Kafka’s Hunger Artist
Franz Kafka, in his “A Hunger Artist,” narrates the story of an artist struggling to keep his art alive and relevant in a marketplace of changing and evolving trends. The artist makes a spectacle of his suffering; he fasts for long periods and considers that he could fast even longer. The impresario, his manager, never allows him to fast more than 40 days because he understands how public interest starts dwindling once the forty-day mark is reached.
So, the hunger artist, after every forty days, is unwillingly dragged out of his cage and forced to end his fast in an elaborate ceremony for the entertainment of spectators. Slowly, the public interest in his art wanes; the skepticism over the validity of his fast that once irked him was what he now wanted the most.
The artist is forced to join the circus, as he was no longer capable of holding an audience’s attention on his own. Consequently, he places himself among the animals in the menagerie, which was the newest and trendiest source of entertainment. The artist eventually finds himself replaced by a panther, and he, along with his art, fades into oblivion. Sounds familiar?
Fame and Alienation in the Digital Age
The alienation of the artist and the eventual loss of public interest in his art are things all of us have felt. The virtual world of social media allows us to carefully curate our digital lives, providing us with a semblance of control over what aspects of our lives we expose to others, which we otherwise lack in reality.
Social media is the modern marketplace where all of us race against each other to go viral to have more likes, comments, and shares. Increased visibility, like in the case of the hunger artist, however, does not ensure that the spectators understand your feelings or care about your problems.
We see celebrities and influencers share every moment of their lives with us, but the moment they use the same platform to voice their mental health struggles, because of the callousness exhibited by the predators, the impresarios of the digital world, we turn distant, and we question the authenticity of their tears as they record them. In recent years, several celebrities have come forth, deactivating their accounts, citing mental struggles they face as a result of the toxicity of the online audience.
These people are bullied and harassed for being their true selves and not catering to what the majority considers acceptable. The modern man is alienated in a world that has increasingly become digital. As we struggle to remain visible in a world operated by a capricious master, the algorithm, we lose a sense of reality. Even others’ pain becomes a sight of enjoyment for us.
When personal and private videos get leaked, we rush to share links. We revel in others’ pain and discard their feelings as inauthentic. If you are out of sight, then you are out of mind. The same people who once raised you to the top of trending lists hold the power to drag you down. Every action, every word is scrutinized by millions, and when found at fault, you are held guilty without trial.
A couple of years ago, a sexually explicit video was leaked, allegedly of an influencer. Everyone online bandwagoned against the influencer; they called her names and dragged her down from the pedestal they placed her on and when it was finally revealed that it was in fact not her video, no apologies were issued. Instead, everyone got collective amnesia and moved on like we always do.
Social media gives a twisted sense of power to those who lack it otherwise in reality. The power to distort truth, the power to hurt others, and malign their characters with impunity. This unchecked power is what has made social media a toxic place for those unwilling to conform to standards imposed by this digital society.
Relevancy and Hate
Like Kafka’s artist, we too seek validation from others on social media. We, too, starve not for food but for attention and validation. How many times were we retweeted? Was the latest reel I posted funny? Did it gain enough traction? Was the political stance I took correct enough? Was the occasional activism online authentic enough? These questions plague our minds.
To be recognized, admired, and loved by the nameless and faceless online has left a gaping hole in us, which widens the closer we get to satiating this driving need for validation. We obsess over our image online and police others for their actions. Those who appear unorthodox or are unwilling to put up facades are shunned, bullied, and harassed.
So, we fool ourselves into creating elaborate facades, hiding our true selves under this disguise, forced to live out the rest of our lives in fear of being stripped of it. Every post, every picture, and every caption is thought out and planned. Every action is a deliberate one until the curtain falls and we question what reality is.
Social media requires constant visibility. To remain relevant, each trend needs to be closely followed, ensuring you stand out in the herd. But just like the artist replaced by the panther, algorithms also force what was once a spectacle into obsolescence. You remain the center of attention as long as the public deems it fit, but one wrong move and you’re forced into the periphery.
Take, for example, celebrities and influencers who remain the apple of our eyes until they make one wrong mistake, such as tweeting in favor of another country or dressing a bit too scandalously. It’s not just the algorithm but also the short attention spans and hunger for new sources of entertainment that force artists into obscurity. If you don’t use that one trendy song, your art won’t reach the masses and instead will be buried under the pile of moribund trends.
To stay relevant is to remain visible. And to remain visible is to be judged and scrutinized by thousands of unfeeling individuals, the morality police, who disguise insecurities and hatred as pretenses of concern for society. The anonymity social media offers has made us bold in our hatred, our contempt, and our envy towards those better off than us.
The Morality Police
The hunger artist exists in us all who seek recognition of a callous audience whose interest is contingent on what the majority likes. Social media has become an increasingly toxic place; the anonymity it offers has allowed for hatred and contempt to grow under the guise of moral policing. Today, what unites people online is not issues that impact our reality but the one scandalous action of an influencer or that one reel we deemed cringe.
We ride the bandwagon of hate, fearful of questioning those who lead it. To stand against the majority is to run at the risk of being shunned; to call out the bullying of minors is to be too liberal. Correcting misinformation makes you a heretic. Social media has made us slaves of validation, nameless sheep in herds guided by the fear of oblivion in wolves’ skin.
The hunger artist failed not because he lacked talent but because he failed to satiate the public appetite that constantly sought variety in their food. Social media has made performance constant; we collectively don garbs of moral superiority, put on display our lives and let the audience dictate how the play runs. We must ask ourselves: Is this how we wish to continue?
To constantly judge others and ridicule them simply because they decided to make their lives public? Do we as spectators dictate what goes on the digital stage, or do we applaud the artists for their work and effort? Let us not become a society that feeds on the pain and misery of others; instead, let’s create an online space that is inclusive and tolerant of differences.
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