To be more explicit, if many analyses focused on how the filter bubble and the platform interface of online communities create problematic self-deception processes from a socio-epistemic point of view, in this section, we discuss how they affect agents’ identity construction. In particular, we will ask: what kind of identity characterization process is involved in self-profiling actions? In which way is it different to interact with someone and present oneself to the world online and offline? And which type of self-other relation is to take into account to illustrate the construction of identity online?
4.1 Who Am I in Online Communities?
When people fill in their profiles to get access to online communities, it is probably the first time they have done something like that. An online profile is dramatically different from any oral description that we need to provide to new people when meeting them, it is unlike putting down a list of personal data on an official form, and it is also completely distinct from any description of ourselves that we can put down on paper for school essays, introductory emails, and so on. A profile in an online community imposes bounds to the agents in the same way a form does (often there is a word-count limit, open or close questions to address, and so on), but it centers on what are our interests, what we care to divulge of ourselves, and what potential new passions we could grow. Users do not read it as an essay, so we do not need to concern ourselves with the possibility of annoying possible readers or be judged for our writing style. First and foremost, entering data in an online community means to get a specific audience for them, which can be represented by people you know from the outside world, but also people who have the same interests as you have, follow the same programs, are concerned with the same issues.
With this reflection in mind, we can agree with Rodogno (
2012), who argued that online communities could favor the growth of a specific type of identity construction, which follows from his Attachment Theory: the sense of self that is related to what we care about, which shape our affective life and normative view of the world. More than that, we maintain that online communities display particular affordances that support the reception of our identity and others’, creating an
extended framework of people’s community, consistent through attachments (as already stated, extended here relates to the Extended Mind theory and follows the description of cognitive niches provided by Clark (
2008) and revisited by Arfini et al. (
2017)).
In this case, the domain targeted by the construction of these cognitive niches is people’s attachments and, transitively, their identities. Even if this reflection could seem a straightforward assumption given the premises we just discussed, the “targeted” domain here presents some convoluted implications. Indeed, if the target domain is the set of attachments that people have, in terms of “other persons, particular objects, projects, or pursuits (such as careers or professions), ideas, and values” (Rodogno
2012 , p. 312) there are two considerations and one question to put forward.
First, the online environment is not (yet, at least) the first cognitive niche in which the agents dwell. The first cognitive niches that allow and foster the agents’ identity construction are offline and define, since birth, their cognitive and epistemological abilities and processes. Online communities represent different environments in which the agents organize their attachments: in few other frameworks, for example, people have a profile that they can compile with all their interests, social connections, and that they can make accessible by choice to anyone or selected few. Moreover, the profiles, continuously filled in through time and the interaction with both other users and the platform, are also new for the agents: they are unique places in which people’s attachment identity is in display and can be explored, even by them. At the same time, engaging with online self-profiling follows from the previous experience of presenting oneself offline: at first, at least, users explore and exploit interests and attachments that they already know from offline experience. In time, by continuously engaging with the online world, they have the possibility of becoming more aware of their interests (by following certain trends or groups, for example). So, if there is an asymmetry of sort between offline and online domain (in the sense that the offline attachments are reflected in the online world), it is also tru that a process of feedback is established between the two domains (since online experience permits agents to amplify, magnify, and exploit in unusual way their interests) In this respect, filters can make the interests of the users even more apparent to themselves: thanks to these tools, users engage more often than usual with things they like, approve, or are interested in and so they become more attached to some persons, values, interests, objects than they could be in the offline world (Pariser
2011; Diaz-Aviles et al.
2012; Davis and Calitz
2016) and they see the online dimension as a way to explore them. With this closure, another reflection arises.
The second consideration, which follows from the first, is that people can express their identity online in many forms: they can add features, data, details on their profile; they can upload and share external contents; they can like, share, comment, and refer to materials found in their feeds through the connection with other users. These are all possible affordances that users of online communities can adopt and that reflect their identity in these frameworks; better, that they can only adopt in these frameworks. For example, the possibility to like a set of contents published by other people with just a click and potentially no further interaction with those who uploaded or shared it is a unique possibility of online environments. Moreover, since people can express their online identity in these many ways exclusively on online communities, the way agents appear to themselves and to others online will be perceived and afforded differently in the offline environments. This consideration, which highlights the different modality of expression, display, and self-reflection in online and offline domains, gives reason to see the users as at least dual in appearance. This consideration, in turn, opens another point of discussion.
Indeed, now we should ask a question that has appeared repeatedly in Internet Studies in the last decade: is there a rupture or fragmentation of identities in the offline/online divide? Could I be a
different me online? After the above two considerations, we think we have the tools to answer negatively to this question. To be more precise in answering it, though, we need to highlight the three main ways in which users become visible as individuals on platforms.
1.
Through a personal profile: recognizable as belonging to an offline person.
2.
Through an avatar: a profile with all the characteristics of a personal profile, but with what is clearly a made-up name or characterization.
3.
Through a fake personal profile, intended to deceive other users. It appears as belonging to an offline person, but the name is made-up or belongs to another offline person, and the users express made-up interests, made-up personal connections, and so on.
The personal profile is a tool for identification online: it is a way to virtually extend the social connections, interests, and values of offline persons. In this case, it is intuitive to consider people’s online identities as an integration of their offline ones. Since online communities offer different affordances to convey and reflect on people’s attachments, they can even favor a more comprehensive view of their identities. In this sense, a personal profile does not make you a different person online, but it allows you to explore and engage more frequently with subjects and topics that you already appreciate offline (and even find new interests, that in turn can be revisited offline).
The avatar situation exaggerate this experience. Usually, avatars (strictly in online communities, as we already pointed out) are profiles that exploit and convey particular interests of the people who create them. They may expand the referential community of the users, while not directly mention their offline identities. It is a way to explore their attachment without the boundaries of online personal recognition. In a way, it favors, even more, the self-reflection of the users without being identified by others.
So, if we think about personal profiles and avatars, we cannot suggest that there is friction between online and offline domains as far as identity is concerned (and the offline world is still asymmetrically more valuable than the online one). Indeed, online communities seem to offer just ways to integrate, magnify, and explore people’s attachments and identities. Moreover, since online identities do not exist in a separate universe from the offline selves, the feedback between virtual and external domains might be cognitive and or social. So there is strong continuity between offline and online identities, even if people create online communities of likeminded individuals that do not correspond to the communities with which those people associate offline. This happens usually because offline communities can be difficult to create (while online communities are almost fool-proof to generate) and not because people compromise and change their values, beliefs, and so on.
Situations of
catfishing could represent a counterexample. The phenomenon of catfishing or fake personal profiles is usually defined as a deceptive activity or the creation of a fake online profile for deceptive purposes (Smith et al.
2017), and it has represented a case of extreme interest in Internet Studies. To put down a few numbers, in 2012, the company “Facebook” (then the most used Social Network Site) noted that of its 1 billion profiles, about 83 million were fake accounts and many other SNS host a large number of fake or duplicate account profiles, some purposely used for “catfishing” (Kaskazi
2014).
Fake profiles represent extraordinary instances of how people reshape their selfhood in online communities. World’s literature contains many cases of mistaken identity (e.g., The Prince and the Pauper), deceitful disguises (e.g., Madame Doubtfire), and people who speak for somebody else (e.g., Cyrano de Bergerac). Still, cases of catfishing are paradigmatically different from these literary examples of analogical deception because of the outstanding role that trust plays in online communities. As we already argued at the beginning of the subsection, in online communities, the profile is an integrated extension to people’s offline identity: that means that any online relationship arises from a prediction of online understanding and offline feedback of this understanding.
By pretending to be people that they are not, ideally, catfishers need to create a system of online attachments that have little to no connections to their real identity. In brief, if I, person A, want to pretend to be person B, I need to express interests, beliefs, values that belong to my idea of person B. Practically, as reported by various studies (Hartney
2018; Lamphere and Lucas
2019), they rarely do so: they instead manifest more traits that are similar to their own (so of person A) than intended. Let us take as an example the case of “Joan.” She turned out to be a male psychologist pretending to be a disabled female; the two sides of this person shared the yearning to explore female friendships in online environments (Ess
2012). Other more famous cases involved coaches that pretended to be friends and companions of players to motivate them to play better. In these situations, the hidden motivation for these deceptions moves both their online relationships and their offline lives. In this sense, we could find a more suitable comparison between catfishing profiles and avatars: they are both created to explore, extend, and exploit attachment of people that they could not easily explore in the offline dimension (Smith et al.
2017).
Of course, we need to mention a hardcore difference between catfishers and people who use avatars: the ethical problems that relate to catfishing examples do not apply to the avatar cases. Nevertheless, this difference does not entail a difference concerning identity issues. Since people in both situations want and get to explore their attachments, the characterization of their identity is then so exalted and extended. In the end, it seems that the quote from Sherlock Holmes from the BBC show can accurately depict the situation for both avatars and catfishers: “Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes? However hard you try, it’s always a self-portrait” (Stafford
2015, p. 123).
4.2 Bad Faith and Alternatives
This section should begin with the topic neglected in the previous one: ethical implications. Indeed, if ethics does not matter when referring to identity as a way to answer the Characterization question, it is highly relevant when considering self-other relations. Indeed, the philosophical and social sciences literature usually depict social representations and social identities so intimately close (Breakwell
1993; Elejabarrieta
1994; Marková i,
2007) and, in particular, Duveen and Harré (
1990); Duveen (
1993,
2001) define the process of identity construction as the incorporation of how people describe themselves (the Characterization Question) and how others recognize them (in a feedback loop, obviously). In this view, social representations allow agents to adopt various possible identities to position themselves in multiple ways and orient themselves in their social world.
To do that, agents need to understand the axiology of the world they live in, as they need to behave according to their anticipation of others’ behaviors and representations. At the same time, they also know that others anticipate their actions and representations. So, there is what Hildebrandt (
2015) calls a Double Mutual Anticipation at the roots of social life, and, directly, also of social representations and identities. In Online Communities, the establishment of Double Mutual Anticipation is problematic for different reasons. First of all, the already mentioned filtering algorithms are a third party that affects how users interact. This means that the anticipation of behavior must to encompass also the non-transparent process of filtering algorithms: since they interfere with the double mutual anticipation between agents, the feedback and interaction is less transparent and comprehensible than offline (some studies trace back to this problem the radicalization of some groups online). Second, as we will argue, the mechanism of Bad Faith is not in play as usual in these frameworks, and it compromises the degree of responsibility of the users. We need to consider these factors to recalibrate our understanding of how self-other relations affect identity construction.
So, in this section, ethical issues will be discussed in relation to identity construction; but why should ethical issues matter in this context? The easiest way to refer to this query is to address the red link that ties identity to freedom and responsibility: if I act on my own free will, I usually am considered responsible for that action. It would be ludicrous, for example, to hold actors accountable for the deeds that they performed when in character. They are playing others’ identities, and in that respect, they are responsible for the performance, not the acts of their characters. The matter of free will is much more complex and, as moral philosophy literature insists now, involves degrees of freedom and contextual boundaries. However, as debates go on about free will and identity, the link between identity, freedom, and responsibility has not been questioned yet.
That is why the topic of Bad Faith matters in this context. Bad Faith is a notion that Sartre puts forward not when dealing with identity problems, but with freedom and self-other relations. A significant debate has arisen in the philosophical community around this concept. Indeed, there is not a clear consensus on what exactly Sartre meant when referring to Bad Faith and in which sense we need to take the examples he put forward for it (Magnani
2007; Webber
2011; Tartaglia
2012; Flynn
2013). Thus, we can present a few versions of the concept, and a neat and comprehensive version of it is so far hard to find. In this particular context, in which we are discussing identity and responsibility in the framework of online communities, we may put ourselves at ease by highlighting some aspects of Bad Faith, which are recognized by all scholars and that pertain to the themes we are analyzing. To begin the analysis, let’s consider an example that Sartre puts forward.
Let us consider this waiter in the café. His movement is quick and forward, a little too precise, a little too rapid. He comes toward the patrons with a step a little too quick. He bends forward a little too eagerly; his voice, his eyes express an interest a little too solicitous for the order of the customer. Finally there he returns, trying to imitate in his walk the inflexible stiffness of some kind of automaton while carrying his tray with the recklessness of a tight-rope walker by putting it in a perpetually unstable, perpetually broken equilibrium which he perpetually reestablishes by a light movement of the arm and hand. All his behavior seems to us a game. He applies himself to chaining his movements as if they were mechanisms, the one regulating the other; his gestures and even his voice seem to be mechanisms; he gives himself the quickness and pitiless rapidity of things. He is playing, he is amusing himself. But what is he playing? We need to watch long before we can explain it: he is playing at being a waiter in a café. (Sartre
2018, p. 49)
This example contains much of the features of Bad Faith: first of all, it is the self-delusional belief that the agents have of not being in full control of their choices and behaviors (and so, their identity) (Tartaglia
2012). The person in the example plays at being a waiter because it does not recognize this role as something that he chose. Since agents believe they have no control over their decisions, actions, and so on, they only accept partial descriptions of their identity, while relegating other parts to “roles” that they need to play (in almost the same way that the actor we mentioned before performed their role).
Second, Bad Faith implies a problematic relationship between agents (Webber
2011). Bad Faith’s condition arises when agents want to avoid deeply troubling feelings as shame and anxiety that derive from both the confrontation and connection to others.
Third, notwithstanding the derivative nature of Bad Faith to self-others relationships, it is described first and foremost as a self-deceiving state, not as a deception of others (Flynn
2013). The waiter deceives himself in thinking that his job is just something that he can role-play and, by doing so, he also deceive his costumers in thinking they have a sensible and responsible waiter.
Forth, the self-deceiving aspect of Bad Faith has an impact on the sense of responsibility they have for their actions (Magnani
2007; Webber
2011). If they considers some roles as externally or contextually imposed on them, they do not free to do something else and so they believe they cannot be held responsible for what they do when they are “role-playing.” The loss of responsibility is just felt in their first-person perspective, though: they are actually responsible for their actions, choices, and behaviors, but the self-deception does not make them acknowledge it.
Considering what we presented of Bad Faith so far, we could connect the subject in various ways to the topic of identity in online communities. The first and most obvious connection that we should note is that, in comparison to the offline world, online communities provide an environment in which agents can hide some data about themselves while highlighting others with ease. So, in a way, people feel they have more control over their image online. Of course, this is also an illusion, since privacy issues, filtering algorithms, and cyberbullying are phenomena that compromise agents’ control of their online experience and are renown inside and outside the academic community. Still, the impression counts: if people feel more in control, they also think they have more freedom of expressing themselves. Hence that gives them the means to embrace the identity expressed online without issues. This almost causal connection between feeling of being in control, freedom of expression and identity, would also imply that a sense of responsibility needs to be associated with online identities, so warding off the possibility of being in Bad Faith in an online community.
The last consideration may be too hasty: after all, online profiles are selective, and the selection of information people share about themselves depends on two factors: (1) what online communities allow agents to share; (2) what people do want to share, and what slips out from their experience online and their contacts. Hence, they can express parts of their identity and not other parts, minimizing their anxiety and or shame. To make an example, we can quote a highly realistic case analyzed by Rodogno (
2012), (p. 312).
Consider this case. After a long day at work, our repairman, Sam, goes home. Sam is single and is quite unhappy about that. He thinks that dating Websites may help him find a stable companion. [...] As he does so, he is asked to fill in the usual obligatory fields: name, sex, age, sexual preference, profession, and marital status. Sam is quite annoyed at his having to fill out one of these entries, namely, the one stating his current profession. According to him, the information required must be relevant to his real identity, to what he is really about, so that only the right kind of potential partners are matched to his profile. He thinks that being a repairman does not even begin to afford any useful information about him. [...] In fact, he believes that this kind of information is simply misleading in this context; it would convey the wrong kind of ideas about him. Sam has worked as a repairman only for the last few weeks and sees this occupation only as a temporary way to pay the bills. Sam is a violinist: being first violin in a symphonic orchestra is what he cares about. Since early childhood, he has dedicated much of his life to studying music and playing the violin. The financial crisis is hitting hard, however, and there are no prospects for a job in this line of work for at least some time.
This quote feels strangely similar to the waitress’s example that Sartre brought about when discussing Bad Faith. Sartre explained how the waiter, too, recognizes a part of his identity as more important than others, and he adjusted his behavior, living a half-chosen life by being in Bad Faith. Of course, though, there is an important feature to add that discriminates between Sartre’s case and Rodogno’s one: in the latter, no one should doubt the efforts that Sam puts into his work as a repairman. The scenario does not tell us that Sam feels ashamed nor anxious about his work as a repairman. He does not “play” at being a repairman. He prefers to share that he is a violinist in this framework, because, as argued before, online communities revolve around attachments, which are highly subjective and may change in time and context. Looking closely at this scene, we cannot see any sign of the loss of responsibility that the Bad Faith brings, nor does it imply that Sam feels forced to work as a repairman. He understands that type of work as a temporary way to pay the bills, but it is not enough to label him as in Bad Faith.
As we can see, so, the topic of Bad Faith in online communities is more hard to find in online environments than when we approach offline situations. The only cases so far analyzed in which the extension of people’s identity in online communities brings detrimental effects on their moral behavior is the catfishing example. Nevertheless, does that case count as bad Faith?
People who create fake personal accounts do not usually deny the control or freedom they feel about their identity. They do not make it to lessen their sense of anguish, anxiety, nor shame, but for curiosity, personal gain, or to experiment with different perspectives. They do not even loose sense of responsibility regarding their offline identity since they also feel responsible for the identities they made up (Hartney
2018). Thus, even if it is a problematic ethical condition for the agents that involves an apparent rupture in their identity, it cannot be labeled as Bad Faith.
We can take as an example of Bad Faith a particular phenomenon that emerged in recent years and attracted attention both from the academic community and the mass media: people who participate to self-harm online communities. These communities promote various kind of self-harming habit (from anorexia (Norris et al.
2006), to bulimia (Borzekowski et al.
2003), to self-cutting (Zinoviev et al.
2016), etc.) and they are of high interest when discussing matters of identity due to their (alleged) premises and the reason why they have members. The premises of these communities is to grant a haven for likeminded people who cannot express their true intentions, feelings, and beliefs in the offline world (Norris et al.
2006; Borzekowski et al.
2003). The reason why they have members is that this premise is very appealing for some: which means that certain people feel that the offline domain is not a safe place for them to express themself and they ease the feeling of being stuck there, by participating in these communities (as reported by Ferreday (
2003)). Moreover, some reports (Gailey
2009) show that people who participate in these frameworks struggle with feelings of loss of control. They participate to these communities because they feel they can resume control, at least in the offline dimension. We can say that their involvement in self-harming communities is similar to the actions people in Bad Faith do in order to distract themselves from the roles they feel imposed to them (as the person who role-play the waiter). If we add that anorexia, bulimia, and similar self-harming habits arise and are often in conjunction with anxiety, shame, anguish, the similarity to a case of Bad Faith is even more prominent (Boero and Pascoe
2012; Brotsky and Giles
2007).
In any case, we can sum up the perilous aspect of this phenomenon by reflecting on the asymmetry that it creates between these agents’ relationships with online and offline domains. We do not argue that these online communities create disruption or discontinuity between online and offline dimension: on the contrary, while in standard cases the offline world is reflected on the online (so the former is in a way dominant on the latter), we argue that in these cases the trend is reversed. In a nutshell, since Bad Faith and the participation to self-harming communities compromise the sense of responsibility the agents feel concerning the offline dimension, the online world is the part of their connections that they value more. In the first section, we highlighted the significant differences between online and offline domains, and we argued that an asymmetry of contents resides in the fact that agents share, online, various materials belonging to the offline domain. The online world is a place for the extension and the support of people’s cognitive and social attachments: in the self-harm communities, the relation goes in the opposite direction. If these communities let the agents express the part of identity they recognize as authentic, then their offline dimension can be neglected, and they can lose a sense of accountability for it (Boero and Pascoe
2012). In this case, indeed, the online reality does not simply provide an extension for people’s identities and attachments, but it furnishes ways to replace them (Zinoviev et al.
2016).
Thus, if it is reasonable to see Bad Faith as a rare phenomenon in online communities, it can lead to seriously problematic circumstances when it reverse the asymmetry between online and offline domains in the first-person perspective of the agents.