
live in countries with different levels of infrastructure, this discrepancy or
a potential time difference can lead to friction. Accordingly, daily routines
and movements in the immediate environment will adapt to relative spatio-
temporal determinations. On the other hand, the respective forms of social
roles also play a part. Perhaps, both partners see it as a part of identity and a
life achievement to have a couple relationship and to maintain it in the longer
term. While both also fulfl other social roles that merge to form their iden-
tity, the Tinder-using partner at least still plays the role of “single.” Certain
practices and routines will become established in the relationship, such as
fxed joint “virtual” or “real” meetings, which will develop into normalised
media practices based on the technologies used. Since both partners can
always see where the other one is, they are both in the role of the observed
observer. Although automated surveillance technology follows an effciency
66 Helena Atteneder
logic, a (technological) dependency and thus a feeling of “being controlled”
and a cognitive “effort” would arise on both sides. The monitored person
would check every impulse to act for compliant behaviour, while the moni-
toring side could completely lose itself in the observing role. This also results
in a certain expectation of when the other person will be where.
The Tinder-using partner will also try to “camoufage” encounters with
others and, for example, obfuscate them as friction in relative space. It is
quite possible that these frictions will be raised as an issue. Thus, in the line
of relational space (time), we have the thematic focus in and about media
(and their potentially dysfunctional implications for the relationship). Gener-
ally speaking, we fnd a dual nature in these negotiation processes: a possible
discussion (or discourse) about media, media technology and media content
as well as a discussion in the media (in Deuz’s sense of life not with, but “in”
the media). These are two aspects that are characterised by their respective
simultaneity and conditionality and can also be described in terms of media
as content and media as container.
The relational space (time) in lived space, emotional aspects blend with
sensory aspects: the desire to touch and smell each other, for example ‒ that
is, for physical closeness in dialectical interplay with the need for less control
and a sense of freedom when the partner is only present in a medially medi-
ated way. The negotiation process for the right measure of closeness versus
distance, trust or mistrust becomes effective and plays out in geomediatised
relationships via spatial aspects.
In addition to tendencies for existing relationship patterns to be reinforced
through the use of geomedia technologies, for example, transferring the par-
ents’ fears to the children by technological surveillance, the nature and con-
tent of communication can also change completely. In a relationship that is
characterised by tracking and in which the other’s whereabouts are always
known, it is no longer important to tell where you have been and what
you have experienced there. Instead, the focus shifts to why one has devi-
ated from predefned paths (norms). The increasing infuence of geomedia
technologies shifts norms within relationships via the control and exercise
of proximity and distance and the perception of which aspects of one’s own
life are considered worth communicating in which situations. This refects,
on the one hand, a certain level of privilege, which on the other hand is
associated with the perception of an indispensability of geomedia technolo-
gies and thus entails certain limitations. This would mean, for example, that
the possibilities and fexibility to conduct a relationship (across space and
time) expand enormously, but at the same time dependencies on geomedia
technologies, predetermined usage practices, affordances, etc. form, which
restrict autonomy (Jansson, 2018). But there is more to this: the increas-
ing interweaving of media technologies with everyday processes of fulflling
information and communication needs, the need for social ties and recogni-
tion, oscillate between a second contrasting pair: orders of technology and
orders of recognition. “Technologies do not become indispensable in and by
 Geomediatisation 67
themselves, as an effect of intrinsic affordances, but when they enter into
social relationships that give them a certain meaning and place” (Jansson,
2018: 7).
Accordingly, the meaning, importance or specifcs of geomediatised pro-
cesses are directly subject to perpetual negotiation processes of more or less
powerful social interest groups. In terms of close social relationships, this
could refer not only to the everyday negotiation processes between parents
and children regarding the excessive use of specifc streaming platforms but
also to the questioning of larger social issues about the privileged status
of certain social groups (in terms of media consumption or, for example,
technology equipment), the specifcs of which are determined by the media
(technologies).

Conclusion
Overall, it must be assumed that the human need for social closeness, recog-
nition and resonance seems to be deeply rooted. I would argue that almost
all digital services, in one form or another, exploit these basic human needs
to increase the time spent on the respective platform and, in the Zuboffan
sense, to achieve the greatest possible production surplus of human behav-
ioural data by collecting, further analysing (“refning”) and selling large
amounts of data. The example of Tinder shows how, in analogy to Enge-
lian nature/society dialectic, attempts are made to control and transform
both space and time and to promote a separation between body and mind
in advanced production processes. The search for a partner and/or sexual
experiences is predetermined by algorithmic processes based on demographic
parameters, spatial distance and previous usage preferences. On the basis
of the pictures suggested by the app, users can decide whether they want to
get to know the person or not. The basic human need for intimacy and love
becomes a commodity as it is being transformed into a mechanical bodily
stimulus–response scheme that corresponds to the logic of commercial plat-
forms. The algorithmic processes promote an exclusion of chance in the
search for a partner, that is, an overemphasis on a rationalist basic principle.
On Tinder, for example, you don’t meet someone by chance because he/she
is in the same place. Rather, algorithmic pre-selection processes that decide
which suggestions to show. These pre-selection processes, in turn, are not so
much based on the goal of “fnding a partner for life,” but on a commercial
logic whose goal is to keep users on the platform as long as possible in order
to collect behavioural data. In addition, it is possible to decouple the search
radius of the suggestions from the smartphone’s GPS position by paying for a
premium account. This makes it possible to search for “matches” in another
city or within a larger radius, for example. However, the algorithm itself
remains non-transparent to the users, who cannot see on which parameters
the suggestions they receive are based. Ultimately, this lack of transparency
leads to a simulated feeling of random encounters.
68 Helena Atteneder
A new dialectic emerges here. On the one hand, especially in Western cul-
tures, there is the ideal (or ideology) of romantic love, which assumes that
there is “the one” who is in some sense predetermined and must be “found.”
And on the other hand, there is an increasing belief in algorithms or codes
and their increasing naturalness (=new nature) that excludes any form of
chance. This is accompanied by the expectation that relationships and suc-
cess in relationships are to be made measurable and predictable by, on the
one hand, reducing emotion to a physical dimension and determining it by
means of physically measurable parameters and, on the other hand, depart-
ing from the assumption that there are such things as reliable parameters that
would guarantee a “successful relationship.” In this respect, the ubiquitous
use of geospatial technologies can confict with and/or fundamentally change
existing cultural norms and belief systems.
Via the increasing commodifcation of relational networks and an algo-
rithmic bias that plays into this capitalist logic, geomediatised relationships
become a part of personal success and identity management. Within geo-
mediatisation, people can relate to each other without even being aware of
algorithmised data analysis as a non-human actor in this relationship. These
kinds of “automated relations,” as I would call them, can in turn infu-
ence (promote or hamper) social interactions. Consequently, geomediatised
practices of action are subjected to a certain (in the sense of commercially
exploitable) conformism that follows a logic of effciency and personal opti-
misation. Relationships and emotion become standardised, and experience
turns into ever new varieties of the eternally same. In this respect, geomedia
technologies in relationships can become both bridges between different cul-
tural norms and belief systems and at the same time foster the emergence of
cultural bubbles across space and time by being perceived as indispensable
and promoting tendencies towards conformism and normalisation.
Against this bleak picture, I would summarise that geomediatised rela-
tionships are characterised above all by the fact that they span both a
place–space dialectic and a media-as-content and media-as-context dialec-
tic. They have references to an absolute space, defne themselves through
relations (as a link between human, non-human actors and things) and,
at the same time, have a relational character that refers to the way such
close social relations are negotiated in their processual character (through
geomediatised communicative practice). To overcome the classical body–
soul dualism, I would argue for an understanding that sees feelings and
emotions not as “taking place” in a physical-material body (which would
again correspond to the body-as-container perspective), but as one form of
unstable individual experience. Accordingly, a person cannot be described
as a combination of body and mind (which would be equivalent to the
perspective of container and content), but rather as a permeable, relational
and fuid construct that is constantly reshaping itself from the convergence
of social negotiation processes (by means of geomediatised communicative
practices). The respective scope of action in and the simultaneous access
 Geomediatisation 69
to different spatial and communicative levels is determined by social com-
municative and cultural practices, social norms, inter- and intra-individual
negotiation processes and also physical conditions or, for example, the
actors’ socio-economic status.
Promoting a dialectical and relational understanding of geomediatised
relationships, the considerations outlined previously are processes charac-
terised by their changeability, unfnishedness and oscillation between oppos-
ing poles, abolished by the speculative. “Sublation” as a union of opposing
aspects that ultimately point beyond themselves is not a stable condition, but
merely a further transition. Therein lies the great opportunity for research to
break through traditional dualisms and not only recognise this fuid charac-
ter in its complexity but also aim for deeper insight.

Note
1 Neither Harvey nor Lefebvre differentiates between space and place in their
models. This has been adopted for the illustration.

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Copyright © 2022. Taylor & Francis Group. All rights reserved.

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Part II

Analysis
Challenges caused by mediation to
relationships
Copyright © 2022. Taylor & Francis Group. All rights reserved.

Mediatisation of Emotional Life, edited by Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech, and Mateusz Sobiech, Taylor & Francis Group, 2022.
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5 Love
Interpretative flm strategy
Jono Van Belle

Introduction
Ingmar Bergman’s Scener ur ett äktenskap (Bergman, 1973), henceforth
shortened as Scener, was broadcast as a television series in Sweden between
11 April 1973 and 20 May 1973 and released internationally as a feature
flm in 1974. In six episodes of approximately 50 minutes each, we witness
the disintegration of a ten-year marriage between Johan and Marianne.
The early 1970s, together with the 1960s, was a turbulent time in
terms of changing views on love and sexuality. Indeed, Scener had quite
an impact in Sweden. We know that viewer rates rose from approxi-
mately 26% after the third episode up to 40% of the Swedish popula-
tion by the time the last episode was broadcast. The audience consisted
of twice as many women as men (Steene, 2005: 409). The importance of
the series can also be observed in Swedish print media at the time, with
discussions on the series and divorce in general. For example, the popular
women’s magazine Svensk Damtidning ran articles in conjunction with
the series on personal stories like those in Scener, from different perspec-
tives. They even offered legal advice, educating housewives on their rights
in a divorce.
The series allegedly contributed to an increase in divorces. Offcial sta-
tistics show how divorce rates in Sweden rise from 16.021 in 1973, when
Scener was broadcasted, to 26.802 the year after (scb.se). More than encour-
aging divorce, the series most likely touched upon crucial changes in society
and conceptions of love and marriage.
Although mediatisation deals with long-term cultural transformations
in and through media (Hepp et al., 2015), Scener shows us how we can
pinpoint specifc media events that cause more radical changes than oth-
ers. These cultural transformations cannot be disconnected from individual,
emotional experiences of media. In this chapter, I consider the interactions
between discursively formulated affect and individual viewing experiences,
in particular for love narratives. After a discussion on affect and emotions
in flm studies, including their limitations, I address Staiger’s interpretative
strategies (1992, 2000) as a possibility for analysing how social, historical

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-8
76 Jono Van Belle
and cultural contexts facilitate certain emotional experiences. For applying
this on Scener, I combine archival, textual and historical audience research.

Affect and emotions in flm studies

Affect and emotions are undeniably part of our flm experience. Both concepts
are usually juxtaposed and mean different things, each time differing slightly
(Sharma & Tygstrup, 2015). At large, two strands in the philosophy of emo-
tions underlie this juxtaposition in flm studies: Silvan Tomkins versus Gilles
Deleuze and Baruch Spinoza. Firstly, American psychologist Silvan Tomkins’
work (Tomkins & Karon, 1962) has inspired the direction of seeing affect
as the primary motivation system in human beings, amplifying human drives
and lending them a sense of urgency. He identifes nine discrete human affects
that each have their own neurological profle and physical response.
The cognitive approach to emotions in flm studies may be positioned here.
Their conception of flmic emotions is functional: emotions are the result of
one’s interest in and appraisal of a given situation. We react appropriately
based on an assessment of what is happening, usually to recurring existential
human themes (see, e.g., Carroll, 2008).
The second infuential strand in the philosophy of emotions builds on
Spinoza’s theory of affect and Gilles Deleuze’s work (Gibbs, 2011). Here,
affect is considered as an intensity rather than specifc interior, corporeal, or
social situations. Spinoza’s affection in each state is an encounter between
one body and another, one affected and the other affecting (Shouse, 2005).
This view is promoted in the study of culture and affect by Brian Mas-
sumi’s infuential article, The Autonomy of Affect (1995). Contrary to the
flm-cognitive view, ideologies are crucial in the analysis of media and flm,
and their politics of emotions. A contemporary infuential author within
this tradition is Steven Shaviro. In Post-cinematic Affect (2010), he theorises
video works as “machines capable of generating affect” (12), with a clear
political focus in his approach to affective experiences. That political focus
can also be found in Sara Ahmed’s work (2004, 2010). For her, emotions are
the source of alignments with and against others, defning emotions as social
and cultural practices.
In a viewing situation, emotions and affect are part of a complex feedback
loop between depictions, individuals and audiences (Gibbs, 2011: 253). It
is therefore worth including all these elements in an analysis of emotional
experiences. Theoretically, I defne affect and emotions making use of the
cognitive view and Sara Ahmed’s view. In line with cognitivists, emotions
are the specifc feelings we experience and have access to. What cognitivists
share with Ahmed is that they both consider the individual’s appraisal that
results in specifc emotions. But where cognitivists tend to see appraisal as
a natural process, key to survival, Ahmed sees appraisal as an assessment of
an object in relation to social, contextual norms. What is important for my
argument is that affect circulates in society while emotions are properties
 Love 77
of the subject. The interaction between the two exists in that ascribing to
social norms may be expected to give specifc appraisals and interpretations
of objects or situations (Peterson, 2006). Unlike Ahmed, I will not evaluate
these norms as either positive or negative.

Love
This rough division between society and subject re-emerges in how love gen-
erally has been studied: from a sociological or a psychological point of view.
In this chapter, I explore its more social and cultural dimensions as those
defnitions underlie social norms in any given society. In this, I still implicitly
value the love experience as true to the individual.
Sociological approaches explore institutional and collective bases of per-
sonal thoughts, feelings and desires. For example, different authors agree
that the association between romantic love (or passion), marriage and per-
sonal fulflment in Western societies gradually developed throughout the
19th century as part of the romantic cult of individualism. Before that, mar-
riage was mainly an economic and social way of organising family posses-
sions and kinship (Giddens, 1992; Illouz, 2012; Kaufmann, 2011; Shumway,
2003).
Contemporary love encompasses two models that stand in a (confict-
ing) relation to each other. The model of marriage is irreconcilable with the
model of an intense and all-consuming passion, and it requires considerable
“cultural work” from the participants of a long-term relationship to manage
both (Sprecher & Metts, 1999).

Interpretative strategies and studying emotions

For viewing, Janet Staiger (1992, 2000) has been quintessential in reconcil-
ing subject, text and context. A key concept is interpretative strategies. These
strategies can be seen as the limited options that we, as audience, have to
interpret a given text. These limitations are a consequence of context. Mean-
ings are for Staiger structured around discourses in society, and as such, give
rise to potentially dominant as well as alternative interpretations. Subject
positions, in the form of social categories like gender or class, are essential
to estimating which discourses are available for interpretation.
Staiger’s method allows for the operationalisation of context, something
that otherwise often remains implicit in reception research (Mathieu et al.,
2015: 44). Through extensive archival research, this method helps to explore
potential interpretations through the debates that surrounded specifc view-
ers at one point in time. But, if we want to study actual interpretations, we
need to relate potential strategies to real audiences.
How do we unite interpretative strategies and emotional experiences?
Assuming that people have conscious access to what they feel, interviewing
provides us with insights into people’s assessments of their emotions. Here,
78 Jono Van Belle
it is the interpretation of these emotions that matters, not whether these
emotions are true or not.
When talking about past emotions, like memories in general, they are
evaluated in relation to norms and dominant ideologies within a society and
emotional behaviour is adapted accordingly. Learnt hierarchies of affect or
social norms play a role in assessing what emotions are suitable to express or
not in a given (interview) situation (Staiger, 2005: 89). Hence, when asking
participants to refect on their emotional experiences in the past, it is pre-
cisely the interaction between the emotions and the context that one studies.
This leaves space for individual and social differences across participants yet
pick up on general trends of interpretation as potentially cued by the text and
context. Having insight into context, text and emotional experiences requires
multiple methodologies, which is what I do in the following case study.

Case study: Ingmar Bergman’s Scener ur ett äktenskap

(Ingmar Bergman, 1973)
The series depicts the how the marriage between Johan and Marianne
evolves/dissolves and how both characters advance individually. Johan’s
identity changes from one of self-confdence to doubt and insecurity about
everything. Marianne, on the contrary, increasingly realises that she is only
what others expect her to be as a wife and a mother. Her growing self-
awareness is a typical theme for the 1970s and connects to the second wave
of feminism during that period (Kalin, 2003).
While the series had huge success and was Bergman’s breakthrough among
the wider Swedish audience (Steene, 1998), the audience likely came from
middle- and higher-class backgrounds. Reasons for believing this are, frstly,
that the middle class was most free to experiment with love and sexuality
over the course of the 20th century, as they were less bound by economic
restrictions. Secondly, Bergman was known to mainly portray problems and
situations from a bourgeois ideology point of view, which is also why he
was criticised in the 1960s (Bergom-Larsson, 1978; Widerberg, 1962). Like
emancipation in general, people with low education and/or economic means
likely had little opportunity to divorce. Also, my sample consists mostly of
higher- and middle-class people. Therefore, it should be kept in mind that
the impact of Scener discussed here is overestimated in comparison to the
general Swedish population.

Turbulent times
The context of the series’ release, the 1970s, is a turbulent time for ideas on
love and sexuality. However, already in the 17th century, we can see how –
together with industrialisation and the rise of capitalism – marriage (a
term in which I include all forms of long-term commitment relationships)
was increasingly seen as a source for realising personal happiness and an
 Love 79
emotional, personal commitment (Kaufmann, 2011: 89; Shumway, 2003:
12). We can distinguish three stages of how men and women related to one
another as a couple as society evolved from pre-industrial to modern times.
Furthermore, the meaning of marriage and love changed both from a social
perspective and from the point of implications for the individual. At frst,
neither men nor women had individual possibilities. The family was an eco-
nomic unit and marriage partners were chosen accordingly. One’s sense of
self was closely related to social surrounding, such as extended family and
religious structures. As the extended family began eroding, men increasingly
started organising their own lives while the family remained intact purely
due to the (psychological and practical) confnement of women to the private
sphere. Only at this point – in symbiosis with the industrial revolution – did
marrying for love start to emerge. From around the 1960s, both men and
women had increasing opportunities to make a life of their own (Beck &
Beck-Gernsheim, 1995: 76).
At this time, love became the determining factor in one’s choice to marry
in the West. The individual’s freedom to choose his/her own life became the
general imperative to which all – both men and women – must conform.
Society shapes demands and expectations, and it can be experienced as a
personal failure when one is unable to meet them (Ben-Zeʼev & Goussin-
sky, 2008: 41). Paradoxically, as marriage became more a choice, the more
pressure came from personal expectations (Shumway, 2003: 21–22). That is
what individualisation implies: every individual governs his/her own choices
so when there is a problem, it relates to the individual’s choice. As will be
shown, the inability to deal with tensions between the social and individual
dimension of love can be seen as the central theme of Scener and our inter-
viewees’ struggles.
The way society predominantly defnes love has repercussions for its
depictions and interpretations. Dominant social norms serve as the back-
drop for aligning or deviating stances to love as represented in culture and
media (Shumway, 2003: 21–22). During the 20th century, audiovisual media
have been key in the larger shifts in intimacy and romantic love in the west
(Pava Vélez, 2022).

Depictions of love
That love is often present or even central in flm seems almost too trivial
to state. I argue that classical narration with linear progression tends to
favour the representation of the love ideal as it developed over the last 100
years. As the goal of the character needs to be clear (Bordwell et al., 2015:
23), love is usually simplifed into a knowable and straightforward feeling
without doubts or contradictions, much in contrast to reality. The linear
progression of the narrative facilitates the structuring of the – in reality
ungraspable – process of falling in love in concrete steps. It is inherent to the
idea of true love to be strong and resistant to any obstacle, which is exactly
80 Jono Van Belle
what classical narration does. A road flled with obstacles is the basis of any
classical narrative.
The use of close-ups underscores love at frst sight, as if the portrayal of
mere looks and eye-contact can make it emotionally clear to an audience that
two characters are attracted to each other (Illouz, 2012: 210). Cinema as an
audiovisual medium is far more suited to conveying looks than any other
medium. Hence, it is ideal for presenting a love situation.
A further imperative in classical narration is closure – not necessarily
meaning a happy ending. The aim is to give the audience a sense of closure,
relief and relative tranquillity (Plantinga, 2009: 91–102). The wedding is for
classical narration the ideal signifer of the duration of love in time, provid-
ing it with the closure it needs. In reality, weddings rarely symbolise this and
often entail a practical approach to institutionalising love with planning
long before the actual event takes place (Wilding, 2003). The fact that wed-
dings stand for durability stems from reality, in that it is shaped as an ideal
through its simplifed use in classical flms on love. There is a circularity at
work where both ideas of marriage infuence each other in culture.
Two important tensions arise where reality seems to stand in stark con-
trast to how love is represented. Firstly, there is a tension between passion
and marriage: an everlasting passion is unattainable in a long-term relation-
ship. In the flmic portrayal of love, there is no such tension. Hollywood
flms build on earlier traditions of romance novels where only what happens
before marriage matters (Kaufmann, 2011: 94–95).
A second tension in representation occurs with the rapid emergence of
women liberation movements from the 19th century onwards. The equal-
ity of the sexes is rarely portrayed within passionate love stories in flms
(Kaufmann, 2011: 94–95) nor in the happiness of marriage that society
promotes (Ahmed, 2010).
In the following analysis, I will explore Scener in how it deviates – or not –
from love ideals in particular and society in general at the time of its release.

Methodology
For understanding of the context of reception as well as individual emo-
tional experiences, I used three methodologies: archival research, textual
analysis of the series and audience interviews. I shortly elaborate on all three
approaches.

Archive
Firstly, I investigated context-activated discourses on Bergman and his
flms through archival research, in line with Janet Staiger’s (2000) preferred
methodology. The goal was to fnd which discourses were dominant during
a given period and how these might have informed interpretations of the
audience. I chose the daily mainstream press, as these have a wide reach in
 Love 81
society and produce many articles, a combination that guarantees enough
repetition as to reconstruct dominant patterns and discourses. Concerning
the newspapers, I simply chose those that had the largest reach in Sweden,
mixing up-market and tabloid newspapers: Expressen, Dagens Nyheter,
Svenska Dagbladet and Aftonbladet, for the period 1944–1983 (Bergman’s
most active years as a flm-maker) in the digitalised press archive of Kungliga
Biblioteket in Stockholm, Sweden.

Text
Staiger claims that the text is important in that it provides “sense-data”
(Staiger, 1992: 48). To strengthen the triangulation, I focus on two aspects
of the text: narrative progression and characters. Next, I explore which emo-
tions, but also which deeper social meanings, these aspects relate to. For
my specifc case, I examine love, and to a lesser extent, marriage as love’s
institutionalised form. I textually explore potential meanings and feelings to
then triangulate with the interviews, both strengthening the textual analysis
and contextualising my fndings.

Historical audiences
I explore cinema and flm memories through 20 in-depth interviews con-
ducted in Sweden. Since I needed those audiences who lived through changing
conceptions of love in the 1960s–1970s, the condition was that participants
were born before 1960 and needed to have seen at least one Bergman flm
in the cinema at the time of release. People were recruited mainly based on
availability. In the second instance, additional participants were gathered via
the snowball method (Goodman, 1961).
These semi-structured in-depth interviews were conducted face to face dur-
ing 2015 and 2016, in people’s own homes or at a location of their choice.
I asked questions related to the series but also concerning the respondents’
ideas on love and sexuality in general. A drop-off was taken at the start of
each interview (age, sex, social background, education, place of upbringing,
cultural habits, as well as which Bergman-flms they had seen, and which
were their favourites).
Participants were made anonymous and categorised according to age,
sex, political orientation and class background. The latter was constructed
through where they grew up, their own and their parents’ level of education,
profession and self-identifcation. Even though statistical representativeness
was not the objective of this study, I still aimed for as much variation as
possible within these four parameters to account for a variety of experi-
ences. Most participants had a middle- or upper-class background. This
bias is probably due to self-selection, as these class backgrounds appear to
“use” Bergman more for displaying their own cultural development, and if
anything, they are self-confdent enough to be interviewed about it. Most
82 Jono Van Belle
participants were women (13/20) born in the 1940s. A possible explanation
for this imbalance is that the persona of Ingmar Bergman in Sweden was
highly sexualised or celebritised, generally appealing more to women. After
the interviews were transcribed, I analysed the interviews bottom-up, using
a grounded theory approach (Glaser & Strauss, 2006). For love in particu-
lar, the following topics emerged: changing society and emancipation for
women; gender, class and generational differences; ideas on marriage; def-
nitions and meaning of love (including monogamy); the difference between
infatuation and love; and the difference between love and lust.

Viewing Scener with love

My interviews show clear signs of authorship and Bergman’s persona as an
infuential strategy for interpretation, which I have discussed elsewhere (Van
Belle, 2019). Here, I will only focus on how interpretations of the depicted
love relationship are potentially based on ideas of love that have a social
and cultural basis.
Most important to my analysis of Scener are the competing cultural frames
of the ideal of romantic love versus the institutional organisation of a long-
term relationship or marriage. Participants experience and manage these
frames personally as well as apply them to the series for interpreting. Firstly,
I will discuss love and sexuality in the text. Secondly, I discuss how the par-
ticipants have used these frames for interpreting their emotional experiences.

Framing the characters

Common to Bergman’s work is an extensive use of close-ups, most often
when the viewer gains psychological insight into a character through lines
of dialogue, monologue, or in discussions between characters. In the narra-
tive, two equally important protagonists seem to have opposed goals at the
outset, but they come together in the end. Different scenes seem to alternate
focus on either Marianne or Johan. This is supported by a subtle play of
reaction shots where one is more closely framed than the other, depending on
the focus of the scene. The alternating sympathy is especially present in the
television series and explains some of its far-reaching success for both men
and women. This potential attraction for all kinds of viewers is strengthened
through how both characters behave equally morally and immorally.
Camera framing reveals more about the evolution of the couple in Scener.
In the beginning, they are often framed together, and it feels almost claus-
trophobic. More and more, as the flm unfolds, they appear in separate
and wider-angle shots, only to be reunited within one shot again in the last
episode, upon reconciliation of Johan and Marianne. In the most extreme
example, the camera cuts to a long shot right before they start fghting over
the divorce. The camera strongly reinforces and symbolises the mental dis-
tance between the main characters.
 Love 83
The framing differs interiorially versus exteriorially. The rare exterior
shots have a more liberating feel to them with the use of bird view camera
angles and extreme wide shots. An example is when the couple drives to
work in the second episode, implying that when both are at work doing
their own thing, they are “freer,” which stands in opposition to being locked
inside in their house and marriage. The use of framing echoes the imperative
of freedom of choice for the individual versus its social limitations.

Liberation
Both characters go through opposite personal evolutions. These evolutions
resonate with changes in society like the sexual and women’s liberation.
Where Johan seems to have a clearly defned identity in the very frst scene,
Marianne can barely describe herself outside of her marriage to Johan and
in relation to her children. In the third episode, when Johan confesses his
infdelity to Marianne, these identities reach an extreme. Marianne is making
sandwiches for Johan while he is talking about his unfaithfulness. Marianne
takes the blame while Johan takes up the victim role. As Johan is planning
to leave for Paris for a year the morning after, Marianne proposes to pick
up his favourite suit from the dry cleaner. She shows compassion when he
states that he cannot take their restrictive life any longer. While she increas-
ingly becomes aware of her own socialisation as a woman, she still performs
her mothering role. It is only near the end of the series that she seems to
have gained distance from that role, accentuated by low angle shots of her,
bestowing more power on her through the cinematography.
At this point in the series, the roles have reversed, and it is Johan who
proposes to go out for dinner, while all dinner-related dialogue and action
before was initiated by Marianne. Johan’s identity becomes unstable from
the fourth episode on and particularly in the ffth. As his career goes down-
hill, he becomes insecure and “wants to come home” to the family that gave
him a secure surrounding, materially but also in terms of (gender) identity.
Implicitly, Johan’s coming home means that Marianne needs to revert to
her previous, strongly gendered role of supporting Johan, which she is not
prepared to do anymore. Gender roles and increased awareness of these roles
are crucial to how the story develops. When Marianne thereupon rejects him,
Johan becomes aggressive, and they fght. This violent scene is vital in the
build-up towards the end. Even though couples hate each other throughout
Bergman’s oeuvre, it is rare to see physical violence. It is the absolute lowest
of lows that are shown here, which is meaningful as it is the frst time they
openly show their emotions, giving force to the reconciliation that happens
in the next episode (Kalin, 2003). It is only when there are no expectations
left that a new type of love can be established.
In the last episode of the series, their initial identities have reversed: Johan
does not know who he is while Marianne is satisfed with her identity. The
sexual liberation that she boasts represents her liberation in a wider sense.
84 Jono Van Belle
This relates to the evolution towards the autonomy of sex, linked to Mari-
anne’s liberation as a woman. The evolution of both characters seems to be
a measure of their sense of identity and the extent to which they can feel
successful in (any kind of) love.

Love in Scener
Two related components constitute what love means in Scener: the material and
the everyday. Both can be seen as ways of dealing with contradictory frames for
organising the love ideal. The fact that Johan and Marianne got together for
practical reasons and only later fell in love is valuable to the story. It is exactly
“the practical” consideration as a reason for (maintaining) marriage that Scener
seems to resist from the very beginning. When Johan and Marianne speak about
separation after Johan’s confession, they mainly speak about fnancial issues.
Through the dialogue we learn that Johan gives up the material for the emo-
tional, as if both oppose each other. This idea relates to the described tension
between passion and marriage as institutionalised love. This tension persists
throughout the series: in the ambiguous end scene, they can only be “happy” and
emotionally close when all the practical, the everyday and the material is gone.
The second, related component of love in Scener is the everyday. Through-
out the series, the perfect “everyday” is used in a magnifcent way as it high-
lights the banality of their marriage. Ironically, it is this habit that Johan
longs for when wanting to return home later on.

Audience responses
Many participants indicated that the series was recognisable. Often, the
series was evaluated in relation to the reality the participants live in, either
their own or their parents’ relationship. The framework of the love ideal and
its conficts between passion and marriage facilitate a certain interpretation.
The potential experience of love and its ambiguities is emotional for indi-
vidual viewers but is connected to the social norms of love.
Firstly, I explore what images the participants have constructed in relation
to these social norms. Next, in relation to the series, we will see that only
those few who had deviant love images remember subversive aspects of the
series. Ideal images of love that are available in society at the time further
play a role in viewing in that they help shape desires for where the characters
may end up (“happy” or perhaps “together again”). The framework of the
love ideal and its conficts between passion and marriage facilitates a certain
interpretation.

Sexual revolution
The sexual revolution recurs in individual accounts. One woman (b. 1946)
considers her life to be a personal revolution, where her frst marriage took her
 Love 85
out of her family home to a different city and into a new life. The best thing
she ever did was to divorce from her frst husband and to “live like men live”:

Interviewer: that you lived on your own terms, was that something you
as a woman fought with? That you were a woman who lived
like that? Or was it . . .
Participant: That’s what I thought, exactly that, now I will live like men
live. Now I will have my different male acquaintances and
I decide on my life within my four walls, my home. That’s
where they enter and where I decide who can enter and who
cannot.
Interviewer: That sounds fantastic
Participant: I succeeded in that . . . but you know, it was a bit like that
after my frst divorce, it was a bit this. . . . I needed to
actualise myself, I needed to live alone, I needed my company,
to do like I wanted to and ehhhmmm if there was anyone,
I did not want to live together with anyone, I just had these
different men that I met every now and then, as I wanted
it myself. Multiple of them proposed, and then I just thought
“now I have to run” [LAUGHS] “now I have to run!”
because I absolutely did not want to live with anybody else.

We see Marianne in Scener go through a similar evolution. Sexuality is defned

in gendered terms, where men were or are freer than women. Many women
take up a position in relation to the liberated woman ideal that is represented
by Marianne by the end of the series. In this sense, the changing view on love
in society clearly recurs in the refections from my participants on love. Many
participants recognised that things changed and were different for them in
comparison to their parents. Many women in particular told me about their
emancipation, not necessarily individually but rather in terms of possibilities.
Some female participants recall the opening of the frst day-care and how revo-
lutionary that was. It became an “ugly” thing to be a housewife. Different
female participants stated it was self-evident women would study and earn their
own money. Different women succeed, to varying degrees, in including their
partners in household chores. Some feel the need to justify why they did not
have an equal share in their marriage, illustrating the norm of “having” equal-
ity at home (even though reality probably looked different for most women).
It also confrms that not being able to conform to this ideal is experienced as a
personal failure as it is a confict that arises in relation to societal norms. The
justifcation points to an alignment with morals that circulate within society.

Love
In talking about love with my participants, two tropes return: love is beyond
description, and it produces predetermined feelings. Love is commonly
86 Jono Van Belle
perceived as a unique experience, yet interpretations and expressions of love
seem to be very much standardised, such as the tendency to reduce love to
biology or that love is beyond our control (Johnson, 2005: 28–33). Return-
ing characteristics are “to give yourself,”“compromise,”“unity and reciproc-
ity” (mainly women), “compassion,” and “accept the other one as he or she
is.” Some (mainly men) defne love in individualistic terms, for example, “to
feel good about oneself.” Most participants see infatuation – which cannot be
controlled – as a frst stage, often the precondition for love, after which love
settles down and becomes more something that needs to be managed and
needs to grow, echoing the previously discussed view on love as competing
cultural frames. Most participants claim they became more “realistic” as they
grew older, implying less self-sacrifcing and less emotionally intense relation-
ships. The following quotes refect the past or present relationship where the
past version is used interchangeably with the present version of the self. At
the same time, we see a struggle with the societal love ideal of combining
passion with everyday love. We see a strong link to what is represented in
Scener and what I have defned as the “everyday” conception of love.

Love is something that we should have in our everyday life, when you
live with someone else, right? It’s again about what I said earlier, much
trust and confdence, and that two people can live together, have a dia-
logue, talk to each other. And then this passion, passionate love that I
talk about, one should have it sometimes, but you cannot live with it
[LAUGHS] that just brings problems.
– female, b. 1946

The change in conceptions of love for my participants lies mainly in increased

opportunities and choices for women: in terms of who they were with or
not and in terms of love and sexual encounters. For the organisation of love
relationships, almost all participants relied on the institutionalised and het-
eronormative idea of marriage as the dominant social norm. It is precisely
this practical, material and socially ideal form of love that is under scrutiny
in Scener. That many people expressed perceiving the representations as
“realistic” confrms this. The emotional force of the series can be seen in the
elicitation of emotion in relation to social, moral and ideological norms on
love. The series made people refect on their own situations and life, and for
some, it even gave new perspectives.

Participant: I was pregnant at the time. There was much that happened
during that pregnancy and in our relationship. So, I started
wondering right then in 1973–1974, will this last? Will our
marriage last? But that had little to do with Scener. Or per-
haps I cannot say it so straightforward like that, maybe it
had an additional infuence.
Interviewer: Did you watch it with your husband?
 Love 87
Participant: Yes
Interviewer: Did you talk about it?
Participant: We already had said everything there was to say by then . . .
the things that happened . . . because things happened. 1973,
very serious things and before I gave birth and so on. So that
ehhhh for me that was a crisis year. That’s how I remember
it. I cannot say it was related to Scener, but it was generally
that everyone started talking about it back then, how is it
really, how do we have it?
– female, b. 1945

As the quote illustrates, most people evaluate the series from the perspective
of a dominant love ideal that corresponds to their own striving in love and
life. Another confrmation of this, and against my expectations of the sixties
generation, is that nearly all participants considered the presence of love to
be necessary for having sex.

Participant: Honestly . . . when you . . . now I am a product of the six-

ties but I am not a product of that time when you can have
sex as . . . casually . . . no, sex is something very serious. It
is precious.
Interviewer: Do you fnd love to be a precondition for sex?
Participant: Yes, I fnd that because it is so revealing
– female, b. 1945

Interviewer: Is there a difference between sex with and without love?

Participant: Yes, I think so.
Interviewer: Is there a hierarchy?
Participant: Yes, a desirable hierarchy [LAUGHS] I fnd that. It should
be a hierarchy.
– female, b. 1941

The following female participant (b. 1939) is an exception. Remarkably,

with her deviant ideas from social norms of love and sex, she remembers
different aspects of the series, indicating the link between society, norms and
emotional interpretations:

Interviewer: Is love related to sex and lust?

Participant: No, I don’t think so. Both can exist without the other. Sex
with love is an expression of something deeper, but sex can
be united with friendship too. That’s typical of the 1960s.
That didn’t exist earlier. . . .
Interviewer: Do you fnd the representation of love and relationships in
Scener was innovative, or did it ft into everything else that
was broadcast at the time?
88 Jono Van Belle
Participant: It stood out. If that would have been like any other television
series, the streets wouldn’t have been empty at the time of
broadcast. There was a brutal openness and brutal revela-
tions, and two people that really dared to talk to one another
in the end. And that is why they came back to each other,
because they succeeded to unravel what they liked and didn’t
like. They had lived out all their aggressions very openly
towards each other, and then there is only the essence left.
And that was exactly how I had it with my ex-husband and
so I saw it as a confrmation, yes, one can have it like that,
and it doesn’t have to be wrong.

This specifc memory is primarily affective as she can relate the scene to
her own life. Arguably, the affective dimension in combination with an
alternative view on love is precisely the reason why hers and not anyone
else’s memory of the deviating (from the social norm of love) ending exists
today. This illustrates the interpretation of affect as I laid out the concept
earlier: an interaction between discursive affect in terms of love as a social
norm and the individual emotional experience of what she saw in relation
to that norm.

Conclusion
Through interviews, we can explore the emotions that the viewer has con-
scious access to and interprets. The contextual setting is seen as an enrich-
ment to the interpretative affect, as it gives insight into how feelings are
evaluated, both then and now, and what meaning this affect has for the
interviewee. It also gives insight into a wider cultural tendency to conceive of
specifc affects or emotions as more valuable than others, pointing towards
contextual infuences. The limitations of much textual research are overcome
as we no longer base affect on assumptions of discourse or emotion nor
construct a universal spectator.
Many participants recognise themselves in the love of Marianne and Johan
as it includes the everyday struggles and conficts this ideal encompasses.
Two types of responses can be seen: the emotional and the social. The social
encompasses how people communicate about a flm and how that infuences
their experience (e.g. discussing love and their own situations). These evalu-
ations circulate (discursively) within society and eventually contribute to
canonisation and future reception in the form of an available interpretation.
The emotional response relates to both discourse and one’s own situation,
and it is entangled with the text and its representations. How people speak
about their interpretations confrms the persistence of normatively evaluat-
ing the series in terms of how one’s own or one’s parents’ relationship should
be. Managing cultural frames such as the passion versus marriage ideal is
part of this.
 Love 89
In conclusion, assumptions on emotional and interpretative elicitations by
the text are in this chapter substantiated and framed within specifc historical,
cultural and social circumstances. By investigating social norms of love, our
understanding of audience interpretations and emotional experiences can be
deepened in a new way. The chapter illustrates how understanding viewing
as merely contextual or individual are reductive ways of approaching our
interaction with media. Ultimately, the theoretical discussion presented here
offers opportunities to forego dualist approaches to affect, emotions and
(historical) reception in favour of a more comprehensive understanding of
that interpretative emotional experience as a whole.

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6 Intimacy
Different dimensions of mediated
relational lives
Jamie Foster Campbell

Communication technologies play a signifcant role in growing the seeds of

intimacy in close relationships, whether with a romantic interest, friend, or
family member. The rituals of writing letters or talking to a loved one on the
phone make us feel connected to them when we hear their voice or imagine
their prose. As a society, we continually navigate our interpersonal relation-
ships through a mediated landscape that entangles the different dimensions
of relational practices today and in years past. For instance, the culture of
communication and ritual practices we, as a collective, engage in are fused
with media.
This paper aims to explore the mediatisation of intimacy and how we
borrow practices of past times. But also reimagine them for our contempo-
rary culture based on the available technologies and our society’s shifting
circumstances (e.g. times of war, geographic separation, COVID-19). This
chapter seeks to use data to tell a story about how the practice of intimacy,
along with building and maintaining our close relationships, is consistently
mediated. My informants’ accounts revealed a narrative about their habitual
practices with mobile communication technologies and expectations for rela-
tional communication. Throughout this chapter, I also discuss the historical
layers of our communication technologies and the culture of communication
that frames these relational moments. I argue that the mediatisation of inti-
macy refects a reverberation of past rituals that are folded into our contem-
porary landscape. Ultimately, this study presents a qualitative examination
of how technology amplifes the different dimensions of intimacy and shapes
our emotional and relational lives.

Mobility, technology and social life

With each new decade, different interactive media come into existence as a
marvel and eventually fade into the background as they covertly melt into
our everyday lives, the environments we live in and the relationships we cre-
ate. Technology transforms our intimate relationships. de Souza e Silva and
Frith (2012) remind us that when we think about our use of media today,
we must remember that “there have never been unmediated interactions
DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-9
92 Jamie Foster Campbell
with others or with the spaces that surround us” (p. 1). Technology continu-
ously adapts to match the on-the-go lifestyle of each turning century: from
the use of papyrus to send messages across the land, to handwritten letters
sent through the mail, to Morse code that travelled through transatlantic
telegraph cables, to hearing your loved one’s voice over the phone, to seeing
their face on a mobile screen (Farman, 2016). Our discussion of mobility and
technology must start by recognising that “mobile” refers to more than the
smartphone sitting nearby. Technology, as an architecture, is woven into our
relationships and is forever a part of our communication culture (Farman,
2016).
Mobile technologies promote different types of social interactions with
people, which creates new kinds of “spaces flled with meaning and socia-
bility” (de Souza e Silva & Frith, 2012: 44). In other words, the spread of
mobile technology impacts the way people organise their daily life, commu-
nicate with others and build intimacy. The media ingrained into our interac-
tions causes us to reimagine what a shared experience entails as we move
and act in multiple spaces (Farman, 2012); and as we develop and maintain
our close relationships in this place of mobility.
Specifcally, mobile technologies are sites of communication, and dyads
communicate through mediated landscapes to share private messages, coor-
dinate plans and enact relational talk (Duran et al., 2011). How we connect
with relational others involves many layers of media. We carry our networks
with us (Licoppe, 2004) and often maintain most of our close bonds through
a mediated presence. Presence is achieved in communication when two indi-
viduals imagine the physical and emotional existence of the other (Milne,
2010). In this case, technologies of presence enable individuals to exchange
messages and experience intimacy that goes beyond in-person verbal and
nonverbal communication (Milne, 2010).
Mobile communication is also used for instrumental coordination and
the development of social cohesion (e.g. exchanging jokes, firting, gossip,
confict management and everyday talk; Ling, 2016). In this sense, mobile
technologies come with an embedded opportunity for interpersonal connec-
tion. In other words, they create a space for us to continually be available
to others by freeing us from contextual constraints historically associated
with time and space (Licoppe, 2004; Ling, 2016). Many of our mobile media
across history (e.g. handwritten letters, the telegraph, text messages) have
provided a route for our messages to travel without needing to be in the same
place as our conversational partner.
Mobile technologies have surpassed their predecessors as a form of inti-
mate media. Although mobile phones have evolved signifcantly in their
design, infrastructure and abilities, Farman (2012) acknowledges that the
most noticeable way they’ve changed is based on their use. He says, “the
trend of looking at the phone (as a computing or texting device) instead
of talking into the phone (as a voice communication tool) hit its nexus in
2009” (Farman, 2012: 17). As a result, our expectations and social practices
 Intimacy 93
surrounding media, along with our experiences of communication with our
close ties, have transformed (Baym, 2015; Farman, 2012). Overall, our con-
temporary technologies have altered our experiences of connection in our
interpersonal relationships (Sirisena, 2012).
Previous research confrms that our prevalent mobile technologies affect
every aspect – directly and indirectly – of our personal and professional lives
(Fortunati, 2002; Ling, 2016). Individuals fold media into their relationships
as a way to develop their connection (i.e. increase self-disclosure; Duran et
al., 2011) and keep it going (i.e. relational maintenance through everyday
talk; Coyne et al., 2011). For instance, Baym (2015) found that individuals
“used e-mail to plug the gaps in the time they couldn’t spend with their clos-
est” confdants (p. 144). However, Coyne and colleagues (2011) discovered
that individuals use their mobile phones to stay in contact with their roman-
tic partner multiple times a day and most frequently use text messages to
send expressions of affection.
Next, I will discuss how the rituals surrounding mobile media shape our
current social practices and expectations for relational communication from
a historical perspective. Carey (1992) argues that we cannot investigate our
current mediated practices without closely examining the ritualistic view
of communication (i.e. our mediated performances that help create acts of
intimacy and sustain social life).

The ritual view of communication

Mobility and technology mediate our relationships; they reimagine our social
practices and create a new communication culture with each development
and social shift. Carey’s (1992) seminal work positions communication as a
process that empowers and establishes societal transformation. This ritual
view of communication is a sacred ceremony that draws people together in
camaraderie and commonality (Carey, 1992). Communication rituals are
defned as any pattern of behaviour consistently performed in a particular
way (Carey, 1992). These rituals naturally become part of our shared social
space; they “refect the past and shape the future” (Person et al., 2010: 466).
Ritualistic communication is also central to maintaining personal connec-
tion; it helps people feel a sense of belonging to the communities and rela-
tionships that fll their lives (Carey, 1992; Person et al., 2010).
Through the different layers of communication technologies – and their
history that has led to our present-day mobile artefacts – we have trans-
formed the way intimacy can blossom and the types of rituals, as a society,
we perform. For instance, letters have long been associated with intimacy,
viewed as a private space to communicate with your social sphere, bringing
families and lovers closer when distance separated them (Milne, 2003). Let-
ters tell stories of everyday life and facilitate the development and mainte-
nance of a relationship in the face of geographic separation. Even though the
interlocutors are not physically near one another, the letter links the dyad.
94 Jamie Foster Campbell
Their physical absence does not obstruct their ability to communicate and
establish a sense of togetherness through self-disclosure and shared meaning
(Milne, 2003).
The act of writing captures and immortalises ideas, knowledge, stages
of relationship development, tales of confict and struggle, life stories and
much more. It has the power to simulate a permanent feeling of connection.
Farman (2018) adds that “the document allows the letter writer to be effec-
tively present in different places at once and to exist across time, beyond a
single lifetime” (p. 144). The system of writing as we know it today came
from a long evolution through many civilisations, created from the resources
each generation had available to them (Farman, 2012). On scrolls, in books,
or personal letters, writing is a space for intimacy to unfold and live on as an
archive of people’s experiences and imagination. No matter what mode or
how quickly the written message travelled to the intended receiver, letters, in
all their forms, allowed relational others to feel like they were experiencing
life through their partner’s eyes (Milne, 2003). Writing promotes rituals of
expression, discovery and feelings of intimacy and has long been part of our
culture of communication.
Similarly, the telegraph promoted a new culture of wired communication
and unique rituals of connection. Before the telegraph, messages could only
travel as fast as people on horseback, trains, or boats. Now messages were
so instantaneous they could reach across the entire United States in a mat-
ter of minutes (Standage, 2014). The telegraph made it possible to conceive
a communication system that did not involve transportation (Milne, 2010;
Standage, 2014). So, with the creation of the telegraph came a culture of
urgency. The telegraph played a role in designing an electronic culture of
communication; it transformed how we use language, obtain knowledge and
offered more opportunities for social connection with our networks (Carey,
1992; Standage, 2014). The telegraph, a precursor to the Internet, connected
people; transforming rituals of pen and paper to operator, Morse code and
the Telegram (Standage, 2014). Now communication messages could be
separated from physical movements and travel through wires, which altered
the way we experience intimacy and the presence of our relational partners.
The telephone introduced the idea of intimate communication at a distance
beyond the written word from others that transcended spatial boundaries –
now, you could hear someone’s voice through the wires (Carey, 1992; Mar-
vin, 1988). Once fxed landline phones made their way into homes across
the United States, it wasn’t long after that cordless phones entered domestic
life. By the mid-1980s, telephones entered the private rooms of individual
family members, which signalled a shift in our communication rituals: the
telephone, which the whole family once used, now promoted a more individ-
ualistic use (Marvin, 1988). This change altered the experience of personal
calls. For example, a teenager who once talked to their best friend down
the basement steps with the long telephone cord following them, could now
retreat to their bedroom to have private conversations away from the centre
 Intimacy 95
of the household. Once companies removed the cord, the habit of roaming
the house while talking to others was also established (Marvin, 1988).
As Rainie and Wellman (2012) explain, advancements in mobile technol-
ogy over the years “turned the former two-pound “mobile” calling device
into a light, compact multifunctional Swiss Army-style tool, able to commu-
nicate, browse, create and amuse – and to be in touch with social networks
in an instant” (p. 91). As mobile phones became less expensive and more
accessible to the everyday user, they also became part of our bodies – pos-
sessions we carry around with us. This shift allowed for constant connection,
created a culture of instant communication and changed our perception of
waiting for a response (Farman, 2018).
Mobile phones are as much of a social object as they are a technological
object; they are an interpersonal form of telecommunication (Humphreys,
2018). Licoppe (2004) explains, “the mobile phone is portable, to the extent
of seeming to be an extension of its owner, a personal object constantly
there, at hand” (p. 146). In this sense, mobile phones are more than portable
telephones, they are microcomputers; they extend accessibility, immediacy
and mobility. For the larger purpose of this chapter, the idea of accessibility
(both physical and emotional) is at the heart of interpersonal relationships’
transformation and how dyads build intimacy in a contemporary mobile
age. The mobile phone has also landed itself at the centre of our present-day
media culture, part of the evolving mediatisation of communication and
symbolic production of reality (Carey, 1992).
For this study, mediatisation is understood as the “transformative pro-
cess” of media (Kaun & Fast, 2014: 8). Kaun and Fast (2014) argue that
mediatisation “encompasses all processes of change that are media-induced
or that are related to change in the media landscape over time” (p. 12).
Hepp and Krotz (2014) add that “mediatization research is not so much
concerned with investigating the ‘infuence’ of one single medium, but more
with the changing role of a variety of media in our lives” (p. 9). Therefore, I
do not confne the discussion of technology with my participants to a single
medium, or a specifc device or application. Instead, we discussed how com-
munication technologies set the tone for relational encounters and reimagine
intimacy along the way. Our mobile technologies become part of our identity,
a platform to perform our various relationships and an artefact that creates
a sense of shared space.
To summarise, the practice of intimacy is consistently mediated. This
becomes apparent when we refect on the historical layers of our commu-
nication technologies and the nuances between different modalities. For
instance, the fxed landline telephone allowed intimacy to evolve from “lis-
tening over distance,” while the mobile phone extended this to permit “those
conversations to happen in new territories: textual, visual and aural, moving
along with the user” (Crawford, 2016: 137). The process of “new” media
becoming “old” highlights the connection between moments of cultural and
technological shifts; and how with each “new” technology, our culture of
96 Jamie Foster Campbell
communication transforms (Carey, 1992; Farman, 2012). With these ideas
in mind, the following research questions were put forward: How are our
experiences of intimacy enabled and constrained by media use? How does
the evolution of media impact practices of relational communication?

Methods
To answer these research questions, I conducted semi-structured interviews
with 86 individuals from May 2020 through December 2020. The interview
sample consisted of people who were 19–67-year-olds, with an average age
of 34.7 years old, identifying as female (64%), male (34%), transgender
female (1%) and non-binary (1%). The majority of participants self-identi-
fed as straight (69%), then bisexual (9%), gay (8%), pansexual (4%), het-
erofexible (4%), lesbian (2%), queer (2%), polyamorous (1%) and asexual
(1%). Participants self-identifed as White or Caucasian (73%), Asian (15%),
Black or African American (6%) and biracial (6%). All participants, except
one, lived in the United States, spreading across 23 states.
With semi-structured interviews, I uncovered the personal aspects of how
people use technology in ways that support and discourage intimacy. This
data collection method provided insight into using different technological
artefacts that companies may not design for intimacy but are adapted by
the user based on their performance of intimacy norms. During each inter-
view, I asked participants the same questions in several different ways to
explore the occurrence of intimacy (e.g. Do you think technology helps you
establish intimacy? Why – can you tell me a story? How do you perform
acts of intimacy through technology?). Interviews took approximately 24–93
minutes, with an average length of 55.37 minutes, were audio-recorded and
conducted through Zoom.
This study used a snowball sampling method to enrol research subjects.
Snowball sampling is a recruitment strategy where existing participants rec-
ommend future study participants from their network (Patton, 1990). Also,
I used theoretical sampling to develop theoretically informed parameters
for data collection (Glaser, 1978). Specifcally, I collected and coded data
synchronously to see what groups to sample next to get participants from
various social demographics and types of intimacy experiences. Although
my sample is not entirely representative, theoretical sampling expanded my
conversational network to include participants who are diverse enough to
ensure I received a full spectrum of experiences. Recruitment continued until
I reached data saturation (i.e. I obtained no new information during the data
collection and analysis process; Patton, 1990).
Audio recordings were transcribed with Otter.ai, an automatic transcrip-
tion application. After each interview, I listened to the audio recording and
edited the transcript to correct any errors. Then, transcripts were imported
into MAXQDA, a qualitative software programme, for coding and analysis.1
Data analysis included frst and second level coding as a way to become
 Intimacy 97
familiar with participants’ language and perspectives, think about the data
from a higher theoretical perspective and refect on participants’ beliefs and
attitudes surrounding intimacy, relational communication and technology
use (a similar procedure outlined by Saldaña, 2013).

Results and discussion

The results of this study reveal that technology, in its many forms and plat-
forms, supports our soft structures of intimacy. For my participants, intimacy
is subjectively experienced. It is important to note that I did not attempt to
defne intimacy during the interview. Instead, the informant decided what this
term meant by describing it and explaining how they experience it in their
lives. Overall, the participants equated intimacy to self-disclosure, vulnerabil-
ity, a feeling, a sense of closeness and a description of relational space. To best
understand how our experiences of intimacy are impacted by media use, I will
frst break down what intimacy means through the voice of my participants.
Intimacy is intrinsically linked to self-disclosure and reciprocal communi-
cation (Moss & Schwebel, 1993). For example, Iris2 said,

I think intimacy means how much you share. How often you share
information about your life and how much you also receive from other
people. It can, but it doesn’t necessarily have to involve physical inti-
macy. So, for me, intimacy is that emotional connection.

Ruth3 also places self-disclosure at the centre of her defnition of intimacy;

however, she points out that connection can happen in the mundane. Ruth
explains, “intimacy is being able to talk about everyday random shit that you
don’t think would be of interest to any other person besides yourself. But
if you’re able to talk about that with your person, I think that’s intimacy.”
We see that intimacy develops not only in the experience of an emotional
connection that we receive after self-disclosure but also through everyday
talk with our close ties. Intimacy is wrapped up in the act of sharing and
communicating. However, the content of that conversation doesn’t always
matter; it is about “being open and willing to be honest with other people,”
as Andrew4 explains, “in a way that creates a strong bond.” Intimacy is also
not reserved solely for romantic interests, as Iris mentioned, we also cultivate
intimacy in our relationships with friends, family, and even strangers. Victo-
ria5 believes that intimacy doesn’t always have to be attached to the image
of a person and explains that “you can have an intimate conversation. It
can just be in a moment in time. And just because you have intimacy with a
person at one point in time doesn’t mean that it transcends.” Here, Victoria,
like many others, touches on the temporal aspect of intimacy. Intimacy is a
fuid concept; it is dynamic, relational and reciprocal.
Other participants relied on the word vulnerability to help explain inti-
macy. Jackson6 says,“I think allowing somebody else into the most vulnerable
98 Jamie Foster Campbell
parts of your life sort of defnes how intimate of a relationship you have with
them.” Similarly, Imogen7 believes intimacy is “a spectrum of vulnerability,”
we place different people on this spectrum. As our intimacy develops with
them, we become more vulnerable. Across my conversations, it is clear that
people equate intimacy to a vulnerability related to open communication and
experiences of authenticity. For example, Heather8 said,

intimacy is somebody that can see who I am, and have it be an appropri-
ate refection of who I also feel I am. And the same for the other person,
they can be vulnerable with me. So, reciprocal vulnerability and comfort
is intimacy.

Intimacy develops over time with familiar practices like self-disclosure,

where we increasingly reveal parts of ourselves to others, which gives them
a glimpse into our true selves. But intimacy is also more abstract, a term we
use to describe a feeling. For some people, part of conceptualising intimacy
recognises that they frst associate it with a feeling and the meaning attached
to it comes later. Oliver9 proclaims, “intimacy is almost cellular. It’s some-
thing that there aren’t words for, it’s something that you just kind of perceive
and feel. It’s a warmth. And then it’s also an understanding.” The experience
of intimacy is a visceral connection to another person.
It is hard to attach meaning to a word that originates from feelings and
fuctuates with different people over time. Intimacy isn’t tangible; it is some-
thing we feel. It is fuelled by time and can grow in moments we share with
others. Intimacy is layered with closeness, vulnerability and admiration
while creating a space that feels comfortable and inviting. Sylvia10 adds that
“intimacy has a lot to do with your personal space, whether that’s emo-
tional space or physical space, who you let into yourself, your thoughts, your
words, your touch.” Intimacy is not only about self-disclosure but also about
the imagined space that encircles our interpersonal interactions each day,
the relational climate that makes people feel connected. The mediatisation
of intimacy does not replace the in-person moments; instead, it outlines the
entangled routes we use to achieve intimacy in our everyday relationships.
And these routes are echoes of the social rituals, as a society, we have long
relied on to build our bonds with others.
Experiences of intimacy and media are intertwined. Results revealed two
signifcant themes, including temporal experience and connection. The fol-
lowing section will discuss each of these ideas in more detail, presenting
evidence from the interviews rooted in historical analysis.

Temporal experience: movements of time

Mobile technologies present a cultural shift in our interpretation of time.
Time is fuid, and the speed of a message infuences our temporal experi-
ence with intimacy today. Many participants reported using text messages
 Intimacy 99
daily to check in with others as a means of coordination and social sup-
port. They choose to rely on text messages more than other media because
they are quick and easy forms of communication, especially now that many
smartphones have SMS applications built directly into the device. Other
participants noted that text messages are their preferred method of contact
during the day because it provides a real-time account of how you feel at
that moment, which adds to their experience of intimacy with partners. Jack-
son believes that the art of writing letters is not gone. Still, he prefers a text
message because it can deliver the message faster. He explains, “you’re only
getting a snapshot of when that person was writing the letter. You get the
letter three days later, and that person might not feel the exact way that they
were feeling when they wrote that letter.” With each technological advance-
ment, the speed our messages can travel increases. This then transforms our
expectations for accessibility to our close ties and impressions of authenticity
since you are getting their thoughts and emotional well-being in real-time,
all of which are important to the experience of intimacy.
This study reveals that mobile technology affects how we understand the
passage of time, the meaning of time, and our use of time in everyday life to
maintain our various close bonds and create a space for intimacy to emerge.
Temporality not only punctuates our acts of intimacy but also transforms
how we interpret them. Many participants talk about how they use technol-
ogy to build intimacy with others. It is in these mediated spaces that relation-
ships can come to life.
Heather talks about how the ritual of speaking on the phone with her
partner each night has heightened their intimacy. She said,

If I can learn something new about them, or even just relearn something
about them from a different perspective, that to me, builds intimacy. So
ultimately, if we were together, like physically together, we don’t always
have these pillow talks. So, I think in a way technology has helped us to
press the pause button and recognise that we need to.

In this sense, our experiences with media sometimes heighten feelings of

intimacy because it allows us to pause and fully invest in the person. Yes,
technology can be a distraction from people or tasks in our everyday lives.
However, these data reveal that the mediated social rituals we consciously
and unconsciously enact can help us stop and listen.
The rise of intimate communication coincided with our ability to have
our words travel across distances: amplifed by mail service, then phone calls
and so on – mediating our interpersonal communication and giving people
a space to share their private thoughts and feelings. Since the successful
operation of the electric telegraph in the 1840s, we’ve adopted the practice
of maintaining relationships over the wires (Standage, 2014). Relationships
are defned by movement; part of this transformation of media use is framed
by our perception of time and how this alters our experience of intimacy.
100 Jamie Foster Campbell
Today, the infrastructure of the wires and the interface of our devices
look different – telegraph operators using Morse code were replaced with
individuals typing on their smartphones. Yet, the goal of sending informa-
tion, ideas and expressing feelings to another when their physical bodies are
apart remains the same. The evolution of media is directly linked to move-
ments in time. This is observed in the speed of the message that is tied to our
expectations of technology or the pauses in time carved out by media, thus
creating a place to cultivate intimacy and connection in the different felds
of our relational lives.

Connection: presence in absence

As our lives speed up and we move away from our communities, media help
us stay in touch with the people who are important to us. Many participants
talked about how distance makes it harder to maintain relationships, but
technology acts like an invisible bridge bringing us together. For example,
when Ruth moved to the United States and the majority of her community
was living abroad, she experienced a strain on many of these relationships:
“it’s hard to keep in touch with people since I moved here, our conversations
are very different.” Now, all their communication and shared experience
relied on a digital screen. Ruth discussed her experience with a friend who
lives abroad:

my friend started telling her daughter these stories at night based on

what her daughter picks out from a picture dictionary. I asked her if I
could hear some of these stories. So now, every night, she sends me the
story on a WhatsApp voice note. So, that gets our conversation going.
And now we communicate every day about something . . . it has sort of
revived our friendship.

Before establishing this new ritual with her friend, Ruth explained that they
spoke once or twice a year and only “knew the big picture things about each
other’s lives.” Upon refection, there are a few things to note when we con-
sider how media facilitates feelings of connection in the face of geographic
separation.
Firstly, technology has the potential to revitalise our relationships, pro-
viding opportunities for daily connection, which is at the heart of many
participants’ defnitions of intimacy. Secondly, by receiving the audio record-
ings of her friend’s stories, Ruth can experience an intimate moment that
she would typically not have access to between mother and child. Thirdly,
these daily WhatsApp messages create a springboard for further communica-
tion between the friends; they provide a shared experience and support the
feelings of presence in absence. Finally, the act of recording these bedtime
narratives creates an archive of stories that capture this magical and often
hidden part of childhood. Just like the letters many people save from loved
 Intimacy 101
ones that future generations read as a way to learn more about that person’s
past life, these audio recordings became part of a historical data trail that
provides an intimate glimpse into relational life. Someone can easily share
these WhatsApp messages because of the technology, which makes the pair
feel like they are a part of each other’s everyday lives, provides a glimpse into
family relationships and can freeze a feeting moment in time. This example
demonstrates how the mediatisation of intimacy is woven into the different
dimensions of our lives and refects social rituals that become part of our
evolving experience of intimacy.
The mediatisation of intimacy also includes what we can share with others
that goes beyond our words and voice to sharing experiences or images of
our physical world. Jackson said,

I can share a photo of something that I might see while I’m not with that
person. And it creates a connection where you can share your experience
a little bit differently. Now, if I’m having a moment, I can text that to
my partner, and they can be like, Oh my God, that’s amazing. It makes
them feel more part of that moment.

Because our media grants us the ability to send textual or visual messages
instantaneously, the person on the other end of the wire can see or experi-
ence what we observe at that moment. These messages become part of the
mediatisation of intimacy. However, the practice of documenting our every-
day lives is not unique to the function of our smartphones. Humphreys
(2018) recalls that throughout much of the 18th and 19th centuries, people
often wrote diaries to share with others. She says, “when young women
got married and moved away from their parents, they would send their
diaries back home as a way of maintaining kin connections” (Humphreys,
2018: 2). Then, when pocket-size diaries hit the market, they became a
mobile way to chronicle everyday life happenings (Humphreys, 2018). The
smaller size now afforded the user to carry it on their body; it became an
immediate way of documenting daily events just as we do today with our
smartphones.
The media we use to connect with others when we are physically sepa-
rated suggests that these platforms provide an alternative avenue for sharing
pieces of ourselves. The platforms and applications became part of the tools
used for building intimacy with our loved ones. Luciana11 adds that her
smartphone is a part of her experience of intimacy because it “allows for
a connection with anyone in the world.” The layers of communication we
include in our relational lives, mediated and non-mediated, all contribute to
our experiences of intimacy. This is not unique to the era of mobile phones.
Every type of mobile medium across history offered feelings of connection to
people geographically separated. What is special about Luciana’s comment is
that today, messages are received faster, and our expectation for accessibility
to our immediate sphere is heightened.
102 Jamie Foster Campbell
Intimacy is not only achieved in person, but through the culmination of
all the ways, we can connect with others through media. Luciana talks about
her increased use of video calls since COVID-19 and says this technology
provides “such a different experience, I can see them and their body and
their room and their expressions and all of that.” With each technological
shift, we get more of the person. With writing letters, someone’s thoughts
and handwriting could travel distances. With the invention of the telegraph,
someone’s words could travel in a matter of minutes, sparking a culture of
immediacy. The telephone gives us direct contact through someone’s voice
and the ability to impart tone and emotion; adding another dimension to
the mediatisation of relational life and furthering the feeling of presence in
absence. Now, video chat provides all of this with facial expressions and a
visual of the different spaces we inhabit.
As we refect on the evolution of media used for relational communication,
it becomes clear that it’s not our attachment to the technological medium
that matters – it is our understanding of what they bring us; communication
with our network, feelings of closeness, information and knowledge. Media
is viewed by many as a tool. However, when we magnify this idea, we see the
physical and hidden infrastructures that mediate our relationships and fll
our homes are not only tools but they are also symbols of what is important
to us. We use media to feel connected to others, which adds to our experi-
ences of intimacy as we dance between physical togetherness and mediated
togetherness.

Connection: fragmented presence

Within this larger theme also comes the idea of fragmented presence, or the
distractive qualities of media that pull us out of the moment. Similar to past
research, individuals report feeling like their conversational partner was not
truly present (Kelly et al., 2017) when they were spending time together but
distracted by their mobile media. This idea of fragmented presence becomes
an internal and relational confict, where a violation of the implicit expecta-
tion to detach from our phones begins to take away from our experiences
of intimacy. Victoria says,

I think that phones can take away from in-person connection. Even
though it might help with intimacy, I think when someone takes out their
phone and is scrolling and doing other things, rather than having that
moment with you, it can cause some issues . . . sometimes, they work for
intimacy, and other times they take away from it.

Similarly, Imogen says,

I feel like it can be a distraction, and that is where intimacy can be hin-
dered. In a previous relationship, that was an issue. We were together in
 Intimacy 103
the same room, but so disconnected because she was watching TV and
I was on my phone, like, how can you be so close and not at the same
time?

These accounts support an idea of how presence is not only about location;
people can be absent even when they are sitting next to each other. You can
be physically present but socially absent and that can interrupt intimacy.
Our experiences of intimacy are enabled and constrained by media use,
and these accounts reveal that the occurrence of intimacy in our life is mul-
tidimensional. Media enhances parts of our intimate experiences but does
not account for the many aspects of relational life that make up intimacy. In
some instances, media hinders connection by splintering our feelings of pres-
ence. With mobile media, it is no longer just the individuals physically in the
room together. Others may also have presence felt in a mediated form which
can block the relational processes some view as necessary for cultivating
intimacy. In many ways, we use technology to “reinforce our intimacy” with
others and “express our care” for people, as William12 explained. Technology
can be a path to intimacy, but it is up to the individual to decide how this is
done. These systems may not be new, in the traditional sense of the word, but
these practices may feel “new” to the current users and dyads adopting them
for relational communication. Together we must consider how to negotiate
the use of media in our lives. In the end, communication technologies have
shifted our conception of presence and experiences of intimacy in our close
interpersonal relationships.
To echo the words of Deuze (2012), we don’t live with media, “we live in
media” (p. x); this has been the case across all of human history. Media pro-
vides the architecture for our intimate lives. The desire to cultivate intimacy
with our relational others drives us to use media and expand its possibilities.
Part of how technology reimagines intimacy lies in the written and verbal
communication we share with others and the types of rituals we perform
in our relational sphere. The evolution of mediated communication enables
us to reimagine how we experience intimacy, but it does not change what
intimacy means. Instead, our contemporary media alters how we negotiate
being there with our physically close and distant others. Individuals are still
using “new” media, like their predecessors, to document their lives, preserve
their ideas and relationships, and ultimately connect time and space through
feelings of presence in absence. Intimacy is fuid, and each technological
advancement may not be a revolution, but it does produce different ways to
conceptualise communication, relational culture and intimacy as they melt
into the various dimensions of our lives.

Notes
1 The data supporting this chapter’s fndings are available from the corresponding
author, JFC, upon reasonable request.
104 Jamie Foster Campbell
2 Iris is a 43-year-old professor from California. She identifes as single, female,
queer and White.
3 Ruth is a 37-year-old teacher from Michigan. She identifes as married, female,
bisexual and Asian.
4 Andrew is a 41-year-old social worker from California. He identifes as married,
male, gay and White.
5 Victoria is a 34-year-old editor from Illinois. She identifes as partnered, female,
straight and Asian.
6 Jackson is a 37-year-old tattoo artist from Oregon. He identifes as partnered,
male, straight and White.
7 Imogen is a 27-year-old personal trainer from California. She identifes as monog-
amous, female, lesbian and Hispanic.
8 Heather is a 27-year-old student from Illinois. She identifes as in a long-distance
relationship, female, pansexual and White.
9 Oliver is a 36-year-old nonproft communication director from Illinois. He identi-
fes as married, male, gay and White.
10 Sylvia is a 37-year-old store manager from California. She identifes as married,
female, straight and White.
11 Luciana is a 34-year-old counselor from Colorado. She is divorced and identifes
as female, straight and Latinx.
12 William is a 53-year-old IT operator from Pennsylvania. He identifes as single,
male, gay and White.

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7 Attention and affective proximity
Alleviating loneliness and isolation
through virtual girlfriends and
boyfriends
Inge van de Ven

The COVID-19 pandemic and social distancing measurements enforced

by governments and public health agencies worldwide have intensifed the
pervasive infuence of digital technology and modes of connectivity. By
April 2020, billions of people were confned to their homes. Many aspects
of our offine lives migrated to the online realm: from education and profes-
sional meetings to social life, shopping and memorial services. The isolated
lives led by many during this period also impact romantic relations and
intimacy, not in the least for those living alone. “A major adverse conse-
quence of the COVID-19 pandemic is likely to be increased social isola-
tion and loneliness,” argued several professors in The Lancet Psychiatry
in April 2020 (Holmes et al., 2020). The lack of intimacy and face-to-face
contact can cause mental health issues such as anxiety, depression and low
self-esteem.
The start of the pandemic also marked a rise in downloads of dating apps.
Perhaps, this seems surprising as face-to-face dating was actively discour-
aged, if not prohibited. Dating apps started to promote virtual dating to
enhance mental and emotional health, self-care and well-being (Myles et al.,
2021). Tinder made its premium “Passport” feature free, allowing all users
to match up with people across the globe (Van Nuenen, 2020). Several queer
dating apps encouraged their users to connect as a community (Duguay,
2020). Thus, rather than preparing for offine interaction, virtual dating is
used to alleviate pandemic loneliness.
Though loneliness and isolation receive a lot of attention in these times
of crisis, they are not new challenges for society. Divorce rates have been
rising steadily, and there is a global increase in one-person households.
Due to a high degree of individualism in Western late capitalist societies
and neoliberal conditions in an “always-on” culture, physical and face-to-
face interactions are decreasing. In fact, we could see the relation between
social isolation and technological mediation as a double-edged sword.
Technological interventions often purport to “solve” problems that did
not exist were it not for the same technologies – what Evgeny Morozov
(2013) calls “solutionism.” Loneliness, distraction and isolation are such

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-10
 Attention and affective proximity 107
problems, for which connective media function as cause and solution at
the same time:

Our new way of life, of being always-online, has unsurprisingly begun to

develop its own balm to soothe its soul from the very same tools. Plugged
into screens every waking hour, our brains locked into an eternal scroll,
we are increasingly fnding solace from stress, anxiety, insomnia and
loneliness in strangers on the internet.
(Lemmey, 2020)

Trends in media aim to “solve” these problems of our time by creating simu-
lacra of personal attention and affective proximity through screens.
Scholars like Zygmunt Bauman in Liquid Love (2003) and Sherry Turkle
in Alone Together (2011) criticise the increasing role of technological media-
tion in intimate communications: they mourn a loss of authenticity caused
by, for instance, human–robot interactions and mobile devices that divert our
attention from the people around us. In this case, the widespread mediation of
romantic relationships leads to the mediatisation of romance. Real intimacy,
they say, depends on mutuality, on knowing each other and being in the
same place at the same time. Intimacy has many defnitions and discourses;
recurring elements are emotional closeness, reciprocity of trust and knowl-
edge and self-disclosure (e.g. Timmerman, 1991). Intimacy relates to things
that have the capacity to affect us, our bodies and embodied selves. Is such
a relating possible when performed publicly and mediated by a screen, from
one to thousands of invisible others? What happens with intimacy when it
is decoupled from a particular time and space that is shared by all involved?
In this chapter, I examine two recent genres of technologically mediated inti-
macy: ASMR Girlfriend Experience videos on YouTube and TikTok Boyfriend
POVs. Both offer virtual relationship simulations, featuring a single performer
in close bodily proximity to a camera and microphone, who devotes “personal”
attention to the viewer. I argue that the popularity of POV (Point of View) and
role-playing videos is indicative of new temporal and spatial ways of structuring
co-presence. How are intimate forms of relating brought about in and by these
media, and how do they affect their publics in terms of loneliness and general
well-being? I will answer these questions through a hermeneutic (textual and
cinematic) analysis of a selection of videos, with attention to editing, camera,
address, mise en scène, dialogue and acting. I also look at the parasocial inter-
action between creators and viewers in the comment sections. In Conclusion,
I compare both genres and refect on the potential social changes effected by
these new media concerning intimate and romantic relations.

Are you ready to get SO close? ASMR girlfriends

You follow a dreadlocked girl in a fowery dress through the hallway of an
apartment building. You get into an elevator with her. The camera is very
108 Inge van de Ven
close to her face. The girl smiles at you, friendly, slightly nervous. The eleva-
tor starts shaking. She looks panicked. The screen turns black. When the light
goes on, the elevator has stopped moving. You are stuck. Neither of you has
a phone; the girl whispers that she just went out to put out the garbage. She
has an Eastern European accent. She looks at you, worried. “Hey . . hey?
Are you feeling okay? Look at me.” You are having a panic attack. She tells
you to breathe in and out, to look at her carefully. She moves her hands on
both sides of the camera, her fngers quickly futtering. “What is the color of
my eyes?,” she asks. She points out a scar on her cheek and birthmarks on
her neck. “Look at my dress, it has very beautiful fowers on it. What is the
color of my nail polish? Good. Focus on my nail polish.” She makes clicking
and tapping sounds with her nails as she navigates you through your panic
attack. She gently touches the camera as if touching your face. “The past is
already gone, the future hasn’t arrived yet. Only this moment exists.”
This video, uploaded to YouTube by Darya Lozhkina ASMR on 3 April
2020, under the title “ASMR⚠ ISOLATION⚠ Are you ready to get SO
close?”, illustrates how ASMRtists fnd creative ways to help their viewers
cope with loneliness, anxiety and isolation. In this section, I introduce the
ASMR girlfriend genre and report my fndings from a “close viewing” of
the content of fve creators. I seek to fnd out how mediated intimacy comes
about in this type of video and what type of connections they forge with the
audience.
ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. It is the
technologically mediated, affective, embodied experience of a physiological
response (“tingles”), to a range of auditory, visual and tactile stimuli (“trig-
gers”). Often, these sensations cause a mode of deep relaxation. Although
not scientifcally proven, ASMR has been linked to all kinds of benefcial
effects such as relief from anxiety, stress, panic attacks, insomnia and depres-
sion. Triggers that activate the tingles include close, personal attention and
small, mundane noises, like whispering, chewing or kissing, scratching, tap-
ping, brushing and crinkling sounds. The ASMR community on YouTube,
which actively produces such triggers, has developed since 2009 to a scale
of thousands of creators making enormously popular videos. Their output
ranges from personal attention role-plays to elaborate fctional universes,
to very simple videos: making a sandwich and eating enormous amounts of
junk food (“mukbang”). The girlfriend genre is a niche within the personal
attention role-play ASMR, where a female performer plays the role of the
viewer’s romantic partner.
My data selection took place on 24 November 2020; I considered no vid-
eos after that date. I entered “ASMR girlfriend” in YouTube’s search bar and
fltered dates “within the last year” but collected only videos dated from 11
March, the date COVID-19 offcially became a pandemic. I zoomed in on the
subcategory “personal attention.”1 Firstly, I performed a search with stan-
dard fltering based on relevance, then another with popularity sorter. On
the basis of initial results and the recommendation function, I selected fve
 Attention and affective proximity 109
creators that consistently churn out relevant content within the selected time-
frame: Its_jayfarm (1.52K subscribers); ASMR CherryCrush (874K); Wokies
ASMR (38.9K); Creative Calm ASMR (338K) and Florescent (202K). The
channels show some internal variety, yet are all representative of the genre
and its typical creators. For each, I selected 6–13 videos. On 17 December
2020, I conducted an interview with Wokies through Zoom (Van de Ven,
2021), giving me a wealth of additional information. The great majority of
ASMR girlfriends are cisgender, young, white, able-bodied, English-speaking
and attractive, although there are exceptions.
Its_jayfarm is a natural looking, typical girl next door – big sweater,
messy curls and bangs. She is fun and quirky, sings Christmas songs for
you in April, tells stories and plays board games. She cuts your hair and
designs your custom facemask for COVID. Her videos seem unscripted:
she falls out of the girlfriend role sometimes, asking “if everybody has
been having a good week,” thus acknowledging multiple viewers like a
vlogger (the other creators uphold the illusion that they are talking to one
special person).
CherryCrush’s channel is highly professional. Her videos have an intro
with an opening tune and a distinctive colour scheme that comes back in
setting, costumes and hair. Her backgrounds are fantasy themed. She looks
like a cosplay fgure with blue, pink or black hair, candy-coloured make-up
and elf ears. Her videos mostly lack narrative and revolve around specifc,
unique sounds (like brushing a pinecone). She repeats whispered positive
affrmative phrases (such as: “You can have all the peace and happiness”)
like a mantra. Outside of YouTube, she also does porn, which, judged by the
comments, brings many viewers to her channel. She sells merchandise like
t-shirts and her description includes a link to online therapy.
Wokies dresses sexily with lots of cleavage. She embodies a range of girl-
friend types, from the calm to the needy to the nurturing to the sensual
girlfriend. In some videos, she portrays an Eve character, an AI companion.
Wokies (or Jasmine) is in the top 0.35% of OnlyFans, where she creates “sen-
sual and sexual” ASMR for fans with a monthly subscription (van de Ven,
2021). She is open about personal experiences. She often does motivational
talks and positive affrmations, caressing the camera (“You’re so soft”).
Creative Calm has many videos where she pampers a male “you” (some-
times in a lockdown scenario). She does paid promotions, often skin care
products for men. She has a British accent, wears classy, sexy clothes. The
backdrop of her videos is a stylish living room. Her videos are very narra-
tively oriented; she maintains the girlfriend (or sometimes “wifey”) role-plays
throughout. When she is selling a face cream and pointing at the promotional
discount code on her website, she adds to her imaginary partner: “honestly,
I feel so silly sometimes doing that with you here.”
Florescence is another girl-next-door type, very young looking, pale and
skinny. Her videos are simple, the settings (living room, bedroom, bathroom,
or garden) look authentic. She engages in normal, everyday activities: sharing
110 Inge van de Ven
gossip, drawing “you,” discussing what to watch on Netfix, playing Fort-
night in her underpants, taking a bath, singing and sunbathing. The aesthetic
is DIY, the videos are not professionally lit. The acting is very realistic.
What all videos have in common is whispering or soft-spoken discourse,
soothing scenarios and positive affrmations. Within the role-play, they
produce an array of ASMR sounds, from scratching on fabric to tapping,
brushing, chewing, kissing, etc. The videos range from 10.24 (Its_jayfarm)
to 41.16 minutes (Creative Calm) and are presented as a continuity shot,
never changing scenes or settings. Judged by the comments, the target audi-
ence seems to be predominantly male. Wokies and Its_jayfarm stress their
content is gender neutral; Creative Calm more explicitly aims at men, due
to her sponsors (male skin care brands). The narrative arch is simple: often,
a partner (the individual viewer) coming back home from a rough day at
work, where the performer awaits them. The ASMRtist helps them relax in
all kinds of ways: pampering, massages, personal attention, feeding them or
positive affrmations. The storyline thus portrays mutual caring in a tradi-
tional, heteronormative way (Andersen, 2015).
In terms of cinematography, the women position themselves in a way that
makes room for viewers to imagine themselves in the scene. Often, there is a
strategic perspective on cleavage or bottom. Vulnerable positions like lying
down and private activities like sleeping, prevail. Preferred camera angle for
those lying down is from high-up, conveying a sense of subservience and
putting the viewer in a position of control. It seems to be important that the
viewer feels signifcant and needed. When asked about the typical audience,
Wokies responded:

When I look at my analytics, the main audience is in the age group eigh-
teen to mid-thirties, mostly male. . . . The virtual girlfriend experience is
helpful for people who have never had a girlfriend, but also those who
are trying to recover from the loss of a girlfriend or wife.

A look at the comments sections corroborates that last statement. One viewer
remarks on how the content helps him cope with loneliness after divorce:

Sometimes I’d watch my ex-wife sleep if we were cuddling & she fell
asleep before I did. It always made me relax & fall asleep. Thanks for
this lovely gift. 😊♥ I miss my ex terribly & sleeping alone without her
is agony. 😞.

Such intensely personal reactions to what is essentially a theatrical perfor-

mance recorded and uploaded on a public streaming platform, beg the ques-
tion how the videos are construed to evoke this level of felt intimacy. It
starts with the settings, which are usually (made to look like) the creator’s
personal space, like a bedroom or bathroom. The lighting is soft. Besides
direct address, the POV camera perspective serves to draw the viewer into
 Attention and affective proximity 111
the scenes. In some of the videos, the hands of the ASMRtists are temporar-
ily out of view while “touching” the viewer, positioned beyond the frame.
Body parts are cut off at certain angles to convey proximity. Sometimes, a
performer temporarily withdraws from view and the camera is positioned
in surprising angles, for example, towards the ceiling, to create a realistic
POV. When lying on a bed or couch, there is always enough space to accom-
modate the viewer, who might be watching the videos on a phone or tablet
while lying in their own bed. These devices create continuity between on- and
off-screen spaces.
ASMR has been brought into relation with synaesthetic experiences (Bar-
ratt & Davis, 2015). Through the audiovisual, the sense of touch is evoked.
The performer manipulates all kinds of props, touches her own body and
pretends to touch the viewer “through” the screen by touching the camera.
These are examples of what in flm theory has been called “haptic visual-
ity” (Marks, 2000). Performers kiss the camera or microphone to make the
viewer feel they are being kissed or feed the viewer food with their hands.
Props like tweezers, scissors or a brush are used to create the illusion of
breaching the distance between viewer and performer. The sense of touch is
also evoked by sounds, like the sounds of rubbing lotion on hands. Whisper-
ing and other sounds, especially through headphones, convey close proxim-
ity. In short, ASMR generates intimacy by transgressing boundaries: between
bodies, between self and other, and between medium and user.
The suggestion of co-presence can be considered in terms of “ambient
intimacy.” The term was originally coined to describe a feeling of closeness
stemming from following a person online, for instance by checking their sta-
tus updates on social media (Lin et al., 2016). Rather than revolving around
a signifcant picture, or one very meaningful message, ambient intimacy is
cumulative and performative. It is the feeling someone is there: “Just as
physical proximity allows one’s mood to be interpreted through a series of
little behaviours (e.g. body language, sighs, stray comments), several tweets
together can generate a strong feeling of closeness and intimacy” (Kaplan &
Haenlein, 2011: 107). The same ambient effect is created by ASMR videos
in which almost nothing happens, for instance when a creator is pretend-
ing to sleep for 23 minutes (Wokies ASMR, “ASMR Shh . . . I’m Trying to
Sleep”). For “ASMR girlfriend sleeps while you game,” Wokies overlaid
sounds of gaming with images of her sleeping in bed, candy wrappers and
game console scattered on the blankets. The meaning of such videos lies
less in the content than in the consoling effect that someone else is there
with you.
Other than one would expect from the medium with its one-to-many mode
of communication, ASMRrtists present care and attention as a two-way
street. They make known that they need “you” just as much as you need
them. This is true in a literal sense, as the creators are dependent on the view-
ers’ close and sustained attention to grow their brand and for their videos to
be effective. ASMR is not meant to be experienced as a part of a multitasking
112 Inge van de Ven
routine, having several tabs open and looking with one eye while listening
to music or ironing. “I need 100% of your focus,” as Creative Calm says in
“ASMR One on One Attention.”
This need for mutual attention is also central to the narratives. In a video
titled “ASMR girlfriend needs your attention,” Wokies begs her signifcant
other, who has just come home from a long workday, to stay up with her and
talk to her. To create a sense of reciprocity, creators engage in an imagined
dialogue with the viewer. They ask you questions, implying for instance that
you had a rough day, and then listen attentively, with appropriate facial ges-
tures and sounds one would use in a conversation, like “hmm”: “So . . . how
have u been? Yeah? Of course. That’s completely understandable” (Creative
Calm, “ASMR One on One Attention”).
Parasocial interaction with fans furthers the effect of reciprocity. Its_jayfarm
asks her viewers a “question of the day” that they answer in the comments
section, like “Did you climb trees as a kid?” Then in the next video, she
sometimes addresses their responses. Some creators, like Wokies, take the
time to respond to provide short written response to almost all of the com-
ments, even if it is just an emoji. During our interview, she talked about her
relationship with her viewers on OnlyFans. Interestingly, her fans are by no
means faceless strangers to her. When she gets lonely, they are there for her:

I know my Onlyfans fans more intimately than my YouTube subscribers,

as we are more on that personal level, they’ve seen a little bit more of me.
I feel like I know them more than they know me. . . . I do sometimes get
on a friend basis with fans, and speaking to them for a couple of hours
does compensate for things I might be missing in the physical realm.
(Van de Ven, 2021)

There is a sense of community among viewers as well, who interact with

each other in the comment section under the videos and emphasise they are
going through similar things in life: “We might b hella lonely right now guys
but we still got quiet [sic] some time ahead of us and there are plenty of ppl
in this world.”
Against the obvious criticism that this type of content would cater to the
male gaze, Sadowski (2014) stresses that this is only partially true, as ASMR
just as much revolves around the viewer’s other senses being affected, and
the boundaries of the body are being put at stake. Moreover, the women
flm themselves instead of being flmed, which gives them a range of control
over how they want to portray themselves; they are not only objects but also
subjects of expression. Wokies commented: “I feel safe and in control. Being
behind the camera, it’s easier to embody different fantasies and do role-plays
because you’re not sensing someone else’s vibe. It’s safer than if you were
working at a club or elsewhere, offine” (Van de Ven, 2021).
The particular type of work that these ASMRtists are doing could be
considered in terms of affective labour (Hochschild, 2003): women taking
 Attention and affective proximity 113
care of the needs of their community and monetising the intimacy of their
personal spaces and personal attention. Through digital-mediated contexts,
these young women generate intimacy by making the self relatable and mar-
ketable for a larger audience (Kanai, 2017). As a result, traditional gendered
ideals such as heteronormative femininity and domesticity are reinforced
and placed on the same plane as labour (Adkins, 2016). In neoliberal media
cultures, entrepreneurial subjectivities and caregiving roles come together.

Battle for attention: good and bad boyfriends on TikTok

A young man with glasses and a ponytail walks towards you and sits down
facing you. He looks you right in the eye. A romantic song plays in the back-
ground. “Whats wrong?” he asks with a concerned look on his face. “You’re
not real. None of this is real!” reads the text that appears on screen. The
guy looks pained. He says: “Close your eyes, and when u open them I won’t
be here anymore.” He walks away. A POV “eye cam” framing effect makes
the screen go black. A montage follows: a shot of the young man playing
guitar, leaning casually against the window sill; cut to him, shirtless on a
couch, laughing at “you” like you just said something funny and lying in the
sun holding a tablet; offering you a cup of coffee; lying in bed next to you,
affection in his eyes. The montage speeds up, an intercut of little everyday
moments of joy, smiling, goofng around. . . . You open your eyes and he is
“still” sitting there: “Did you really think I’d go anywhere? I’m here. I love
you. And we’ve got the sweetest thing together.”
The description of this TikTok video by @sebastienrteller reads “You’ve
been questioning how real #virtualboyfriend is. Here’s your answer,” and it is
an example of the boyfriend POV genre. Clips like these are extremely popu-
lar on TikTok: the hashtag #POV has over 8.4 billion views. Boyfriend POVs
have become so popular that videos mocking them have become their own
meme. The camera functions as a stand-in for each singular viewer, look-
ing “through their eyes” at the boyfriend/performer. TikTok, a platform for
creating and sharing short-form mobile videos, was introduced in 2016 and
soon gained immense popularity under teenagers and young adults all over
the world (most notably “Generation Z,” born between 1997 and 2012).
TikTok videos have a duration of 15–60 seconds; the typical boyfriend
POV is on the shorter side of this range. They are extremely simple (the
example described previously is an exception): a young man engages in some
sketch, usually interacting with the camera and staring into “your” eyes,
smiling, winking, throwing a kiss or lip-syncing to a couple of lines from a
song. There is minimal to no dialogue, sometimes written text overlays the
images. The typical creator is very young and attractive, the “boyband” type.
Often, their gestures (e.g. biting or smacking their lips) are suggestive and
mildly sexual (“thirst trapping,” a style of posting on social media to seduce
the viewer). TikTok is considered the ultimate medium for the present-day
attention economy, as it presents you with avalanche of such short and highly
114 Inge van de Ven
addictive clips. TikTok creators chasing after virality are competing for the
user’s attention in a very explicit way, using their looks, the framing of their
videos, as well as hashtags.
On 24 November 2020, I explored the genre by entering the search terms
“boyfriend” (/“bf”) and “POV.” This generated hundreds of videos. I speci-
fed my search, adding “care,” then “attention.” As TikTok videos are not
dated, I could not search specifcally for content created during the pan-
demic, as with YouTube. I simply liked all the videos that met my criteria
for analysis, as liking will save a video to your personal page. On the basis
of these, relevant new videos were soon suggested on my “four you page”
(FYP), an individual landing page which showcases curated videos that Tik-
Tok thinks I might be interested in. I stopped gathering data when my search
was saturated in terms of new themes.
Compared to ASMR girlfriends, there seems to be more ethnic and cultural
variety among creators. Asian boyfriends often explicitly foreground their
ethnicity (or nationality, e.g. “#Korean”) with hashtags, suggesting that this
content is actively searched for. The great majority performs heterosexual
relationships; the exceptions are usually accompanied by #gay or #gaytiktok
(e.g. @ iambenjaminposs). Judging by the comments, the target audience
exists of women. Around Sebastienrteller, the virtual boyfriend whose video
I described previously, a fan community has formed that consists largely of
single women.
How do these short videos create affects of intimacy? Firstly, the appeal
of TikTok for its Generation Z users partly stems from a playful, unpolished
and deliberately amateurish “aesthetic.” All you need to make a TikTok is
a smartphone. Creating content is low threshold and inexpensive: most of
the clips are not meant to look slick or professional. The videos are shot in
the boys’ own private spaces, often their bedrooms. As with ASMR, we are
offered a “backstage” look, only this time, it is less manufactured. The sce-
narios they enact are also private and intimate, like waking up “together,”
casting post-coital glances, making you coffee. TikTok lends itself well for
this type of candid POV content. They are shot and displayed vertically, with
the camera typically positioned close to the performer, to suggest that you,
fctionalised partner, are sitting or lying next to them, sharing the same space.
The mode of address that accompanies the POV imagery is the second
person singular “you.” Narrative theories state that the pronoun “you”
under specifc conditions has the capacity to draw the reader into the
fction. This is because “you” is deictic: having no meaning outside of
its linguistic context, it is empty and waiting to be flled in by anyone
(Rettberg, 2001). In cases where it is impossible to decide whether “you”
is fctional or actual, the address is called “doubly deictic.” This “you”
in effect “produces an ontological hesitation between the virtual and the
actual,” rendering porous the border between text and context (Herman,
1994). This is what happens in the direct address in most TikTok boy-
friend POV videos, where “you” is used to reach out to each individual
 Attention and affective proximity 115
viewer, making them part of the narrative by casting them as the love
interests of the performer.
Cinematographically, the close-up is an aspect that generates intimate
entanglements. Close-ups draw viewers’ attention; they work indexically, like
a fnger pointing to something that would otherwise have gone unnoticed.
The expressive face is a gateway to intersubjective relating (Doane, 2003).
For Walter Benjamin (1999 [1936]), the close-up was one of the entrance
points to the optical unconscious, rendering visible what remained unseen in
daily life. Isolating a face through close-up, we become aware of minimal ges-
tures and muscle movements, subtle eyebrow raises and little smiles. Because
of the videos are so short and run in a loop, they lend themselves well for
watching them over and over after you fnd one that speaks to you, that has
a “punctum” in Roland Barthes’ sense: an aspect that “rises from the scene”
to capture our attention (1981: 26). In the comments, viewers analyse the
tiniest facial mechanics. The face in close-up, looking back, can create a sense
of connection that might be lacking in the viewer’s everyday life.
I watched the videos in the order in which they were saved in my feed,
taking note of recurring thematic categories. Three themes came to the fore
that I deem relevant for my present purposes: toxic behaviour, attention and
care. To start with the frst: what can be gleaned from the types of behav-
iour showcased by TikTok boyfriends is disconcerting if we would take it to
refect what its generation Z users expect of romantic relationships. Videos
in the category of toxic behaviour are surprisingly popular: psycho boy-
friends, behaviours like stalking and extreme jealousy, abuse and criminal
behaviour.2 Creator Donn Dew (@donndew, 2.2M followers) makes content
with titles like “POV: you called your abusive boyfriend psychopathic and
he shows you how psychopathic he can be” and “You tell your abusive boy-
friend you’re leaving him but he pushes you to the wall and won’t let you
leave.” Jordy Boulet-Viau (3.6M) portrays a “psycho boyfriend,” and Ryan
Clements (@ryan.clem, 4M) has a demonic boyfriend series. Other recurring
themes are “Your boyfriend has anger issues but when you touch him you
are the only one who can control him,” @Yaza.diab, and the mafa boyfriend.
The popularity of toxic behaviour undoubtedly refects an effect of popu-
lar media: movies and TV shows that glamorise “bad guys.” The protago-
nist of the TV series You, a murderous stalker who is obsessed with the
female heroine, is surprisingly popular among female viewers. As one of the
fans of a TikTok psycho boyfriend explains her infatuation, “Although it’s
a little sick and toxic, it’s a bit attractive, because he shows that he cares. I
know it’s way too much for a working relationship, but in these videos it’s
charismatic to me somehow” (Jimenez, 2020). Some even explicitly link the
behaviour to “your” level of attractiveness (“POV: I’m getting a little more
controlling these days cause you’re looking so damn B-E-A-UTIFUL!),” sug-
gesting that jealous, controlling behaviour is a reward or compliment. The
obsessive, dangerous partner seems to fulfl a need for undivided attention
on the other’s part.
116 Inge van de Ven
When it comes to boyfriend POVs in the category “attention,” the contrast
with ASMR could not be bigger. The majority of the videos give some spin
on the scenario where “you,” the viewer, ask for attention from a distracted
boyfriend. Typically, the short scenes show a boyfriend immersed in some
activity, like watching TV, gaming or looking at his phone, then turning to
“you” distractedly and smiling in a sweet or seductive way. Here, personal
attention is presented as something you have to actively work for (as the
performers themselves are doing on the platform). So, on the one end of the
spectrum, there are the indifferent, distracted boyfriends; on the other end,
there is the “psycho” variation who cares too much. Receiving someone’s full
attention, even when deeply toxic, seems to be valued over being ignored.
Where ASMR artists try to compensate for loneliness by offering personal
attention and care, in most TikTok role-plays, attention in romance is per-
formed as a problem: there is always too much or too little, it is hard to get
it just right.
This is not to suggest there is no wholesome content on TikTok. An exam-
ple is Sebastien R Teller. The actor explains in a YouTube video that he “dis-
covered” the TikTok boyfriend genre during quarantine. He was single and
cooped up with his roommate, unable to do acting jobs on set. He decided
his niche would be to deviate from all the negativity (“hot-ass guys that are
often shirtless and showing off their abs and acting tough or murderous for
some weird reason,” Teller, 2020). He portrays the persona of the caring
boyfriend, “to show you that you deserve love, . . . proving you that that
type of love really does exist. . . . People that care for you, someone who will
love you and push you to move ahead” (Teller, 2020). In only a few days, he
gained 1,000 followers, enough to go live on TikTok. In three weeks, Teller
had 22.5K followers and a close-knit community began to form around the
virtual boyfriend. On the basis of the comments, followers deem his videos
“aspirational” and compare them to past relationships with boyfriends of
the non-virtual variety: “[M]y dream is to have a healthy relationship like
the one you show in your content”; “Honestly, my favorite TikToker and the
best boyfriend I’ve had .”
Besides interacting with fans in the comment sections, TikTokers take
the element of dialogism that we saw in ASMR videos to the next level
through the platform’s “duet” feature. This allows users to respond and add
on to a video by another user by recording their own video and displaying
it alongside the original. Both performers literally share the screen, which
is vertically divided. In a video with the caption “duet me if you like this,”
@mr.him portrays a caring boyfriend who awaits his partner after (again)
a rough day. He offers her a bath with candles, a glass of wine, a rub-down
and ordering a meal. He asks her questions and waits for appropriate inter-
vals to suggest a dialogue. Another user, appropriately nicknamed @mrs.
itsher, took on the challenge and flled the blanks in the dialogue by playing
the part of the stressed-out girlfriend (“#duet with >mr.imhim. Feels good
when someone cares after a bad day”). Duets like these are a playful way
 Attention and affective proximity 117
for strangers to come together to play out their interpretations of a romantic
relationship.

Reflection and conclusion: depersonalised intimacy

I have examined two current examples of how intimacy is mediated by
digital media. Both foster technologically mediated “one-on-one” intimacy,
where the creators directs their attention to the viewer and demand their
focus in return. They ask for different modes of attention. TikTok videos,
due to their length and platform affordances, are watched in bulk, by scroll-
ing through many in one session. The platform’s recommendation system
“feeds” us ever-more bite-size chunks to capture and sustain our attention:
addictive entertainment.
ASMR videos, much longer and purportedly used for relaxation and sleep,
are more demanding. In a hypermediated world, they go against the grain
by asking us to focus on one thing for extended lengths of time and to dis-
connect from other input. Both genres play an interesting role in the atten-
tion economy, marked by an overload of information and a limited human
reserve of attention. In this economy, what is “sold” as intimate bonds is a
strategy to attract attention. ASMRtists are much more professional than
their TikTok counterparts, as it takes more time, effort and equipment to be
successful. This professionalism seems to generate a higher level of intimacy.
Yet, even in virtual relations, attention is a two-way street. The performers
need the viewer’s attention and try to attract it by giving them the “personal
attention” that they might lack in offline life. A sense of reciprocity arises as
the content strives to overcome the boundaries of the medium. This is done,
as we have seen, through the POV perspective, intimate settings, camera
angles that convey closeness to (parts of) the body, leaving open spaces to
accommodate the viewer in the scene, the use of direct address, close-ups,
ASMR’s haptic visuality and TikTok’s duet function. In the narratives that
were enacted, too, the reciprocity of care is central.
We have further seen how each genre in its own way tries to overcome
its mediated nature by creating effects of immediacy, eliminating distance in
both time and space. In terms of space, we can think of these media as forging
mobile attachments (Wilson, 2016). The portability of phones, tablets and
laptops affords going to sleep and waking up with them and involving them
in all kinds of intimate, everyday moments. There is a continuity between the
virtual actual spaces, which draws the viewer into the fictional world. This
allows new, creative ways to engender co-presence and ambient intimacy. Dis-
connection from time is particularly interesting in relation to TikTok, as the
platform does not date its videos and thus creates a perpetual “now” where
users can easily lose track of time, amplifying its addictive nature.
It has become clear that such mediated forms of intimate communica-
tion reproduce gendered notions of care, valorise particular forms of
femininity and masculinity over others and foreground particular (often
118 Inge van de Ven
heteronormative and not always wholesome) types of romantic relation-
ships. Virtual boyfriends and girlfriends offer the consolations of a return
to traditional distributions of care in distressing times. Wokies noted: “I
portray a girlfriend but I’m also like a mother who gives the nurturing that
we all desire and need” (Van de Ven, 2021). It is important to realise that the
content refects a fantasy.
The type of intimacy thus fostered by these mediations does not meet the
traditional academic defnitions by the likes of Turkle and Bauman, as it is
not one of mutual disclosure. The performer of a role-play and the viewer
do not know each other, at least not in the sense of knowing more about the
other than an outsider does (something that is acknowledged in the responses
to these videos, sometimes as a cause for concern: “Me: pretending I have
a girlfriend on a phone screen./My brain: you need help.”) Relatability and
intimacy become branded affective connections.
Yet, it has also become clear that such forms of neoliberal media culture
and branded connections do not foreclose the possibility of togetherness and
intimacy. There is parasocial interaction between viewer and creator; there is a
community around the content. The relationships portrayed might be virtual,
but that does not bar the possibility of real intimate affects, which can indeed
be mediatised through a screen, as thousands of viewer responses testify:

I feel like you were actually talking to me. I need that <3
I was. <3

In the end, it is impossible to ever fully know another person. As love

involves desire which involves fantasy, being in love entails a certain mea-
sure of projection, and romantic relationships always have something of
the “virtual” within them. Moreover, many “real” relationships today are
mediated to a high degree, performed through text messaging and Skype ses-
sions. Non-virtual relationships do not always meet the standards posed by
defnitions of “real” intimacy. Judging from the communities around virtual
boyfriends and girlfriends that share real-life experiences in the comment
sections, such ideal, reciprocal relationships are by no means a given for
everyone at this time. Beyond the pandemic, digital intimacies and virtual
romantic connections are expected to play a signifcant part in social lives
in late-capitalist societies in the years to come. I have limited myself to
studying the more (stereo)typical cases here; further research is warranted
to refect greater variety.

Notes
1 I omitted videos marked 18+, centralising one technique or activity (licking, suck-
ing, or “ear eating”); or revolving around a single sound (“scratching”); videos
with roleplays about jealous girlfriends, or less realistic scenarios such as abduction
by an alien girlfriend. I disregarded audio-based or animated results (“hentai”).
 Attention and affective proximity 119
2 Even though caring role-plays prevail, there is also a niche of controlling, jealous,
or “Overly Attached” girlfriend role-plays. The “possessive boyfriend” is another
popular subgenre in ASMR.

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8 Romantic communication
Affordances and practices of
mobile (dis)connection
Anastasia Nikitina

Introduction
Sociologist Eva Illouz cites advances in technology among three key reasons
that have changed modern romantic relationships (Illouz, 2012: 241). At the
same time, more and more young people are becoming active users of mobile
technology. In 2020, 81% of the active Internet audience in Russia was
going online using smartphones (Ipsos Group, 2020). Smartphones remain
the most popular technological device among Russians, and time spent using
them has increased during 2020, as Ipsos reports.
This chapter explores how Russian students use mobile technology in
romantic relationships. I aim to characterise the effects of the mediatisa-
tion of romantic relationships and to describe what practices of together-
ness and disconnection emerge from the use of mobile technologies. This
research project is based on the mediatisation concept developed by Hepp et
al. (2015) and elaborates on Hjarvard’s notion of the mediatisation of habi-
tus (2013). It employs Hjarvard’s concept to study the nature of romantic
mobile communication and develops an idea that the key feature of romantic
communication is its perpetual and phatic nature.
I begin this chapter by outlining key arguments in the conceptualisation of
mediatisation of social life. In the next part, I turn to the results of my empirical
research and describe the practices of connection and disconnection in romantic
relationships. Afterwards, I turn to the theory of affordances in order to explain
how exactly romantic relationships are infuenced by mobile use. I propose the
typology of mobile affordance of romantic communication that provides the
explanation of how technological features and characteristics of mobile phones
can allow the grounds for connecting and disconnecting over media.

Literature review
Mediatisation explores the relationship between changes in media and com-
munication and changes in culture and society. For the key authors develop-
ing mediatisation theory, Andreas Hepp, Stig Hjarvard and Knut Lundby,
mediatisation is part of a larger transformative process that takes place in

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-11
122 Anastasia Nikitina
late modern society and causes changes at the intersection of many spheres
of society (Hepp et al., 2015).
Since mediatisation is a relatively new concept, it is generating a lively
debate within the academic community. Hepp, Hjarvard and Lundby clarify
many controversial points in their 2015 paper (Hepp et al., 2015). In par-
ticular, they stress that mediatisation research cannot be reduced to the study
of media effects, as it refects part of more complex transformation processes
in society. Andreas Hepp also suggests looking at specifc mediatised social
worlds (Hepp, 2013). Within this concept, which he develops with Friedrich
Krotz, he argues that it is not worth studying mediatisation in a broad con-
text; in order to carry out qualitative empirical research, it is better to con-
centrate on studying the mediatisation process in particular social worlds,
such as that of families, schools, or fan communities (Nim, 2017). Following
this advice, I have decided to narrow down this study to the exploration of
romantic communication of young people based in Moscow.
Stig Hjarvard argues that mediatisation is one of the major transformative
processes of modernity (Hjarvard, 2013). In his view, mediatisation can be
defned as a process in which society and culture become largely dependent on
the media and begin to operate according to the logic of the media. Most rele-
vant to our work is the sixth chapter of the book, in which Hjarvard describes
changes in people’s interactions with each other and with society as a whole
and alterations in personal development, which he calls the mediatisation of
habitus. Hjarvard is using the concept of habitus in order to “to consider the
infuence of the media on cultural and social identity” (Hjarvard, 2013: 139),
understanding by habitus “the fundamental social character of the individual
agents’ actions and interpretations of their positions in society” (Hjarvard,
2013: 140). He emphasises that the way in which the media change human
relations and shape new norms is worthy of close attention.
One of Hjarvard’s main points in this chapter is that mediatisation encour-
ages the development of soft individualism, which is associated with weak
social ties. In the mediatised era, individuals are better able to construct
their identities through interactions with other members of society, while
older social groups or institutions like class, family and church become less
important. While social media encourage the development of weak social
ties, he argues that mobile media strengthen family and friendship ties. He
suggests that such social media as Facebook and LinkedIn as well as various
messengers are designed to be more suitable for casual and superfcial com-
munication. Hjarvard writes about sociability as the main characteristic of
media communication and about the playfulness of sociability, where the
only purpose of the interaction is the interaction itself.

Methodology
Methods employed in this chapter include semi-structured interviews and a
quantitative survey. I decided to combine the qualitative and quantitative data
 Romantic communication 123
so that I could get a more or less objective overview of mobile use between
HSE students and, at the same time, obtain profound and detailed insights
into the motivations, reasons and emotions behind these numbers. For this
project, I conducted nine in-depth semi-structured interviews from March to
May 2020. The interviews lasted from 40 to 100 minutes, were recorded and
later transcribed. The respondents were aged from 18 to 23, studied at HSE,
lived in Moscow at the time of the interview and were active users of mobile
phones. Six respondents were female and three were male. A quantitative
survey was conducted online in May 2020 and included 117 participants. All
participants were selected according to the following criteria:

(1) respondents are between 17 and 25 years old;

(2) they are based in Moscow;
(3) they are studying for a degree in Humanities at the Higher School of
Economics;
(4) they are in a relationship at the time of the interview or have been in
one within the last 12 months.

I analysed the data following an inductive approach, constructing categories

and themes out of the interviews.

Practices of connection

Common everyday routine

Among the various practices of connection that mobile media offer to young
people, I believe that the ability to create a common everyday routine is the
primary one. By creating such a routine, I mean that romantically involved
people are constantly engaged in a never-ending conversation with each
other, sharing the smallest details of each other’s lives together. “Perpetual
contact” has already been called the primary condition for mediatised rela-
tionships (Katz & Aakhus, 2002; Su, 2015). Additionally, the researchers
have suggested that the state of constant communication, or the constant
willingness to communicate, is a central feature of mobile media (Schrock,
2015). Correspondingly, respondents have said that they exchange messages
so often that it is diffcult to name the exact frequency, only vaguely specify-
ing that this frequency is at least once an hour.

[We chatted] Constantly. 10 messages per hour for sure, maybe even
more. Well, practically all the time.
(Respondent 4, female, 20)

The results of the quantitative survey showed that 34.2% of respondents

texted constantly, every hour, or more often. Another 53.8% exchange mes-
sages every day, several times a day.
124 Anastasia Nikitina
Participants of the in-depth interview said that their exchange of mes-
sages is basically one big conversation that never ends: “We somehow
manage to maintain one constant correspondence” (Respondent 6, male,
20). As H. Su noted in a study of romantic communication among Chi-
nese youth, a signifcant part of couples’ everyday communication is “silly
nonsense,” messages that are aimed more at establishing and maintain-
ing an emotional connection between partners than at substantive dis-
cussion of specifc topics (Su, 2015). Some respondents, refecting on the
nature of their communication with their romantic partner, also repro-
duced H. Su and S. Hjarvard’s idea of communication for communication’s
sake, which, according to the researchers, is a key characteristic of online
communication.

We text each other all the time, just to keep in touch somehow. It doesn’t
happen on purpose, you just can’t not communicate anymore.
(Respondent 3, female, 19)

We are texting all the time about insignifcant things, just to keep in
touch with each other. . . . there is a desire to simply communicate, not
to discuss anything in particular.
(Respondent 7, female, 24)

For the respondents, collaborative everyday routine consists of the following

aspects: synchronisation of reality, everyday pictures, rituals and traditions,
and practices of “co-presence,” the latter meaning “In any form of mediated
communication, the phenomenological sense of ‘being there’ with another
person in place and/or time” (Co-presence, n.d.; Oxford Reference, n.d.).

(4) The synchronisation of realityw

Respondents noted that they use text messaging constantly throughout the
day to synchronise their reality with that of a partner who is not with them
during the day. This communication is in the nature of “reality documenta-
tion” as one respondent named it. She notes that every day she shared with
her partner “in real-time mode” what she was doing:

I was the kind of person who foods another person with “I ate this,” “I
did this,” “I did that” messages. And it didn’t even require a response
to each of my messages . . . It was a kind of documentation of reality.
(Respondent 1, female, 22)

The observation that such documentation of reality does not even require a
response seems important because it indicates either the importance of such
communication for the respondent – so strong that she continues it even
though there is no response – or the ritualistic nature of such communication,
 Romantic communication 125
where the documentation of reality is so integral to it that it is taken for
granted, so natural that it does not even imply a response.
In a more vivid form, the synchronisation of reality is expressed in the
exchange of photographs.

(2) Synchronising the reality through photographs

An important tool for shaping the common everyday routine through mobile
media is pictures taken on a mobile phone and sent to a partner. Photographs
of the everyday details of one’s daily life refer to the phenomenon of “con-
nected” presence, which, as D. Cui described (2016), is becoming more and
more complete with the changes in technology, thanks to the multimedia char-
acteristics of mobile phones. Thanks to modern technology, respondents are
able to send a picture they have taken to a partner instantly. Many social
networks and messengers allow taking a photo directly in a chat window
with a partner, without closing the dialogue or going to the camera applica-
tion itself. Respondents told us that photos are an integral part of their daily
communication, allowing them to create an impression of a mutual constant
presence in each other’s lives.

it’s on the level of taking pictures of our rats or asking how our neigh-
bours are doing. Some very everyday stories like a view from my window.
(Respondent 3, female, 19)

Often we send each other pictures of random things, or the weather, or

what we’re doing. For example, someone dropped a cup and you can
send a picture of it.
(Respondent 5, female, 21)

At the same time, the photos that are exchanged to create the illusion of
shared everyday life do not have to be beautiful or unusual. On the contrary,
the respondents do not need a special occasion to exchange photos:

you upload a bunch of photos, a photographic report on how you spent

your day. Or you go somewhere and send a picture of what’s going on
outside.
(Respondent 5, female, 21)

Everyday photos become an important tool for including the other person
in one’s life. By sending their partner a photo of the street they are currently
walking, respondents seem to blur the line between the physical distance
between each other and the virtual reality of being together. According to one
respondent, she sends her partner everyday photos “to include the person who
is now at work, in a completely different context, in what you are experienc-
ing right now at that moment, even though you are far away from each other.”
126 Anastasia Nikitina
(3) Rituals and traditions as a part of common everyday routine
All respondents said that daily messages with good morning wishes at the
beginning of the day and good night’s sleep in the evening are an important
part of their daily communication: “I like to end each conversation with ‘good
night’ or ‘sleep well’, it is like a ritual” (Respondent 5, female, 21); “We start
the day with ‘good morning’ and end with ‘good night’, we have certain ritu-
als with which we go through the day” (Respondent 8, female, 21). Interview-
ees referred to the exchange of these messages as ‘basic’ and spoke of them
as something so natural that they do not think about it: “we don’t have any
[rituals], apart from the basic ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’” (Respondent
2, male, 22). Speaking about the motives behind this ritual, respondents noted
its role in creating a shared everyday life through mobile media: “it’s to set
up some kind of connection between you early in the day, tell each other ‘my
morning starts with you’, that by this message I tell them ‘I’m sending you on
this day, go, I’ll be with you’” (Respondent 8, female, 21).

(4) Practices of co-presence

Mobile media help respondents to create a co-presence effect in each other’s
lives by enabling practices such as watching movies together from a distance,
simulating a face-to-face experience together. For example, a participant of
an in-depth interview described how it was common in her relationship to
watch a flm together and simultaneously discuss it through texting:

We watched flms together each at their own home. We would agree in

advance which flm we were going to watch, start the countdown and with
the word “go” we would simultaneously start the flm. We would watch it
together comment on it, that is, we would text each other by phone while
we were watching the flm, discussing some of the things we liked about it.
(Respondent 4, female, 20)

As a result, practices of connection are largely concerned with the construc-

tion of a common everyday routine. A special feature of romantic communi-
cation, therefore, is that it takes the form of constant connection, or perpetual
contact. Students exchange messages and photos incredibly frequently to syn-
chronise their own reality with that of their partner through mobile media.

Practices of disconnection

(4) Intolerance of being alone

The fip side of perpetual contact is the inability to be alone. Managing one’s
personal space in a society where constant accessibility via mobile phone is
the social norm has been highlighted by many researchers as an important
 Romantic communication 127
problem in mediatised romantic relationships. Drawing on both previous
research and empirical data, I suggest that mobile media cultivate partners’
intolerance of loneliness.
In in-depth interviews, many students mentioned their addiction to con-
stant messaging: “When we were in a relationship, I found it diffcult to be
alone. It’s not that I didn’t know what to do with myself, it was more of
a habit of texting all the time. You just keep checking your phone to see
if you’ve received a message” (Respondent 4, female, 20). A peculiarity of
romantic communication is that the respondent is in constant expectation
of an answer, which he knows can come at any time: “When you exchange
messages, you don’t have a certain amount of personal time that you can
spend not on each other, . . . someone can be waiting for an answer all the
time” (Respondent 8, female, 21).
A total of 15.4% of respondents confessed that they have problems with
being alone because they are used to constantly texting with their partners.
At the same time, 69.2% of respondents stated that they have a habit of
constantly messaging their partners, but that they do not necessarily see this
as a problem. Respondents reported the fear of offending or upsetting the
partner as one of the reasons for such pressure:

It can be very diffcult for me to feel comfortable alone because I am

afraid that my girlfriend might want to communicate with me when I’m
not around my phone. I’m afraid of worrying her by not replying. I have
to be online all the time. This can be very frustrating.
(Respondent 9, male, 18)

Moreover, there is the paradox of wanting to be alone when the constant

presence of the other is only mediated: “If you say to someone ‘I want to be
alone’, for example, this can sound quite rude. Why do I want to be alone?
If we’re texting, we’re not together anyway” (Respondent 8, female, 21).
A total of 23.1% of survey participants place limits on the amount of time
they do not text their partner. Respondents control the number of messages
they exchange in order not to overload themselves with communication with
their partner and to maintain a sense of personal space: “I think it’s about
self-regulation when you realize that it’s too much, you need to take a break
and stop writing to them. I think everyone has had that feeling” (Respondent
2, male, 22); “I tried to control myself so I wouldn’t write to him frst, so
I wouldn’t send him anything, so I would be less intrusive. I used to put a
time limit: I tried not to text him for a day or a few days” (Respondent 7,
female, 23).

(2) Controlling behaviour

Mobile media provide opportunities for people to control a partner that they
have not had before. This is not the most common practice among students,
128 Anastasia Nikitina
as only two in-depth interview respondents confessed they had used mobile
media to spy on another person. One student recounted how her partner
followed her every move on Instagram:

Sometimes he would look at who I was “liking” from my male friends

and watch their stories. Let’s say I texted him that I went to the gym and
then I accidentally met a friend who posted a picture with me. And then
he would text me accusing me of lying about going to the gym.
(Respondent 1, female, 22)

Another respondent used the geolocation feature of the Snapchat app,

which showed her partner’s location: “I’ve been keeping an eye on his loca-
tion. For example, if he didn’t answer me, I’d open the map and see where
he was” (Respondent 7, female, 23). The respondent explained that she was
using this feature to know why her partner refused to get in touch immedi-
ately, which links us back to the discussion about the intolerance of being
alone.

(3) Mediatised conficts

When asked about whether it is easier to resolve a confict over the phone,
56.4% of the survey respondents agreed and 53.8% said that it is, on the
contrary, more diffcult.
Many people point out that it is diffcult to understand each other while
arguing over the phone. One of the reasons why mobile media may com-
plicate the confict is due to perpetual contact. As I have mentioned before,
exchanging messages in romantic communication has the character of one
long uninterrupted conversation. In one respondent’s experience, this char-
acteristic has a particularly negative impact on quarrels:

It’s terrible, I always start responding to every point he mentions in his

messages, it drags on and on and can really go on forever. It’s hard to
argue for so long face to face, but over the phone, I use all my vocabulary.
(Respondent 8, female, 21)

Another obstacle brought by mobile media is the diffculty in interpreting

emotions: “In text messages, the body language, emotions, facial expressions,
gestures are absent. Only words are left. And words can be interpreted in
different ways” (Respondent 7, female, 23). Similarly, respondents noted
that during text message quarrels, there is a possibility not to contain one’s
negative emotions.
Quarrels over the phone also give students the opportunity to manipulate
their partner’s emotions: “I used to be the kind of person who, when arguing,
would log off all social media and not respond anywhere. I used to do it with
a manipulative strategy” (Respondent 1, female, 22); “This only happens if
 Romantic communication 129
I feel some kind of resentment. Of course, it can be shown by ignoring him.
And then I think: I want to write to him now, but I won’t do it, I won’t do it
for as long as possible” (Respondent 5, female, 21).
At the same time, participants in the in-depth interviews pointed out that
there were many features of communication through mobile technologies,
whose role in confict resolution they viewed positively. The students point
out that mobile media gives them the opportunity to describe their argu-
ments more clearly, thanks to the possibility of a delayed response: “It sounds
terrible, but I’m the kind of person who prefers to argue online. This gives
me the opportunity to take some distance, to think things over” (Respondent
1, female, 22).

(4) Mediatised break-ups

A total of 75.5% of students with experience of breaking up with a partner
had ended a relationship by text message. A total of 24.4% had made the
decision to break up by mobile phone call. Face-to-face break-up was the
least frequent option, with 18.8% of respondents having this experience.
All participants of the in-depth interviews have ended a relationship
through mobile media. For one student, this is the only acceptable way to
break up with his partner. A strong reason for this was his sexual identity,
which forced him to turn to the most confdential mode of communication,
which does not risk attracting the attention of potentially dangerous homo-
phobic people: “As a member of the LGBT community, I fnd it diffcult to
stand in Gorky Park and start arguing with my boyfriend because people
around me would not perceive it the right way, to put it mildly” (Respon-
dent 2, male, 22). This motivation to break up over mobile media can be
attributed to a specifc Russian context as the majority of Russians have a
negative attitude towards the LGBT community (Volkov, 2019). Addition-
ally, this respondent notes more personal reasons why he and his partners
choose to talk about the details of the break-up through messaging rather
than face to face:

There is something about shame, about insecurity and, perhaps, fear of

reciprocal emotions. That is, when you’re texting someone, you don’t see
how they’re going to respond. You hide your emotions, you don’t see his
emotions and you pretend that everything is fne.

Another respondent, who reported his decision to break up with his girl-
friend in a text message, said that he found it diffcult to refect on the reasons
for his action, but that fear was the main driving emotion. Fear of showing
emotion is also recognised by one of the respondents as the reason why her
ex-partner broke up with her over the phone.
At the same time, respondents who fnd themselves in this situation as
passive recipients of someone else’s break-up message say that this choice
130 Anastasia Nikitina
of communication channel makes them feel that their feelings are neglected:
“When a person decides to text me something as important as ‘we are breaking
up’, I fnd it strange and unfair. I think it’s simply cowardice” (Respondent 1,
female, 22). Also, break-ups via text messages, according to students, do not
give them a sense of the fnality of the relationship but cause misunderstand-
ing and make them want to discuss the reasons behind breaking up properly.
For many respondents, break-ups are accompanied by changes in their
mobile use. Respondents change their social media settings after a break-
up, for example, hiding notifcations, changing the content of their social
media pages, deleting photos and posts about their past relationships and
so on. It should be noted, however, that removing someone from friends
is hidden by social networking technology. As the majority of respondents
exchanged messages with their partners via a Russian social networking
service VKontakte, they acknowledged that VKontakte users are not noti-
fed neither when someone deletes them from friends nor when another user
hides their updates or deletes a chat with them.
All in all, mobile media for Russian students not only provides grounds
for their involvement in various quarrels but also sets new rules and norms
of behaving in such mediatised conficts. Importantly, all of the described
practices of disconnection are linked to the perpetual nature of romantic
communication.

Mobile affordances of romantic communication

This part is dedicated to the mobile affordances of romantic communica-
tion. On the basis of the interview and survey data, I suggest the typology of
mobile affordances as they are used and perceived by romantically involved
Moscow students. The theory of affordances in this project brings the notion
of specifc features of mobile technologies in order to better understand the
mutual infuence of mobile phones and relationships on each other.
The emergence of affordances in the theoretical feld of media studies
stems from the need to describe the social side of technology, including the
relationship that arises between a person and their device. An affordance is
a person’s subjective perception of the practical capabilities of technology,
based on the objective features of the technology (Schrock, 2015). A theory
of affordances thus offers a detailed explanation of how human relation-
ships and media are related and how one infuences the other: this approach
suggests that communication technologies, such as mobile media, infuence
people’s relationships because perceptions of media capabilities direct people
towards certain patterns of device use. The concept of affordances, as the
researchers point out, “provides a safe path between the risks of technologi-
cal determinism and social constructionism” (Bloomfeld et al., 2010).
This section is based on the works of A. Schrock, M. V. Abeele and C.
Manell who have derived their typologies of affordances. Schrock (2015)
derived the following classifcation of affordances based on scholarly
 Romantic communication 131
work on mobile communication: portability, availability, locatability and
multimediality. M. W. Abeele et al. (2017) for her study of friendship qual-
ity among adolescents uses three affordances drawn from the literature.
Her classifcation includes the following mobile affordances: anytime–any-
place connectivity, private connectivity and connectivity with greater con-
trollability. K. Mannell (2019) has suggested a typology of disconnecting
affordances: affordances that allow people to temporarily limit their com-
munication via mobile devices. She introduced the following affordances:
disentanglement, jamming, modulation, delay and suggestiveness.
On the basis of the typologies of these scholars, I have compiled our own,
which best meets the aims of this study. Thus, I have identifed the following
affordances:

• accessibility;
• editability;
• suggestiveness;
• exclusion.

(4) Accessibility
The affordance of accessibility refers to the opportunity for a user to regulate
the access of others to one’s privacy. In our study, I examined how this affor-
dance is used by students in their romantic relationships. A total of 84.6% of
respondents stated that they have situations where they want their partner
not to bother them for a while.
The most popular technical features of the mobile phone that respondents
use to limit their accessibility are the following:

(a) simply putting a phone away (58.8%);

(b) logging off social media that respondents use to communicate with
their partner (42.2%);
(c) ignoring the partner’s messages but not logging off (42.3%);
(d) putting one’s phone on mute (28.4%);
(e) disabling the notifcations (28.4%);
(f) turning the Wi-Fi off (13.7%);
(g) switching airplane mode on (8.8%);
(h) switching mobile data off (8.8%);
(i) turning the phone off (4.9%).

Most often respondents want to distance themselves from their partner when
they are busy studying or working (80.4%) or when they just want to be
alone (63.7%). Also, students in love restrict their accessibility when they
are in a bad mood (51%) or when they are angry or resentful towards their
partner (49%). Less frequently, they regulate their accessibility during time
with family and friends (42.2%) or during time devoted to hobbies (32.4%).
132 Anastasia Nikitina
In an in-depth interview, respondents shared their motivations for using
this affordance and how they vary the degree of their availability. Respon-
dents talked about how they often use the technical features of the phone to
limit their availability to themselves during an argument, but when they just
want to be alone, they simply openly ask to not bother them for a while. One
interview participant said that she logged off from the social media that she
used to chat with her partner to limit her contact with him, but continued
to be available to her friends on messengers that her partner did not use. In
exceptional cases, she moved to the next level of “unavailability” and put
her phone into “night mode,” thus limiting her availability from all people
except her parents, whom she had added to her favourite contacts just for
such occasions.
Many students face pressure from their partners regarding the acceptable
amount of time a partner waits to respond to their messages. A total of 12%
of respondents report that their partner will become anxious or annoyed if
they do not reply within 15 minutes or less. Another 20.5% of their partners
expect a response within 15–30 minutes. In most cases, however, respon-
dents’ partners are willing to wait between 30 minutes and an hour (21.4%)
or up to two to three hours (21.4%).

(2) Editability
The affordance of editability in mobile romantic communication refers to the
possibilities offered by text messaging. For example, it includes the possibil-
ity of a delayed response, due to the asynchronicity of this communication.
The editability affordance also includes the possibility to edit and delete
already written messages (for instance, VKontakte introduced this feature in
2017), as well as to rewrite one message several times before sending it, or
to type the text but never send it to the recipient.
Respondents actively use the ability to edit messages in romantic commu-
nication: 5.9% do it always or almost always, 34% replied that they often
edit their messages to their partner, 42.7% do it sometimes, another 13.7%
rarely and only 3.4% never use this function.
From time-to-time students in relationships turn to the option of deleting
messages that have already been sent. Respondents delete messages some-
times (34.2%) or rarely (29.9%), another 17.9% never do so, but 17% of
respondents use this editing affordance frequently. Students in love turn to
this affordance to pretend, in the case of a bad conversation start, that it did
not happen, so that it does not remain in the message history:

When I think I’ve said something wrong, something inappropriate, let’s

say I’ve started discussing some topic that shouldn’t be discussed, and
realise that I shouldn’t have said it. And then I apologise and delete that
message because it’s unpleasant to look at.
(Respondent 9, male, 18)
 Romantic communication 133
Of all the features of the editability affordance, students in the relationship
least often use the ability to type a message, but not to send it. Thus, 40.2%
of respondents never use this feature, 23% use it rarely, 25.6% sometimes
and only 10.2% often. However, this affordance can be present in students’
lives as an opportunity to blow off steam during an argument. For example,
this is how one participant in an in-depth interview uses it:

I start typing a bunch of rude words in the message input feld to my

partner, but I don’t send them. When we fght face to face, I try to sup-
press this anger and aggression, but here I can somehow fnd a way out.
(Respondent 5, female, 21)

(3) Suggestiveness
The affordance of suggestiveness refers to the ability to convey hints and
different shades of emotion in text messages through the use of punctuation
marks, smiley faces, emoji, stickers and so on.
A total of 54.7% of respondents of the survey state that they deliberately
phrase the message in an atypical manner and thereby leave certain hints for
their partner in their messages. The optional question further asked respon-
dents to give examples of what they use to give a hint to their partner in
their text messages.
Most often the respondents answered that they put a dot at the end of the
sentences when they want to give their partners a hint (44% of respondents
mentioned it). Other frequent options that respondents mentioned include
an unusually short reply (39%), the use of certain emoji (28%) and a capital
letter at the beginning of the sentence (17%).
The responses show that typically Moscow students have their own
unspoken rules concerning their communication via messaging. For example,
if they rarely end their sentences with dots and seldom use capital letters,
they expect their partners to notice the minor changes in their manner of
messaging and to interpret these hints. This peculiarity once again proves
how deeply the constant use of mobile media in relationships has changed
the students’ perception of social norms, of what is acceptable behaviour
between couples and of their social positions.

(4) Exclusion
The affordance of exclusion refers to the ability to limit a certain person’s
access to oneself: remove them from friends or block them. I found out how
often respondents use this affordance in romantic communication: 87.2%
of the respondents never unfriend a partner during an argument, 5.1% do it
rarely and 5.1% sometimes.
More often this affordance is used after a break-up: 9.4% of respondents
always or nearly always do so, 7.7% do it often, 10.3% sometimes, 11.1%
134 Anastasia Nikitina
rarely and 42.7% never. In-depth interviewees said that they remove their
partner from their friends on social networking sites to avoid being reminded
of the end of the relationship:

Most often we unsubscribe from each other on all the social networks
where you have to share photos and videos, like Instagram, Snapchat.
Emotionally, it’s hard to see that person’s photographs. When we break
up and the next day I see on Instagram how he’s eating Pho Bo and looks
so happy, it makes me feel awful.
(Respondent 2, male, 22)

In cases where respondents do not want to remove their partner from their
friends, excluding the other is also possible by using the function of hiding
notifcations from the user, thereby excluding them from their news feed.
Students in relationships also use another variation of the affordance
of exclusion when they are blocking a partner’s page. This means that the
blocked user is prevented from sending messages to the respondent and from
looking at their posts. During an argument, a small percentage of students
use this affordance: 83.8% say it is not common for them to do so, another
5.2% confrm that they do so and 11.1% cannot give a clear answer.
A total of 6% always block their ex-partner after a break-up, 6% do so
frequently, 6% do so sometimes, 8.5% rarely and 43.6% never. Students in
love use the affordance of exclusion to fnally put an end to the relation-
ship: “I think it’s like a mutual unspoken agreement that if the relationship
is over, it’s over between us too, even if it’s just lines of code” (Respondent
2, male, 22).
Participants of the in-depth interviews expressed the idea that the end of
a relationship should be accompanied by the maximum exclusion from their
lives of anything related to past mobile communication. Following this logic,
after the end of a relationship, respondents delete their photos together with
an ex-partner from social media and delete their message history:

You know this feeling when you look through your old photos on your
phone and you get sad. . . . To avoid that, I deleted them. All of his mes-
sages too, so that I don’t have the urge to write to him again. And I can’t
read them again and again when I get sad. I don’t want to get stuck on
him and contemplate past conversations over and over. It’s a kind of a
purge that allows me to start something new.
(Respondent 4, female, 20)

In some cases, the desire to mark the end of love not only in real life but
also in the mediatised realm can be accompanied by action with a purely
symbolic meaning: “When we broke up with the previous boyfriend, he
removed all the likes from my photos. It was very strange” (Respondent 5,
female, 21).
 Romantic communication 135
Overall, there are numerous strategies for post-break-up social networking
behaviour that all depend on each person’s personal beliefs and perceptions
of affordances.

Conclusion
The use of mobile technology plays an important role in students’ roman-
tic communication: 93.1% of respondents use mobile media to communi-
cate with their partners every day. It also infuences students’ perceptions of
romantic relationships: their media use is at this point inseparable from their
romantic relationships. The media shapes new norms of romantic relation-
ships as there are new rules of acceptable behaviour on social media during
the relationship and after its end.
The most promising part of our study seems to be our observations con-
cerning the effects of constant contact. I have described how students in
love construct a synchronised reality between each other through constant
messaging and picture exchanges. I also analysed what effects the constant
mediated presence of a partner causes: the associated anxiety, the depen-
dence on messaging and the inability to be alone. On the fip side, many
of the disconnecting practices that arise from mobile communication are
also connected to perpetual contact. Thus, for example, I described such
disconnections as controlling the partner over media, as well as quarrelling,
managing conficts and breaking up over the phone. Moreover, the proposed
typology of affordances of romantic mobile communication and empirical
data on mobile use explains how respondents ensure better connection and,
at the same time, limit their accessibility in relationships with their romantic
partners over the phone.
A limitation of this study is the choice of HSE humanities students as
respondents and the chosen location, namely Moscow. The use of mobile
technology by residents of cities with a population of millions of inhabitants
differs from that of residents of less populated towns and villages. Conse-
quently, in order to present a more complete picture of mobile technology
use among young Russians, it would be necessary to expand the geogra-
phy of the study. A blind spot in our work is also the male experience of
mobile media use in romantic communication, as men accounted for 21.4%
of the total number of respondents to the quantitative survey and 33% of
the respondents to the in-depth interviews. Additionally, it would be useful
to pay special attention to mobile use within the LGBT community in Rus-
sia. I have briefy mentioned how one of the respondents always chooses to
discuss problems and a possible break-up over the phone due to the possible
hostility from accidental witnesses but apparently even more specifcs could
be found. Eventually, all of the aforementioned topics could be addressed in
future projects.
Finally, I am aware that the description I have given of affordances and
practices of connecting and disconnecting on social media is not exhaustive.
136 Anastasia Nikitina
This project has contributed to the research in the feld of mediatisations
of emotions by raising certain suggestions and providing unique empirical
examples and may be supplemented in the future by other scholars.

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9 Friendship
Communicative negotiation in
proximity and distance
Jeannine Teichert

Introduction
In today’s media-driven world (Hepp, 2020), it is not surprising that medi-
ated communication is increasing while the frequency of face-to-face meet-
ings is decreasing (Schobin, 2016: 169). With the rise of information and
communications technologies (ICT), new opportunities for communication
across time and space are constantly created, which were mostly limited to
landline telephones and postal letters, complemented by mobile communica-
tion (Höfich, 1996) in the previous century. In this context, social relation-
ships do not only appear gradually mediatised, but media also become more
interpersonal through processes of mediatisation when mediated rhythms are
adapted to the needs of social relationships (Parks, 2017: 513). With each
technological development, new complex, interwoven physical and virtual
experiences emerge as people attempt to navigate between instantaneousness
and mediated delay in responding to requests, as Bourdon (2020: 79–80)
argues. This development becomes even more relevant in the current phase
of deep mediatisation (Hepp, 2020), understood in this chapter as the recent
development of digitalisation and datafcation, which leads to an unforeseen
variety of mediated communication possibilities to interact with a personal
social network.
In respect of the management of social relationships, Nötzoldt-Linden
(1994: 15) already noted decades ago that the constant development of
communication media leads to an increase in friendship maintenance that
consumes time and space in the lives of those involved. Thus, according to
Nötzoldt-Linden (1994: 19), the maintenance of many friendships creates
a self-deception of numerous stable social relationships. This process can
be exemplifed by the rise of social media networks, which include not only
recent acquaintances, work colleagues and close friends (Forbes, 2016: 171;
Lambert, 2013: 116; Miller et al., 2016: 100) but also past social contacts
(Lambert, 2013: 116; Teichert, 2020). However, as the interest in observing
people on social media platforms is visibly declining at present (Hall, 2020:
120), instant messenger (IM) are gaining more ground in Europe and beyond
(Bobrov, 2018), and friendship communication transfers to a different but

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-12
138 Jeannine Teichert
still mediated sphere. Hence, in the case of friendships, on the one hand, we
can assume processes of mediatisation further the mediated negotiation of
these relationships. On the other hand, the continuous and excessive use
of communication media, in turn, supports the continuous development of
mediatisation.
Furthermore, previous research revealed contradictory cultural percep-
tions regarding friendship’s importance for individuals’ well-being in indi-
vidualistic and collectivist societies. It turns out that individualistic cultures,
such as Scandinavia, Britain, France and Germany, often value friendships
higher than collectivistic cultures, such as Romania and Russia, emphasising
kinship (Lu et al., 2021; Lykes & Kemmelmeier, 2014). Despite the neces-
sity to distinguish further between different types of friendship (Teichert,
in prep.), this article differentiates between distant close and loose local
friends to emphasise how the mediated negotiation of friendships differs in
geographical proximity and distance. By underlining the importance of close
friendships for individuals’ mental health, we can assume that the process of
mediatisation (Krotz, 2007) supports diverse options for mediated friendship
communication, specifcally across geographical distances. Therefore, it is
essential to question in this chapter how the broad repertoire of communi-
cation media, and specifcally new media affordances, facilitates or hinders
mediated friendship negotiation in proximity and distance.

Changing media, changing friendships

In respect of new media affordances (Gibson, 1977), that is, how media
invite people to use them (Proctor, 2021: 602), media users associate differ-
ent platforms along with their social contacts. However, this seems unnec-
essary from a technical perspective (Tandoc et al., 2019). Social media
networks, for instance, offer multiple functions to fnd new friends online
and organise groups according to individual interests (Chambers, 2013;
Forbes, 2016; Liu & Yang, 2016; Tandoc et al., 2019). Moreover, self-
presentations, for example by status updates, shared pictures or stories
within these social platforms, serve to update not only family members but
also current friends (Boczkowski et al., 2018: 253; Halfmann & Rieger,
2019: 166) and past friends (Chambers, 2013: 158; Teichert, 2020). Instant
messenger, on the other hand, are perceived as a more intimate and per-
sonal form of communication (Fernández-Ardèvol et al., 2020), often used
for spontaneous relationship maintenance (Hall, 2020: 116; Parks, 2017:
511). Hence, the common ground of new media affordances can be nar-
rowed down to three dimensions, all discussed in detail in the follow-
ing part of this article, which are supposed to affect the communicative
negotiation of friendships in proximity and distance: The negotiation of
mediated temporality and synchronicity, the variety of acquaintances and
loose friends in proximity, and the communicative sustainability of distant
close friendships.
 Friendship 139
Negotiation of mediated temporality and synchronicity
In digitalised and industrialised societies, a shift to asynchronous commu-
nication and brief media interaction (Forbes, 2016: 171) often occurs due
to the range of communication media used in everyday life. Meanwhile, a
phone call is regarded as intrusive because it demands the instant attention of
the receiver (Chambers, 2013: 26; Hall, 2020: 148–149; Hall & Baym, 2011:
320). Hence, instead of one disruptive phone call to establish mediated co-
presence, recurring incoming text messages instead signal constant potential
availability throughout the day (Turkle, 2012: 409). However, multiple mes-
sage exchanges often do not reach the quality of one focused synchronous
conversation, as Mannell (2020: 281) argues. Hence, Keightley (2013: 68)
states that media have the potential to change the perception of temporality
by their communicative structure and individual textual units. Thus, new
media technologies contribute to the experience of contemporaneity and
can support the perception of temporal differentiation, as Pentzold (2018:
931–932) concludes. Therefore, close and loose friends near and far need
to address specifcally and mutually how they desire to communicate with
each other, for instance, if intrusive phone calls are allowed for close friends
or if a delayed response of several days to a text message is accepted as an
appropriate time to answer in loose friendships.
Using the example of text messages, we can address a changing commu-
nicative behaviour concerning the negotiation of mediated temporality and
synchronicity. In this regard, we can consider an exchange of asynchronous
text messages as ongoing communication, as Elder (2018: 183) suggests. In
this case, not a single message but a series of mediated interactions produce
a pattern in which the interrelationship of synchronicity and temporality is
renegotiated. However, in contrast to face-to-face conversations, an inter-
locutor can easily remove himself or herself from a mediated conversation
(Elder, 2018: 165: Wetzel, 2014: 118), for instance, by deliberately ignoring
messages and calls. Participants in Miller et al.’s (2016: 191) international
study, for example, purposefully used social media apps when they intended
to keep an emotional distance from their interaction partners. However, nei-
ther physical nor mediated co-presence can occur by refusing and rejecting a
friend’s desire to communicate. Thus, the neglect of a friend reaching out to
establish contact can be interpreted by the other party as a negative attitude
towards intensifying a friendship (Forbes, 2016: 171) or even as a breach of
trust, if a close friendship is concerned, while a loose friendship potentially
overcomes longer periods of silence.
The messenger service WhatsApp, which is widely used in Europe (Bobrov,
2018), for example, reveals to the sender when a message has been delivered
or read unless the recipient switches off this function. Within WhatsApp,
friends can see when their contacts appear online to read, reply, or chat
with various senders, although this does not signal a statement of medi-
ated availability and co-presence to all contacts simultaneously at the time
140 Jeannine Teichert
(O’Hara et al., 2014: 8). However, as Hall and Baym (2011: 326) pointed
out, as the number of calls and text messages increases every day, so does the
expectation to respond. According to this understanding by Hall and Baym
(2011: 326–327), the very use of a cell phone already expresses an obliga-
tion to a friend’s potential availability and responsiveness. Hall and Baym
(2011: 320–321) describe this predicament as a dialectical tension of mutual
dependence. Conversely, a responsive social relationship is characterised by
empathy and a willingness to tolerate waiting time for a response, as Elder
(2018: 165–166) points out. However, the perceived increased social pres-
sure to respond when a message is marked as read at the sender’s end but not
immediately replied to can, in turn, also lead to increased feelings of social
stress and anxiety (Hall, 2020: 157; Jansson, 2018: 18) and even to social
exclusion (Matassi et al., 2019: 2185). Therefore, it is essential to establish
communicative routines in close and loose friendships, for example, how,
when and which media channels and respectively how much mediated com-
munication should occur in a friendship.
In this regard, a range of boundary practices (Mannell, 2019: 89; Roitsch,
2020) has emerged in the past years to cope with negative emotions arising
from a plethora of media communication in social relationships (Turkle,
2012: 322). These include, among others, briefy replying or deliberately not
answering messages (Mannell, 2019: 85), turning off status information,
for example, if a message was received or read (Matassi et al., 2019: 2192),
muting or blocking individuals and groups (Mannell, 2019: 84–85), turning
off all notifcations at once (Mannell, 2019: 81) or even shut down the smart-
phone (Church & de Oliveira, 2013: 356). Accordingly, friendships’ indi-
vidually negotiated response behaviour seems to determine whether friends
are quickly alarmed by a missing answer (O’Hara et al., 2014: 9) or suspect
the addressee cannot respond due to other responsibilities (Matassi et al.,
2019: 2194). As a result of these communication avoidance strategies, we can
frst observe a shift to permanent asynchronous communication taking place
in friendships, which means fewer phone calls, more texts and voice mes-
sages, requiring less attention and personal involvement and thus can also
be stress-reducing (Turkle, 2012: 320). Secondly, however, a similar sense of
communication frequency is necessary to renew and maintain a relationship
in the long run (Elder, 2018: 142; Hansen, 2009: 238). Consequently, the
question arises of how close and loose friendships differ in terms of their
mediated communication in proximity and distance.

Instant messaging with everyday contacts

As a multimodal messaging tool, instant messaging offers the potential of
ongoing, dialogue-oriented communication with an open end – a conversa-
tion may be picked up again at any time (Birnholtz et al., 2017: 270; Church
& de Oliveira, 2013: 354; Matassi et al., 2019: 2185). Resulting from the
low costs involved, IM via Wi-Fi or a mobile data package is now often
 Friendship 141
used to split messages into several pieces intentionally, to demand the recipi-
ent’s immediate attention by triggering vibrations of the phone (Fernández-
Ardèvol et al., 2020; König, 2019). The message content, contrarily, usually
does not imply an instant reaction, as it is often of a spontaneous, trivial
and mundane nature (Birnholtz et al., 2017: 264; Cui, 2016: 25; O’Hara
et al., 2014: 12). In terms of communicatively negotiating friendships, at this
point, we can address four critical aspects of instant messaging with close
and loose friends in proximity and distance, which highlight the relation to
the addressees as well as the content of conversation:

• Firstly, IM is often used for quick retrieval and response of information

in friendships (Birnholtz et al., 2017: 263; Cui, 2016: 25–26).
• Secondly, existing friendships near and far are frequently maintained
through ongoing-mediated communication (Church & de Oliveira,
2013: 355).
• Thirdly, groups of loose contacts, such as loose friends, colleagues,
roommates and sports acquaintances, can be managed via group chats,
without the necessity of all members actively participating (Church &
de Oliveira, 2013: 355; Mannell, 2020: 281).
• Fourthly, appointments for offine meetings can be made quickly with
individuals (Cui, 2016: 27; Parks, 2017: 505) and groups (Ling & Lai,
2016: 837; Mannell, 2020: 280) via IM.

These four types of instant messaging can also be combined by changing

media platforms and communication channels (Parks, 2017: 508; Tandoc
et al., 2019), for example, when friends arrange to meet offine via text or
voice messages and subsequently continue to communicate via IM after their
meeting. However, this happens more often with people who regularly meet
in local everyday life, such as partners, family members, friends and work
colleagues, as other researchers already investigated (Church & de Oliveira,
2013: 358; Kohout & Schumann, 2020: 410; O’Hara et al., 2014: 11).
Interestingly, IM’s use contrarily does not hint at the individual perception
of the type of close or loose friendship. Conversations on IM rather seldom
include intimate issues (Liu & Yang, 2016: 453), emotional topics (Croes
et al., 2018: 64; Turkle, 2012: 451), or other important content (Kohout
& Schumann, 2020: 410–411), which may be assumed to be reserved only
for close friendships. Hence, close friends presumably exchange intimate
knowledge about each other more often in local face-to-face interactions,
while instant messaging potentially aims to maintain these and other existing
offine relationships, schedule offine appointments or quickly retrieve and
exchange information with friends.
Concluding, IM’s affordances can promote and accelerate the mediated
negotiation of friendships due to their communication structure, for instance,
by enabling instant communication of trivial happenings shared with friends
at the moment of experience. Suppose there is no need for meaningful
142 Jeannine Teichert
communication via IM because they embed unprompted news exchange
and not necessarily central message content. Then, instant messages instead
symbolise the wish to connect with a friend and trigger a feeling of commu-
nity (Church & de Oliveira, 2013: 355), rather than intensifying an intimate
and close friendship via media. Nevertheless, it can be summarised here that
IM seems to be used primarily for everyday contacts, who regularly meet
to discuss and share topics and friendship values in face-to-face conversa-
tions. Thus, the question arises how do distant close friends negotiate their
ongoing relationship? If face-to-face encounters cannot take place frequently,
and if friends are to bridge permanent geographical distances, the persons
involved need to fnd new ways of mediated communication apart from IM
to discuss personal issues and emotional topics to sustain their relationship
in the long run.

Communicatively sustaining distant close friendships

In contrast to close and loose local friendships, distant close friendships
usually depend on communication media to substitute missing face-to-face
interactions, once geographically separated (Cui, 2016: 32). Then, the digital
screen primarily serves as a mediator (Rosa, 2016: 353) to connect friends
who cannot meet face-to-face. Apart from a lack of support in everyday life
and also missing haptic experiences which are not (yet) realisable via digital
media, Krotz (2005: 80) and Nötzoldt-Linden (1994: 20) argue, a person can
experience recognition and emotional trust only by the physical presence of a
friend. Hence, if the face-to-face experience is missing in long-distance friend-
ships, which we can assume are negotiated considerably via communication
media, not only the continuous maintenance of these friendships is endan-
gered, as Wetzel (2014: 119) points out. Also, as Rosa (2016: 158) argues,
digital screens simultaneously deliver and transmit messages in a minimal
and one-dimensional way. Resulting from these mediated experiences, the
individual perception of a friend’s feelings, emotions and thoughts decreases
and also infuences how the counterpart responds virtually. However, as
Licoppe and Smoreda (2006: 305) observe if new information is exchanged
via mediated interaction, the interlocutors create a shared world to com-
pensate each other for their lost time together. Hence, ongoing friendships
through confrming one’s past and co-experiencing the present (Nötzoldt-
Linden, 1994: 201) can only be mutually constituted and recognised if the
continuity of communicative negotiation is ensured. Accordingly, following
Rosa’s (2016: 158) argument of reduced human interactional experiences via
media, we need to address more specifcally the terms and conditions friends
communicate via media over geographical distance.
If communication media is used reciprocally, they are perceived to enhance
and support the maintenance of friendships in geographical distance. Licoppe
and Smoreda (2006: 298) and Chambers (2013: 167) assume that the medi-
um’s choice simultaneously conveys a social message, expressing either trust
 Friendship 143
and appreciation of the relationship or distance from the interaction part-
ner. The Media Richness Theory (Daft & Lengel, 1983), which considers
all forms of computer-mediated communication low in information, gives
insight into this aspect. In this regard, Croes et al.’s study (2018: 47) on
media choices exemplifed across age groups face-to-face communication as
the preferred interaction form, while secondly voice-mediated and thirdly
text-based communications were chosen while audiovisuals were often
avoided (Croes et al., 2018: 63). Telephone conversations usually transmit
clues about speech intention and content by voice and tonality that can-
not be conveyed in a text message, as Liu and Yang (2016: 459) explored.
Hence, phone calls seem to intensify an emotional, social relationship when
discussing important content (Birnholtz et al., 2017: 268–270), regardless
of the particular transmission channel: mobile phone or instant messenger,
and the alternative of video calls (Fernández-Ardèvol et al., 2020). However,
a more prosperous transmission of facial expressions and gestures in video
chats tends to trigger more loneliness, as Hall (2020: 104) states, presum-
ably due to the desire for physical encounters after video chats. Thus, as an
established form of synchronous communication, the telephone call does
not require adaptation to new media affordances to express personal and
emotional concerns to recreate the emotional bonds of friendship. Moreover,
telephone calls symbolise both the wish to speak to a friend to maintain their
relationship and the opportunity to discuss important emotional concerns
with a close friend that is not available for a face-to-face meeting at the time,
without increasing the feeling of loneliness simultaneously, as it seems to be
the case with video calls.
However, as opposed to the assumption of increased telephone calls in
geographical distance, as Licoppe (2004) assumed at the beginning of this
century, there seems to be a shift towards asynchronous communication and
trivial message exchange in distant close friendships. In this respect, new
media affordances of social media platforms indeed offer benefts for the
maintenance of close and loose friendships across distances: as silent read-
ers of social media posts (Tandoc et al., 2019: 28), people can follow their
friends’ generic life updates (Burke & Kraut, 2016: 276) in the geographical
distance through texts, photos, status updates, comments and links (Lam-
bert, 2013: 51). Especially in times of social or physical distancing, these
social media life updates often provide a perceived safety net of social inter-
actions when physical encounters are made impossible (Gregg, 2011: 88).
Nevertheless, communication on social media (Burke & Kraut, 2016:
277–278) and instant messenger (Cui, 2016: 24–25) is mainly based on
trivial interactions and scheduling new face-to-face meetings, as explored
before. Distant close friends then continue to signal each other emotional and
mental presence in a friend’s thoughts (Hansen, 2009: 238), for example, by
short catch-up text messages or sharing of photos and videos providing for a
past and future continuation of a friendship or cohesion of a group (O’Hara
et al., 2014: 10–11). Notwithstanding, Cui’s (2016: 27) participants in China
144 Jeannine Teichert
also received timely emotional or psychological support via instant messenger
from their distant close friends through ubiquitous interaction and immediate
responses to incoming text messages. Conversely, even Cui’s (2016) partici-
pants still considered phone calls essential for emotional concerns or emergen-
cies. Although cultural differences and individual media preferences have to
be taken into account when interpreting these fndings, we can assume here
that asynchronous digital media affordances defnitely have more potential to
provide friends with various forms of mediated care from afar than the actual
sheer mediated maintenance of a relationship, symbolised by withdrawing
from extensive asynchronous mediated interpersonal communication.
On the other hand, the perceived discrepancy between the desired synchro-
nous interaction by telephone calls and the instead performed asynchronous
exchange of text messages shall be reviewed here critically, as we can reason,
that an extensive and vital mutual exchange on relevant issues in distant close
friendships is currently hindered by the rise of short asynchronous commu-
nication. Resulting from the perceived intrusiveness of synchronous commu-
nication, such as a phone call that is neither solicited nor offered any longer,
friends can easily withdraw from asynchronous conversations via text or
voice messages. Third-party social presence via smartphones, tablets and com-
puters seem to reinforce further spatial fragmentation (Roitsch, 2020: 188)
in this regard that either leads to mediated third-party interactions on mobile
devices during physical co-presence with local friends (Chambers, 2016: 2;
Gregg, 2011: 143) or deliberate avoidance and withdrawal of mediated com-
munication (Roitsch, 2020: 189). Thus, not only negotiating temporality and
synchronicity are particularly relevant for maintaining distant close friend-
ships but also mutual renegotiations of communicative exchange should take
place since face-to-face meetings occur less frequently, and information about
conscious or unconscious rejections of a distant close friend’s contact request
is less likely to happen when messages are ignored or answers delayed.
Therefore, reducing conversations with distant close friends to short instant
messages often declines the actual communicative negotiation of friendship
according to three signifcant circumstances. Firstly, fewer communicative
exchanges occur due to a lack of integration of distant close friends in every-
day life. Secondly, IM conversations often depend on trivial and mundane
topics to maintain existing social relations but not extensively discuss issues
and life events. Thirdly, particularly in times of physical absence, a more
extended telephone call can simultaneously refect a wish to get in touch
with a friend to maintain a relationship and the desire to exchange recent life
updates extensively. In conclusion, brief IM cannot replace extensive commu-
nicative exchanges between distant close friends. Thus, a lack of negotiation
of reciprocal confrmation of thoughts, feelings and actions becomes evident
in this case. If distant close friends only continue to be contacted if they are
geographically proximate to each other (O’Hara et al., 2014: 6), mainly to
negotiate and rejoin face-to-face encounters (Mannell, 2020: 282), it is to
question at this point, how profound interactions and thorough friendship
 Friendship 145
negotiations take place in distant close friendships. Hence, although face-to-
face communication is still perceived as the most desirable form of interac-
tion for important or emotional topics and confdential conversations even
in distant close friendships, synchronous as well as asynchronous media
affordances can bridge geographical distance only up to a certain extent.
Thus, the potential room for improvement in terms of providing mediated
care for each other is especially applicable in distant close friendships.

Discussion – new media affordances support

new forms of friendship negotiation
As explored in this article, new mediated communicative friendship prac-
tices emerge through reciprocal negotiations reinforced by specifc media
affordances and refect new ways of negotiating and maintaining a friend-
ship. Since instant messaging at present is used not only frequently but also
constantly in everyday life, it is to assume that new media affordances as
intrinsic features of asynchronous communication media support different
ways of communicative negotiation of friendships. However, the actual pur-
pose of mediated friendship communication, illustrated by mainly exchang-
ing trivial content to remind and signal each other an existing and ongoing
relationship, is no longer questioned.
As discussed along the three dimensions to affect the communicative nego-
tiation of friendships in proximity and distance, namely negotiating mediated
temporality and synchronicity when communicating via media, the different
applications used and maintained for friends in proximity and distance and
specifc challenges in keeping up distant close friendships, frst, the increased
use of IM and short messages in friendships near and far often results in an
overall decrease of communicative exchanges, as friends may withdraw from an
increase of communicative requests arriving on their digital screens, and there-
fore, develop new mediated boundary practices. Secondly, mediated exchanges
via IM often take place with local social contacts, which, however, are not
necessarily close friends, who, in turn, might live in a geographical distance.
However, local close friends do not exchange life issues and diffculties via
media because they assume to see each other face-to-face again soon. In this
case, instead, mediated exchanges serve more often to schedule face-to-face
appointments, rather than maintaining and reassuring that an existing close
local friendship will continue in the future.
Thirdly, although face-to-face communication is the most desired way of
interaction even at a distance, in contrast to earlier assumptions, telephone
calls with friends are made less frequently. While social media networks are
used primarily to keep track of friends’ generic life updates, in contrast, IM
is generally perceived as benefcial when close and loose friends are available
locally. However, an extensive dialogic mediated exchange is missing in both
cases, geographically distant and local friendships, favouring timely requested
short messages to schedule new face-to-face appointments for elaborated
146 Jeannine Teichert
interpersonal exchange. Accordingly, distant close friends are often excluded
from immediate mediated communication due to a lack of integration into
the local, everyday life. Hence, instead of arranging new face-to-face meet-
ings with distant close friends to catch up on life happenings or having a long
telephone conversation to re-establish the previously maintained emotional
proximity, short asynchronous text messages are exchanged with distant close
friends to keep each other updated. From a critical point of view, these text
messages can be easily ignored or even unintentionally left unanswered, and
as a result, subsequently potentially hinder extensive communicative friend-
ship exchange and the deepening of a close relationship in the long run.
Finally, to answer the previously addressed question, if new media affor-
dances support the communicative negotiation of friendships, we can reason
here that digital media affordances initially facilitate interactions and cer-
tainly infuence the actual mediated negotiation of friendships in proximity
and distance, if they are fully adapted and integrated into friends’ everyday
lives. As outlined before, the shift to communicate more with local contacts
and less with distant close friends via IM leads to the conclusion, due to the
perceived optimisation of time by resorting to asynchronous, fast and sponta-
neous means of communication, distant close friends neither receive nor give
extensive life updates or necessary emotional or mental support via media
anymore. Hence, the question arises of whom distant close friends address
instead or how they manage to remain close friends over distance while not
mediated interacting and re-establishing their close bond any longer.
In either case, these fndings cannot be generalised without taking into
consideration cultural and personal values, specifcally by addressing the
individual importance of friendships in general. As outlined before, individu-
alistic and collectivist societies differ substantially in valuing close friend-
ship as an essential social relationship. While many collectivist cultures may
emphasise more on kin relations, close and loose friendships may seem to be
less important in terms of communicatively addressing and discussing per-
sonal issues. Conversely, more individualistic oriented cultures may actively
seek out for several close and important friendships because they do not have
such a strong and intimate relationship with their relatives enabling them to
openly speak about personal, mental or emotional issues. Nevertheless, it is
up to the individual to decide if and who to consult regarding the necessity
to confde in social connections and to maintain personal well-being.

Conclusion
In summary, distant close friendships previously established in face-to-face
interactions seem to be particularly easy to maintain via digital communi-
cation media. However, as mediated communicative acts in friendships in
proximity and distance seem to drastically shift to short asynchronous com-
munication, resting upon predominant trivial content and delayed responses,
distant close friends no longer discuss daily information or intimate topics
 Friendship 147
with each other via media extensively. Eventually, when meaningful interac-
tions between distant close friends fail, due to a lack of synchronous com-
munication, previously close friends often remain social contacts in mediated
databases, such as WhatsApp contacts or Facebook friends (Teichert, 2020).
However, online social media networks offer new affordances to observe,
comment and like distant close friends’ generic life updates from afar, with-
out actually getting in touch with them to renew, update and reassure each
other of the still ongoing close and intimate relationship they have previously
established.
This, in turn, has two signifcant implications for future empirical research
on friendship communication. Firstly, as illustrated earlier, the social cat-
egory “friend” is often used to describe a variety of social connections in
proximity and distance that differ in their expectations regarding duration,
confdentiality and reciprocity, as well as in terms of their cultural embed-
ding and their overlaps with similar categories of acquaintances, family
members and life partners. An empirically based emic defnition of the con-
cepts “friendship” and “friend” hence is necessary to distinguish between
workmates, family members and close and loose friends. For instance, close
and vital but distant social connections differ signifcantly from relevant
loose local contacts and infuence the balance between emotional work and
in-depth communication, compared to generic updates and small talk that
usually occurs more with local acquaintances and loose friends.
Secondly, concluding from these arguments, the process of mediatisation
seems to support the change of communicative behaviour in social rela-
tionships in the background, on the one hand, by enhancing and enlarg-
ing the mediated communicative sphere for distant close friends while, on
the other hand, promoting the maintenance of all kinds of present and
past friendships through media technologies and new media affordances.
Therefore, further research should address questions regarding the type
of loose and close friendships maintained in proximity and distance in
more detail. Suppose mainly loose local everyday contacts communicate
via instant messenger and meet face-to-face regularly. In that case, the ques-
tion remains how distant close friends provide each other with suffcient
response when their mediated feedback loop is rather decreasing by using
primarily asynchronous communication media and neglecting extensive
synchronous conversations. Thus, future research can shed light on the
communicative negotiation of social relationships near and far by keeping
in mind cultural, societal and individual preferences when analysing face-
to-face and mediated interactions in close and loose friendships.

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10 Family relations
Emotional overload
Tiina Räisä

Introduction
With growing numbers of media and communication technologies available,
many traditional family practices have been transferred to the digital sphere.
Messaging applications are popular for family communication as they pro-
vide a constant connectivity, with an assumed liberating potential (Jansson,
2018: 101). Yet, we have little knowledge about the qualitative dimension
of mediation, that is, the communication process and how the media affects
families as a whole (Jennings, 2017) and what follows from “the mobile,
multi-screen, multi-app, multimedia and multi-modal environment that sur-
rounds families today” (Lim, 2016: 27). How these practices are connected
to the long-term structural changes of the family as an institution is some-
thing that needs further exploration (Hjarvard, 2013).
The use of media to maintain family relationships has been a focal topic
in migration research (Madianou, 2013; Nedelcu & Wyss, 2016), but medi-
ated in situ communication practices are also relevant for within-country
families (Abel et al., 2020). By including both parents and children and
analysing how families that share the same household use media, we can
not only gain a better understanding of the complexity of communication
itself but also discuss the smallest unit of society in relation to the broader
notion of a mediatisation process (Couldry & Hepp, 2017; Hepp, 2020;
Hjarvard, 2013).
In order to discuss digital communication within the family, I propose the
concept digital family talk, which points to a specifc way of talking when
using media (cf. Ochs & Kremer-Sadlik, 2015; Taipale, 2019). The concept is
developed with reference to a more profound change in communication pat-
terns that may even level out differences between family types (Madianou,
2013; Therborn, 2014). In this chapter, the digital family is approached with
a particular focus on one technology that is relevant when talking about
emotions (Ellis & Tucker, 2020), namely the messaging application What-
sApp. This chapter will present a detailed analysis of the digital family talk of
six Finnish families. For this, two sources of data are used: intensive mobile
instant messaging interviews (Kaufmann & Peil, 2020) carried out between

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-13
152 Tiina Räisä
me as the researcher and individual family members via WhatsApp, and ten
authentic WhatsApp family chats that were donated to the project, the oldest
of which dates from 2015 and the newest from 2020.
The chapter takes an institutional perspective on mediatisation, explor-
ing the historical transformation of one institution, the family and how the
entrance of media into the private is seen in the concrete, communicative
practices (Hepp, 2020; Hjarvard, 2013; Jansson, 2018) of the private sphere.
This research aims to fll a gap in mediatisation studies by offering a situated,
bottom-up approach to mediatisation, carrying out a micro-level analysis
and discussing the fndings as an intertwining of two institutions, the family
and the media. Recent developments in the platformisation of communica-
tion and society (Dijck et al., 2018) suggest that the media is now taking a
stronger hold on the formation of both individuals and groups.
The aims of this chapter are twofold. Firstly, I will demonstrate the four
categories of family communication practices found in the empirical data.
Secondly, I will situate and discuss the fndings in the context of a dominant,
mediated and emotional communication logic, and as an example of the
adaptation of the family as an institution to that of the media (Hjarvard,
2013). After presenting the concepts of family, emotion and mediatisation, I
will describe the data and the methods. I will then present the features of the
four categories of family communication, and I will conclude by discussing
the mediatisation of the family institution.

Families and emotions

In mainstream media, the family is repeatedly presented as a well-behaved
construct, free from faws and disagreements. This idealisation is one feature
of ritualisation, that is, strategic communicative actions that differentiate and
transform the disparate into something uniform (Bell, 2009).
However, the lived family is said to be a complex and dynamic ecosystem
that takes many shapes and forms (Andreassen, 2017). As a socialising entity,
the family supports individual growth and teaches skills, such as talking
one or several languages or taking responsibility and expressing solidarity
(Nedelcu & Wyss, 2016). When analysing the formative processes of the
family institution, the way families talk is said to play a vital role (Ochs &
Kremer-Sadlik, 2015). In this chapter, I will treat the family as an institu-
tion, that is, an “integrated system of rules that structure social interactions”
(Hodgson, 2015: 501).
Emotions are powerful resources, and the media industry has a long tradi-
tion of exploiting emotions for proft (Nikunen, 2019). The salience of emo-
tions has been encouraged especially by social media, making the affective
turn (Massumi, 1995) a very relevant concept. The reason why emotions
have tended to be dismissed by many scholars may be that they are not
easy to manage, regulate or control (Ellis & Tucker, 2020; Lemke, 2012).
Also, emotions are viewed in sharp contrast to concepts such as intelligence,
 Family relations 153
cognition and rationality (Ellis & Tucker, 2020); in journalism studies, this is
signifed by a binary opposition between rationality and emotionality (Wahl-
Jorgensen & Pantti, 2021).
Studies on mediated family practices (Christensen, 2009) have discussed
emotions, but emotion has rarely been the core concept. However, studies
have shown, for example, that emails make distant family members feel more
closely connected to their families in the home country (Baldassar et al.,
2007), while Skype evokes a desire to return more often (Nedelcu & Wyss,
2016) On the other hand, digitally connected families have expressed “con-
cern” because they get involved in heated situations (Nedelcu & Wyss, 2016)
and using technology puts pressure on the relationships, creating “tensions,
frustrations and even unhappiness” (Nedelcu & Wyss, 2016: 215) among
many other things.
Emotion has indeed become salient in the understanding of life in the
digital age (Ellis & Tucker, 2020), but analyses and discussions would beneft
from clearer distinctions between emotion and affect (Nikunen, 2019). Affect
is said to refect immediate and intense sensations, whereas emotions are cog-
nitively processed and labelled (Alinejad, 2020; Massumi, 1995). There is a
history of approaching emotions from either the individual or the collective
perspective. On the one hand, as bodily sensations (Ahmed, 2004; Seyfert,
2012), emotions point to the individual and ways of engaging and experienc-
ing the world in a meaningful way (Ellis & Tucker, 2020). On the other hand,
as a cultural practice, emotions are the result of learning processes when we
are informed by certain ways of feeling (Nikunen, 2019).
Given the prevalence of emotional communication in a platform society,
the notion of the media as an emotional regime, a dominant force that recir-
culates emotional expressions in a hybrid media system (Wahl-Jorgensen,
2018) presents itself as a useful point of departure when discussing the rela-
tion between the two institutions, the family and the media.

Mediatisation of culture and institutions

Theories of mediatisation have offered new approaches to studying the role
of the media in society and culture. Defned as a mid-range theory (Hjarvard,
2013), or a meta-process (Jansson, 2018), mediatisation has been discussed
from social-constructive and institutional perspectives (Hepp, 2020; Hjar-
vard, 2013; Jansson, 2018).
As stated earlier, this study takes an institutional perspective on both
the family and the media. As an institution, the media demonstrates its
power by its dominance over other institutions; the media and its logic have
become deeply interwoven with the very fabric of other institutions, such
as the family (Hjarvard, 2013). The term institutionalisation in this context
refers to communicative practices (Couldry & Hepp, 2017). Institutionali-
sation is an adaptive process that operates through naturalisation; what is
new, odd and exciting today is “natural” tomorrow (Jansson, 2018). The
154 Tiina Räisä
automation of media practices is exemplifed by a predicting algorithmic
culture that just “is” and “does” (Hepp, 2020) things, nominally on our
behalf, but also to us.
The idea of each medium creating its own pockets of distinct culture is
relevant here (Döveling, 2018). But to convey the relationship between com-
munication, the family and the media, we need to start by looking at the
empirical data as an instance of mediation, after which we can broaden the
perspective and discuss the fndings from a mediatisation point of view. We
know that the media is impinging on almost every area of life, and that its
logics, preferences, genres, formats and polarisation of expressions (Hjar-
vard, 2013: 3–4) are internalised by individuals and groups (Hjarvard, 2013:
44–45). This being the case, it is relevant to fnd out what kind of everyday
practices the family has developed using the innumerable platforms of media.
The subject of this chapter, digital family talk, brings together two themes.
On the one hand, I am interested in the digital family and its “technologically
mediated communication practices and routines that take place between its
individual members across generations and geographical spaces” (Taipale,
2019: 2–3). On the other hand, the family is understood as a result of its
talk, which is “a medium through which families constitute themselves as
a domestic, moral, and affective unit and bring children into social being”
(Ochs & Kremer-Sadlik, 2015).
When talking about change in an institution, other phenomena such as
globalisation, migration and ideology should not be neglected. So, when
discussing families from a communicative perspective and, specifcally,
when looking at how people around the world use the messaging applica-
tion WhatsApp and its specifc, restricted affordances, there is a reason to
believe, in contrast to Therborn (2014), that increasing diversity is not neces-
sarily the dominant trajectory. Instead, media use may even be levelling out
differences between families, leading ultimately to global homogenisation
(Madianou, 2013).
To sum up, studying how families live in instead of with media (Deuze,
2011) requires several analytical steps, an interdisciplinary approach and
the consideration of challenging concepts such as media, change and insti-
tution. I join Jansson (2018: 3) in his criticism that mediatisation has often
lacked specifcity, well aware of the problems that arise when conducting
micro-level analysis of a small sample of families and generalising results in
the attempt to contribute to the theory around mediatisation. This requires
more space than articles or chapters normally allow. Consequently, this
chapter serves as a starting point for the study of what appears to be
a signifcant change in the family as an institution and of what kind of
families we are becoming when using media. I argue that mediatisation is
a unifying cultural logic that manifests itself as specifc digital family talk
that employs an emotional media logic which ultimately brings the family
institution into line with dominant media practices, producing a globalised
media family.
 Family relations 155
Data and method
The data were collected in relation to a larger, broader ethnographic project
on language and digital practices within contemporary multilingual families
in Finland (What’s in the App? Digitally mediated communication within
contemporary multilingual families across time and space). This sub-study
included six middle-class family constellations, all of which included at least
one child between 2 and 16 years old. Families enrolled in the project after
a call made by the research team in social media for families interested in
sharing their family practices with researchers. Being a multilingual project,
the criteria for participation in this specifc sub-project were that the family
included at least one child of school age and that Swedish was used as one
of the family languages. The parents were all well educated. In one of the
families, the parents had divorced and the child was moving backwards and
forwards between the homes.
The data collection was performed according to ethnographic principles,
to gain a rich understanding of the families’ digital communication. As the
data collection was about to take place just when the COVID-19 crisis began
and families were in lockdown, we had to stretch the methodological imagi-
nation. This meant that I as the feld researcher could not visit the families in
person but that the families themselves had to take active responsibility for
collecting data. The families were offered a variety of possible ways of col-
lecting and sharing the data, from among which they could make their own
selection (remote or mobile interviews, taking photos, video or audio record-
ings, diaries, sharing instant messaging app conversations, etc.). It turned out
that families particularly favoured the use of their own mobile phones and
particularly the messaging application WhatsApp to produce data.
In the following analysis, I will focus on two types of data collected with
WhatsApp. The frst data set was generated by a modifed version of the
mobile instant messaging interview (referred to as MIMI) (Kaufmann & Peil,
2020). During one week in April 2020, I asked members of the families – nine
adults and fve children (8–16 years old) – the same question, What are you
doing right now? six times a day. The participants were instructed to observe
their media use in situ and report back in fve minutes in whatever way suited
them (written, images, videos or voice mail). The total number of text or
media contributions sent by the participants during the week-long period
was about 900, covering subjects from work and school to family-time and
leisure-time subjects. Follow-up questions often resulted in long dialogues
between the researcher and the participant.
The second data set consists of 10 authentic and longitudinal WhatsApp
chats from fve of the participating families, covering the time period from
2015 to 2020. Five of these are chats that involve all family members, three
are parent-child chats, and two are chats between spouses. These data are
authentic, that is, they are unaffected by the researcher, and they provide
a diachronic perspective on the digital family interaction taking place in a
156 Tiina Räisä
private and embedded media space. In more concrete terms, the data give
us access not only to what families discuss but, more importantly, to how
families talk when using messaging applications.
Both data are highly sensitive, and the research process included the
signing of consent forms. Also, before exporting their chats, participants
were advised to remove any data that they did not want to share with the
researchers. A signifcant part of the audiovisual content, such as images,
videos and audio clips, was removed. For this article, all words, names
and signs were removed that could lead to individual identifcation of the
participants.
For the data analysis, I adopted grounded theory (Bowen, 2006), an induc-
tive, bottom-up research process that focuses on patterns, themes and cat-
egories as they emerge from the data. The four analytical categories thus
stem from the data themselves, not from any preconceived notions of what
might be there. Sensitising the data (Bowen, 2006) was an important initial
phase, after which the data were read several times and then categorised and
labelled according to their dominant communicative features.

Four communication categories

In the following, I will present the four categories of family communica-
tion. Each category consists of various, often contradictory practices. For
example, the analysis reveals that the families were engaged not just in the
scheduling of “practical routines” (Christensen, 2009) but in a plethora of
controlling, gaming and entertainment activities and, above all, in expressing
lots of love and devotion.

The practical family

The frst communicative category that emerged from the data is signifed by
emotionally contradictory practices that follow from a mediated lifestyle
in the home domain. Constant use of media required the participants to
become masters at juggling between screens and apps. Especially, the What-
sApp interview data, the MIMI, revealed intense navigation between what
sometimes appeared to be a completely chaotic mix of apps, screens, plat-
forms and physical encounters. The frst wave of the COVID-19 pandemic
made visible the blurring of spaces: classrooms and offces were replaced
more or less overnight by digital communication platforms such as Zoom,
Teams, Google Class, emails. It was in this messy situation that families
continued living their lives, using media at an increasing speed and with
increasing emotional intensity.
Digital family talk emerged as a specifc way of communicating signifed
by occasional moments when individuals made quick decision about steer-
ing their attention in either a digital or a physical direction. Most often,
the intense media use in the home domain reduced the number of physical
encounters: while one parent was having a virtual meeting, reading and
 Family relations 157
answering emails, the other one was preparing lunch, searching for clothes,
or breast-feeding while reading the news from her mobile.
Home offces and schools drew attention to the prevalence of emotional
behaviour in the home domain. Whatever the issue was, it was wrapped up
in affect. Well-off populations such as Finland had access to communication
technology which, on the one hand, offered a convenient way of carrying on
with one’s everyday life. On the other hand, this was a cause of continual
stress and frustration. Here, an 11-year-old says what she thinks about using
Google Meet for her social studies class.

[24.4.2020, 9:36] CHILD: It’s boring.

[24.4.2020, 9:36] RESEARCHER: Why is it boring?
[24.4.2021, 9:37] CHILD: I can’t do the assignments because then I can’t
concentrate on what the teacher says.

This example illustrates the illusion of digitalisation as a capacity to han-

dle different processes simultaneously. When using media for professional
purposes, digitalisation emerged as a culture of cognitive and emotional
distraction that affected the private sphere, requiring individuals to adapt
their routines to the functions of several different media.

[22.4.2020, 15:11] RESEARCHER: How would you describe your work on

Teams? How is it?
[22.4.2020, 15:33] At frst it was like stiff and weird. Now it’s become
everyday life!

During the lockdown, pupils could go on with their schooling, but it

required parental involvement: parents had to redistribute assignments and
instructions to their children, often using WhatsApp. This clearly shows how
unprepared even highly organised societies were for everyday life in condi-
tions of remoteness or distance. A lot of pressure was put on the family, which
had to fx the defcit itself by using different media platforms. Indeed, family
members’ capacity to adapt and stretch their limits was often rather remark-
able: a lot of effort was put into fnding a balance between digitalised rou-
tines and family life, which emerged as an ongoing negotiation and a lonely
endeavour. In the following, two parents describe how they met the require-
ments of working at home while looking after children of different ages:

[20.4.2020, 20:54] PARENT: I’ve cut back on requirements and improved

routines. I’m a bloody good teacher live, but less good with learning-
platform administration . . . but it is what it is. I do what I can, the
rest will have to wait.
[22.4.2020, 12:13] PARENT: I’m writing an article in English and trying to
get our older child to fnish the last assignment while somebody else
is yelling for mother all the time!
158 Tiina Räisä
Digital family talk emerged as a mediated practice of everyday conversa-
tion (Christensen, 2009), resulting in snippets of conversations. The authentic
family chat data rarely displayed a complete dialogue about anything seri-
ous, negative or confictual, but instead showed the use of humour and jok-
ing to avoid diffcult subjects; debate probably continued in another medium
or face-to-face, where the social interaction allows for more nuances. This
suggests that WhatsApp, or similar technologies are not ideal platforms for
parenting, because they offer easy ways to avoid the conventional structure
of hierarchy and power. The specifc chat application does, however, encour-
age expressions of emotion, for example, of indifference and disappointment,
as demonstrated in this short digital dialogue:

[25.4.2018, 13:44] CHILD: I got a 5+ in Finnish. 😅

[25.4.2018, 13:47] CHILD: But an 8 in English.
[25.4.2018, 14.44] PARENT: I want to talk to you when I get home.

WhatsApp turned out to be a technology that accentuates the so-called

class project, here observed as intense parent–child dialogues around the
theme of personal improvement (Ochs & Kremer-Sadlik, 2015). Applications
such as WhatsApp turned out to have an institutionalising effect on foster-
ing: in the mediated space, it was wrapped up in an abundance of emotional
expressions:

[9.6.2020, 15:29] CHILD: Byebye I love you

[9.6.2020, 16:04] PARENT: And I love you Be on time at 7 PM at the latest
so that we can produce a simple, good-looking cv

In short, WhatsApp provided a handy tool, a quick fx, so to speak, for

doing family, but at the same time, it meant that families became enmeshed
in the attention the technology demanded, as constant messages kept drop-
ping in. The fact that WhatsApp was just one media with specifc affordances
meant that families adjusted themselves to several different technologies,
internalising the affordances (Hjarvard, 2013) of each medium to the private
sphere, which required several demanding communicative operations.

The dispersed family

The second communicative category is that of the dispersed and controlling
family. This category consists of contradictory practices when parents sought
to monitor and limit their children’s actions. Restricting gaming hours and
getting children to do something more useful was a practice that occurred
via the app, interestingly, even when families shared the same physical space.

[28.12.2017, 23:22] PARENT: My dear, you have to stop otherwise I will

have to come upstairs
 Family relations 159
[5.11.2019, 15:08] PARENT: NOW 2 HOURS OF PLAYING. Do your math
homework and take a break
[10.12.2019, 13:21] PARENT: Ok. Don’t play too long. I am watching :)

What has been called “surveillance capitalism” (Zuboff, 2019) speeded

up by platformisation and algorithms, is entering the home domain: con-
stant controlling appeared to have found its equivalent on the micro-level,
enabled by technologies and used for tracking individual family members.
One example of such a prototypical control ritual was the recurring practice
of the parent asking the child where she/he was.

[23.1.2018, 14.37.15] PARENT: Where are you NN?

[23.1.2018, 14.37.37] CHILD: At home
[23.1.2018, 14.37.54] PARENT: 👍

The practice of mediated control was extended to other activities such as

homework, dressing, eating and resting.

[19.3.2019, 13.28.16] CHILD: Math homework

[19.3.2019, 13.28.46] PARENT: Yeah, and write an answer for 7B and then
the answer is there :)
[19.3.2019, 13.29.24] PARENT: And correct 8A, it should probably be
70–55.
[11.12.2019, 13.36.46] PARENT: Have a snack, have a good long drink,
and close your eyes and have a rest.
[19.2.2019, 13:38] PARENT: Read a book instead! Go out and run!!

A constant connectivity (Dijck et al., 2018) in the family domain caused

feelings of impatience when a specifc technology was assumed to enable
continuous interaction but did not fulfl its promise. Consequently, a lot of
energy was put into getting the attention of other family members. Here, an
11-year-old starts to feel desperate when their father does not write back:

[21.11.2019, 20:08] CHILD: Can I come to your work/offce?

[21.11.2019, 20:09] CHILD: Helloooo
[21.11.2019, 20:09] CHILD: Aaaanswer
[21.11.2019, 20:27] CHILD: Could you answer me now
[21.11.2019, 20:31] CHILD: Helloooo
[21.11.2019, 20:46] CHILD: Daddy!
[21.11.2019, 21:08] PARENT: Yes!

WhatsApp and similar media are said to spur cosmopolitanism and a

mobile, middle-class lifestyle (Jansson, 2018). In the family chats, longing
for distant family members was repeatedly framed by expressions of both
control and affection.
160 Tiina Räisä
[18.2.2019, 7:22] PARENT: Good morning ❤ Soon at work Put away
your mobile phones for today and do something together 😘 See you
when you wake up and later in the evening. How is NN? HUGS!
❤❤❤ to all three of you, have a nice winter’s day.

While WhatsApp offered a technology for strengthening social relation-

ships, it also enforced a family culture of parental control, often resembling
a mediated surveillance culture. Reaching out to dispersed family members
over a distance caused anger and frustration and created a practice of mixed
messages. Though parenting was done politely and with the best of inten-
tions, the digital technology could easily result in undermining the autonomy
of individual family members, shaping a culture of distrust that might even
be an obstacle to personal growth and the development of a sense of personal
responsibility.

The entertainment-oriented family

The third communicative category that I found was centred around gaming
and entertainment. In both sets of data, a substantial part of the conversa-
tion was about media itself, with all its enticing content. What emerged was
a clear example of the merging of the two institutions, the media and the
family. Contemporary, middle-class homes harbour innumerable media tech-
nologies, a condition that is constructing an emotional relationship between
the family and entertainment media: our case families simply seemed to love
their media.
While in the previous category, we found parents who were trying to pre-
vent their children playing too much, in this category, we found the opposite:
keen, positive, even happy media consumers, people who embraced media.
What really united families and generations was the entertainment, excite-
ment and engagement that media offered; this was the main attraction for
individual family members.
From the following extracts, we can observe the saturation of everyday
life with entertainment: playing video and console games, watching broad-
cast television and streaming service television, listening to music on Spotify,
scrolling through Facebook, Instagram, or YouTube and reading newspapers
on screen. The frst extracts here come from the MIMI data, which revealed
the intertwining of media consumption and real-life activities.

[26.4.2020, 19:10] PARENT: I am stretching, watching the Hobbit movie

and waiting for the cookies to be baked in the oven.
[23.4.2020, 20:11] PARENT: Cross-training in the warehouse, watching The
English Game-series on Netfix
[24.4.2020, 18:59] PARENT: Listening to spotify and clearing up after din-
ner, the TV has been commandeered by NN and his two friends who
are playing Fifa.
 Family relations 161
[24.4.2020, 17:07] PARENT: Scrolling through instagram, NN (child) is
playing fortnite. We’re alone in the house.

Entertainment media became like an extra, but close, member of the family
with whom both parents and children socialised. Within this communica-
tive category, the various media were not regarded as a force for evil but,
on the contrary, a good pal with whom families spent time, at all hours. In
many comments, parents recommended their children to check out some new
game, programme, or music.

[7.6.2019, 8.20] PARENT: Now this you should listen to – Avici’s whole
album! It’s really hard stuff – you’ll fnd it on Spotify
[6.3.2017, 17.32] PARENT: They have wii in the library!

In the authentic chats, children asked their parents for help with their
media-related problems.

[4.6.2018, 19.41] CHILD: My screen time has ended and now you could
help me so that I can play Weave the line
[25.12.2018, 16.20.29] CHILD: By the way I would like to play sims on
the PC
[4.2.2019, 19.04.24] PARENT: What name will you have in your game? I
must create a steam account for you.

The entertainment-oriented family was a unit that sought pleasure and

sought to kill time with media while constructing their social relationships, a
feature that probably was spurred on by the COVID-19 crisis and lockdown.
The proliferation of entertainment practices came as something of a surprise to
the researcher; the crisis seemed to have normalised a radical form of mediati-
sation in which digital media has colonised almost all spheres of life (Luthar &
Pušnik, 2020), in this case seen as a non-stop interaction with media platforms,
flling more or less every available hour of the day with entertainment.

The loving family

In the last communicative category, we fnd the loving family, people who
used their chats to declare their affection repeatedly, openly and explicitly.
Digital family talk unfolded as a loving regime signifed by expressions
of compassion and caring, very different from the general hostility that is
alleged to have caused by polarisation of politics and public debate (Wahl-
Jorgensen, 2018).
When physical meetings between nearest family members are prohibited
by politicians or authorities on account of pandemics or climate change, the
emotional needs of families are channelled through communication technolo-
gies. This became quite evident during the COVID-19 crisis. Being separated
162 Tiina Räisä
from your family emerged as a ritualisation of emotional needs, leading to
a reproduction of patterned interaction that circled around affrmation, and
which turned users to producers of their own needs (Jansson, 2018). Subject-
ing the intimate family sphere to the world of the media seemed to lead to
an addictive relationship between the two.
The frst type of emotional practice to which I would like to draw attention
is the short, simple, straightforward words of affection exchanged between
individual family members.

[17.1.2018, 18:04] CHILD: Thank you daddy, you are bestttttttrrrtt!

[9.2.2018, 7.15.26] CHILD: I like you daddy!!!
[6.4.2018, 8.10.40] FATHER: Have a nice Friday, I love you. Let me know
where you’re going.
[24.5.2018, 20:48] CHILD: Good night daddy! I love you 💕
[3.1.2018 20:19] CHILD: Hihi kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss
kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss

It is very doubtful whether anyone would express themselves in this way

in a face-to-face situation. In fact, it is not even possible. Showing love
and affection is generally a sign of a healthy, functioning family, but what
emerged in the family data was the entry of the thumb, “liking,” a practice
fuelled by an emotional media culture that has no equivalent in the physical
family domain. Family chats on WhatsApp manifested an intimate discourse,
expressed by the profuse use of emojis. While it has been claimed that media
use divides generations (Bolin, 2016), in these data sets, we found no actual
proof of this, nor were there any differences between the sexes (Christensen,
2009) when expressing love and affection remotely. The construction of
meaningful social relationships digitally circled around an active produc-
tion of emotional language and many heart emojis.

[9.12.2019, 21:53] CHILD: I love you! I love you! ❤❤❤❤❤ (in both
Swedish and Finnish)
[3.1.2018, 21.45] CHILD: I love you 💕 daddy
[3.1.2018, 22.32] PARENT: And I love you my dearest.

[2.12.2018, 11:01] SPOUSE 1: Love you. Kisses! Nice to hear about your
thoughts. Love you.
[2.12.2018, 11;03] SPOUSE 2: I like sharing my thoughts with you.
[2.12.2018, 11:03] SPOUSE 1: ☺️ 😘
[2.12.2018, 11:04] SPOUSE 2: ❤

Reproducing the most popular emoji, the red heart emoji (Ellis & Tucker,
2020), emerged as a prototypical example of digital family talk, an emotional
practice constructed around mediated intimacy, and thus joining a dominant
 Family relations 163
media culture of cuteness, especially well represented in social media. What
we witnessed in the data was a new kind of emotional work that indicates
a sudden leap in the history of modalities: instead of the former handwrit-
ten, personal letters or the intimate human voice when we telephone family
members (Madianou, 2013), we now see a passionate family communication
expressed with graphic signs. People seem to believe that emojis are very per-
sonal expressions (Ellis & Tucker, 2020), offering unique ways of speaking,
while in truth they are actually impersonal and the same for all of the other
families who use these same graphic affordances. With emojis, families are
all situated on the same ground, constructing themselves globally in the same
way. Managing interpersonal relations (Christensen, 2009) in a media context
is thus condensed into one specifc graphic sign, a short and effcient way of
saying, “I love you.”
Secondly, the data showed that besides explicitly attesting their love, the
families also used WhatsApp to greet each other online, typically in the
mornings and evenings. Greetings are highly ritualised (Bell, 2009) ways of
affrming social relationships and therefore not “meaningless” rituals (Abel
et al., 2020). When greeting in WhatsApp, the families made a digital per-
formance using a structure that has already been framed (Goffman, 1990),
in this case by a specifc technology. Greeting one’s closest family members
on WhatsApp not only affects social relationships, but it also confrms a
specifc kind of existence. These rituals took place several times a day, often
complemented by short in situ comments, illustrating that families did not
want to miss out on moments of togetherness.

[9.4.2018, 8.14] PARENT: I slept well! Have a fun school day, dear.
[24.12.2016, 22.59] PARENT: Merry Christmas my dearest piglet!
[7.3.2016, 16.08] PARENT: Hi, daddy’s girl. Hope you had a nice day at
school and that you were there in time with NN.

Sometimes, the greetings rituals went wrong and caused minor disputes.
Following are two examples from a parent–child interaction. The frst is a
short debate about who should come and give an “IRL good night hug,”
the latter an example of the fact that WhatsApp and the written modality
were not always enough to perform the ritual, but it had to be physically
confrmed in order to be satisfactory.

[8.1.2017, 20:16] PARENT: Can you come and give me a good night hug . . .
[8.1.2017, 20:19] PARENT: I’ll go to sleep now can you come???????
[8.1.2017, 20:25] CHILD: You come and give me one.
[3.6.2019, 18:50] PARENT: I just wanted to hear your voice ❤
[5.6.2019, 09:42] CHILD: I’m fne and having a good time not calling

Expressing longing for remote family members was a common, ritual prac-
tice that could also be found among these within-country family members
164 Tiina Räisä
when they were temporarily separated because of work, leisure activities or
divorce.

[5.1.2018, 7.21] PARENT: Good morning my darlings! We will see each

other tonight! Hugs and kisses from Mummy and Daddy ❤
[20.5.2016, 11.15] PARENT: My prettiest little child. Are you all right? It
will soon be the weekend!
[20.5.2016, 11.16] PARENT: I miss you so much
[20.5.2016, 21.44.12] CHILD: Ok 😃😄
[29.6.2018, 20.56] PARENT: Sleep tight and have beautiful dreams, love
you ❤ and we’ll talk to each other tomorrow
[22.7.2018, 14.46] PARENT: On the bus, miss you already ❤ Hugs and
kisses to you all 💞💟💓💕💖

The third practice of the loving family communication category is the

showing of support and solidarity, a kind of digital family “pep-talk,” that
relates to individual development and the career-oriented “good middle-
class parenting” mentioned previously (Ochs & Kremer-Sadlik, 2015).
However, in a digital space, this practice too is intensifed, as parents show
their commitment to ensuring the future of their children in an uncertain
world (ibid.). Mobile applications such as WhatsApp were used 24/7 by
these parents to spur their children on in the “race” and competition of
contemporary middle-class life and to ensure the long-term well-being of
their children.

[2019–12–20 14:00] PARENT: My darling I’m really super proud of your

grades – that you succeeded in getting higher grades this last year,
which is the most diffcult one 🏆 You’re really good
[16.2.2019, 12.02.09] PARENT: Who cooked the food!! WHAT! Just splen-
did, my little man.

In sum, expressing love and devotion in the family sphere not only requires
the investment of time, effort and emotion (Ochs & Kremer-Sadlik, 2015).
The middle-class families in this study used their family chat to support, even
“drill” their offspring. Many discussions were concerned with the children’s
education and their development, a practice illustrating the interconnected-
ness of the media, the capitalist system and the class system and a constant
concern for one’s children’s future, turning family talk into the social crucible
of the political economy (Ochs & Kremer-Sadlik, 2015). When technologies
such as WhatsApp are used, the class project seems to strengthen by the
abundant expressions of emotions. Applauding each other’s achievements
with digital pep-talks was analogous to a devoted fan club or TV show in
which the family constructs itself as an idealised and mediated version of a
loving family.
 Family relations 165
Conclusion
I will conclude by discussing the mediatisation of the family institution as
it emerged in the mediated communication of six Finnish families, analysed
from private family chats and in situ interviews with parents and children.
The four communicative categories – those of the practical, the dispersed,
the entertainment-oriented and the loving families – makes it clear that the
proliferation of media use in the home domain and for intimate family rela-
tions has led to an intensifcation of the transformative mediatisation process
taking place in contemporary families.
With the bottom-up approach to the mediated, everyday practices of the
family presented in this chapter we have hopefully gained a better under-
standing of the typical features of the proposed concept, digital family talk.
It is what I like to call the institutionalisation of a new language that is not
primarily informed by the speech community, like traditional languages, but
by the media and its constantly shifting yet powerful logics. For example,
emojis appear to provide users with unique ways of combining visual signs,
but they are in fact extremely limiting and simplifying (Ellis & Tucker, 2020:
76, 71). Given the salience of language for how families are constituted, one
could even voice concern for the limitation of expression that individuals use
when constructing the family in a mediated environment.
Mediatisation of the family institution is signifed by a dichotomy of com-
peting forces, struggles that are often fought alone. What becomes evident in
the analysis is that the media is both the provider of solutions and the creator
of new problems. The media is a convenient way of dealing with our profes-
sional lives and “family business,” but it causes distraction and exhaustion.
The media enables parenting at a distance while at the same time developing
a culture of control, a reduction in agency and a limiting of personal growth.
Media is an attention-seeking apparatus that limits people’s self-determination
and freedom. Also, the media’s offer of non-stop entertainment extends so
far that it becomes decisive even for the experience of intimate relations.
Finally, mediatisation of the family institution means that as individual
family members we communicate according to the terms of a dominant,
emotional regime. It is possible that using media may provide more oppor-
tunities for people to show and experience love, but the emotional regime of
the media is a polarising one. In this small sample of middle-class families,
we found a plethora of positive emotions; in other family samples, we might
well fnd the expression of quite opposite emotions.
Despite its admittedly limited sample of families, this study has shown
the mediatisation of the family institution unfolding as an everyday power
struggle. Constructing itself through the prerequisites of the media makes the
core social unit in society, the family, not only dependent on but also quite
vulnerable to the constantly shifting logics of the media. Being mediatised
means that both the individual and the family are inevitably altered, as it
is the media that has the power to determine the features of a meaningful
166 Tiina Räisä
relationship. It remains for future researchers to fnd out whether the infnite
rows of exclamations marks and heart emojis that now circulate around the
mediated universe when families construct their intimate sphere will actually
lead to the homogenisation of the family and to the emergence of a genera-
tive, mediated family type.

Acknowledgement
The project “What’s in the App? Digitally-mediated communication in con-
temporary multilingual families across time and space” took place at Uni-
versity of Jyväskylä and was funded by Academy of Finland, 2018–2022
[Grant Number 315478].

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Copyright © 2022. Taylor & Francis Group. All rights reserved.

Mediatisation of Emotional Life, edited by Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech, and Mateusz Sobiech, Taylor & Francis Group, 2022.
ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/slq/detail.action?docID=6951864.
Created from slq on 2023-10-15 02:19:11.
Part III

Explorations
Key aspect of emotional lives
with media
Copyright © 2022. Taylor & Francis Group. All rights reserved.

Mediatisation of Emotional Life, edited by Katarzyna Kopecka-Piech, and Mateusz Sobiech, Taylor & Francis Group, 2022.
ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/slq/detail.action?docID=6951864.
Created from slq on 2023-10-15 02:19:11.
11 Moving pictures creating
emotions
The flm-makers’ emotional
strategies in pandemic
Iwona Grodź

Introduction
No creativity, even regarding an abstract theme, consists in blocking, sup-
pressing or eliminating emotions – but rather, in expressing them. This is
indicated by emphatic emotional theories of art which see the artist’s effects
as the basic factor stimulating them to creative activity. Emotions have a
profound effect on human behaviour:

they are like the language we speak, beliefs and beliefs we hold; like
the fears and anxieties that plague us, and the beliefs that form us; an
integral part of our restless, exploratory, critical and creative nature, our
self, our authenticity, our identity.
(see Citko, 2007)

Creators are not unique in this regard. They differ from average mortals in
their ability to give artistic form to the expression of their feelings.
Each emotion, regardless of its sign and source, can be described using the
following three parameters:

(a) arousal, which refects the neurophysiological correlates of emotions

resulting from the activation of the central and autonomous nervous
system;
(b) expression, which may be direct or indirect. Direct expression includes
both facial expressions and behavioural correlates of emotions. Indirect
expression of emotions is controlled and takes the form of poems,
music, works of art or letters. It is based to a lesser extent on innate
mechanisms and to a greater one on specifc socialisation training and
cultural conventions;
(c) experience, containing subjective, mental correlates – individual ideas
consistent with the individual structures of meaning, referred to as
feelings. Thus, artists are individuals who have acquired the ability to
express emotions indirectly, in the form of works of art (see Dziemidok,
1992).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-15
172 Iwona Grodź
Recipients read the emotions contained in the work of art, expressed
through the fctional world presented and the characters appearing in it,
experiencing them with the same intensity as the effects experienced in real-
ity. Sometimes this is characterised by even greater intensity, as art provides
a range of stimuli that intensify feelings, thanks to the mechanisms of iden-
tifcation, empathy and ecpathy. Therefore, works of art contribute more to
freeing the viewer from painful conficts and tensions than direct expression.
This is, among other things, the cathartic impact of works of art, consist-
ing in cleansing the audience of negative emotions and bringing them back
to a state of balance or relief. The viewer, experiencing the satisfaction of
immersing themselves in a fctional world, has a chance to fulfl urges while
satisfying hidden desires. Although this satisfaction is substitute sublimation,
the feeling of relief is real (Citko, 2007).
Film is an art discipline related to awakening emotions and describing
them. Even the frst flms of the Lumière brothers evoked a lively response
from the audience who perceived the world presented analogously to reality.
Anecdotes regarding the reaction of viewers to the flm confrm the afore-
mentioned statement. Relatively few researchers have dealt with emotions
in flm studies in the early stages of its development; even psychology of flm
as a specialised feld of research does not necessarily scrutinise this problem.
Film psychologists such as Hugo Münsterberg and Rudolf Arnheim were
primarily interested in the mechanisms of image perception, while treating
the problem of emotions accompanying the reception as almost accidental
(Arnheim, 1987). For example, Münsterberg drew attention to the emotional
nature of a grand plan as opposed to more descriptive, informative general
or full plans. The issue of emotions consistently appeared for the frst time
in the deliberations of Eisenstein, although his ambition was not to create a
uniform emotionalist theory of flm. He was rather interested in the means
of expression of flm art serving as rhetorical tools for infuencing viewers
(Eisenstein, 1959).1
In turn, Monika Suckfüll wrote:

During flm reception two complex and dynamic systems interact over
time: the flm and the embodied mind. Due to this complexity, it is dif-
fcult to assess the effects of flms in an empirical way. The target of flm
impact research is the analysis of a complex system of dynamic relations
between aspects of flms and aspects of their spectators. Film science is
traditionally concerned with aspects of the medium. The investigation
of effects of flms on the recipients is ascribed to the area of psycho-
logical research. Psychology benefts from a connection to flm science,
because the latter discipline is able to formulate theoretically founded
descriptive models for the medium and its structures. Conversely, flm
researchers have become increasingly aware of the fact that most of the
creative problems they deal with have no chance of being clarifed if the
psychological components of the effects of flm art are not taken into
 Moving pictures creating emotions 173
consideration. Analytic flm models and psychological models of the
recipient have to refer to one another and have to be increasingly dif-
ferentiated throughout the research process.
(Suckfüll, 2010: 41–42)

Summing up, it is worth remembering that the emotional worlds of both

creators and recipients seem to elude objective analysis and enter the area of
speculation not supported by empirical evidence. When it comes to analysing
the emotions of recipients, it is possible to conduct statistical research based
on a previously prepared questionnaire, but the representativeness and accu-
racy of the selection of the research group, the structure of questions and the
list of emotions proposed for analysis, as well as the honesty of respondents’
statements (which may be falsifed by various cultural determinants) remain
problematic, social or ideological (Citko, 2007).

The code of the narrative of Atlantis

– the case of the At home cycle (2020)

Some would argue that every change is a catastrophe because it means the
end of something and therefore the destruction of the original state of affairs
(cf. the butterfy effect according to Edward Lorenz). Therefore, an unex-
pected event or its effect – related to, among others, an epidemic – are not the
key categories here. Even less important is the misleading attempt at conjur-
ing reality in which even in the “cruellest fre” there is the “saving light.” The
feeling of loss will not be diminished by the “clarity” of the consequences
and effects of the catastrophe, whether anthropogenic, human-induced or
caused by natural disasters. Humanity is aware of them: more and more
often people talk about such threats of the modern world as poverty, diseases
(epidemics), ecological or natural disasters. The ways to prevent and solve
them are also discussed.
The visions of catastrophes in cultural texts are an eternal topos, known
from mythologies, the Bible – the Apocalypse of John or from Dante Aligh-
ieri’s poem. They were also frequent in the works of romantics, including
Polish ones: in Mickiewicz or Słowacki’s oeuvre or in The Un-divine Comedy
by Zygmunt Krasiński. These followed avant-garde artists such as Stanisław
Witkiewicz. Andrzej Werner recalls that “the term (catastrophism) within
Polish culture is more comprehensive and at the same time less precise than
in other cultures” (Werner, 1992: 445–453). Contemporary times are espe-
cially fond of this issue. This is evidenced by numerous books, paintings,
flms and series. Their recipients are both people who remember experienced
traumas and the youngest generations not burdened with similar memories.
Time distance is a key category here.
The pervasive interest in the COVID-19 pandemic seems to confrm at
least some of these observations. It is already evident that it “inspired” much
174 Iwona Grodź
important and valuable research and many cultural initiatives. Examples are
numerous conferences on this subject, publications, projects and polls. There
appears even a slightly embarrassing question of whether the narrative in
the “code of catastrophe” is “in fashion,” which is manifested not only in
numerous cultural texts on this subject, but above all, as Zuzanna Kowal-
czyk claimed, “an unrestrained creative need in the unconstrained compul-
sion of production and consumption, characteristic of the Anthropocene”
(Kowalczyk, 2020). This in turn is related to the question in which ways
artists use such a way of storytelling for creative activities resulting from
real commitment.
In his series of essays Still life with a bridle, Zbigniew Herbert compared
the tulip fever curve with a temperature graph of a patient suffering from
a serious infectious disease. It rises rapidly, stays at a very high level for
some time and then drops sharply. The poet became interested in “the tulip
mania” for a reason, as he himself admitted. Like most people, he did not
hide his predilection for portraying madness and catastrophe. It seems that
this botanical madness, an episode on the fringe of the Great History, slightly
resembles the approach of the Polish media to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Although time will tell whether it is not the proverbial beginning of the end
of an era. One must add, that the importance of both events is, of course,
incomparable. What changes on an epochal scale may not be the civilisation
but is defnitely our communication. We can ask today, just as Herbert did,
whether the pandemic situation is not similar to other equally dangerous
events in history, causing “destruction” of attachment to the known world,
some idea, symbol or formula of life. Hence, probably, after 2020, it will
never be possible to consider the matter defnitely closed.
One of the various impulses prompting me to analyse the narrative issue
in the “code of Atlantis” and the construction of emotions is the COVID-19
pandemic, which became the inspiration for a series of short flms entitled
At home (premiering on 16 July 2020) and produced for HBO Europe. It is
an audiovisual anthology created within the constraints of the COVID-19
pandemic, as a part of an artistic manifesto. The authors of the indicated
project decided that the art of moving pictures and the artists associated
with it cannot remain silent, wait and passively observe what is happening
here and now.
The overriding goal of all flm artists participating in the aforementioned
project is to tell a story about contemporary culture, recycling strategies,
changes in communication and narratives in (post)modernist cinema. Each
time, the authors “ft into” a specifc original authorial strategy: autobiogra-
phy, self-therapy or self-referentialism. The conclusions of the research make
it possible to determine how emotions were created in the individual produc-
tions of the series; with what specifc means, and with what effect. Finally, it
indicates how, in terms of the construction of emotions, the individual parts
form a single whole, especially in the context of the ongoing pandemic and
lockdown.
 Moving pictures creating emotions 175
The message of some of the At home flms is the hope that as a result
of lockdowns, the separated will begin to understand the need for authen-
tic contact anew, as well as long for communication that intensifes bonds
instead of simulating them. Let us then return to the aforementioned anthol-
ogy of short flms. Insiders from the industry inform us that the 14 creators
of the At home project received very clear directions that had to be followed
during project implementation. For example, everyone had to comply with
the restrictions introduced during the pandemic. Secondly, they had a spe-
cifc time constraint which required the ability to quickly plan the work (the
project had to be ready in four weeks) and budget. Thirdly, flms could not be
longer than traditional 10-minute etudes. On the other hand, the flm-makers
were given complete freedom in terms of form and genre. The main topic of
the At home series was restrictions on the freedom of individuals related to the
pandemic, and perhaps above all, the need to communicate (reinterpret the
old communication patterns) with the public.
Ultimately, the project, if viewed in its entirety, resembles not only an anthol-
ogy (or a series), but a flm essay, and therefore a “borderline,” a polyphonic
genre which aims primarily at “conveying personal experience and knowledge,
as well as the judgments, refections and feelings of the authors” (Bochniarz,
2020: 82). An important element in this context is individualism, resembling a
personal confession of the author but not devoid of scientifc character (logic of
argumentation) or indeed poetic character (opacity of the form of expression,
e.g. frequent use of comparisons, contrasts). In this genre of artistic expression,
the authors combine fctional, documentary, acting and animated sequences
shot from different points of view, creating a unique amalgam.
Impressions of this type do not have the status of a historical (institution-
ally confrmed) document. The story told can also be a kind of subversive
activity, and it itself is called “alternative history.” Thus, it requires a con-
scious receiving attitude. The viewer should know that the directors carefully
analysed and selected the collected initial material. Therefore, there is no
chaos or chance in their strategies, but rather an analysis of facts, a subjective
search for associations and a desire to create a new, unique fullness. This is
undoubtedly true of the At home cycle. This kind of attempt, this time a flm
one, fts in with the poetics of informal essays with a clear impressionistic
character as it offers the interpretation and evaluation of the phenomena sur-
rounding an individual, as well as a kind of intimate experience. The strength
of this type of expression is formal fexibility and aesthetic uniqueness.
The series includes flms such as To nie my [Its not us] by Jerzy Skoli-
mowski, based on a script by Ewa Piaskowska. The director’s explication for
this project tells us that at the time of the outbreak of the pandemic, he was
in Sicily preparing his new flm. Thus, he became a direct witness to the Ital-
ian tragedy and the apocalyptic standstill of time, contrasted – as he himself
said – with the “splendour of the Sicilian spring.” With his flm, the artist
thanks Sicily for its generous hospitality. A short flm with an ambiguous title
that can be read more or less literally (written as one word, “toniemy” means
176 Iwona Grodź
“we’re drowning” in Polish) has become a flm of gratitude for extending a
helping hand. The director, using visual symbols and “playing with words,”
tells about the feeling of not only danger and fear but also hope.
The second project, Ukryj mnie w samolocie lecącym do Marrakeszu [Hide
me on a plane going to Marrakesh] directed by Krzysztof Skonieczny, is an
audiovisual comparison of a pandemic situation with being in a desert. For the
director, the flm became a medium enabling a meeting with oneself. It allowed
him to remember, recall and recreate “the state of limbo awaiting the frost of
a desert storm or a warm summer rain.” At the same time, the director clearly
emphasised the symbolism of the desert, which is associated with space creat-
ing mirages and deconstructing illusions. In the literary sketch accompanying
the flm, Skonieczny reminds that change is always a transgressive and enrich-
ing experience. The time of the COVID-19 pandemic has often revealed a
“desert space” that, whether one likes it or not, can also “spill into” our homes.
The flm became for this artist a way to face his own fears. It also showed
the truth of human loneliness, about which we are all told to forget in the
overstimulated and/or ritualised world. This time, the “Big Sleep” is no longer
possible . . . and even inadvisable. This time, the artist uses a visual and verbal
metaphor to express anxiety and “emotional confusion” in the new situation.
Another flm was a six-minute-long animation entitled Dom w skorupce
[A house in a shell].2 It is a very personal story about how a creator trans-
forms into a homemaker and how she perceives the closed world as a soap
bubble or – as the title’s shell. This closure and narrowing of life space is not
compensated even by the possibility of remote communication. It turns out
that it can also unexpectedly “shrink” to one favourite channel on a stream-
ing platform which one can – imperceptibly and initially unconsciously –
start watching over and over again. Thus, one of the interpretations of this
vision is to reveal the “contraction” and “limitation” of the sources of infor-
mation infow from the outside. The animator tells about one of the basic
emotions – “surprise” with the situation, during which she forced unprec-
edented attention, using visual metonymy and a semantic ellipse.
The second animation in the series is Księżyc [Moon],3 in which the artist
apparently shows “a day just like all others” but with a strangely pulsating
invisible layer of mystery. Marek Bochniarz wrote about Księżyc that it was

a mixture of animation and dirty, grainy video” in which the director

creates his own alter ego. Hooded in the mask covering his face, the
boy wanders and watches the city nightlife, almost non-existent in a
pandemic. Tomek Popakul explains: This is a subjective reconstruction
of my night walks. This is my cycle that activates at night
(Bochniarz, 2020: 82)

The creator of this animation, in turn, tries to fnd the cinematic, and there-
fore visual and auditory, equivalent of the emotion that is worry. For this
purpose, he uses the flm synecdoche.
 Moving pictures creating emotions 177
Dziś są moje urodziny [Today is my birthday]4 tells the story of the direc-
tor’s surprise at himself, when, for the frst time in his life and similarly to the
title character of Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Amateur, he turned the camera by
180 degrees and pointed it at himself. For him, the flm became the medium
for the frst deep immersion in the here and now (or there and then) – and
thus in the present self which is no longer there. In fact, it is the use of
the well-known “mirror strategy” for communication. Irony, as a reverse of
loneliness, is one of the emotions revealed when the flm’s title clashes with
its fnal meaning.
Contrastively, Czekamy [We are waiting]5 is a story about expectation,
which is an individual experience in times of crisis, and thus also has a dif-
ferent dimension and meaning for everyone. The director makes the viewers
aware that everyone is always waiting for something . . . himself as well,
though this time for something different than everyone else. Further, Magnus
van Horn in his Korona Killer [Killer Crown] suggests that the lockdown not
only tested relationships, family ties, patience and love but also revealed – as
the artist claims – “the feeling that by trying to protect against the virus, we
infect ourselves with something else.” This time the creator describes the joy
invoked or disturbed by anxiety. The emotional value is “inscribed” in the
narrative nature of his story.
Fictional Koronaświrusy [Coronaviruses]6 deals with the thin line between
what is real and what is imaginary: “For the artists, lockdown has paradoxi-
cally become a return to oneself, and also to the online reality and world of
illusions. Realising whether online or offine, reality is “mine,” becomes an
invitation for viewers to answer the question: “Which reality is true?” The
flm becomes a call for refection.” The director, using hyperbola, encourages
the audience to focus on emotions that are often forgotten.
The At home cycle also features Paweł Łoziński’s documentary Maski
i ludzie [Masks and people], whose title sounds ominous when read liter-
ally and which prompts us to stop and focus our attention on the world
that we usually “sweep with an absent” look. The main character of the
flm is not a man, but time – or rather its passage and slowing down. The
documentary flm-maker tries to record the world that has stopped with
a director’s camera placed on a balcony. In one frame, the artist observes
a piece of the world and a particular segment of time in which we all fnd
ourselves. He listens to the silence he has not experienced before. This
is how the inherently rhetorical question is “born,” directed at both the
characters being flmed and moving in succession, as well as the projected
viewers: “What’s next?” (Wróblewski, 2020: 69–75). The metaphor hid-
den in the title is a way to understanding whether there is emotional life
in a mediatised world.
The Kioto, 21 kwietnia [Kyoto, April 21] documentary by Anna
Zamecka and Sung Rae Cho stars the co-director’s parents and them-
selves. It became a record of the title day, one of many in a world closed
by the pandemic and of forced quarantine. The directors wanted to record
178 Iwona Grodź
their emotions and diffculty in understanding and describing what is
happening, in capturing the reality of events. The subject of the docu-
ment is therefore “the feeling of being lost and alienated, of unfeasible
and phantom existence.” Minimisation of stylistic means and narrative
asceticism make this possible.
The important topic of artists’ polyphony has been taken up by Mariusz
Treliński in Nic nie zatrzyma tej wiosny [Nothing can stop this spring]. The
director recalled that he did not remember any previous time when the creators
of art would act together during a global threat. He emphasised the unprec-
edented nature of the pandemic, which, although it is known in human history,
has been very rare in our country for many years. The flm mostly underlines
the need to change the way people of art communicate – not only with the
audience but also with each other. Treliński has repeatedly emphasised that
artists are “born soloists,” which is why the pandemic may become a specifc
communication challenge for many . . . a necessity to speak out tutti (Ital-
ian for all). Neither time nor its record or even words are for him crucial in
communication with the audience. Treliński believes that contact during the
crisis is possible due to purely accidental references, associations . . . what we
least expect. The director claims that “talking about himself paralyses him”
and therefore the flm is not an autobiographical medium that enables confes-
sion, but above all, a challenge to face the necessity to speak in the space of
polyphony. Not against it, but as a sign of understanding, in an alliance.
Chłopiec z widokiem [A boy with a view] is a short flm by Małgorzata
Szumowska. It is a metaphorical representation of a limitation that is associ-
ated not only with a measurable space but also with a narrowing of the feld
of view. The director makes viewers aware that, sitting at home, we only see
a narrow fragment of reality. Although we would like to see more, it is not
given to us. The director, using a simple comparison, makes the viewer emo-
tionally approach the state in which the protagonist found himself.
The cycle includes also Ślimak [Snail].7 Its theme is time perceived not as a
linear category, but rather as its unreal version, which is noticed by a garden
snail. Humans are like a snail that carries its home on its back. The pandemic
situation reveals that the snail moves into a virtual space in which the essence
is no longer real proportions, but abstract mathematical sequences, “fear
algorithms” (Bochniarz, 2020: 82). This time, the symbol is a flm medium,
through which the director tries to tell about sadness.
Finally, Andrzej Dragan offers his Piosenka o końcu świata [A song about
the end of the world]. The director made anxiety the theme and character
of his flm, as he admits that “he likes to construct and watch it.” Hence, the
possibility of making a flm during a pandemic inspired him. The anxiety
associated with the compulsion of isolation has become the experience of
not one person but many people. The artist talks about anxiety referring to
both the world of science and art.

***
 Moving pictures creating emotions 179
When writing about narrative in postmodern cinema, one often encounters
statements that it is an ironic version of modernist narration and a certain
revision of known storytelling patterns. The past does exist in it, however,
but as a quality without illusions, a quality that cannot disappear. The rem-
nants of historical narrative forms are renewed in it and reveal a new face.
Jean Baudrillard wrote about games with vestiges (1996: 226–227). In this
context, one needs to mention fragmentation, exhaustion of traditional sto-
rytelling structures and “abolition of the distinction between high and popu-
lar culture” (Ostaszewski, 2018: 202). Thus, the narrative has been deprived
of faith in the possibility of originality. A part of the remedy for this state
of affairs was repetition, focusing on the momentary, present or ephemeral,
experimenting and using episodic narrative. As for the latter – a narrative
“in which individual fragments do not connect with each other in order to
maintain the logic of construction; “they also lack hierarchisation, i.e. sub-
ordinating side plots to the main plot” (Ostaszewski, 2018: 229) – it is quite
easy to select it in the cycle. This approach to images of history is associated
with the poetics of the fragment, the essence of which is expressed in present-
ing “the world as a multifaceted, complex and undefned, and not as a series
of closed, smooth, linear stories” (Ostaszewski, 2018: 108). On the other
hand, the way in which some parts of the cycle are cut can be interpreted
as a manifestation of “narrative negativity,” which Ostaszewski described
as what “prompts us to move from an affrmative explanation of the rules
for constructing flm stories to refecting on negative potentials of narrative
nature as Artur Sandauer defned them. . . . The point here is the discomfort
of reading the flm, the concept of dis-narration” (2018: 275). This is why I
believe the art of moving images to be unique and anticipatory.
Summing up, it can be said that the creators of the At home series talk
about emotions such as “sadness,” “fear,” “surprise,” “anger,” but also “love”
and “hope,” using the most important flm means: metaphor, comparison,
symbol, irony, ellipse, hyperbola or simply repetitions.
The flms from the At Home series are not easy to interpret due to their
eclectic nature and multiple plots. However, they speak to audiences all over
the world in an internationally understood language: the language of emotions.
They show the characters as people torn by passions and undoubtedly do not
leave the audience feeling indifferent – indeed, they arouse vivid emotions.

Conclusion
In both media studies and psychological literature, researchers continue to
use the terms interchangeably: “mediatisation” and “medialization.” My
analysis of the series of flms At Home shows that these concepts are not synon-
ymous.“Mediatisation” usually means a one-way process, in which the indi-
vidual“submits” (“succumbs”) to the rules of the game dictated by the media.
“Medialization,” on the other hand, symbolises exchange and its consequence –
transformation. When the media “enters” the world of emotions, they begin
180 Iwona Grodź
to co-create them, and thus: create, sometimes disavow and even distort them.
Emotions that “settle down” in the world of the media often become their
“prisoners.” “Medialization” is therefore a transgression and the media “tak-
ing over” emotions and “entering” the intimate sphere into the virtual space.
In previous considerations, media and communication have mainly
emphasised the role of technology as a factor of change. In the last dozen or
so years, however (see Knut Lundby, Scott Lash),8 a more in-depth analysis of
the relationship: media and communication (including mediatised individual
communication about emotions) has been proposed. In the text, I indicate
how the activity undertaken in the media world every day by individuals
infuences the redefnition of the symbolic practice of communication about
emotions in the virtual space (and, consequently, may also affect the develop-
ment of the media in terms of technology).
The purpose of the aforementioned considerations was to indicate the strat-
egies of communication between artists and audiences during a pandemic in
which the problem of flm form becomes a key issue. Films from the At home
series exemplify many of the strategies. One such strategy is self-therapy.9
Film images and their form resemble Jacques Derrida’s pharmakon; they can
be seen as a medicine that helps. However, it must be remembered that any
therapy – also with the “media” – has a poisonous potential. Under the pre-
text of commemoration, it can cause erasure or forgetting, reducing knowl-
edge instead of increasing it. Another communication strategy is the tactic of
renewed narcissism. Films and their form are used to evoke a kind of “narcis-
sistic hypnosis,” not only attractive and arousing interest but also encouraging
the game between the “connoisseur” and “consumer” of attention. Moreover,
flms may be a continuation or an innovation in relation to earlier forms. Here,
we are dealing with a strategy of inspiration (or “ideological sponsoring of the
work”) (Kluszczyński, 2017: 70). The fourth, “mirror” strategy, is a kind of
reversal of the perspective between the sender and the recipient. The ffth tactic
is the “hiding“/”sleep” strategy in which the images are like palimpsests that
“encode” the code to enable communication. The sixth strategy is “chance”
and thus has no tactics. Here, flms and their form are used to highlight the
so-called butterfy effect. The fnal idea for communication is the author’s
“absence” strategy. Both content and form of the flms are ghostly in nature,
and the focus is on the unclear status of the author (Kluszczyński, 2017: 70).
In her book Media Market in Poland, Jolanta Dzierżyńska-Mielczarek
postulated that even if communication changes are not bad, it does not
immediately mean that they are good. According to the author, such transfor-
mations result mainly from the multitude of sources, their mobility, the (free)
possibility of simultaneous access and the need to constantly be online (2018:
155–156). In this total confusion, there is one more change that has fuelled
all the previously indicated ones: mass audiences are lost and artists are
desperately looking for anyone who is interested (Dzierżyńska-Mielczarek,
2018: 32). How does this relate to the situation of artists during a pan-
demic? Time will tell. Emotions related to artistic creation seem to be more
 Moving pictures creating emotions 181
disinterested, cleaner than those experienced by a person in everyday life.
However, they are just as strong, anchored in suffering, sadness and love. In
any case, love becomes the strongest and most sought-after emotion because
it is not easy to fnd in the world of limitations.
Translation: Agnieszka Marciniak and Iwona Grodź

Notes
1 See also Bordwell, D., & Thompson, K. (2003). Film history: An introduction. New
York: McGraw-Hill; Russel, M. (2009). Soviet montage cinema as propaganda and
political rhetoric. Edinburgh: Publishing House “The University of Edinburgh”.
2 Dom w skorupce [A house in a shell] directed by Renata Gąsiorowska made it
together with Alicja Błaszczyńska, Aleksandra Kucwaj and Marcjanna Urbańska.
3 Księżyc [Moon] by Tomasz Popakul (in collaboration with Patrycja Leśniewska,
Krzysztof Rakszawski, Katarzyna Melnyk).
4 Dziś są moje urodziny [Today is my birthday] by Jacek Borcuch.
5 Czekamy [We are waiting] made by Jan P. Matuszyński.
6 Coronaviruses that are a development of Krzysztof Bernaś’s idea by Xawery
Żuławski and Piotr Łaznowski.
7 Ślimak [Snail] by Krzysztof Garbaczewski and Anastasia Vorobiov.
8 See for example: Lundby, K. (Ed.). (2009). Mediatisation: Concept, changes, con-
sequences. New York: Peter Lang Publishing Inc.; Lash, S., & Lurry, C. (2011).
Globalny przemysł kulturowy. Medializacja rzeczy. Kraków: Wydawnictwo Uni-
wersytetu Jagiellońskiego.
9 Scientists say that: “Film Therapy is the clinical and evidence-based use of flm inter-
ventions to accomplish individualized goals within a therapeutic relationship by a
credentialed professional who has completed an approved flm therapy program.”
Scientists defned flm therapy as “an interpersonal process in which the therapist
uses flm and all of its facets to help patients to improve, restore or maintain health.”
Film therapy is also a systematic process of intervention wherein the therapist
helps the client to promote health, using flm experiences and the relationships
that develop through them as dynamic forces of change.
The psychology of flm is a relatively new area of study. Film therapy is a multidis-
ciplinary feld, and the area of flm psychology is an innovative interdisciplinary
science drawing from the felds of flmology, musicology, psychology, acoustics,
sociology, anthropology and neurology.
Five factors contribute to the effects of flm therapy:
Modulation of Attention
Modulation of Emotion
Modulation of Cognition
Modulation of Behavior
Modulation of Communication

References
Arnheim, R. (1987). Art and visual perception (trans. J. Mach). Warsaw: Artistic and
Film Publishing House.
Baudrillard, J. (1996). Game with vestiges: Jean Baudrillard interviewed by Mark
Titmarsh and Salvatore Mele (trans. A. Szahaj). In S. Czerniak & A. Szahaj (Eds.),
Postmodernism and philosophy. Warsaw: PAN.
Bochniarz, M. (2020). At home. Kino, 9, 82.
182 Iwona Grodź
Citko, K. (2007). The flm world of Pedro Almodovar: Universe of emotions.
Białystok: Publishing House “Trans Humana”.
Dziemidok, B. (1992). Art, values, emotions. Warsaw: Publishing House of the Foun-
dation for the Institute of Culture.
Dzierżyńska-Mielczarek, J. (2018). Changes in media consumption. In J. Dzierżyńska-
Mielczarek (Ed.), Media market in Poland: Changes due to new digital technolo-
gies. Warsaw: Publishing House “Aspra”.
Eisenstein, S. (1959). Selected writings (R. Dreyer, Ed.). Warsaw: Art and Film Pub-
lishing House.
Kluszczyński, R. (2017). The problematic status of the artist in contemporary art. In
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Ostaszewski, J. (2018). Narration of postmodern cinema. In J. Ostaszewski (Ed.),
History of flm narration. Kraków: Publishing House “Universitas”.
Suckfüll, M. (2010). Films that move: Us: Moments of narrative impact in an ani-
mated short flm. Projections, 4, 41–63.
Werner, A. (1992). Katastrofzm. In A. Brodzka, et al. (Eds.), The dictionary of polish
literature in the 20th century. Wrocław: Publishing House “Ossolineum”.
Wróblewski, J. (2020). Secular confessional: Interview with Paweł Łoziński about the
At home series. Polityka, 29, 69–75.
12 Identity formation
Media resilience of women who
go through dissolution of romantic
relationship
Sucheta Lahiri

Introduction
This autoethnography narrates pivotal moments of my first romantic relation-
ship and a subsequent painful dissolution during the first year of PhD after I
moved to the United States from India. Autoethnography is generally chosen
as a methodology “within the social context” (Ellis, 1997; Olson, 2004; Reed-
Danahay, 1997) to illuminate those important yet obscure lived experiences
that are considered as taboo (Ellis, 1999) and to “bring attention to the ways
cultures are created and compromised through institutional, political, social,
and interpersonal relations of power” (Boylorn & Orbe, 2020; Jones, 2018).
While exploring autoethnographies, I direct my attention to therapeutic auto-
ethnography (Railsback, 2020), critical autoethnography (Bochner, 1994) and
black feminist autoethnography (BFA) (Griffin, 2012) that’s embedded with
hook’s (1989) “talking back” to the dominant forces of cultural practices.
In my narrative, I set a stage for the subject who, in her romantic relation-
ship, harbours the pressure of adhering to the claustrophobic heteronormative
expectations of “desirable femininity” (Pickens & Braun, 201) that aligns with
“hypersexualized beauty standards” (Christoforou, 2015; Gill & Gill, 2007).
In this autoethnography, my “ontological and epistemological positioning”
(Cassell et al., 2017) of a modern woman who joins academia after spend-
ing more than a decade in the industry appears as the subject. The primary
research unfolds the patriarchal gender roles, sexism, ageism, cultural context
and the self-conflicting emotions of a far-left feminist. The study furthermore
elucidates how media and communication channels help the subject achieve
resilience and combat the difficult moments of post-dissolution grief.
First section of the article ‘It’s time: a flashback’ starts with the interchange
of thoughts, feelings and opinions that becomes the motivation for this auto-
ethnography. Second section entitled Blame it on the culture invigorates
the cultural context of the self and hegemony of social norms perpetuated
through media within the larger society.
Third section Dating, Break up, and Grief: How did it all start? presents
self-reflection and the brief details of beginning and the end of the subject’s
romantic relationship.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-16
184 Sucheta Lahiri
Fourth section My resilience: how media helped me continues with the
details of bereavement followed by the process of recovery with the com-
puter-mediated communication (CMC).
During the process of writing this autoethnography, I pen down my
refections with a trail of vignettes, or in other words, a series of “introspec-
tive narratives” (Ronai, 1992). Four rounds of time-intensive and gruelling
process of modifcations mute some crucial moments that unravel blatant
ageism and hegemonic masculinity (Bakhsh, 2020). This autoethnography
still, however, could preserve a substantial part of me to give away to the
readers. The traces of my identity resonate with the women of colour in the
labour workforce who are drifting away from the conventional childbear-
ing age and are frequently put under the pressure of following normative
rules in the contemporary society. I intentionally do not operationalise the
childbearing age as the dominant cultural context decides the label across
different age brackets of fertility. With my narrative, I solicit immense sup-
port and solidarity with the women cohort who is relentlessly fghting
against the heteronormative attributes of embracing “agreeableness, pas-
sivity, and selfessness” (Pickens & Braun, 2018) and “policing her own
body to socially accepted standards of femininity” (Bartky, 2015; Black
& Sharma, 2001; Pickens & Braun, 201) “to please/take care of her male
counterpart and provide him with children, dedicating her life to partner-
ship and childrearing” (Budgeon, 2016; Pickens & Braun, 2018). Following
the social constructionist framework (Olson, 20), I delve into the multi-
layered power structure that women with enmeshed identities experience in
romantic relationships. I explore the conjoined emotions that emerge with
the hegemony and mediate through different kinds of CMC technologies.
To keep in mind the relational ethics or the “ethics of care,” feminist ethics,
and feminist communication ethics (Ellis, 2007), I conceal and use he/him/
his pronouns to establish my romantic partner’s identity.
In this autoethnography study, I voice my “vulnerable-self, emotions, body
and spirit” (Ellis, 1999) with the technique of “emotional sociology” and
“systematic introspection” (Ronai, 1992). According to Ellis (1991b: 126),
emotional sociology can be defned as the “consciously and refectively feel-
ing for ourselves, our subjects, and our topics of study, and evoking those
feelings in our readers.” While writing autoethnography studies, Ellis (1991a,
1991b) urges the authors and/or researchers to tease out their lived expe-
rience and use “emotional narratives” that is “written from a biographi-
cally subjective point of view for evidence on how emotions are experienced
within the context of everyday life” (Ronai, 1992). Through “self-interro-
gation and cultural accountability” (Boylorn & Orbe, 2020), I allow myself
to look at my own lived experience as “others” as I go through the journey
of falling apart and coming back together several times over a span of more
than a year.

––
 Identity formation 185
I use three dashes to indicate the change of “temporal/spatial/attitudinal”
dimensions (Ronai, 1992).

––

It’s time: a fashback

It’s 12.45 am. I am wide awake. I am bone tired and yet I can’t sleep. There
is a deep void in my heart that I can feel, a vacuum that resurfaces after a
long time. I am trying to unpack the feeling of unworthiness, hopelessness
and lovelessness.
I am clueless. Where did I go wrong in this relationship? Conditions were
set as dealbreakers, and I met all to stroke the quintessential male ego. My
bikini-clad brown body was paraded several times on the beach, and I was
advertised as a provocative commercial item of sexual desire for public con-
sumption. Hundreds of dollars of my fellowship were spent in buying lingerie
of a specifc brand and fabric to create a marketplace of my identity. I no
longer had music of my own. A new playlist was created for me that did not
include my favourite English and Hindi songs. Countries that were never on
the bucket list were now a part of my travel stories. My birthday present was
tickets to a game night that I never wanted to watch.
I was fnancially drained. There were never any words of acknowledge-
ment of the “investments” I made. I was gradually shifting my work role
from being a researcher to a domestic help who cooked, washed, and cleaned
for free.
Pause.
I am fabbergasted. I am trapped into the repeated spiral of what he said
to me the prior night.
“I need three kids,” he sounded detached over the phone. I wish I could
forget the dismissiveness in his voice. To this day, the words ring in my ears.
“But I got myself diagnosed by a good gynaecologist in Bombay this year.
My reports are fne! And my grandma held her tenth child when she was
44; I will be able to bear one too!” Unable to take the accusation of being
infertile, I cried. I waited in disbelief wondering what other reasons he had
to throw at me to dismiss the relationship.
“But I need three kids,” he frustratingly repeated himself emphasising the
“three.” His implied message was, “You are past your prime reproductive
age, you can’t bear kids. I need a younger woman.”
“Does my age bother you?” I asked, blinking away tears. I knew it was
coming.
“Yes!” he said frmly.
I could not breathe. My heart raced uncontrollably. I felt dizzy. I was
confused. I was infuriated. I was humiliated. Holding my trembling voice,
I asked, “Is there any way I can possibly be with you?” I was still jonesing
for a fx with him.
186 Sucheta Lahiri
“No, you will be broken if you do,” he sounded cold.
“Am I ‘broken’ because I am not young enough to bear children? Is
that an eligibility for a woman to be a good partner? ” I could not ask
these questions. I stood in disbelief with the cell phone in my hand. I was
immobile.
He hung up on me. I wished I could pluck my ovaries and show him to
prove that they were functional. He knew how much I loved kids. I casually
once discussed having a child with him. I wanted the child to have my eyes
and his hair.
“What you said over the phone left a scar in my heart. The responsibility
to give birth to a child is not just the woman’s prerogative. The man is equally
involved. You have a mediocre knowledge of women and procreation. How
can you be so sure if I can have kids or not? Have you ever seen my medi-
cal records? Do you even know my body?” I sent this text message the next
morning. I could sense some more messages coming my way to fracture my
identity.
“I didn’t mean to direct this conversation to reproduction. Actually, it is
not a part of my culture to be with a woman of your age.” A man in his early
thirties said that to a 38-year-old me. Words were carefully chosen. Attempts
were made to evade confrontation.
I felt ugly. Heavy layers of wrinkles started marching across my face and
all over my body that made him cringe. I was not young enough. I was not
desirable. He didn’t want me. I was instantly teleported to a beach where
I found myself sitting next to him in a magical place of the sun, ocean and
golden sand. The ocean refected the changing colours of my emotions. Why
did I feel so lonely? Gentle waves brushed over the body of a nonchalant
white girl with tattoos sitting across us leisurely sipping her bottle of beer.
She caught the lascivious male gaze. I heard whispering compliments for
her. I picked up the cues. I looked at my brown skin. I winced in pain. I was
brought back to the present reality.
“You are giving me excuses. I can clearly see that. I don’t need anything
from you,” I messaged back. How I wish I could express my feelings to
him with those limited letters on the keypad. It was diffcult to capture the
onslaught of emotions with text messages. I was frustrated with this digital
technology that mediated only one-fourth of deep despair and shunned the
rest three-fourths. He did not see the tell-tale signs of me crying and howling,
he did not witness the prior night I spent in bed tossing and turning from one
end to another confused, clueless and betrayed.
“You are mean, aggressive, and ‘demanding’. I always avoid conficts, but
you pick up arguments. I never promised you anything. I was always scepti-
cal about this relationship,” I got this last message from him the next day
in the morning.

––
 Identity formation 187
Blame it on the culture
What is culture? Why am I not a part of the normative culture? Why am I
“demanding”? Why am I “broken” in this relationship?
I grew up in post-colonial India in the eighties. Born as a dark-skinned
girl in a conventional middle-class Bengali Brahmin1 family in the northern
state of India, I was already a misft. Most of my teenage female cousins were
fair-skinned, big-eyed pretty girls. It was not diffcult for the kakus’, and the
kakimas’2 to foresee a happy and prosperous future for my cousins with
an educated and well-paid imaginary Bengali Brahmin bridegroom. Being
a shyamala girl in the family, shyamala being one of the euphemisms for
moyla,3 my future in the matrimonial market was as dark as my skin tone.
“Why don’t you apply turmeric paste every day? ”, Kakima (mother’s
friend) said. “Your skin will lighten up,” She seemed worried about me. I
was hardly seven years old.
“You should wear light-coloured dresses, you will look ‘brighter’ (in other
words, fairer).”
Prejudice in India around pigmentocracy or colourism has just not been
about skin colour. The exclusion stands in intersectionality with the sub-
ordering of “region, religion, caste, sub-caste, Jati, Gotra, Kula, Varna and
language” (Mishra, 2015).
Going back to classical Indian mythology, many Hindu deities and ancient
heroes were described as dark-skinned. Lord Krishna, Shiva, Trasadasyu,
Angiras and Nisadas were the representations of dark-skinned male gods
and leaders. Goddess Kali, Mahabharat’s Draupadi also known as Panchali,
Satyavati; and Parvati were darker to “wheatish” portrayals of ethereally
beautiful female protagonists. The disposition of social structure towards
whiteness primarily developed after the arrival of British Raj4 in India. The
classifcation of society based on complexion, class and caste system was
further segregated by different shades of colour. The fairer skin was unani-
mously declared as “superior” and “intelligent,” whereas the darker Indians
were declared as “inferior” or “black coloured” (Mishra, 2015).
The internalisation and journey of self-loathing began at a very tender age
when I frequently experienced incidents of straight-up colourism with Uncle
Sharma’s5 gori-chitti6 daughter. Uncle Sharma will make me stand next to his
daughter and compare.
“Look how different they are”, he smirked.
Though I could feel the abusive sting in his remark, I was a mere child
who could do nothing to resist this humiliation. My ideas and thoughts
around the standard of beauty internalised the deeply embedded belief that
fairer skin was prettier, desirable and superior. Growing up, I witnessed
the fetishisation of whiteness and obsession with skin-lightening products
around me and with mainstream media. Launched in 1975, Hindustan
Lever Ltd’s Fair & Lovely beauty product promised quick and striking
results to the younger cohort of women (Karnani, 2007). Cosmetics brands
188 Sucheta Lahiri
Emami, Ponds and L’Oréal (Hussein, 2010) followed the league by invit-
ing popular Bollywood celebrities Juhi Chawla, Priyanka Chopra and
Aishwarya Rai to endorse the television advertising campaign. “Transna-
tional mass media” in India paved further way ahead with the possibility
of “transforming” a brown-skinned Indian woman into a fairer woman
(Hussein, 2010). The ubiquitous celebration of whiteness through Hindi
and Urdu lyrics was evident with the 1950 Bollywood movie song “Gore
Gore, O Banke Chore”7 and the “Gori gori gori gori, gori gori”8 later in
2004 that starred Miss Universe pageant winner Sushmita Sen (Adeni,
2014). The colour of the skin created a class ranking system with a pro-
portional ratio scale of dowry that established opportunities of marriage
prospects for an average Indian girl.
As I travelled back and forth through time, oceans and countries, I com-
pared my identity left behind in India with the new identity constructed by
my romantic partner in the United States. Interlaced with everyday life, the
standard of femininity and beauty ideals were just not limited to colour-
based Eurocentric physical features, but also age, freedom of speech, wom-
en’s higher educational attainment, natural somatic functions of menstrual
cycle and my own sexuality (Johnson, 2014). Though not monolithic, the
standard was to a larger extent relatable to the Indian cultural context
of gender issues. The cultural context of ageism and women’s autonomy
towards educational attainment were not new concepts, they were discussed
by feminists. Ageism was brought up by Butler in 1969 and explained with
“deep-seated uneasiness.” Inspired by existentialism (Sartre & Mairet,
1960), Beauvoir (1972) considered gender and age both progeny of culture
(Singh, 2018). Beauvoir further explained the duality of the objectifca-
tion process that presented a woman’s body to be objectifed by themselves
and through the insights of “other.” During the discourse of my romantic
relationship, a major paradox existed with my identity that was dictated
by the outside force of “others.” I resonated with the media represented
identity of the modern women cohort who were described as “sassy,”“asser-
tive, independent and sexually liberated” (Pickens & Braun, 201) in the
public sphere. Higher education, my own critical feminist perspectives and
the late biological age of childbearing years, on the other hand, were a
part of my “broken” and “demanding” identity that did not dovetail with
traditional defnitions of “femininity” and coupling in the private sphere.
The idea of femininity and attractiveness was rather interwoven with the
corporeal body and “especially the bodily functions associated with men-
struation” (Roberts & Waters, 2004). Taboo around menstrual cycle and
representation of scented, hairless and “fresh” ideals of women’s bodies in
the media defned pervasive cultural norms that forced me to keep “sani-
tizing, deodorizing, exfoliating, and denuding” (Roberts & Waters, 2004).
My contaminated body was felt disgusted, and I was embarrassed by the
stains of my womb. Existential terror was augmented with different ethnic
backgrounds and linguistic differences and dominant norms of traditional
 Identity formation 189
gender roles and women objectifcation, however, highlighted similar tradi-
tional arrangements of deep-rooted patriarchal systems.

––

Dating, break-up and grief: how did it all start?

After two years of break from my last romantic dissolution, I was ready to
open my heart again. I was excited. New strategies of digitally mediated dat-
ing through social networking sites (SNS) were coming my way, and I was
learning knowledge practices of instant messaging and SNS. I was frst added
to Instagram, later Facebook and LinkedIn. The beginning of our conversa-
tion was initiated through Facebook. During the chats, frequent heart reac-
tions to my direct messages were indications of cultivated social capital and
“fostered relational intimacy” (Zell & Moeller, 2018). “Rituals of transition”
(Broeker, 2021) was followed by shifting conversations from Facebook to
instant messenger WhatsApp that covered the largest clientele in India.9 I was
comfortable with WhatsApp as my folk and all Indian friends were connected
through this smartphone application for communication. I was later guided
to use Telegram that presumably had ease of use (EOU), better privacy, more
stickers and humorous images for chats (Sutikno et al., 2016). Life moved
faster and I blissfully drifted into cohabitation. As I wanted to be a creative
gift-giver, I made a list of what he wanted and what he liked. I shipped a
couple of Madhubani (or Mithila) (Das, 2013) paintings from India as a gift
and a token of love. My life was gradually consolidated and merged with
his. It took years for me to make my own routine and just a couple of days
to break that routine and make a new one. He was now an integral part of
my life. We shared a home together. I shared my Netfix account password so
that we could watch movies together. By sharing my resources, I extended the
boundaries of my own identity to create a “shared social identity” (Gomillion
et al., 2017; Kearns & Leonard, 2004). I shared my cell phone password to
establish trust and deep connection. In other words, I extended myself with a
process called “self-expansion” (Aron & Aron, 1986).
Pause.
There was eventually a lot of contemplation. I was silent. I listened. I
repeated in my head what I heard. I had a thoughtful observation. Sitting
solemnly at a popular restaurant by the window side, I could connect the
dots and contextualize the idea of millennial swipers and the shopping cul-
ture of modern dating.
Millennial swiper’s idea of a romantic relationship can be seen as bur-
geoning in today’s “digital revolution.” In this era, the pursuit of a romantic
relationship and the process of partner selection have undergone a tremen-
dous transformation (Hobbs et al., 2017). Individuals who look for prospec-
tive partners now have plenty of options with the recommender systems
that realise matches based on specifc preferences. The long-established and
190 Sucheta Lahiri
socially acceptable avenues of partner search such as book clubs and gyms
have been replaced by dating apps (Ansari & Klinenberg, 2015; Quiroz,
2013; Slater, 2013). Location-Based-Real-Time-Dating app Tinder has a
geotag feature with which matches from near vicinity are shown that can
be right or left swiped to like or dislike respectively. According to Stampler
(2014), the layout of Tinder is to “take the stress out of dating” and facilitate
a “game” that does not demand a lot of investment of time and emotions. On
similar lines, Bauman (2003, 2012) explicitly signifes “computing-dating”
a symbol of “liquid love” (which I call “ephemeral love”) that reconstructs
romantic relationships into recreational activities where matches can date
“secure in the knowledge they can always return to the marketplace for
another bout of shopping” (Bauman, 2003; Hobbs et al., 2017; Kearns &
Leonard, 2004).
Pause.
I was still quiet. I was trying to fgure out a way to deal with the mental
abuse carried throughout this relationship. As a partner, I was given a list of
deal-breakers. I was expected to cook and wash. I was expected to be young
and genetically sound enough to bear three children. I was expected to be
less educated, and my lips were expected to be tightly sealed.
I was struck by the brutal honesty and nonchalance of the power structure.
I was reminded of the sexual hierarchy (Eisenstein, 1979) that categorized
the persona of a woman as “mother, domestic laborer and consumer within
the family” (Beechey, 1979).
My refection on the truth at that time was clouded by my strong feel-
ings. I was aware but I chose to live in a denial. I chose to travel as a part-
ner. We left for Florida. We spent most of our time there frolicking on the
beach. I felt isolated. I silently observed the politics of self-representation
(Goffman, 1978) through digital technologies. The plague of narcissism
was spread everywhere. Long hours were spent relentlessly taking selfes
with the iPhone using the Live Photos feature. With the Live Photos, the
iPhone captures 1.5 seconds of moments that one can edit and post on
any social media tool. In other words, the photos become alive and can
generate images of any specifc moment (Tong, 2015). The insatiable male
ego strategically scrolled and selected all the clicked photos to be used
for flters to add effect. All the pictures were then curated on Instagram,
geotagging each location. Memories were being sacrifced to create con-
tent for the platform. Photo-editing habits and frequency of geotagging
on Instagram manifested self-impression on social media. This idea was
replicated with Foucauldian “omnopticon” that acted as a pair of social
media binoculars that made “the many watch the many” (Jurgenson,
2010: 376; Thompson, 2018). As I was a SNS recluse, I watched this
media obsession unfold in despair throughout the vacation. I was emo-
tionally exhausted. I felt disconnected. I underwent extreme emotional
loss. I was invisible.
 Identity formation 191
By the time I returned to Syracuse, the relationship was already taking its
last breath to die. The reasons for the dissolution were many. I was declared
infertile primarily due to my age. I was expected to cohabitate but was not
eligible for the idea of starting a family. I was not only socially unacceptable
but also biologically undesirable.

––

My resilience: how media helped me

After the dissolution, I could not think or feel for the next few days. I knew I
had a pair of eyes that saw things. The rest of my body was numb. Something
was missing. The ontological security (Giddens, 1990) that I had attained with
cohabitation had made a pattern. The sequence of the cushions lying on the
couch reminded me that he sat there for hours working. I remembered his sight
in my favourite oversized company t-shirt that I earned through day-long com-
munity service. I missed his loud sneezes that shook the apartment. Back then,
I had a fve-feet-long mirror next to my bed. He inverted the mirror at night
as he feared his own image. The song Tvoi Glaza haunted me. When I cooked
salmon, it reminded me of him waiting eagerly for supper. From having brunch
to late evenings Indian ginger chai, we had a routine together. That routine gave
me some sort of security. My entire life was centred around him. The apartment
where I lived reminded me of him. I struggled to fnd a new pattern after he left.
I relentlessly started looking for avenues to return to normal life. I stopped
doing all the things that we did together. I stopped cooking salmon. All
the online and offine avenues that could have led me to him were shut. I
deleted all his emails and the photographs that we had together. I deleted
all the instant messenger apps. I only had one possession of him: a book. I
couriered it to his postal address. I spent more time and almost all my time
in the library to get away from my break-up blues. I looked for safe spaces
on the web to revive my old routine and self-esteem. Professional network-
ing tool LinkedIn exposed me to connections of similar backgrounds to
collaborate with projects and share ideas. I used LinkedIn to strengthen my
professional network that also highlighted me as an infuencer for graduate
students who looked for industry and internship placements. Yet I searched
for social media platforms that could let me secure personal identity and dis-
close emotionally diffused moments of bundled up grief. During the process
of reviving the “identity,” I looked through the entire spectrum of recovery
both as a researcher and as a woman. According to Elliott (2020), the term
identity can be approached from many perspectives and can interchange-
ably be termed as “self-identity” and subjectivity. I use the terms’ “identity,”
“self-identity,” “self,” and “subjectivity” to defne how women rediscover
and reposition themselves with hegemonic gender norms. Coming from a
country that has a deeply embedded patriarchal social structure, I navigated
192 Sucheta Lahiri
through online spaces where I could anonymise my identity and share my
story to others who faced similar experiences. I stumbled upon a popular
social news aggregation website that covered variety of topics posted by the
users. Registered members could join subject specifc forums and vote the
posts with a thumbs up or down. I joined communities that were related
to grief, break-up and feminist solidarity. The forums worked as support
groups where contributors shared their stories of emotional devastation and
received support and coping strategies through other users from various
backgrounds. Collective action and synchronicity of personal narratives on
the forum motivated me to write mine. Going back to the memory lane
and teasing out moments of anger, dose of anxiety, denial and trauma was
not only cathartic but also therapeutic. My narrative was confessional, and
it sought strategies for recovery. The narrative drew attention. I received
immense support from strangers who had no personal connection with me.
They consoled and shared words of wisdom that they learnt through their
own romantic break-ups. Retrospecting the entire experience of mine as a
refexive researcher, I gathered several interesting observations. Users from
all gendered identities actively responded to my narrative. I received com-
ments from gynaecologists who shared website links and case studies of
geriatric pregnancy. Many women posters shared their harrowing experi-
ences of power relationships and myriad of other personal losses. They were
despondent and looked for informal counselling. Others highlighted the
importance of empathy and equity in a romantic relationship. In that brief
engagement with the users who shared stories of broken hearts, moments of
hopelessness, fears and anguish, I found my own way of processing, accept-
ing and resolving the grief of lost love. Frequent exchange of messages on the
social media tool developed solidarity, and I didn’t feel alone sailing through
this painful process. My values and beliefs infuenced me to look for known
spaces that I was already familiar with. I found my ways to recover from the
grief which in turn made me wonder how women from different ethnicities,
religion, gendered identity, sexual identity and reacted with their romantic
dissolution. I wondered how women in intimate relationships renegotiated
their identities when they encountered power dynamics. This curiosity made
me look into scholastic literature dedicated to romantic loss and following
recovery. Literature connected romantic break-ups with psychological trauma
such as lack of self-concept, clarity, depression and distress (Lukacs & Quan-
Haase, 2015). According to Perilloux and Buss (2008), women experienced
more negative emotions (sadness, fear, confusion) than men. Other studies
highlighted that women experienced more depression after a romantic break-
up than men (Mearns, 1991). I explored key studies on different methods of
fnding resilience and successful recovery with romantic loss (Carter et al.,
2018). According to Marwick and Boyd (2011), resilience can be defned
as the coping strategies developed to “bounce back” (Dosono et al., 2016)
from the crisis or life disruptions. Research literature offered studies that
 Identity formation 193
examined how social media (e.g. Facebook) affected romantic break-ups
(Lukacs & Quan-Haase, 2015).
This life experience motivated me to study the covert and overt infuence
of hegemonic norms in romantic break-ups for women of different gendered
identity, sexual identity, race/ethnicity and age. Romantic break-ups referred
to break-ups of partners after divorce, or partners who were not married to
each other before the break-up (Locker et al., 2010). With the experience
of broken romance, my motivation directed me to identify different coping
styles (Locker et al., 2010) of resilience for women.

––

Who was he?

He had a brief yet profound presence in my life. The deep injuries that he
inficted almost made me invincible. Who was he after all? He was an embodi-
ment of hegemony. He symbolised the power structure. He appeared and
disappeared in the cosmos of binaries. Life in the cosmos was beautiful as it
was normative. There was no guilt spree and no confrontation. There was no
pressure of reconstruction of identity. There was no spiritual growth. There
was no empathy. Neoliberal commodifcation was celebrated and valorised.
Paolo Freire (2018) insights on “contradictory consciousness” was resonated
and encouraged for the margin especially women to impede the growth of
liberation and maintain subservience (Abraham, 2019). A deeper dive at the
virtues and ideologies exercised in cosmos could attest to the hierarchical
dynamics that are not just espoused by men alone. Women also resonate with
these ideas. The rippling effect of power dynamics has a compelling effect of
engulfng each one of us. He may be within us. He may epitomise the ideolo-
gies of patriarchy that defne normative social norms of a dichotomous soci-
ety. The more such ideologies are embraced, the more of he’s’ would multiply.

Acknowledgements
The author thanks Prof. Steve Sawyer, Prof. Jasmina Tacheva, Anirban Muk-
hopadhyay, Jieun Yeon, Ranjana Keshri, Awani Saraogi, and many anony-
mous reviewers. A special thanks to Matsa, Kote (Jasmina’s cats), Leia and
Luke (Jieun’s cats), who sat by the author during wee hours with their silent
support and unconditional love while she worked on this autoethnography.

Notes
1 Hindus from the Brahmin caste who traditionally resided in the Bengal region of
the Indian subcontinent.
2 Kaku/Kakima are the Bengali references for uncle and aunt who are not always
blood relatives.
194 Sucheta Lahiri
3 Shyamala/Moyla in the Bengali language refers to darker skin tone, Shyamala
being more polite. Moyla also refers to dirt and may sound derogatory if referred
for skin tone.
4 Raj refers to the British rule of the Indian subcontinent (Source: Merriam-Webster).
5 Sharma is a Hindu with Brahmin caste the last name in India and Nepal.
6 Gori-chitti in Punjabi language refers to the very fair complexion, gori word being
fair and chitti being more a qualifer.
7 Gore gore, o banke chore song refers to a young fair guy.
8 Gori gori gori gori, gori gori refers to a fair-skinned woman/girl.
9 www.cnn.com/2021/07/16/tech/whatsapp-india-intl-hnk/index.html

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13 Loneliness
Generational differences in
interpersonal relationships of users
Valentina Marinescu, Bianca Fox,
Ramona Marinache, Daniela Rovența-Frumușani
and Silvia Branea

Introduction
Easy access to Internet and social media has had a tremendous impact on
contemporary society, changing almost every aspect of life. From answer-
ing work emails to e-learning, shopping, booking medical appointments or
online banking, most of our daily activities require Internet access. In this
context, it comes to no surprise that globally there are 4.388 billion Internet
users, representing 57% of the world population and 3.484 billion of them
(45% of the world population) are active social media users (Kemp, 2020).
The rapid uptake of Internet and digital technologies worldwide was fol-
lowed by a burgeoning interest in examining the effects of online activity on
users’ health and emotional well-being, resulting in a plethora of academic
studies on the topic. However, studies have yet to determine whether the
newfound social connectivity is affecting people’s mental health and general
well-being as so far results regarding the consequences of Internet and social
media use have been inconclusive. Despite the lack of tangible evidence, the
exacerbation of the negative effects of Internet use has gradually led to the
perpetuation of various moral panics surrounding the impact of Internet
and social media use on people’s well-being and interpersonal relationships.
The negative effects of social media use always make the headlines and have
become the subject of constant dispute between professionals, journalists,
educators and medical experts. As no one is immune to the media prolifera-
tion of various moral panics over the excessive use of social media, the popu-
lar misconceptions often prevail over academic reports (Couldry & Hepp,
2013; Deacon & Stanyer, 2014; Hepp, 2012; Hjarvard, 2008, 2013; Krotz,
2009, 2014). Indeed, the public opinion remains divided between the positive
and negative aspects of excessive Internet and social media use.
Without adopting the path of either technological dystopianism or tech-
nological utopianism, this chapter advances the understanding of the differ-
ences in Internet usage between generations. Our results reveal young and
older adults’ motivations and emotions associated with the use of Inter-
net and social media. The chapter seeks to explain how this use is shaping

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-17
 Loneliness 199
people’s interpersonal relationships, often contributing to increased feelings
of loneliness or, on the contrary, strengthening inter-human solidarity by
building new social bridges between people.

Literature review
Media and communication scholars have especially focused on how emotion
and affect are produced by media, how they are communicated through tra-
ditional and new media and what emotions audiences are developing during
the use of certain types of media (Ahmed, 2004; Baym & boyd, 2012). Since
the “affective turn” (Clough, 2010; Clough & Halley, 2007; Paasonen, 2020;
Röttger-Rössler & Slaby, 2018) and the frame of “affect theory” (Gregg &
Seigworth, 2010), a series of theoretical approaches has emerged in various
areas such as the sociology of work, or of contemporary society (Harding &
Pribram, 2009; Hochschild, 1979, 1983; Nussbaum, 2013; Sedgwick, 2003;
Wetherell, 2012) discourse analysis (Massumi, 2002, 2015; Wetherell, 2007),
media and social media studies (boyd, 2011; Döveling, 2015; Döveling et al.,
2011, 2018, Papacharissi, 2002, 2011, 2015; Seargeant, 2019). The socially
mediated communication of emotion is intricately linked to the networking
technologies; that is why theories of emotion become theories of networked
emotions that involves the mobilisation of affect in online emotional cul-
tures. In the emerging culture of sharing (John, 2013, 2017; Tettegah, 2016),
emotions become more and more important and “need to be complemented
by understandings of networked contexts. In other words, theories of emo-
tion become theories of networked emotion that involves the mobilization
of affect in online emotional cultures” (Giaxoglou et al., 2017: 2). Another
area in which the online mediatisation of emotions is important is that of
politics, as people seem to be better mobilised through the use of affective
discourse on the basis of negative social emotions (see Breeze, 2019 for a
literature review). Focusing on the role played by affective/emotive aspects
in political communication, especially among populist groups, Breeze (2019)
analysed the emotions expressed on the websites of two UK parties (i.e. the
United Kingdom Independent Party and the Labour Party) and came to the
conclusion that both parties publish press releases framed in an emotional
aria – the Labour Party focused on emotional responses of worry and con-
cern, while UKIP on those of fear and anger, with positive emotions being
more present in the affective-discourse of UKIP.
The current literature on affect and media communication highlights
the role played by emotions in building and changing people’s opinions on
important social topics. For example, Sophie Lecheler et al. (2015) analysed
the case of immigration through a survey experiment of 715 participants
and their results showed that news framing (emancipation, multicultural,
assimilation or victimisation) of immigration triggers people’s emotional
response and infuences their opinions of immigration and immigrants
long term. Overall, the studies on “affective-discursive practices” can be
200 Valentina Marinescu et al.
included into two categories – the frst focuses primarily on words that
trigger a range of emotions and the second, on the way the discourse is
perceived. Margaret Wetherell (2013: 16) believes that the frst category
has its limits as it only focuses on discourse analysis, omitting the “psy-
chological theory of how affect hits human bodies,” thus, the second cat-
egory should be embraced by affect and media communication studies as
the focus should be on the way media texts are perceived by the receiver
(Wetherell, 2013). Moreover, mapping the place of emotions in media and
communication studies on the basis of Deleuze-Guattarian’s understanding
of emotions, Hipf (2018) found three uses of affect: (1) affect as potential –
encompassing the researcher that see media as based on an “affective”
foundation, (2) affect as becoming – the extent to which the media texts
framed in emotions are able to determine a reaction among its consumers,
from affective reactions to actions and (3) affect as assemblage (Latour,
2004, 2005) – the affective response placed in interdependences of elements
(like devices, self, physical and virtual space, network) leads to long-term
societal changes.
Scholarly preoccupations of media and communication and Internet
studies academics regarding the effects of Internet and social media
use on individuals’ emotional well-being are far from being new. Kraut
et al.’s (1998) study was the frst to link the use of Internet with depres-
sion, stress and loneliness. Since Kraut et al.’s (1998) infuential study
much has been published on the impact of using Internet on the quality
of individuals’ social relationships. Indeed, a growing number of schol-
ars are advancing the idea that Internet use has a detrimental impact on
education, mental or physical health, concluding that excessive Internet
usage is often contributing to psychological distress (Sampasa-Kanyinga
& Lewis, 2015). More frequent use of the Internet has also been associ-
ated with negative psychological well-being (Huang, 2010). In contrast,
Kiel (2005) shows that fnding useful information online or participating
in group chats contributes to making older people feeling more active
and more effcient.
Up to date, academic literature on the social repercussions of Internet
use is also dominated by a dualistic approach and is fragmented by argu-
ments pro and against. While some advice against excessive Internet use
(Nie, 2001), others praise its benefcial effects on social capital (Ellison
et al., 2007; Steinfeld et al., 2008), social support (LaRose et al., 2001), well-
being (Valkenburg & Peter, 2007) and loneliness (Fokkema & Knipscheer,
2007). At the same time, there is an increasing number of studies showing
the benefts of online networks that allow people to communicate with each
other more easily (Oldmeadow et al., 2013; Przybylski & Weinstein, 2013)
and how social media is making university students feel less lonely (Uusiautti
& Määttä, 2014). The use of Internet can have a positive impact on older
people helping them overcome feelings of loneliness (Blažun et al., 2012;
Şar et al., 2012). Moreover, studies show that people who feel lonely tend
 Loneliness 201
to be more active online and their life satisfaction is increased by building
quality social relationships online (Morahan-Martin & Schumacher, 2003).
Also, fnding useful information online or participating in group chats has
been found to contribute to making older adults feel more active and more
effcient (Kiel, 2005). The use of Internet is therefore considered a source
of emotional support for lonely people (Morahan-Martin & Schumacher,
2003). We argue that after a series of studies that blame the Internet and
social media, we are now seeing a new turn in research from normative
studies to a new wave of empirical studies that are more balanced and are
trying to fnd innovative ways to use social networking sites (SNSs) as a
potential tool to cope with loneliness (Blažun et al., 2012; Şar et al., 2012)
or to decrease loneliness (Fokkema & Knipscheer, 2007; Pittman & Reich,
2016) by enabling quality social relationships online (Morahan-Martin &
Schumacher, 2003).
So far, studies show that despite the added benefts of a digitally active life
and a steady growth in Internet uptake globally, there are still many vulner-
able groups and the elderly remain the most vulnerable segment of popula-
tion to the factors that lead to digital disengagement (Hunsaker & Hargittai,
2018; Olphert & Damodaran, 2013; van Deursen & Helsper, 2015). While
most studies focus either on young people or older adults, only a few analyse
the problem comparatively between age groups. As the rise in technology use
affects both the old and the young, this chapter aims to correct this oversight
and contribute to the body of work that analyses the role of technology use
in shaping emotions and interpersonal relationships among young (18–30
years of age) and older adults (65–80 years of age). Furthermore, this chap-
ter is testing Nowland et al.’s (2017: 70) theoretical model that argues that

social Internet use is associated with high loneliness when used in a way
that displaces offine interactions with online activities. But when used
to forge new friendships and enhance existing ones, social Internet use
can lead to reductions in loneliness.

We were thus interested to explore the link between emotions and Internet
use in the case of two different age groups: young people (18–30 years of
age) and older adults (65–80 years of age).
Our investigation started from and aims to respond to the following
research questions:

RQ1: What are the motivations and emotions associated with using
the Internet for both age groups (young and older adults)? How do
they differ and how are they somewhat similar?
RQ2: How does the use of Internet and social media shape interper-
sonal relationships? Specifcally, what are the types of emotions most
commonly associated with Internet use: loneliness or enhanced inter-
personal relationships and solidarity?
202 Valentina Marinescu et al.
Method, data collection and analysis
This qualitative study presents the fndings of 81 semi-structured interviews
conducted in Bucharest, Romania, between February and August 2019. Roma-
nia is a developing country that shifted from Communism to Capitalism in
1989 and was not connected to the Internet until 2000 when broadband Inter-
net was made available. According to Eurostat, in Romania the percentage of
those who have access to the Internet almost doubled between 2010 and 2016,
from 42% to 72% (Tatu, 2017) and continued to increase every year reaching
15.49 million Internet users in January 2021 (Kemp, 2021). However, almost
20% of the population is still not connected to the Internet (Kemp, 2021).
Participants for this study were selected using the snowball sampling tech-
nique. The general sample (81) consisted of two different sub-samples: a sample
of 36 young adults (18–30 years of age) and a sample of 45 older adults (65–80
years of age). Given the qualitative nature of our methodological approach, the
analysis focused on the presentation and interpretation of the data set in an
attempt to provide nuanced answers to the aforementioned research questions.
The employed data collection tool was a semi-structured interview guide that
included 35 questions (10 of which were socio-demographic questions). The
questions focused on the use of new communication technologies (especially
the Internet), their role in the daily lives of the respondents, the relationship
between interpersonal communication and technology-mediated communica-
tion, self-disclosure of identity in the online environment and the emotions that
accompany the use of technology. Each interview was conducted on the loca-
tion and lasted between 45 minutes to an hour and a half. The interviews were
recorded and then transcribed and coded. All authors coded the data separately
at frst, followed by several team meetings to identify common patterns.

Results and discussion

The frst question to which this chapter aimed to provide an answer referred
to young and older adults’ motivations of Internet use. The data largely
indicate that for young, people the Internet has become an integral part of
everyday life, its use generating a feeling of personal freedom and happiness.
This fnding is consistent with Castells (2014) whose studies show that the
Internet empowers people by increasing their feelings of security, personal
freedom and infuence and all the other feelings that have a positive effect on
happiness and personal well-being. The young adults included in our analysis
use the Internet to gain more autonomy at individual level, this reality being
in line with the thesis of Castells (2014) according to which the Internet
contributes to the rise of the culture of autonomy. This is evident from the
answers of a 26-year-old woman interviewed in 2019:

I use the Internet both at work and in my free time. In my free time I go
online to watch movies, listen to music, look for information that I need
 Loneliness 203
in everyday life. For example, when I want to cook, I use the Internet to
look for different recipes and ways to prepare food. I also use the Inter-
net very often when I have to get somewhere and I use different appli-
cations, such as Google Maps. Basically, I use the Internet almost every
moment of the day. Most often I use applications for social networks,
especially Facebook or Instagram, to post different pictures/videos and
to communicate with the people I follow or follow me. There are some
days when I prefer to shop online on various websites or applications,
I buy everything online, from clothing items to food, this saves me time
and a trip to the shops and allows me to buy items from other cities/
countries that I wouldn’t otherwise have access to.
(Young woman, 26 years old, engineer, single)

Regarding the older adults included in the analysis, the data indicate that
the motivation of Internet use differs greatly, depending on the gender of
the respondent (which was not registered in the case of young respondents).
Thus, an elderly person, a woman, told us that she uses the Internet to orga-
nise her life and to rebuild social relationships with other people.

I use the Internet to communicate with various acquaintances on social

networks. I communicate with relatives, friends, former co-workers. In
my free time, I recreate myself with a little game. I also watch a TV series
that I love. Sometimes I can’t catch it on TV so I watch it on the Internet.
(Older adult, woman, 64 years old, former economist, married)

This fnding is in agreement with Castells’ (2014) observation that women

feel more strongly the effects of using new technologies because they are at the
centre of their families’ network the Internet helps them to organise their lives.
Regardless of gender, our results show that older adults feel empowered
by the use of the Internet that gives them a sense of independence and the
means to rebuild strained interpersonal relationships. This validates Castells’
(2014) thesis, according to which the Internet contributes to the rise of the
culture of autonomy (Castells, 2014). For example, for some of the older men
interviewed, communication through technology not only allows them to
rebuild and strengthen personal ties with “signifcant others” (family mem-
bers, friends, etc.) but also provides them with a greater degree of control
over their own daily lives:

Well, no activity can be done without the Internet these days. Just today,
for example, I flled in a claim for CASCO insurance. I flled in some
forms online, I sent them by email, I got them back, so that when I
reached the insurer’s offce, my fle was already done.
I use Skypeto talk to my daughter who lives in Italy. That’s how I man-
aged to see my grandchildren more often in the last year. Not to mention
that thanks to them I also created my Facebook page. On Facebook,
204 Valentina Marinescu et al.
they also taught me to search and that’s how I met former co-workers I
hadn’t seen in a long time. Then we reconnected beyond Facebook, we
exchanged phone numbers and some of us even started talking regularly
on the phone and even met in person.
(Older adult, male, 66 years old, former economist, divorced)

At the same time, we are witnessing the confrmation of the thesis related
to the bridging role played by technology, by enabling people to meet new
people, and therefore widening of the sphere of interpersonal relationships
through the use of the Internet. The interplay between the use of new com-
munication technologies and the diversity of emotions felt by Internet users
has revealed the existence of an extremely wide range of manifestations for
these connections. Thus, for the young adults interviewed, the Internet repre-
sents a means of communication that can reduce one’s feelings of loneliness.
Loneliness is triggered by the overuse of social media, but it is also reduced by
communicating with others online as reported by a 26-year-old interviewee:

A second advantage would be real-time communication with people

from anywhere in the world. We are now more and more lonely, we live
online, and so talking to others online can help you feel less lonely. Here I
can give a concrete example, a friend of mine has been out of the country
for about three years, and Internet access gives me the opportunity to
contact her at any time of day, I can not only hear her, but also see her
and that gives me confdence, I really feel like she’s in front of me and I
am talking to her face to face.
(Young adult, woman, 26 years old, engineer, single)

In other cases, the young people included in this analysis indirectly confrmed
the thesis of Giaxoglou and Döveling (2018) according to which the digital
world affects group culture. Group micro-cultures are thus discursively con-
structed in and through emotional interaction chains (Giaxoglou & Dövel-
ing, 2018). Our interview data show that participation in such chains creates
subject positions whereby emotion constitutes a relational resource for align-
ment/disalignment which has the potential of producing forms of mediatised
emotional resonance:

I use the Internet for social media, Facebook, and to search for new
information, sometimes to talk online with friends or family that live
abroad. Otherwise, you realize, it’s hard to keep in touch with them and
that’s how I feel close to them. We talk, we make each other feel good,
it’s like being in the same room.
(Young adult, woman, 25 years old, pharmacist, married)

This tendency to predominantly use the Internet to communicate with family

and friends who live abroad was also registered in older adults. At the same
 Loneliness 205
time, the results indicate an ambivalence of emotions, some participants to
this study being positive towards meeting strangers online, while others pre-
fer to deepen existing interpersonal connections (online environment enable
people to connect and bond with other people).
The relationship between digital communication and emotions is also evi-
dent in the way people decide how to communicate messages. Young and older
adults tend to use various media, depending not only on the importance of a
“signifcant other” but also on the relevance and urgency of the message trans-
mitted. Thus, two young respondents (a 25-year-old woman and a 27-year-old
man) believe that on the Internet, we can talk to other people almost in the
same way as face to face because the emotions experienced are similar:

One of the great advantages of the Internet is the provision of informa-

tion from all spheres, it allows greater openness to knowledge. Another
beneft is that we can see with its help through a video with loved ones
away. The Internet offers us everything we need on the tray: from mov-
ies to thousands of years old information. When you talk to friends or
family it’s actually just like they are next to you, only you can’t touch
them. That way you are no longer alone, you are with friends or with
your loved ones and it feels the same as talking to them face-to-face.
(Young adult, woman, 25 years old, pharmacist, married)

The phone is always with us, I at least I am never away from my phone,
whenever I need information I can search for it very quickly and easily
on the Internet. A second advantage is that you can converse with people
who do not live in Romania using the mobile Internet and of course
through other applications. Otherwise, we don’t really talk on the phone
with our friends anymore, not even with those who are in the same city
with us. We always talk online so the Internet for me is considered part
of my lifestyle. My friends do the same. We talk more online than face-
to-face. It’s really better this way, it’s normal to us.
(Young adult, man, 27 years old, technician, unmarried)

Despite the general positive attitude towards the use of the Internet, some-
times the Internet and digital communication are seen to affect the very
essence of social relationships, as a 24-year-old female respondent said:

Yes, it’s a bigger fow of information, but I don’t know what to tell you.
Yes, the Internet is important only because it somehow breaks the inter-
personal ties under the false impression that we are in communication,
in fact we are not at all; that’s about it. In fact, if I think about it, the
Internet is full of deceptive, false information and emotions. Sometimes
you feel that there is nothing true there, or that people are not real. You
have such a sense of loss and disappointment in this online world.
(Young adult, woman, 24 years old, technician, married)
206 Valentina Marinescu et al.
In this case, we are dealing with a situation in which the online environment
can even inhibit the manifestation of the respondents’ emotions, who some-
times feel they are losing their own identity in the virtual world. It is obvious
that in this extreme case, the assumption that the use of Internet enhances
bridging or bonding (Norris, 2002) cannot be verifed.
When we analyse the answers of the older adults, we fnd that the use of
the Internet is seen as a means to reduce loneliness. A 64-year-old woman, a
former economist, told us that the Internet is very useful because online, she
feels closer to her relatives that live in other countries.

I use my smartphone to communicate on social networks and to search

for various information – from products to watching ads of all kinds.
One advantage of using the Internet would be that you can buy any
product with a simple click, and for me as a retiree, it is a very convenient
means. I no longer have to go from store to store to fnd the products
I need. Another advantage is that you can always communicate with
people that are tens of kilometers away from you and you can also see
them. From this point of view, the Internet is very useful for me because
I have relatives abroad, and through the Internet, I feel closer to them.
(Older adult, woman, 64 years old, former economist, married)

We thus have the confrmation of the thesis that the Internet contributes to
strengthening relationships with people one already knows, helping existing
friends to bond even more based on sharing of a lot of memories, knowledge,
values and nostalgic emotions, a thesis supported by Norris (2002). It is
obvious therefore that older adults tend to use technology as an antidote to
loneliness, as a possibility to build bridges and strengthen bonds with other
people. The use of social media by the elderly is no longer seen as harmful
but as having the potential to expand personal self-openness, as one of our
respondents told us:

The main advantage of the Internet is fast communication, frst and fore-
most. I have a lot of friends and relatives who use Facebook and I can
always see how they are doing. And secondly, there is the information.
You are one click away from any information. I think the Internet is a
very good thing, but only if you know how to use it properly.
(Older adult, woman, 68 years old, former lawyer)

At the same time, the Internet functions as a bridge between older adults and
other people, as confrmed by another respondent:

I fnd it very interesting that I reconnected with my former students on

Facebook. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see them again and fnd
out about the great things they have achieved. They are now people in
their own right, with families, professions, homes and children of their
 Loneliness 207
own. They told me that they also have a discussion group on the phone,
but honestly, I don’t know how to use that. Anyway, seeing them again
after so many years was a great joy for me.
(Older adult, woman, 69 years old, former teacher)

Conclusion
Margreth Lunenborg and Tanja Maier’s (2018: 2) thematic issue on “emo-
tions and affects as driving forces in contemporary media and society”
highlights the need for extensive research and new approaches to the study
of emotion. Indeed, this need is urgent given the increase in Internet and
social media use that brings “articulations of emotions” to a greater audi-
ence than any other means of communication. This chapter analysed the
role of technology use in shaping emotions and interpersonal relationships
among young (18–30 years of age) and older adults (65–80 years of age).
The chapter tested Nowland et al.’s (2017: 70) theoretical model according
to which social Internet use can both reduce and increase loneliness. Our
fndings clearly indicate that the new communication technologies play an
important role in shaping interpersonal relationships and emotions for both
young and older adults, but in different ways. For example, for young people,
loneliness is triggered by the overuse of digital technology (in particular,
social media), whereas older adults tend to use technology as an antidote
to loneliness. Therefore, loneliness is a predictor of technology use for both
groups. This means that a different targeted approach to reducing loneliness
is needed for each age group.
This chapter also confrms Nelson’s (2012) theory according to which
technology has an impact on communication. As Nelson (2012) shows,
technology can sometimes have positive effects because it allows people to
communicate more often; but at the same time, it misconstrues a message
making people unsure of what is being communicated. The main limita-
tion of the technology is that it does not allow for the display of differ-
ent emotions (Nelson, 2012) being therefore an unsuitable replacement to
face-to-face or verbal communication. It is therefore not surprising that,
as Castells (2014) also shows, the excessive use of the Internet increases
the risk of alienation, isolation, depression and withdrawal from society.
Our results confrm Castells’ (2014) thesis that individuation is the key
process in constituting subjects (individual or collective), networking is
the organisational form constructed by these subjects; this is the network
society, and the form of sociability is “networked individualism” (Castells,
2014). However, in contrast to Castells’ (2014) but similar to other existing
fndings (Fox, 2019; Nowland et al., 2017), face-to-face communication is
no longer the only meaningful way of communication. Instead, both young
and older adults prefer a hybrid model that combines face-to-face and
online communication without a detrimental impact on their interpersonal
relationships.
208 Valentina Marinescu et al.
Consistent with previous research (Shinosky & Gordon, 2012), the results
of our analysis indicate that even though individuals are using social media
more frequently in their everyday lives, they are still fnding a way to main-
tain satisfying interpersonal relationships through these mediums. In the
context of our study, both young people and the elderly did not fnd social
media usage to negatively affect their interpersonal relationships. Moreover,
our results indicate that for older adults social media could be useful in
improving communication, forging new friendships and maintaining healthy
interpersonal relationships.
Our study also indicates the existence of positive emotions associated with
meeting new people online for both the elderly and some young people,
which led to the expansion of one’s network of personal contacts, thus con-
frming the thesis proposed by Norris (2002) on the ability of the Internet
to build invisible bridges between people. At the same time, however, most
respondents stated that distrust in the online information and relationships
determined them to avoid strangers and explore new facets of existing rela-
tionships instead, thus confrming Norris’ (2002) thesis on the possibility
that the online environment is important for bringing people together.
The present study has a series of inherent limitations, the most relevant
of which being the use of a qualitative methodology (and, implicitly, the
unrepresentativeness of the samples included in the analysis). In addition,
the focus on Romania (2019) could be considered a limitation because our
country-specifc analysis doesn’t allow for the universalisation of the results.
Further comparative international research is required in order to contribute
to a better understanding of different country-specifc motivations and emo-
tions associated with the uptake and use of Internet and how this usage is
shaping interpersonal relationships indifferent age groups. Finally, this chap-
ter is based on the analysis of data collected in 2019, before the COVID-19
pandemic. Internet use amongst the analysed group might be more extensive
and nuanced now, given that many people had to embrace digital technolo-
gies during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Despite these limitations, our analysis highlighted once again the need to
develop targeted communication strategies for different age groups. Such
strategies will have to take into account two extremely important axes along
which Internet users are differentiated, namely age and gender of those who
communicate using digital technologies.

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14 FoMO
Envy, life satisfaction and friendship
Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis

Introduction
The media are increasingly infuential agents of human socialisation (Couldry
& Hepp, 2017: 202), and mediatisation research points to the explosion
of new social constellations or communicative “fgurations” (Hepp, 2020)
which are enabled by smart internetworked mobile media, resulting in ubiq-
uitous sociality. The effects of massive digital mediatisation in contemporary
civilisation are believed to be broad and deep, altering social relations in
economies, politics, culture and selves (Brubaker, 2020). Rapidly expanding
and deepening mediatisation of the life world virtualises everyday reality
(Ollinaho, 2018), saturates the self with exponential exposure to other selves
(Gergen, 1991) and entails multiple virtual presentations of the self to others
(Brubaker, 2020). Multitudinous communicative fgurations are implicated
in a panoply of emotional experiences, familiar as well as unfamiliar, positive
as well as negative.
Historically, media innovation has provoked concerns in which vulner-
able or subordinate members of society are seen to be led into delinquency
or transgressive behaviour by the erosive or “decivilizing” effects of media
on moral character (Butsch, 2008; Drotner, 1999). In the current wave of
mobile, internetworked, smartphone-based media innovation, negative
media effects are often framed in terms of harms to mental health. Not
surprisingly, young people, as eager adopters of new means of digital com-
munication and as persons with vulnerable or malleable selves, are feared
to be unusually susceptible to psychopathological effects of mediatisation.
A large research literature addresses the effects of mobile and social media
on young people, and some strong claims are being made that this engage-
ment has led to unprecedented levels of mental distress among adolescents
and young adults.
When the history of late modern subjectivities is written, FoMO may be
included as one of the digital culture’s iconic discontents. FoMO is defned
as “a pervasive apprehension that others might be having rewarding experi-
ences from which one is absent” and is characterised “by the desire to stay
continually connected with what others are doing” (Przybylski et al., 2013:

DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-18
214 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
1841). Numerous studies fnd that FoMO is associated with problematic
smartphone use (PSU), problematic Internet use (PIU), loneliness, lowered
self-esteem, addictive behaviours and feelings of anxiety and depression.
Much of the published research on FoMO uses established scales to mea-
sure degree and extent of FoMO in a particular population and to correlate
FoMO variables with other variables measuring maladaptive behaviours
or negative moods. In contrast, our research employs Q methodology, a
person-centred constructivist research approach, to explore the subjectivi-
ties of 36 young adults in Poland who relate their experiences with FoMO.
Using Q methodology, we identify university students’ shared accounts of
feeling states, producing a typology of subjective experiences of FoMO. Our
research is one of a very small number of studies to use a person-centred
approach to investigate FoMO. Poland is a suitable site for our research
because two recent national surveys of FoMO in Poland provide ample ref-
erence points regarding the extent of FoMO in the population and the char-
acteristics of persons experiencing FoMO in Poland.
We identify three accounts of FoMO, each representing a FoMO-related
feeling state. One of the accounts expresses suffering due to a sense of social
exclusion. Persons experiencing this feeling state register above average but
not acute FoMO, as explained in the following. A second account reports
nearly the same relatively high degree of FoMO, but in the context of anxiet-
ies about personal achievements. Persons expressing the third feeling state
register below-average, moderate FoMO. These persons do not feel helpless
with respect to FoMO, having developed metacognitions and behavioural
routines to cope with FoMO-eliciting circumstances. Non-digital social fgu-
rations, notably family and friends “in real life,” are valued as alternatives
to expansion of digital life. Our results show that it is possible to distinguish
three prevalent experiences of FoMO: FoMO as a form of social suffering
associated with actual or perceived social exclusion, FoMO related to an
anxious sense that one might fail to achieve one’s objectives in life, and
FoMO as a manageable cultural nuisance.

Literature review

FoMO and harmful media effects

The term FoMO was in cultural circulation around the beginning of the
millennium (Reagle, 2015). The coiner of the term “fear of missing out,”
Dan Herman (2010), says that he frst observed the phenomenon in the mid-
1990s when consumers expressed anxiety about facing more opportunities
to consume than they could exhaust. This original sense of FoMO as frustra-
tion at escalating opportunity costs expresses the problem not only of having
to make decisions when faced with many choices but also the feeling that one
will likely regret not having made the right choice. The acronym FoMO was
frst given prominence in a humorous article in a Harvard Business School
 FoMO 215
newspaper in 2004 by Patrick McGinnis, who has since developed a lifestyle
consulting and publishing business devoted to FoMO to help people “fnd
the power to choose what you actually want in life and the courage to miss
out on the rest” (patrickmcginnis.com).
FoMO became associated with harmful effects of social media as the adop-
tion of consumer-oriented smartphones escalated rapidly after the introduc-
tion of the iPhone in 2007. Researchers using data from large surveys in
the United States specifcally link the expansion of smartphones to decline
in psychological well-being among adolescents beginning in 2012 (Twenge
et al., 2018), causing alarm (Twenge [2017] provocatively asked “have smart-
phones destroyed a generation?”). Social anxieties about harmful effects of
smartphones and the Internet on mental health have fuelled a massive inter-
national research effort, generating a large research literature on effects of
using internetworked personal communication devices on mental well-being.
Research literature on FoMO has grown along with this larger literature
on harmful media effects. We have identifed over 200 peer-reviewed journal
and conference papers in English with FoMO or “fear of missing out” in the
title or abstract, all published since 2013. Most of this research has been
contributed by psychologists, and much of it appears in journals having to
do with psychology, human–computer interaction, or youth and adolescents.
The foundational paper, by Przybylski et al. (2013), contributed the widely
accepted defnition of FoMO (“a pervasive apprehension that others might
be having rewarding experiences from which one is absent . . . characterized
by the desire to stay continually connected with what others are doing”)
along with a ten-item, fve-point Fear of Missing Out scale that has been
widely used by researchers. The Przybylski et al. (2013) paper is by far the
most highly cited paper in the FoMO research literature (>1400 citations in
early March, 2021).
The body of research on FoMO has taken the following directions.1
The Przybylski et al. scale has been tested and validated in various national
contexts (e.g. Casale & Fioravanti, 2020; Wibaningrum & Aurellya, 2020).
Some refnements or variants have been proposed to the FoMO scale for
purposes of cultural adaptation (e.g. Ma et al., 2021). The collection of key
FoMO scales now stands at fve: the Przybylski et al. scale, which is con-
sidered to measure “behavioral” FoMO; a comparable FoMO scale by Alt
(2015); the Abel et al. (2016) scale, which measures “psychological” FoMO;
and the Online Fear of Missing Out inventory (Sette et al., 2020), which
explicitly measures FoMO in the online context, proposing four dimensions
of online FoMO: need to belong, need for popularity, anxiety and addiction.
The question of the number of latent FoMO dimensions is still open. Finally,
the Wegmann et al. (2017) scale complements the Przybylski scale to distin-
guish between “trait” FoMO and “state” FoMO. This is an important distinc-
tion, based on the recognition that while much FoMO is context-dependent,
some individuals may have a prior susceptibility to anxiety or depression
which affects their engagement with social media.
216 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
The vast majority of published research on FoMO is correlational, that is,
it measures linear relationships among variables or items on scales. Research-
ers often propose structural equation models with posited directional and
mediating/moderating relationships among constructs. FoMO, variously
measured, has been found to correlate positively with a range of negative
feelings, notably anxiety, depression and boredom (Holte & Ferraro, 2020)
and technology use behaviours such as PSU (Elhai et al., 2018), PIU (Cabrera
et al., 2019) and use of social networking sites (Buglass et al., 2017; Yin
et al., 2019).
Propensity to experience FoMO is positively correlated with certain person-
ality traits such as neuroticism and negatively correlated with extraversion,
openness to experience, agreeableness and conscientiousness (Rozgonjuk
et al., 2021), highlighting the importance of individual differences in suscep-
tibility to FoMO.
Most studies of FoMO are snapshots of a situation at a moment in time.
Very few longitudinal studies of FoMO exist. Milyavskaya et al. (2018)
report the results of an experience-sampling study in which they followed a
cohort of students for a week, asking them at various points in the day about
their feeling of FoMO. This research showed that for most students, the sense
of FoMO was feeting, coming and going depending on the attraction of the
activity at hand compared to other unattended activities. For example, study-
ing on a Friday night is not surprisingly associated with a sense of FoMO.
This research shows the importance of context in eliciting FoMO.
As mentioned earlier, most research on FoMO is variable centric. Elhai et
al. (2020) note the paucity of person-centric FoMO research. Only two stud-
ies aside from ours offer a person-centric approach. Alutaybi et al. (2019)
use lived experience gathered through a diary study and provided fve main
classifcations characterising FoMO: (1) FoMO when others do not inter-
act as expected, (2) FoMO when unable to interact or connect as wished,
(3) FoMO when unwilling to engage in social interaction, (4) FoMo when
having to (or feeling a need to) engage in continuous and untimed inter-
action and (5) FoMO when an online social gathering is expected. Fuster
et al. (2017) use latent profle analysis to distinguish four types of users:
low-engagement light users, high-engagement heavy users, high-engagement
low-risk users and high-engagement high-risk users. In other words, risk of
FoMO involves high engagement in social media plus some other factors.

FoMO research in Poland

Extensive research on FoMO conducted in Poland has resulted in two major
reports. The frst survey, conducted among Poles 15 years old or older (N =
1,060) in 2018, consisted of 499 detailed questions, of which 475 were in
the form of Likert scales (Jupowicz-Ginalska et al., 2018a: 41, 43). Using the
Przybylski et al. (2013) scale, the research showed that FoMO was almost
normally distributed, with 16% of Polish Internet users registering high
 FoMO 217
FoMO, 65% moderate FoMO and 19% low FoMO (Jupowicz-Ginalska
et al., 2018a: 12).
Results show that FoMO is clearly associated with the use of digital media
and is highly correlated with age (the younger the participant, the higher the
FoMO), moderately with place of residence (those from big cities suffer from
FoMO more), and not at all with gender. Those experiencing higher FoMO
are more active on social media, spend more time there, and feel overwhelmed
with information. They use social media wherever they are during the day,
including school, theatre or church. They are more likely than average to
neglect domestic duties. Greater use of social media is associated with lower
self-esteem: persons with high FoMO are inclined to hold negative opinions
about themselves and believe they know less and possess less than others. Peo-
ple experiencing FoMO feel discomfort when they don’t have their cell phone
on hand or when not receiving notifcations. Every ffth representative of this
high-FoMO group experienced somatic symptoms such as nausea, vertigo
and increased perspiration. A total of 36% of Poles with FoMo feel that using
social media billowed into addiction (Jupowicz-Ginalska et al., 2018a: 34–36).
The same authors published scientifc papers based on the research (Jupo-
wicz-Ginalska et al., 2018b). Anna Jupowicz-Ginalska, the lead researcher in
the report mentioned earlier, also published a paper, using the same reported
data, about the relation between FoMO and marketing communication
online (2019).
The frst report became very popular; it has been downloaded many times
and was mentioned in various Polish media. Therefore, the researchers
decided to prepare a second version in 2019. This time they included new
themes such as phubbing, nomophobia, FoMO marketing, PIU, social media
engagement and more. These measures do not directly deal with FoMO but
help to contextualise and interpret it. Similar to the frst report, researchers
compared responses of two groups: general (all participants) and those expe-
riencing FoMO the most. The research again shows a bell-curve distribution
of FoMO with 14% of Polish Internet users experiencing high FoMO, 67%
moderate FoMO and only 19% low FoMO (Jupowicz-Ginalska et al., 2019:
11). The researchers conjectured that a 2% drop in high FoMO might be due
to the publication of the previous report, which was widely discussed and
provided strategies to deal with FoMO.
These reports provide insight into prevalent trends, for example that inten-
sity of FoMO is negatively correlated with age. Older respondents are less
likely to experience high degrees of FoMO than younger respondents. One of
the most clearly seen problems was the amount of time spent online – 63%
of respondents from the high FoMO group and 58% from the general group
mentioned it. The greatest responsibility for counter actions against FoMO
was attributed to parents and legal guardians and then to educational institu-
tions (Jupowicz-Ginalska et al., 2019).
Besides the aforementioned papers and reports based on two large
national surveys, four other research projects on FoMO are known have
218 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
taken place in Poland. Modzelewski (2020) in his research conducted on a
sample of 500 Polish Internet users demonstrated that 17.6% of respondents
experience FoMO, especially among those below 35 years old. Interestingly,
Modzelewski found that FoMO is more prevalent in women which is contra-
dictory to the data in the Jupowicz-Ginalska et al. reports. Tomczyk (2018)
in his paper treats FoMO as a psychopathology, recognising that it does not
have clearly defned diagnostic criteria as an Internet addiction. Blachnio
and Przepiórka (2018) fnd that high levels of FoMO and high narcissism
predict high involvement in Facebook (“Facebook intrusion”) and low levels
of life satisfaction. Uram and Skalski (2020) present a model showing that
self-esteem, Facebook addiction and satisfaction with life are negatively cor-
related with fear of missing out.
In what follows, we provide insights, as afforded by Q Methodology, on
the variety of subjective experiences of FoMO.

Method
We used Q-Methodology, a well-established constructivist approach to inves-
tigate subjective viewpoints (Brown, 1980; McKeown & Thomas, 2013;
Watts & Stenner, 2012). The purpose of a Q study is “the holistic identifca-
tion of a fnite range of distinct viewpoints relating to the addressed issue or
subject matter” (Stenner et al., 2008: 216). In our case, the addressed issue
is fear of missing out. What does it mean to young people, and how is it
experienced? What are the varieties of experience of FoMO?
From an English-language “concourse” (discursive feld) of over one mil-
lion posts and messages about FoMO on Twitter, Reddit, blogs, fora, news,
Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr that we identifed with a social media mon-
itoring service in summer of 2019, we randomly chose 200,000. We classifed
these statements into 16 categories in a Fisherian design.2 From these, we
constructed a model of the discursive feld (a Q-sample) represented by 55
statements. The fnal Q-sample statements were translated into Polish. In
January/February 2020, 36 volunteer participants, all undergraduate univer-
sity students from Poland, ranked the statements on an 11-point bell-shaped
grid from “most like my point of view” (+5) to “most unlike my point of
view” (−5). Prior to sorting, we administered the FoMO scale developed by
Przybylski et al. (2013). Participants also participated in post-sort in-depth
interviews. Interviews were recorded, transcribed and coded. Interview quo-
tations herein are attributed anonymously to participants 1–36, written as
(P#).
The Q-sort data were analysed with the free Q methodology software
KADE (Banasick, 2019). We tested several factor solutions using centroid
factor extraction and varimax rotation and settled on a three-factor solu-
tion, which accounts for the greatest number of sorts that load signifcantly
on one factor only. Five participants were either cross-loaded or did not
load signifcantly on any of the factors. In order of declining acuity of sense
 FoMO 219
of FoMO, the three accounts of FoMO or feeling states are: Left Behind
(F2), expressed by 5 participants (3 females and 2 males); Personal Success
(F3), expressed by 9 participants (5 females and 4 males); and Real Life
(F1), expressed by 17 participants (12 females and 5 males). Table 14.13
provides a description of all three feeling states’ scores on each of the 55
statements. In the discussion that follows, the notation (F1: S34, +5) means
persons expressing the feeling state F1, Real Life, consider that statement 34
is very much like their point of view. The notation (F2: S6, −5) means that
persons expressing feeling state F2, Left Behind, consider that statement 6 is
very much unlike their point of view. The notation (F3: S18, 0) means that
persons expressing feeling state F3, Personal Success, consider that state-
ment 18 is neither very much like nor very much unlike their point of view
(in other words, compared to the other statements, statement 18 is not par-
ticularly germane to their viewpoint).

Table 14.1 Q sort values for the three FoMO feeling states

In Real Left Personal

Life Behind Success

F1 F2 F3

1 I’ve always hated feeling excluded and −1 3 1

unimportant and what keeps me from
completely severing ties with all of these
apps is that I don’t want to be completely
in the dark.
2 Some of my friends have been working longer −2 2 −3
than me and therefore have more money.
When I get invited to join them on trips or
go to events that cost a lot of money, I feel
the need to go and spend money I don’t have.
Basically major FoMO and probably some
shame.
3 After spending gobs of time on my device, I 1 0 2
come up for air because the whole thing is
exhausting. It sucks up my time, it depletes me
physically, and it results in a downward spiral
of emotions.
4 For me, FoMO is about my concerns and −2 3 1
anxiety over being socially excluded. It is
not just the fear of missing out of an “event”
whether it be a concert, party, movie, tweet,
or profle update, it’s about the desire to ft in,
to be popular, to be socially desirable, to gain
social approval and to achieve social status
by ftting in with those “in the know.” In
short, my FoMO refects the need to belong,
moulded by the infuence of social media.
(Continued)
220 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
Table 14.1 Continued

In Real Left Personal

Life Behind Success

F1 F2 F3

5 Starting to think it might be a good idea to 2 −4 2

quit social media; instead, I’ll concentrate on
group chats with my real-life friends
6 I’m logging out of social media to avoid −2 −5 −3
feelings of severe loss, depression and
withdrawal.
7 As a society, we have to work hard to 4 4 0
overcome the impediments that living with
envy and without community can bring.
There’s no fxing this without changing our
values and fxing our philosophical outlook as
a society. It can be hard because of FoMO.
8 Occasionally, I just need to be out among 3 −1 3
people even if I’m just doing my own thing,
all by my lonesome. JOMO (joy of missing
out).
9 FoMO will destroy you if you let it. Grow up. 4 1 3
10 I get some socialisation at work/school and go 0 −2 −1
out for social interaction to places even if I’m
alone. I’m fnding that helps with FoMO. It’s
not helped too much with the actual problem
of feeling that I don’t have close friends, but
it’s helped with coping.
11 The more I look at “ftness inspiration” −3 3 3
images, the more unhappy I am with my body.
12 People don’t care about their communities 3 −2 −1
anymore. I have plenty of friends online, but
it’s not the same. We’re the fakiest generation
full of poor communication and FoMO.
There’s a lot of great things about modern
life; a sense of community isn’t one of them.
13 I struggle with being the only one not −1 −3 −2
drinking. Sometimes, I get FoMO but I try
and buy an interesting non-alcoholic cocktail
if I go out, or an alcohol-free beer.
14 I just want to have it. I just buy shit because if −5 0 −5
I don’t HAVE IT, I’ll be missing out.
15 When my partner and I talk about the state −2 −4 −1
of our relationship and/or relationships in
general, the topic of polyamory/exclusivity is
diffcult and awkward.
16 I can’t wait to settle down with someone 0 2 4
I love and create a family. I start to feel
depressed when I see so many people settling
down and even getting engaged/married. It
makes me feel like I’m missing out on life.
 FoMO 221

17 I feel FoMO when I stay at home on Saturday −4 5 1

and my friends go out to a party.
18 Looking at other peoples’ lives on social media, 1 0 −4
it’s easy to conclude that everyone else’s life
is cooler or better than mine. But by using
less social media, I’ve experienced signifcant
decreases in both my depression and loneliness.
19 I have unhealthy habits but I keep doing them −3 −3 −2
because they make me feel good. I’m self-
conscious about how I look and sometimes
refuse to go out with friends because of it.
That makes me feel left out and that’s when
FoMO really gets to me.
20 I don’t see my use of social media and FoMO −4 −1 −5
as a problem. It’s a part of what I am and
how I like to live. My family and friends IRL
(in real life) have little to offer me.
21 I hate my FoMO. I can never be happy with −3 0 1
my choices. Once you are infected with the
FoMO, it never leaves your body. It just
hibernates for a while.
22 Just because a friend posts pictures of a gondola 5 5 4
ride in Venice, beaches full of fawless bodies,
doesn’t mean their life is perfect. Remind
yourself that people’s social media sites are a
carefully curated set of images and ideas.
23 What people post online is usually only a tiny −3 1 −1
sliver of their actual lives. But this distorted
picture continues to feed my obsession with
matching up to my network and celebrities.
I want to take the same trips or belong the
same networks as people I look up to. This
pull has a huge impact on my travel, leisure
activities and purchases.
24 I actually suffer from JOMO (joy of missing 2 2 −3
out) if anything. Watching your Instagram
stories at a club/party/event surrounded by
people yelling and being obnoxious gives me
joy that I stayed home.
25 Even though FoMO might make me feel like 2 1 0
I am the only single person left in town, that
is far from the case. There are plenty of other
singles around and they aren’t all miserable.
Some of them realise romance isn’t everything.
26 I often go to the movie everyone’s been talking −5 −4 −5
about, even though I don’t know the backstory
and may not even like it, just so I can talk about
it with everyone else because of FoMO.
27 I used to like social media, games, movies, any 4 −1 5
screen time, etc., then I realised these things
don’t give me happiness. Live your “real” life
well and then you will see that this stuff is just
complementary to life and not necessary.
(Continued)
222 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
Table 14.1 Continued

In Real Left Personal

Life Behind Success

F1 F2 F3

28 I now turn off my phone when outside of 0 −5 −2

work/school and set limits to not check my
email constantly. I have to turn it off for my
mental health.
29 It’s hard to want to commit to a relationship 0 −3 4
when you’re bombarded with the idea that
you can do better, or that you’ll miss out on
fnding “The One” if you settle down.
30 I get different invitations from different −1 1 −2
friends to hang out but the more I get, the
more withdrawn I feel.
31 The idea that my partner enjoys spending time −5 −5 −4
with family annoys me and makes me jealous.
I suspect it’s the fact that I am not that close
with my family. I tell myself it’s FoMO (fear of
missing out), but it’s just jealousy.
32 I’m supposed to go to this big party tonight −4 0 −1
but now I really don’t want to go but I still
will because if I don’t, I’ll have mad FoMO.
33 I still get joy being around my family and 5 3 5
friends, and I don’t feel like I’m missing out
on anything. In fact, I feel better knowing that
I’m taking care of myself.
34 I genuinely think my FoMO is broken and has 5 −2 −4
been for my entire existence. I can see people
having fun and still be content with the fact
that I’m not there/doing what they’re doing.
35 If I catch myself being too cynical, or being −1 −2 1
offended by someone else’s search for
happiness, I take a break from dating to
re-centre. Between FoMO and a seemingly
endless supply of dates, many people
commoditise their fellow humans.
36 I faced my FoMO by recognising that I cannot 3 1 0
be everywhere at all times and always be doing
the coolest thing ever. It feels better admitting
and accepting that I have anxiety. With that
recognition I can now tackle the problem.
37 When we spend time viewing certain content, 4 4 5
such as #ftspiration (a person or thing that
serves as motivation for someone to sustain or
improve health and ftness) or #thinspiration
(something or someone that serves as
motivation for a person seeking to maintain a
very low body weight), it can be harmful to our
mental health. We are continually comparing
ourselves to these unrealistic and altered images.
 FoMO 223

38 FoMO is nothing compared to FOBKITCW 1 −2 0

(Fear Of Bringing Kids Into This Crazy
World).
39 Summer FoMO – I hate to be the person −2 4 0
who’s affected by that kind of thing. But when
on social media I see all my friends together
with the sunset on the lake, and everyone
looks super happy, I defnitely feel a sense of
sadness and FoMO that I’m not there.
40 FoMO marketing is the best way to get into 1 3 3
young people’s wallets.
41 Most of the social networks people have in 2 0 2
their lives today are online. Even the more
traditional networks (family, employment
based, etc.) likely have an online component.
Keeping up with these different networks can
be an anxiety-inducing experience that can
interfere with daily life.
42 Self-improvement junkies feel like they need 1 2 1
to jump on every new seminar, read all the
latest books, listen to all the podcasts, lift
all the weight, hire all the life coaches and
talk about all their childhood traumas. For
the self-improvement junkie, the purpose of
self-improvement is not the improvement
itself, rather it’s motivated by a subtle form of
FoMO.
43 I’ve taken breaks from social media but 3 −3 2
sometimes FoMO still gets to me. Overall, it’s
good for your mental health to take breaks
from social media.
44 Fear of Missing Out is a phenomenon that −1 −2 −2
was born at the same time as Facebook. I
wasn’t invited to every party I wanted to
be invited to long before Facebook, but I
got over it. It taught me that life is full of
disappointments. You just get over it if you
are not a snowfake.
45 I feel so relieved and my anxiety has gone 0 −4 −3
down since I deleted my picture sharing app.
46 Letting FoMO lead you to feeling bad about 3 4 2
your personal life is one thing. But letting it
interfere with your career can be even more
damaging.
47 Because of FoMO I’m tempted to overwork, −1 −3 −1
disrupting work-life balance and impacting
my relationships.
48 I spent my life having FoMO and going to 0 −1 −4
every party under the sun just in case I missed
out on . . . something. But fipping that to
JOMO has really helped me accept I no
longer live that way.
(Continued)
224 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
Table 14.1 Continued

In Real Left Personal

Life Behind Success

F1 F2 F3
49 FoMO has held me back from personal −3 −1 3
success by making it harder to feel good and
confdent about my choices, especially in a
culture that suggests that it is possible to have
it all. It can make me feel stuck, depressed
and anxious and pulls me out of living in the
moment.
50 We all need attention, acceptance and feeling 2 0 −3
of belonging and then there’s FoMO. I only
post on one social media site. To me, it looks
a bit addictive to keep sharing everything.
51 Examine how you spend your time. If your 1 2 4
social media scrolling is eating into your
productivity, maybe it’s time to say, “I have a
problem.”
52 I’m afraid of missing out on all my potential 0 5 0
and creativity because I am terrifed to pour
my soul into something only to fail, not get
as many likes, comments and followers of my
work than other people doing similar work
online.
53 FoMO (Fear of Missing Out) is a very real 2 2 0
thing. I just don’t have the time to watch,
read, play or listen to every piece of media I’m
interested in.
54 Picture sharing apps make me so anxious. I’m −4 1 2
always looking at other people thinking, “I
wish I looked like that,” or “I should get more
in shape.”
55 FoMO is at the absolute heart of online −2 −1 −2
dating. Every day you don’t put yourself out
there is a day you could have met someone,
but didn’t.

Results

Areas of consensus among the three subjective accounts of FoMO

All three feeling states strongly agree that social media sites are carefully
curated, and so, appearance should not be taken for reality (F1: S22, +5;
F2: S22; +5; F3: S22, +4). All three feeling states also strongly agree that
comparing one’s own body with images of attractive bodies on social media
 FoMO 225
“can be harmful to our mental health” (F1: S37, +4; F2: S37, +4; F3: S37,
+5). These responses show that the participants are media literate; they are
not gullible or victims of juvenile or naive illusions about appearances on
social media.
Also, all three feeling states profess close relationships with family. All
three strongly agree that they “still get joy being around my family and
friends” without feeling they are missing out (F1: S33, +5; F2: S33, +3; F3:
S33, +5). All three accounts strongly deny that “I am not that close with my
family” (F1: S31, −5; F2: S31, −5; F3: S31, −4).
Finally, all three feeling states deny being strongly affecting by cultural
fads, strongly disagreeing that they “go to the movie everyone’s been talking
about . . . just so I can talk about it with everyone else because of FoMO”
(F1: S26, −5; F2: S26, −4; F3: S26: −5).

Left Behind (F2)

Individuals expressing the Left Behind feeling state are deeply affected
by FoMO. One of the participants revealed that it happened quite early:
“When I was 12 years old, I started to spend time on the social media and
I immediately found out that I have a problem with it” (P26). Such realisa-
tion didn’t stop him from spending more and more time online and expe-
rience FoMO. Left Behinds experience FoMO when they are at home on
Friday night, and their friends are partying (S17, +5) or in the summertime,
when everyone else is at the beach or lake (S39, +4). Underlying this fear of
being left behind is an enduring anxiety about social exclusion (S1, +3; S4,
+3) and acute fear of social rejection on social media: “I’m terrifed to pour
my soul into something only to fail, not to get as many likes, comments
and followers of my work than other people” (S52, +5). One participant
confessed that “being alienated . . . is affecting confdence, because if we
think that others do more, others are better and we are still not perfect, it
affects our mood” (P31). Persons expressing the Left Behind feeling state
scored on average 59 on the Przybylski et al. FoMO scale, the highest score
of our three FoMO feeling states, placing their FoMO well above average
but not in the range of high FoMO according to the Jupowicz-Ginalska
et al. surveys.
Being permanently online, permanently connected involves living in a con-
stant feedback loop of social media and real-life scenarios that feed off each
other (Vorderer et al., 2017). Left Behinds are constantly connected to social
media (S6, −5) and keep their phones on even when at work or school (S28,
−5). They do not log out of social media even when it produces harmful
emotional effects (S6, −5; S28, −5). This corresponds well with the Polish
FoMO reports that show usage of a phone during various situations not
normally requiring smartphone conversations, such as important meetings
with friends (Jupowicz-Ginalska et al., 2018a: 24–25) or a business meeting
(Jupowicz-Ginalska et al., 2019: 29). In addition to the emotional distress
226 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
of feeling Left Behind, persons experiencing this feeling state are concerned
that FoMO will interfere with attainment of their career goals (S46, +4).
People expressing the Left Behind feeling state tend to be unhappy with
their body which is intensifed with the consumption of social media content
that deals with ftness and beauty (S11, +3). Participant 34 confessed such
behaviour: “I looked at those people who, for example, lost weight in a very
short time, and it made such an impression on me that I’m a pig and I’m
sitting and eating chocolate because I feel sorry for myself.” They want to
self-improve, lead a more healthy life, which would show in a better body;
however, this is motivated by the fact that others look better (S42, +2). At
the same time, Left Behinds are aware that most of the content on social
media is curated and that it is harmful to mental health to compare one’s self
with unrealistic images (S11, +3; S22, +4; S37, +4). Also posting too much
controversial or revealing content is considered dangerous, and as one of
the participants suggested “if someone really wants to hurt you, there is a
lot of stuff to use” (P25). Finally, we note that the Left Behind feeling state
experiences joy when being around family (S33, +3), but less so than the
other two feeling states.

Personal Success (F3)

Individuals expressing the Personal Success feeling state used to spend a
lot of time online and consumed a lot of digital content (games, movies,
social media), but they realised that life isn’t about virtual words, which
are only complementary to real-life existence (S27, +5). It becomes an
ontological exercise where one posts on social media “snippets from every-
day life as a reminder of existence” (P14). Now they strongly prefer to
be with their family and friends and feel they don’t miss out on anything
(S33, +5). But actually they remain ambivalent about online life because
of the social comparisons it entails. They agree rather strongly with the
statement “FoMO has held me back from personal success by making it
harder to feel good and confdent about my choices, especially in a culture
that suggests that it is possible to have it all. It can make me feel stuck,
depressed, and anxious and pulls me out of living in the moment” (S49,
+3). When they see that they spend too much time on endless scrolling on
social media, which negatively infuences their productivity, they admit
they have a problem (S51, +4; S20, −5). A 22-year-old male states: “It
is like an addiction to these different events you have to go to, to check
the Internet, to know what your friends are doing” (P22). On average,
individuals expressing the Personal Success feeling state score 58 on the
Przybylski et al. FoMO scale, indicating well above average but not acute
FoMO.
Respondents expressing the Personal Success feeling state know that mar-
keters take advantage of their vulnerability to use FoMO to successfully
advertise products to them (S40, +3). It is rather easy to do because persons
 FoMO 227
expressing this feeling state spend a lot of time on their devices. One female
participant revealed

[t]he longer time I spend online . . . I fnd new items that I really need,
but in fact are not needed at all. The moment I see them, I feel like I need
them. . . . I just collect unnecessary things I would call shit.
(P18)

This process of looking for and fnding depletes their energy and results in
a downward spiral of emotions (S3, +2). They think they should log out of
social media (S5, +2; S6, −3), but “fipping to JoMO” (joy of missing out)
doesn’t work for them (S48, −4) nor does deleting their picture sharing app
relieve anxiety (S45, −3). Sometimes they feel that they simply need to go
out and be with other people; even though it means to sit by themselves in a
coffee shop or a library, they crave the feeling of being surrounded by others
(S8, +3).
Personal Success includes goals for body image. Their body image is impor-
tant, and they are aware that the social media images are altered and unreal-
istic (S37, +5). The more time they spend on “ftness inspiration” content, the
more unhappy they become with their bodies (S11, +3). One female partici-
pant revealed: “Sometimes when I see an internet ftness coach I feel I could
improve my belly or legs. All in all, when I see it, I’m sad” (P9). Picture sharing
apps cause them anxiety and bind them to the constant pressure of comparing
themselves with others, which turns into negative feelings (S54, +2).
The Personal Success feeling state also regards love as a question of per-
sonal success. Persons expressing this feeling state would like to commit to
a primary love relationship, settle down with a partner and start their own
family, but the multitude of choices is stupefying because they might miss
out on fnding “The One” (S29, +4). They want to love and be loved, but
currently, most of them are single, and seeing other people getting engaged
or married causes them to feel that they miss out on life (S16, +4). At
the same time, they are actively seeking a partner; however, they see that
romantic feelings and people expressing them are being commodifed. Such
a situation is attributed to FoMO and the seemingly endless supply of dates
(S35, +1).

Real Life family and friends (F1)

Persons expressing the Real Life feeling state consider that online interac-
tions are no substitute for social relationships in real life (IRL). They are
happy when they are with family and friends in real life, during which time
they don’t long for anything or anyone else (S33, +5) – “if someone wants to
spend time with their family, I have the utmost respect because it’s important
for everyone” (P28). They recognise that “sometimes FoMO still gets to me”
(S43, +3) and that they need to acknowledge the resulting anxiety in order to
228 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
tackle the problem (S36, +3). But many believe that they vanquished FoMO
long ago (S34, +5). During post Q-sort interviews, quite a few participants
admitted that the phenomenon of FoMO is new to them and were not aware
of its existence or name. But, from sorting the statements, responding to the
questionnaire and during the post-sort interview with the researcher, they
recognised the phenomenon of FoMO and related it to their feelings and emo-
tions. This group scored 44 on the Przybylski FoMO scale, a somewhat below
average score indicating moderate FoMO according to Jupowicz-Ginalska
et al.’s research.
Keeping up with different networks might be anxiety-inducing and can
interfere with daily life (S41, +2). However, persons expressing the Real
Life feeling state are not online recluses. They use social media to main-
tain contact with their close friends (S5, +2). They have one preferable
social medium where they occasionally post but don’t share too much, too
often (S50, +2). Persons expressing this feeling state found an equilibrium
in social media consumption, and they don’t demonise it; one participant
said “I don’t think that life on the web is bad, but you have to balance it
out” (P23). They are aware that they might be “uncool” especially com-
pared to other people’s posts on social media; however, they learn to cope
with it by cutting down their usage of those platforms, which signifcantly
helps to decrease the sense of loneliness or depression (S27, +4). A 21-year-
old female acknowledges that “everything on social media is idealised. It
makes us want to live like that too, but it’s not possible because you can’t
be perfect” (P16).
Persons expressing the Real Life account of FoMO choose their enter-
tainment not on the basis of the most popular, trendy topic (S26, −5).
The same attitude is observed when purchasing goods or products: Real
Lifers do not consume in order to gain status (S14, −5). The Real Life feel-
ing state represents traditional Polish upbringing caused by the product
scarcity in the shops during communism and widely expressed equality
among Poles before 1989 when most people had little material posses-
sion (Ekiert & Kubik, 1999). This value is well represented by statement
7 “As a society we have to work hard to overcome the impediments that
living with envy and without community can bring. There’s no fxing this
without changing our values and fxing our philosophical outlook as a
society” (S7, +4). The role of community, not virtual connections and
friendships, is very important (S12, +3). One of the participants mentioned
that “when you put it [social media] away, you see and appreciate that you
have a family, that you have real friends, that someone is with you” (P33).
Persons expressing the Real Life feeling state regard the ability to resist
FoMO as a character strength founded in personal philosophy and values.
One female participant boldly stated: “I rejected social media because it
was so worthless to me” (P33). They see FoMO as a symptom of juvenile
weakness, and they strongly agree that “FoMO will destroy you if you let
it. Grow up” (S9, +4).
 FoMO 229
Conclusion
Our research shows “ordinary people’s agency and values . . . engaging cre-
atively with and through media” (Livingstone, 2019). Meta-processes of
mediatisation produce communicative fgurations that constantly call up
one’s own sense of agency and values. Sense of agency and sense of value
of perceived alternatives are central to young Polish adults’ experiences of
FoMO. Most young adults in Poland face constant pressure to perform
online and compare themselves with others not only to attain social status
but also to merely function in a highly mediatised social environment, which
causes them to experience various degrees of anxiety and depression. At the
same time, they are not gullible about social media, and they appreciate
real-life social encounters with family and friends, and are open for their
romantic life to be lived IRL (in real life, not in virtual space).
Participants expressed that taking part in our research enabled them to
gain better access to their own feelings and emotions. The Q sorting process
was regarded as especially insightful, especially to those who were not aware
of the phenomenon of FoMO. It’s a strong indication that Q-methodology
brings insight not only after the sorting is analysed and quantifed but also
during the sorting process itself.
Young adults self-compare with their peers or even celebrities, and at the
same time, they are aware of the mechanisms that are responsible for their
online behaviour and its relatively harmful impact on their well-being. Many
have ways of coping. One of the participants (expressing the Real Life feeling
state) was quite forthcoming:

I don’t think looking at other people on the web can lead to depres-
sion. If someone posts a post that he went on holiday to the Maldives,
I’d like to be there right now, but it doesn’t make me depressed. Don’t
exaggerate. Maybe one day I will go there myself. I don’t envy people
when I look at their social media accounts on the internet. It’s a healthy
approach to life.
(P23)

We observed three distinctive feeling states that describe fear of missing

out in contemporary mediatised life. All of them might be summarised by the
statement of one of the participants from the Real Life feeling state:

We are in an era where people are escaping into this digital reality and I
have the impression that people are often riding, biking or walking, look-
ing at the phone screen. They do not look at who they are talking to. They
don’t pay attention. There is only the phone and nothing else. That’s why
I think they don’t care about their relationship because they’ve been too
consumed by this mobile reality, and it shouldn’t consume them so much.
(P29)
230 Szymon Zylinski and Charles H. Davis
Acknowledgements
We gratefully acknowledge the contributions of Irv Goldman (University
of Windsor) and Rory Clark (University of Cambridge) to design of the
Q-sample and to many conversations about media effects and fear of missing
out. Also, thanks to Rory Clark for comments on a draft. An earlier version
of this study was presented in November 2020 at the online workshop on
“Mediatization of everyday life: Media and love – transformation of emo-
tions and relations” organised by the Institute of Social Communication and
Media Science, Maria Skłodowska-Curie University in Lublin, Poland and
Academia Europaea Wrocław Knowledge Hub.

Notes
1 See also the useful literature reviews by Elhai et al. (2020) and Tandon et al.
(2021).
2 Self-functions: deficiency/depression, isolation, belonging, anxiety and
resilience. Sociocultural themes: family, health, career/work, romance, lei-
sure, spirituality, affluence, friendships, body image and two miscellaneous
categories.
3 Table 1 is included in this manuscript, pages 219–224.

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15 Erotic experience
Technology-mediated sex markets
Lorena Caminhas

Scholarly literature on sex markets has been diagnosing profound transfor-

mations in commercial sex and eroticism since the advancement and appro-
priation of various media technologies, especially mass and digital media.
On the one hand, the literature identifes a process of diversifcation of sex
markets, highlighting the upsurge of indirect modalities of commercial sex
and eroticism (Attwood, 2012; Sanders et al., 2018). Pornography, telephone
sex and the adult webcam industry are seen as the leading representatives
of this process, responsible for establishing a technology-mediated sex trade
(Flowers, 1998; Sanders et al., 2018). On the other hand, the literature draws
attention to modifcations in the distribution and consumption of sex and
erotic services, discussing the broad dissemination and circulation of sex
markets throughout media (Bernstein, 2007; Cunningham et al., 2017). Sex
and erotic services face expanding trade venues, reaching an ever-wider con-
sumer public. While direct services have expanded due to advertisements
in the press, on the Internet, exchanges by telephone and mobile messaging
(Bernstein, 2007; Cunningham & Kendall, 2011), mediated sex services have
become more varied and omnipresent, making room for the development of
interactive and alternative pornography and virtual sex practices accessible
everywhere (Sanders et al., 2018).
Alongside the structural transformations in sex markets, the scholarly lit-
erature points to cultural changes brought about by the convergence of media
technologies and commercial sex and eroticism. Some authors have indicated
the advancement of the sexualisation of culture (Attwood, 2006; Paasonen,
2016), recognising the role of communication technologies in altering the
ways sex and eroticism are experienced in the contemporary world. Accord-
ing to this line of thought, sex and erotic encounters are becoming increas-
ingly accessible and disseminated throughout media, affecting the landscape
of sexual and erotic encounters. The sexualisation of culture is closely related
to the mainstreaming of mediated sex markets (Paasonen, 2016) since these
markets have become more available and omnipresent in the everyday media.
The diversifcation and large consumption of sex services promoted by the
confuence of media technologies and sex markets have reconfgured sex
and eroticism, normalising mediated venues of sex and erotic experiences
DOI: 10.4324/9781003254287-19
 Erotic experience 235
and transforming the sense of intimate and corporeal encounters (Sanders
et al., 2018).
The sociocultural framework of the processes discussed by the literature
dates from the late modern period, a context of profound changes in how
sexuality is experienced and publicly discussed (Attwood, 2006; Paasonen,
2016). According to Attwood (2006), from the last quarter of the 20th cen-
tury onwards, industrialised Western societies have been witnessing a shift
to a more permissive approach to sexuality. This approach results from the
effervescence of varied sexual publics (including dissident sexual groups)
and the amplifcation of sexual representation in the media, which promoted
widespread visibility and discussion about sexuality in society (Paasonen,
2016). In this period, the move to a “recreational behaviour” towards sexu-
ality (Bernstein, 2007) met with the profusion of forms of experimenting
sex throughout various media, positioning sex between public concerns and
self-satisfaction practices. Further, media boosted commercial sex, setting
it amidst the constant search for and debate about sexual fulflment that
marked this sociocultural context.
In this paper, I rely on the literature mentioned previously to advance the
argument on the confuence of media technologies and sex markets, looking
over structural and cultural transformations resulting from this convergence.
I aim to outline a historical approach on the long-term changes in sex markets
since the advent and appropriation of some media (centrally the press, the
telephone, the television and the Internet), showing the consequences of this
process on commercial sex and the sexual and erotic experiences within these
trades. My argument is that sex markets are being mediatised, progressively
becoming more conditioned by the media affordances and infrastructures to
advance sex and erotic trade and to commercialise sex and erotic experience.

The mediatisation of sex markets

Mediatisation is a concept that underlines a long-term sociocultural process
of transformation in technology, communication and culture derived from
the omnipresence of media in society (Krotz, 2014). It explores the infuence
of media institutions and practices (media moulding forces) in society, con-
sidering their consequences and effects (Hepp et al., 2015). The process has a
quantitative and a qualitative aspect that can be investigated empirically. The
quantitative aspect concerns the spread of technology-based communication
media across social domains (measured temporally, spatially and socially),
considering media as an embodied sphere of society (Hepp et al., 2015). The
qualitative aspect is related to the modes of communicative interactions and
social practices promoted by various media technologies (Hepp et al., 2015).
It points to the establishment of an “interactional process of reference” based
on media practices, which provokes transformations in communication and
social interactions (Braga, 2006). I draw from this conceptualisation to
understand the mediatisation of sex markets.
236 Lorena Caminhas
The mediatisation of sex markets points to two different vectors of trans-
formations brought by the large appropriation of media technologies in
commercial sex. Firstly, it indicates a profound structural change in the sex
business, expanding and diversifying the venues of sex and erotic trade. Sec-
ondly, it identifes alterations in erotic and sexual encounters, dislocating
the senses of sex and erotic experience. To outline the contours of the medi-
atisation, I draw from the literature on sex markets that discuss the main
modifcations resulting from media moulding forces in this feld. It is worth
noting that sex markets are a heterogeneous social realm, in which differ-
ent goods and services are offered by companies and sex workers (Agustín,
2007). These markets can be divided into two main modalities: the direct
trade, which promotes physical contact between the sex worker and their
clients, and the indirect trade, which is based on mediated erotic and sexual
stimulation (Sanders et al., 2018). This division is essential to understanding
how mediatisation reaches each of these modalities. The indirect modality is
the most studied when it comes to the impact of media in the sex business.
Consequently, my approach to mediatisation is centred on the indirect sex
trades and only partially on the direct ones.
Sex markets have expanded and diversifed as they appropriate certain
media technologies, especially the press (in the formats of magazine and
newspaper), the telephone, the television (centrally cable television) and the
Internet (Bernstein, 2007). Technology-mediated sex and erotic services and
goods started being offered: pornographic photos, tales and videos distrib-
uted through printed material and the Internet; adult entertainment maga-
zines and fanzines (Kendrick, 1995); porn movies broadcasted by television
and diffused by erotic movie theatres (Kinnick, 2007) and the streaming
system (Arvidsson, 2007); telephone sex services (Guidroz & Rich, 2010);
online erotic chats (Lynn, 2007) and adult webcamming on the Internet
(Bleakley, 2014). The adoption of various media on sex markets established
new modalities of commercial sex that depend on technology for being per-
formed. Communication media has been responsible for launching, trans-
forming and amplifying the indirect modalities. Besides, the media was
responsible for boosting prostitution, insofar as they offered analogic and
digital spaces to advertise escorts, masseuses and prostitutes (Lynn, 2007).
As a result of mediatisation, some sex workers have combined face-to-face
sex services with the mediated ones, aiming to expand revenue sources (Ber-
nstein, 2007). More recently, digital media has changed prostitution by cre-
ating applications and sites to commercialise sex (Cunningham & Kendal,
2011).
The major consequence of mediatisation of sex markets is the development
of mediated sex services, among which the phone sex lines, the pornography
industry and the adult webcam industry stand out. Media moulding forces
have provided not only new forms of sexual services but also new forms of
sex labour (Sanders et al., 2018). The frst noteworthy event is the emergence
of the press, which has permitted a massive distribution of porn texts and
 Erotic experience 237
images and has enabled the upsurge of sex and erotic advertising (Kibby &
Costello, 2001). According to Kendrick (1995), it is only with the emergence
of the press and its massive distribution capacity that raises the modern por-
nography and mediated sex markets. In the case of prostitution, the press
represented a renewed possibility to fnding clients from a much wider area
(Agustín, 2007). To Bernstein (2007), the press was the frst media innova-
tion to decrease the need for pimps and agencies for selling sex, and the frst
form of media to increase the proftability of direct sex workers. After the
press, telephone technology brought a second revolution in sex markets,
inaugurating phone sex lines (Flowers, 1998) and facilitating the contact
between sex workers and their clients (Agustín, 2007). With telephone sex
lines, some face-to-face sex workers migrated to phone sex or combined
both direct and indirect services (Guidroz & Rich, 2010), expanding their
possibilities of work.
Following Kibby and Costello (2001), the third central transformation in
sex markets occurred with the advent of the cinema and television, which
instituted the pornography industry. The expansion of this industry pro-
moted the development of VHS, CDs and DVDs devices, amplifying pornog-
raphy’s presence in homes and permitting an individualised consumption of
adult materials. The audiovisual, together with the press, boosted pornog-
raphy, setting up porn magazines and porn-producer businesses (Altman,
2001). According to Bernstein (2007), the moving from a “relational” to a
“recreational” model of sexual conduct is intrinsically attached to the appro-
priation of home media in the sex markets. With the internet, this tendency
of “recreational” sexual conduct seems to be even more central (Attwood,
2007).
The Internet is the latest media innovation that has completely trans-
formed sex markets. On the one hand, the Internet is responsible for enlarg-
ing the pornographic industry due to its capacity of distributing porn videos,
photos and movies on large scales and with low costs (Paasonen, 2018). The
distribution of pornography that once depended on lots of actors, such as
cable television, movie rental companies and cinemas, nowadays depends
mostly on the Internet to share and commercialise porn content (Paasonen,
2018). On the other hand, the Internet has transformed all indirect sex ser-
vices and also some direct ones. The porn industry saw the rise of netporn,
which established the amateur way of production as the core of porn busi-
ness and set up new taste cultures for pornography (Attwood, 2007). The
porn became, even further, a production of short videos and clips distributed
for free in the largest stream networks on the Internet (Paasonen, 2010).
Phone sex was transformed into sex chats online with the exchange of mes-
sages and images (Sanders et al., 2018). The Internet is also responsible for
the advent of the adult webcam industry, a new venue of commercial sex
and eroticism that brings together the main features of mediated sex services:
the one-to-one interaction of phone sex and erotic chats and the display
of image and sound of the pornography (Mathews, 2017). More recently,
238 Lorena Caminhas
digital platforms have been appropriated in the sex markets, weakening
the boundaries between the modalities of technology-mediated sex services
(Rand, 2019). Sexual and erotic performances are commercialised along with
porn videos, video clips and erotic chats. The direct sex services have also
migrated to the online environment: brothels and strip clubs are advertising
their services online, and some of them are live streaming their activities (Ber-
nstein, 2007); prostitutes, escorts and masseuses are using online affordances
to establish a large clientele and to communicate with customers (Agustín,
2007). With the Internet, some direct sex workers are combining digital sex
work on the platforms with direct sex services (Rand, 2019).
The summary of the media’s impact on sex markets reveals how com-
munication technologies have expanded and reshaped direct and indirect
modalities of sex services, making them ubiquitous and easily accessible
to society (Altman, 2001). This ubiquity has initiated a process of embodi-
ment of sex services in society, increasingly turning them into a domain of
everyday life (Attwood, 2006). This phenomenon is directly attached to
the sexualisation of culture (Attwood, 2006), which points to profound
changes in the ways commercial sex and eroticism are experienced within
mediatised sex markets. As McNair (2002) states, every media innova-
tion, be it mechanical, electronic or digital, has promoted a material and
symbolic infrastructure to commercialise sex and eroticism that allowed
the advent of novel sex and erotic trade, the emergence of other forms of
sex work and the development of renewed sexual and erotic experiences.
Attwood (2006) advances McNair’s assertions, affrming that the advance-
ment of communication media promoting new forms of sexual and erotic
encounters in sex markets that has become a part of the modern repertoire
of sexual practices. The incorporation of communication media in the sex
markets has consolidated technology-mediated sex and erotic encounters,
based on a distinction between sex (as an intimate and corporeal expe-
rience) and eroticism (as a semi-intimate and remote performance). The
contrast between corporeal and intimate sex, and performed and semi-
intimate erotic experience, is particularly visible in mediated commercial
sex and eroticism, which appears as a means to defning the interactions
between the sex worker and their clients. Mediation is central to this pro-
cess since it is the sense of corporeal apartness of media technologies that
detach sex from erotic experience. In the sex markets, this division has
been observed in the phone sex services (Flowers, 1998; Guidroz & Rich,
2010), the adult webcam industry (Bleakley, 2014; Caminhas, 2020) and,
to some extent, the work of porn actresses (Abbott, 2010). In all three of
these erotic services, what is at stake is defning mediated erotic encounters
as less personal and less corporeal than in-person sex, building a new divi-
sion between sex and eroticism that devalue one and values the other. To
understand how this process advances, in the next section, I will elucidate
how this perception of sex and eroticism is created in the adult webcam
industry in Brazil. The adult webcam industry is an exemplary case of how
 Erotic experience 239
mediatisation of sex markets has affected the senses of sexual and erotic
interaction within sex trades.

Sex and erotic experience in the Brazilian

adult webcam industry
The development of the adult webcam industry in Brazil exemplifes how
mediatisation of sex markets has impacted both the structure of sex trade
and commercialised erotic and sexual experiences. This case illuminates how
media moulding forces affect a specifc domain of social life, rearranging
its modus operandi. My approach to the Brazilian adult webcam industry
is based on four-year ethnographic research1 developed between 2016 and
2020, which investigated the two main webcamming platforms in Brazil –
Camera Hot (founded in 2010) and Camera Prive (founded in 2013).
Platforms were observed daily during the frst six months of the research;
then, platforms were accessed every six months. The data collected were
recorded in print screen formats and notes in the feldwork notebook, stored
in encrypted folders. I also base my arguments on 15 in-depth interviews
with Brazilian webcamming sex workers undertaken between 2017 and
2018. The interviewees were selected from snowball sampling (Sanders,
2006; Atkinson & Flint, 2001), and the interviews were conducted only with
cisgender women (the camgirls), the Brazilian adult webcamming industry’s
central workforce during the research period. The 15 camgirls were between
the ages 20 and 47 (with a predominance of women between 20 and 25
years old), and most of them had no previous experience in commercial sex
(only one interviewee also works as an escort). The interviewees were from
the Brazilian middle classes and Brazil’s wealthiest regions, mainly the south
and southeast. Most of the interviewed women were white (I interviewed
only two black women). The average length of working in the webcamming
industry was one to fve years. On the basis of these two research sources, I
argue that the adult webcam industry refects the mediatisation of sex mar-
kets in two ways: frstly, it appears as a new face of mediatised sex markets
proportioned and conditioned by digital media developments (as an expan-
sion and diversifcation vector) and secondly, it settles the contrast between
sex (corporeal and intimate) and eroticism (remote and semi-intimate)
as intimate experiences, asserting eroticism as a feature of the technology-
mediated sex trade.
The frst consequence of the mediatisation of sex markets is the expansion
and diversifcation of sex services. Since the advent of digital media, technology-
mediated sex markets have been transformed into digitally mediated sex
trades (Rand, 2019) of which the adult webcam industry is a representative.
In Brazil, digitally mediated sex markets have been developing since the
year 2000, with the advancement of netporn businesses (Parreiras, 2015).
According to Parreiras (2015), netporn launched new modes of production
and consumption of porn in Brazil, decentralising the process of content
240 Lorena Caminhas
creation, amplifying the access to porn and embracing amateur content. With
the move to the Internet, Brazilian pornography became more interactive and
alternative, making room for audience participation and interaction with
porn actresses and actors (Parreiras, 2015). Communicative and interactive
mechanisms were introduced on netporn sites, appropriating the system of
online erotic chatting to the porn industry (Parreiras, 2015). The develop-
ment of netporn provided the background for the emergence of adult web-
camming in Brazil, which was settled around 2002 (Caminhas, 2020). In
Brazil, webcamming started being performed in studios that rapidly gave
way to national websites (Silva, 2014). Since 2010, digital platforms have
taken over this business, establishing infrastructures for selling varied perfor-
mances and erotic content. Webcamming is thus a new modality of commer-
cial sex that resulted from the mediatisation process, a recent development
that employs various media affordances in designing erotic encounters.
The second result of mediatisation is the contrast between sex and eroti-
cism as intimate experiences, which is manifested in mediated sex markets,
especially in the webcam industry. It is worth noting that this contrast is due
to the technology-mediated nature of interactions established through media
and to the attempt to distinguish the commerce of sex (prostitution) from
other erotic trades. In all mediated sex services, there is an attempt to differ-
entiate the corporeal and intimate nature of sex from the non-corporeal and
semi-intimate nature of mediated erotic encounters. However, this distinc-
tion assumes a different face in each phase of mediatisation. This distinction
starts to appear in the electrifcation phase when the pornography industry
started to produce movies and other audiovisual material to mass commer-
cialisation. According to Cramer and Home (2007) and Abbott (2010), the
differentiation between sex and erotic experience is settled, in pornography,
by the idea of staging attributed to pornographic performance. The idea of
staging also appeared in the telephone sex industry, as discussed by Guidroz
and Rich (2010) and Lever and Dolnick (2010). In this case, the staging was
accompanied by the idea of sexual fantasies and imagination used to distin-
guish the work of call girls from that of porn stars. In both cases, technology
mediation is critical in discerning mediated practices (eroticism) and face-to-
face practices (sex). In the adult webcam industry, this contrast deepens as
camgirls convoke media material and symbolic affordances to affrm their
practices as a particular modality of erotic experience partially detached
from intimacy. Because webcamming is an activity fully developed on digital
media, camgirls centralise the mediated nature of their online practices, stat-
ing the erotic fantasy and sexual staging as key elements of their eroticism.
The distinction between sex and eroticism manifests itself in the camgirls’
everyday online practices and discourses, insofar as camgirls convoke the non-
corporeal and semi-personal nature of their online practices. This symbolic
construction has to do with a dispute in meaning that involves the role of
media as technological mediation and the kinds of interaction it enables. Both
the mediation and its practices provide the grounds to create contrasts between
 Erotic experience 241
sex and eroticism as two different forms of intimate encounters.2 This argu-
ment is based on two forms of reasoning. On the one hand, camgirls evoke
media materiality to establish a distinction between face-to-face encounter
and mediated experiences. Here, the technology is understood as a barrier or
an obstacle to establishing genuine intimate encounters. On the other hand,
camgirls understand webcamming as a media practice, that is, a specifc form
of interaction promoted by media affordances. Hence, webcamming perfor-
mances are seen as erotic experiences that occur in a mediated environment,
involving only a semi-intimate and semi-personal mode of interaction.
Since the beginning of the feldwork, the materiality of communication
media emerged as a fundamental aspect of webcamming. The technological
aspect of this activity, embodied by the computer, the Internet and the cam-
era, are seen as responsible for instituting physical and symbolical barriers
between camgirls and their clients. The role of media as mediation was at
stake in camgirls’ narratives, understood as responsible for changing the
nature of lived experience. This mode of reasoning asserts a profound dis-
tinction between sex and eroticism as practices, in which sex is considered
a visceral, corporeal, private, intimate practice impossible to be performed
in the mediated environment of webcamming. Since webcamming does not
promote “real” encounters but only mediated ones, it just enables eroticism
(or an erotic experience) that is a semi-embodied, semi-intimate and semi-
personal experience. This kind of experience, according to camgirl discourses,
takes place in the clients’ minds (viewed as a virtual space), stimulated by the
imagination. Angelica (27 years old, 13 months working as camgirl) stresses
this line of thought by saying that “I am not going to call it [webcamming]
sex because of its virtual nature, but I can call it eroticism since the erotic is
part of the imagination.” In her words,

the erotic is the mediated practice while sex is the practice itself. So, for
the practice to occur, there must be the physical presence of two people.
When this physical presence does not happen, then we have the erotic
experience.

Considering that webcamming is a “virtual practice” or a “mediated prac-

tice” as Angelica points out, it is “much more a form of entertainment than a
form of sex.”Angelica’s narrative replicates that of other camgirls who under-
stand mediated encounters as distinct from face-to-face ones. In their view,
face-to-face encounters allow genuine experiences and interactions, whereas
mediated ones enable only fragmentary experiences and interactions. Such
contrast allows camgirls to detach mediated interactions from privacy and
intimacy. As Cibele (21 years old, 20 months working as camgirl) puts it,

frst of all, we do not have any physical contact with users; we are not
with them in real life, personally, so we are not having sex. We are just
behind a screen; it is only our image that is shown and sold.
242 Lorena Caminhas
The camgirls I interviewed differentiate sex from eroticism by appealing to
the amount of intimacy and involvement each experience conveys. Anelise
(22 years old, 24 months working as camgirl) explains that webcamming as
an erotic experience is “very different from sex, especially on the platform
I work. If I were going to reproduce what I do on cam in person, the client
would not even touch me.” From her perspective, webcamming “is interac-
tion and intimacy in some sense, but the contact and intimacy are not intense,
not so vivid since people see you through a website and webcam.” Dandara
(24 years old, 12 months working as camgirl), the only interviewee who
performs online with a partner, furthers this viewpoint asserting that

there is sex in my case since I perform with a partner, then I show my

sex to other people. But it has nothing to do with users, I do not have
sex with users, there is no sex in this case.

According to Dandara, “I only have sex with my boyfriend, and we trans-

mit it online. There is nothing more than that. When I am alone, I just per-
form some eroticism, sometimes I masturbate myself, I dance, but that is all.”
From my interviewees’ standpoint, sex depends on the physical touch, the
co-presence, intimate contact and personal involvement. On the basis of this,
Dandara affrms she does not have sex with users but shows them sex with
her boyfriend (someone with whom she has a personal and intimate connec-
tion). In this sense, webcamming is based on the exhibition and performance
of sex that is not the practice itself and that is not as intimate as the practice
itself. As Carolina (36 years old, 60 months working as camgirl) summarises
it, “nowadays I only work on platforms that do not mention sex since I do
nothing real, nothing personal, never, just virtual, without the physical touch,
just exhibitionism.”
In the camgirls’ narrative, all technology mediations build an experience
different from the intimate and in-person relationship: an experience based
on the virtuality of presence. For camgirls, the idea of a mediated reality is
related to the presence of a medium, represented by the computer, the cam-
eras and the Internet network – physical barriers that prevent “concrete”
contact. These physical barriers give rise to a social space, interpreted as a
secondary social space or a secondary reality. In these conditions, the only
practices that could be developed are those related to the erotic experience,
an experience of sex without the act of sex. Following the camgirls’ line of
thought, mediation only provides a second-hand experience as it prevents the
fesh presence of bodies and builds a social space that only permits mediated
experiences. The discourses on mediation and the distinctions between sex
and eroticism are entangled, revealing how camgirls interpret mediated inter-
actions and their features. Thus, the discourses evaluate how media affects
the encounters in the digital commerce of sex and eroticism. For camgirls,
the media enables a new form of experience based on a partial connection
and a limited involvement with the others. As media is the setting and the
 Erotic experience 243
background for interactions, it is responsible for changing the nature of
interactions.
The convergence between the technology-mediated nature of webcamming
and its lack of intimacy becomes visible in Gisele’s speech (19 years old, 12
months working as camgirl) where she explains that there is a performance
of intimacy, but not intimacy itself. In her words, “the physical contact does
not exist, I can turn off my computer and goodbye. So, it is not an intimate
encounter, it is just a commercial transaction that includes the sale, the stag-
ing of intimacy.” For Gisele, the interaction between her and her clients is
fragile and ephemeral since it can be fnished instantly. It happens because the
Internet and computer can be turned off at any time and ends the encounter.
Nicole (20 years old, 18 months working as camgirl) highlights this point
when she tries to explain how webcamming performances are different from
sex and intimacy:

I particularly think it [webcamming] has not to do with sex or even

with intimacy. You are behind a screen and computer, a situation that is
completely different from being in real contact, in a personal, intimate
relationship. I do not think we can compare both situations.

According to Nicole, “sex with people physically, intimately is pretty much

different from what happens in cam. The physical presence makes a differ-
ence, a difference that promotes or impedes a real closeness or involvement.”
The distinction between sex (intimate relationship) and eroticism (semi-
intimate encounter) is present in camgirl narratives and in the clients’ utter-
ances. Frequently, clients ask camgirls if they are willing to “have real sex,”
implying that “real sex” means sex in co-presence with the physical touch.
All the 15 camgirls I interviewed affrmed that this interrogation is part of
Brazilian webcamming, appearing daily. As Anelise explains, “many people
come to the platform where I work asking if the girls have, they use the term
“real,” have real sex. I always answer that I am a camgirl, sex is not what I
have online.” Although some users label webcamming encounters as “virtual
sex,” they also corroborate the contrast between sex and eroticism, assert-
ing them as different practices that encompass distinct forms of intimacy. It
is worth noting that clients’ perceptions are also based on the distinctions
between face-to-face and mediated interactions, considering media as a bar-
rier or an obstacle to intimate, personal connections. The idea of “real” is
key in webcamming since it is summoned whenever it is necessary to dis-
tinguish online exhibitionism, from sex (“real sex” is opposed to “staging
sexual practices”). It is always summoned when it comes to the supposed
semi-intimate and semi-personal nature of webcamming. This dissociation
of webcamming from “reality” is related to the disparity perceived in medi-
ated and non-mediated practices. Camgirls and users take part in a symbolic
construct where sex and eroticism, intimate and semi-intimate encounters
are defned as different forms of experience. While sex is real, intimate and
244 Lorena Caminhas
personal, eroticism is an experience that lacks personal affection, embodi-
ment and intimate interaction.
A further way to institute the difference between sex and eroticism and to
state the contrast between intimate and semi-intimate encounters is by assert-
ing the singularity of media practices, regulated by media affordances. Here,
media technology appears as the background, and setting whose affordances
allow and propel some modes of interaction. During the in-depth interviews,
some ideas emerged as central elements to understanding how camgirls inter-
pret webcamming interactions as media practices. Among them, the idea of
exhibitionism stood out, understood as the core element of webcamming eroti-
cism. As Anelise explains, “camgirls are merely exhibitionists developing an
erotic activity.” According to Anelise, what camgirls perform in front of the
webcam is an exhibition of their naked body and sexual practices, convok-
ing “users’ imagination and fantasies, appealing to their inventiveness and
creativity to activate sexuality.” Fantasy and erotic imagination are seen as
opposed to the touch and physical contact present in sex. This differentiation
is backed up by the contrast between “real” and “virtual” practices. In the
camgirl discourses, the idea of virtuality recovers a mental process based on
imagination and inventiveness, pointing to the cognitive nature of webcam-
ming. Hence, in webcamming, sexual performance convokes the imagination
in order to produce body reactions. As Anelise states,“it is the image of the girl
what provokes users’ pleasure,” it is thus the “image of sex and not sex itself.”
Angelica explains how imagination and fantasy constitute webcamming
performances. In her words, “sex requires the presence, the physical touch
between two people, when it does not happen, we have eroticism. There is
no act [in webcamming], but the fantasy, the image of the act, perhaps.” Fer-
nanda (26 years old, 12 months working as camgirl) corroborates Angelica’s
viewpoint by saying that “[in webcamming] we are projected to another
sphere, we create a situation where we project another sphere of existence.”
In webcamming, “the main focus, the main point is the eroticism. The user
wants to imagine that I am masturbating and touching him. I am not exactly
masturbating and touching him, I am not having sex with him,” but “I am
exercising our erotic imagination.” Considering this, “I like to ask my clients
to imagine our encounter and let us take our minds to another sphere, let us
experience this imaginary sphere together.” Thus,

in a way, it is sexual; I mean, it is not sex itself, but it is focused on this

issue right, although there is no physical contact. The difference is that
there is no physical touch, and everything is virtual.

According to the camgirls, the virtuality, based on imagination and fan-

tasy, does not promote intimate and personal encounters. Denise (24 years
old, 12 months working as camgirl) elaborates this idea by stating that “I
do not like when fantasy hides a close relationship, intimacy, that we [she
and her clients] are having something more personal.” To Denise, it is crucial
 Erotic experience 245
not “confound” the webcamming encounter, considering that “we [camgirls]
only nurture virtual relationships, almost without the real intimacy.” In her
view, the proximity and closeness that the Internet provides do not mean inti-
macy: “it is an essential important thing what I am going to say right now, I
believe that technology brings people together, but I think that this proximity
does not mean intimacy, does not allow intimacy.” Beatriz (23 years old, 12
months working as camgirl) furthers Denise’s ideas by saying that

users look for us because we are real people, because of the reality we
manifest to them, but it is only live streaming, they are staying with
someone virtually. So, it is an interaction, but not an intimate, personal
one.

It is worth mentioning that the semi-personal and semi-intimate nature of

webcamming clashes with the required performance of intimacy, considered
as a valuable commodity in online erotic encounters. Eliane (35 years old,
18 months working as camgirl) approaches this issue in depth. She describes
how intimacy and closeness are elements of webcamming performance used
in order to attract and maintain users. “I will tell you, it [webcamming]
involves some intimacy, how can I explain it to you? Many guys want some-
thing like sex and want a companion and a confdante.” Because of that,

in webcamming, we establish a close interaction, we call users by their

name, we do what they want us to do. And it works well because it is
virtual, it is imagination, so you can be completely at ease because there
is no real emotional involvement.

According to her, “it is perfectly normal that users search for a confdante in
the camgirl, and this emotional involvement is central to our work.” How-
ever, as Eliane points out,

it is about affnity and rapport, not the real intimate relationship, not the
real intimacy. It is a strategy in some sense because if the client develops
an affnity, being it sexually or personally, he always comes back to your
room, he spends money with your show.

In webcamming,

the virtual service we perform, if the guy asks you something, you do it.
But it is you doing it in yourself; it is a self-interaction. In our case, we
are not in the real, so if the guy says, “I want to slap you in the ass”, are
you slapping your own ass, and it is undoubtedly different from the real.

In Eliane’s narrative, the intimate, personal relationship is part of the cam-

girl staging to attract and maintain clients, not an integral part of online
246 Lorena Caminhas
interaction. She reveals the tensions between performing some intimacy with
commercial goals and establishing limits for the intimacy, seeking for main-
taining webcamming a semi-intimate and semi-personal service. Again, the
imagination and the supposed lack of proximity help assert webcamming as
a practice that requires intimacy as a commodity but not as a relationship.
This equation helps camgirls to distinguish what can be seen as “real” inti-
macy from what is performed intimacy.
The contrast between sex and eroticism, considered as different forms of
intimate encounter, is a core consequence of the mediatisation of sex markets
since the entry of various media in the commercial sex changed the symbolic
dispute over the position of sex and eroticism in mediated sex services. As the
webcamming case reveals, the affordances and features of media are taking
as material and symbolic infrastructures that defne the nature of encounters
in the sex trade. Appealing to the materiality of media devices, camgirls (and
their clients) establish what kind of encounters can be considered sexual or
erotic, intimate or semi-intimate, depending on the mediation that allows
each interaction. They also determine a distinction between “real” and “vir-
tual” practices, where “real” is a quality attributed to face-to-face relation-
ships and “virtual” to mental and imaginative processes. Thus, this reasoning
reveals that the role of media in the sex markets is to redirect the sense and
interpretation of sexual or erotic practices. Media, then, takes part in defn-
ing the nature and features of sex and erotic services, constituting itself in
an essential factor in building and transforming the sex market landscape.

Final remarks
This paper outlines the ongoing mediatisation of sex markets, discussing
how communication media have changed sex and erotic trades in structural
and cultural terms. It is a frst attempt to develop an approach to the long-
term changes the media brought about to sex and erotic trades. The argu-
ment highlights two central dimensions of mediatisation: the diversifcation
and expansion of sex and erotic services (a quantitative aspect) and the
alterations in the sense of sex and eroticism, understood as different types of
intimate encounters (a qualitative aspect). This approach considers the socio-
cultural transformations related to the mediatisation of sex trades, showing
that this process occurs amidst a widespread discussion about sexuality and
a shift to a more permissive stance towards it (Attwood, 2006). The advance-
ment of a “recreational” posture (Bernstein, 2007) about sex is essential to
understanding how media has gained centrality in the sex markets and how
it has affected the senses of sex and eroticism.
This paper points to the need for further research on the mediatisation of
sex markets. In this sense, I wish to highlight three critical points that claim
for additional investigation. Firstly, it is fundamental to detail mediatisation
phases, considering their impacts on sex and erotic trades. The historical
and long-term approach of mediatisation is fundamental to advancing this
 Erotic experience 247
task, along with a further comprehension of the sociocultural context that
participates in the mediatisation of sex markets. Secondly, it is essential to
understand how the diversifcation and expansion of sex markets are related
to different media technologies and their affordances. Finally, it is crucial to
comprehend how sex and eroticism, both intimate experiences, are being
interpreted within various mediatised sex services and how that interpreta-
tion is related to the media presence. The mediatisation is a moulding force
of sex trades that demands the development of a new research effort.

Notes
1 The research was submitted to the State University of Campinas Ethical Com-
mittee and registered in Plataforma Brasil Ethical Commission, authorised in
February 2017 (CAAE number 59900016.0.0000.5404). All interviewees signed
up for an Inform Consent Form agreeing to take part in the investigation, and
pseudonyms substituted their names.
2 It is worth mentioning that this symbolic contrast between sex and eroticism con-
cerns camgirls’ desire to detach themselves from prostitution. Thus, the promoted
distinction emphasises both the attempts to qualify and interpret the experiences
commercialised within technology-mediated sex markets and a strategy to evade
prostitution stigmas.

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Name index

Abel, Jessica P. 151, 163, 215 Delariarte Clarissa F. 216

Ahmed, Sara 76–77, 80, 153, 199 Dhir, Amandeep 230
Alafnan, Ali A. 216 Drotner, Kirsten 213
Aldraiweesh, Ahmad A. 216
Alghraibeh, Ahmad M. 216 Ekiert, Grzegorz 228
Almugren, Intesar 230 Elhai, Jon D. 216, 230
AlNemer, Ghada Naif 230
Alutaybi, Aarif 216 Farman, Jason 92–96
Andal, Alain Bernard A. 216 Feng, Jiaming 216
Arden-Close, Emily 216 Ferrari, Barbara Leticia 215
Attwood, Feona 31, 234–235, Ferraro, F. R. 216
237–238, 246 Fioravanti, Giulia 215
Fuster, Hector 216
Banasick, Shawn 218
Baran, Tomasz 216–218, 225 Gergen, Kenneth J. 213
Barrett, Lisa Feldman 48 Giddens, Anthony 77, 191
Barthes, Roland 115 Gladwell, Valerie 213, 215,
Bauman, Zygmunt 60, 107, 118, 190 216, 218
Benjamin, Walter 115
Bernstein, Elizabeth 234–238, 246 Hauck, Nelson 215
Betts, Lucy R. 216 Hefner, Dorothee 225
Binder, Jens F. 216 Hepp, Andreas 13, 20, 35, 43–45, 49,
Błachnio, Agata 218 51, 75, 95, 121–122, 137, 151–154,
Brand, Matthias 215 198, 213, 235
Brown, Steven R. 218 Herman, Dan 214
Brubaker, Rogers 213 Hjarvard, Stig 35, 43, 121–122, 124,
Buff, Cheryl L. 215 151–154, 158, 198
Buglass, Sarah L. 216 Hochschild, Arlie 112, 199
Burr, Sarah A. 215 Holte, Alex J. 216
Butsch, Richard 213
Illouz, Eva 27, 31, 77, 80, 121
Cabrera, Gino A. 216
Carey, James 93–96 Jansson, Andre 43, 45, 57–59, 61,
Casale, Silvia 215 66–67, 140, 151–154, 159, 162
Chamarro, Andres 216 Jasiewicz, Justyna 216–218, 225
Coeckelbergh, Mark 48, 50, 51 Jenkins, Henry 44
Couldry, Nick 30, 35, 43–44, 151, Jin, S. Venus 49
153, 198, 213 Jupowicz-Ginalska, Anna 216–218, 225
 Name index 251
Kallarackal, Martin V. 216 Saffran, Mark 216
Kisilowska, Małgorzata 216–218, 225 Sanders, Teela 234–237, 239
Klimmt, Christoph 225 Sedikides, Constantine 45
Klinger, Ulrike 50 Shumway, David 77, 79
Koestner, Richard 216 Sindermann, Cornelia 216
Kubik, Jan 228 Skalski, Sebastian 218
Staiger, Janet 75, 77–78,
Lefebvre, Henri 62, 63, 69 80–81
Levine, Jason C. 216 Steene, Brigitta 75, 78
Livingstone, Silvia 35, 229 Stenner, Paul 218
Lundby, Knut 121–122, 180, 181 Stodt, Benjamin 215

Manovich, Lev 45 Tandon, Anushree 230

Mcalaney, John 216 Tanganco, Gill Jeff S. 216
McGinnis, Patrick 215 Thomas, Dan B. 218
McKeown, Bruce 218 Ting-Toomey, Stella 45, 48
Milyavskaya, Marina 216 Tomczyk, Łukasz 218
Modzelewski, Piotr 218 Turkle, Sherry 107, 118,
Montag, Christian 216, 230 139–141
Morozov, Evgeny 106 Twenge, Jean M. 215
Murayama, Kou 213, 215–216, 218
Underwood, Jean D.M. 216
Neff, Gina 45, 49 Uram, Patrycja 218

Oberst, Ursula 215, 216 Vorderer, Peter 225

Ollinaho, Ossi 213
Wang, Pengcheng 216
Paasonen, Sussana 199, 234–235, 237 Watts, Simon 218
Przepiórka, Aneta 218 Wegmann, Elisa 215
Przybylski, Andrew 200, 213, 215–216, 218 Wilson, Ara 117
Worrell, Marcia 218
Queluz, Francine 215 Wysocki, Aleksander
216–218, 225
Reagle, Joseph 214
Reinecke, Leonard 225 Zimmer, Michael 50
Rozgonjuk, Dmitri 216 Zuboff, Shoshana 47, 61, 159
Subject index

affective capitalism 11; affective culture 10; conversational media 44, 47

affective societies 11; affective turn coping 20, 192–193, 229
10, 152, 199 co-presence 3, 107, 111, 117, 124, 126,
ageism 183–184, 188 139, 144, 242–243
AI-augmented self, 49–50 COVID-19 3, 29, 91, 102, 106,
AI ethics, 48, 50–51 108–109, 155–156, 161, 173–174,
algorithmisation 2, 10, 17–18 176, 208
ambient intimacy 111, 117 cultural and moral codes 48, 50;
applicatisation 2, 10, 17 cultural context 3, 76, 183–184, 188;
artifcial intelligence 9, 12, 18, 21–22, 41 cultural symbols 43–44; cultural
ASMR (Autonomous Sensory Meridian values 48; culture of autonomy
Response) 107–112, 114, 116–117, 202–203
119n2; ASMR Girlfriend Experience 3,
107 datafcation 2, 10, 17–18, 44–45, 137
attention 3, 16, 31, 38, 45, 51, dating 4, 31, 33, 38n1, 106, 189–190;
106–108, 110–117, 112, 129, 135, dating apps 15, 32, 106, 190
139–141, 156–159, 162, 165, 172, deep mediatisation 43–44, 46, 49, 50, 137
176–177, 180, 183, 192, 229, 234; depression 26, 106, 108, 192, 200, 207,
attention economy 113, 117 214–216, 228–230
autobiography (flm) 174 dialectical approach 56
autoethnography 183–184, 193 digital affect cultures 11, 16
autonomy 56–57, 61, 64, 66, 84, 160, disappearance of media 43
188, 202–203 disintegrating 30
dissolution 62, 183, 189, 191–192
biometrics 21, 45 distant close friends 142–147
blended self-AI 41, 49–50
break-up 129–130, 133–135, 189, embodiment 193, 238, 244
191–193 emoji 15, 112, 133, 162–163, 165–166
emotiocentrism 17
children 19, 21, 32–33, 56, 64, 66–67, emotion AI 41–43, 45–51; emotional
83, 151, 154–155, 157–158, 160–161, refexivity 11; emotional turn 10
164–165, 184, 190, 206 erotic services 234, 236, 238, 246;
classical narration 79–80 eroticism 4, 234, 237–244, 246–247
close up 80, 82, 115, 117
cohabitation 30, 189, 191 Facebook 36, 122, 160, 189, 193,
communication rituals 93–94; 203–204, 206, 218, 223
communication strategies 180, 208 Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) 4, 213–229
computer-mediated communication feminism 78; feminist 183–184, 188, 192
(CMC) 143, 184 fguration 213–214, 229
 Subject index 253
flm therapy 181n9 networked individualism 207
FoMO scale 215, 218, 225–226, 228 neuropsychology 1

geomedia 2, 57–60, 63–66, 68; objectifcation 31, 188–189

geomedia technologies 58–60,
63–66, 68; geomediated relations 2; parasocial interaction 107, 112, 118
geospatial data 57–59 parenting 64–65, 158, 160, 164–165
patriarchy 193
haptic visuality 111, 117 permanently online 225; permanently
hegemony 183–184, 193 connected 225
heteronormative 86, 110, 113, 118, platformisation 10, 152, 159
183–184 POV 3, 107, 110–111, 113–117
historical audience research 76 presence 5, 22, 44, 58, 87, 92, 94, 100,
102–103, 125, 127, 135, 142–144,
India 183, 187–189, 194n5 193, 237, 241–244, 247
individuation 207 privacy 46–48, 50–51, 131, 189, 241
Instagram 36, 128, 134, 160–161, problematic Internet use (PIU) 214,
189–190, 203, 218, 221 216–217; problematic smartphone
instant messenger (IM) 137–138, use (PSU) 214, 216
143–144, 147, 189, 191 procreation 186
interpersonal communication 3, 9, 12,
99, 144, 202; interpersonal intimacy Q-methodology 4, 218, 229
2; interpersonal relations 2, 4, 10, quantifed self 41–42, 45, 47
21–22, 91, 93, 95, 103, 163, 183,
198–199, 201, 203–204, 207–208 real virtuality 29
intolerance of loneliness 3, 127 recycling strategies 174
iPhone 190, 215 relatability 118
isolation 3–4, 13, 35, 106, 108, 178, representation 3–4, 12, 17–18, 42–45,
207, 230 47, 49–50, 57, 62–63, 79–80, 86–88,
178, 187–188, 235
location tracking 56 resilience 33, 183, 191–193, 230
love studies 27
scenes from a marriage 2
mass communication 26–29, 35, 38 self-care 106
media life 29, 143; media literacy self-referentialism (flm) 174
16, 37; media logic 17, 19, 57, self-tracking 45, 49
154; media mechanisms 19; media sex markets 4, 234–240, 246–247;
richness theory (MRT) 143 sexism 183; sex trades 234, 236,
mediated intimacy 3, 107–108, 162 239, 246–247; sexualisation 234,
mediation 2–3, 5, 9–10, 14, 16–17, 238; sexuality 31, 34, 75, 78,
22–23, 26, 30, 32–35, 38, 41–44, 81–82, 85, 188, 235, 244, 246;
106–107, 118, 151, 154, 238, sexualised 82; sexual revolution
240–242, 246 84–85
mediatisation of intimacy 3, 91, 98, 101 smartphonisation 2, 17
mediatised self 41–45, 47–51 social dilemma 46
mental health 106, 138, 198, 213, 215, social distancing 29, 106
222–223, 225–226 social exclusion 140, 214, 225
mirror ritual 49 social space 56–57, 61, 65, 93, 242
moulding forces 19, 236, 239, 247 solidarity 15, 152, 164, 184, 192,
multimodal communication 3 199, 201
solutionism 106
narcissus 49 stress 20, 47–48, 107–108, 110, 112,
neoliberal media culture 113, 118 122, 140, 157, 200, 241
254 Subject index
technology use 4, 97, 135, 201, 207, 216 water refection 49
theory of affordances 121, 130 webcamming 236, 239–246
TikTok 3, 113–117; TikTok boyfriend Whatsapp 15, 100–101, 139, 147,
POV videos 107, 114 151–152, 154–160, 162–164, 189
Tinder 31, 65–67, 106, 190
young adults 113, 202, 204, 213–214, 229
virtual dating 106; virtual relationship YouTube 3, 36, 107–109, 112, 114,
simulations 107 116, 160