Filtered lives
The world according to the ’Gram
There it is. Another consolatory email. ‘‘Dear Mr Martin, we regret to inform you that . . . ’’ My mind jumps a few steps forward. The chain of falling dominos begins to race. Can this be salvaged? Shall we just kick off the seven stages of grief again?
Damn these (completely necessary) travel restrictions! You can’t escape the headlines, the stern world leaders, the death toll, the stock market plunges – all of which make my tattered travel dreams all seem inconsequential.
But if looking for solace, if searching for a pristine virus-free destination, such a parallel world is only a click away.
Instagram looks to have avoided the global pandemic altogether. The ski resort I was supposed to be headed to this week in Austria has been closed for days, and hotels were forced to cancel reservations en masse. My long-planned Easter feast in Tuscany, too, has turned to mush.
But in the saccharine, over-glossed world of Instagram, skiers still sashay down the slopes, apres-parties are in full throttle, antique Fiat 500s from Florence coast down Tuscan country lanes, Aperol overload is still the order of the day.
In this digital-only existence of Photoshopped ads-as-content and hashtags over harsh truths, there doesn’t seem to be a lot from the World Health Organisation, hand-washing tips, or threat levels. Heck, a scroll through my newsfeed is simply a list of beautiful, but in reality now cordoned-off, destinations.
Not that you see the closed and guarded borders, New York City in lockdown, or the empty restaurants and piazzas of Europe, which only weeks ago were teaming with life. Pics of home show the usual Roy’s Peak, secluded beaches and Hobbiton sets. ‘‘Come now,’’ they say, with no mention of that pesky 14-day self-isolation period.
Instagram seems to be a stream of ‘‘before’’ photos and very few ‘‘after’’ ones. The jolt of a world crisis has laid bare just how stark the difference is between the world of travel on social media and in reality. And that’s troubling for the travel industry and the traveller, both of which rely on social media and, in particular, Instagram, to promote, educate, advertise, and share news.
Whereas traditional media in times of crisis can be relied on to uphold its virtues as ‘‘the fourth estate’’, delivering fast and accurate reporting, this newer platform of one billion users skews towards its natural bias of advertising people, places and products in their best possible light.
Escapism, wistful wanderlust and mindless scrolling obviously have their place, but in the wake of a global pandemic – and with individual travellers and the travel industry facing eyewatering bills because of it – this so-called ‘‘new media platform’’ couldn’t look more out-of-touch.