"What hath God wrought?" These first words, sent via electric telegraph in 1844, now seem almost eerily predictive. The communication technologies that followed – the telephone, radio, television, computers, the internet, smartphones, and social media – haven't just connected us; they've fundamentally reshaped the very fabric of our existence. While these tools represent incredible human achievement, bringing unprecedented ease to communication, they carry a shadow. Governments and corporations gain new powers to track us, established institutions like media and education are shaken, and while knowledge is democratized, so too are manipulation, censorship, and propaganda. These technologies offer new avenues for work, learning, and fun, yet they also fuel addiction, anxiety, and can strain our closest relationships.

Perhaps one of the most profound shifts is happening within us, altering how we answer the fundamental question: "Who am I?" Our answer, the story we tell ourselves about ourselves, forms our self-concept. This inner compass guides how we face challenges, what we believe we can achieve, how we connect with others, what we hold dear, and even how we perceive reality. As psychologist Michael Mahoney suggested, our view of ourselves acts like a lens, shaping and coloring everything we see and experience. A society's health mirrors the self-concepts of its people. A population plagued by weak self-worth, fear of change, helplessness, anxiety, or self-hatred inevitably creates a troubled society. As Nietzsche observed, contentment with oneself is crucial; dissatisfaction breeds resentment, turning others into targets.

Shifting Foundations: From Fixed Roles to Finding Yourself

Our self-concept isn't static; it evolves through upbringing, education, biology, environment, and relationships. But a key influence is how society, at large, understands identity formation.

Generations ago, Sincerity was paramount. Identity wasn't so much chosen as inherited. You were born into a family, a social class, perhaps a trade, a religion, an ethnicity. Your identity was defined by how well and sincerely you fulfilled these predetermined social roles. Your audience was your family and immediate community, judging your performance within these expected boundaries.

Over the 19th and 20th centuries, particularly in Western societies, greater social mobility and opportunity began to loosen the grip of these fixed roles. Class, gender, religion, and ethnicity became less defining. A new ideal emerged: Authenticity. The focus shifted inward. Identity became something to be discovered, realized, or even created by the individual. This was liberating for many, unlocking potentials suppressed by rigid social expectations. For others, it felt like a burden – the freedom to define oneself came with the heavy responsibility for that creation.

Enter the Profile: A New Kind of Conformity?

With the explosion of social networks, something curious is happening. Many seem to be shifting towards a mode of identity formation that echoes sincerity, yet is distinctly modern. Hans Georg Moeller and Paul D'Ambrosio term this Profilicity – conformity, not to a social role, but to an online profile.

Like sincerity, profilicity is fundamentally oriented towards others; it thrives on audience reaction. But the audience is no longer just family and local community. It's potentially vast – hundreds, thousands, even millions of followers, friends, and strangers online. This digital audience doesn't just judge the performance; it actively shapes the roles we aim to play. We build our profiles through carefully selected photos and updates, or by observing and emulating the profiles of others. There's a constant feedback loop: we project idealized versions of ourselves online, then subtly adjust our real-life behavior to garner approval for that online persona. Eventually, the line between the real self and the digital profile can blur significantly.

The Hidden Costs of Online Conformity

This profile-driven identity formation has significant downsides.

Firstly, it fosters intense conformity. Success in the social media realm is often measured by likes, shares, and follower counts. To achieve these metrics, one often needs to align with prevailing trends and audience expectations. This pressure extends beyond pleasing followers; it involves conforming to the subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) standards embedded within the algorithms that govern these platforms, algorithms designed by tech companies often serving powerful interests. The constant visibility and judgment of the online crowd can push us towards collectively sanctioned opinions.

Secondly, striving to perfectly match an online profile can limit our potential. The generalized online audience, and the algorithms catering to them, often don't value depth, nuance, or genuine uniqueness. If we step too far outside accepted norms, express unconventional values, or simply appear "different," we risk being ignored, shamed, or ridiculed. Superficiality, appearance, and alignment with popular culture trends are often rewarded more than developing a well-rounded mind, a healthy body, or a truly fulfilling life. If we live in a society grappling with its own issues, these issues will inevitably be reflected in the preferences of the online masses. Seeking approval from such a crowd can inadvertently lead us towards an unhealthy self-concept. As Alexander Lowen wrote in "Fear of Life," when we abandon our true selves to play a role, we've already rejected ourselves, trapping us in a cycle of seeking external validation for a persona that leaves us feeling increasingly empty.

Thirdly, this identity mechanism fosters closed belief systems. A crucial part of building a successful online profile often involves demonstrating virtue and aligning with the moral stances popular within a specific online community. Unlike fleeting real-world actions or conversations, social media creates a permanent, public archive of our stated positions. Our expressed moral convictions follow us, displayed for all to see. Consequently, even when faced with contradictory facts or experiences, changing one's mind becomes difficult. Doing so feels like repudiating a core part of the carefully constructed online identity. As Moeller points out, identification with a particular viewpoint can become so central that individuals may subconsciously prefer news confirming their fears (e.g., about social problems), as it validates their identity as a defender of that cause. The desire to protect the viewpoint becomes indistinguishable from the desire to protect oneself. The pursuit of truth can take a backseat to identity maintenance.

This creates fertile ground for societal division, especially when considering that the algorithms shaping online discourse are often controlled by corporations and influenced by governmental or oligarchic interests. Many users may not realize that the "popular" moral or ethical positions they adopt online might actually align with agendas that don't serve the common good.

The influence runs deep. As we become increasingly enmeshed in these digital ecosystems, we risk creating a world resembling a panopticon – a prison where surveillance is constant, and we are simultaneously the watched and the watchers, shaping our behavior under the perceived gaze of the crowd.

References:

• Moeller, H. G., & D'Ambrosio, P. J. (2021). You and Your Profile: Identity After Authenticity. Columbia University Press.
  This book introduces the concept of "Profilicity" as a successor to sincerity and authenticity in the digital age. It explores how identity becomes tied to curated online profiles and the pressure to conform to gain visibility and validation within the network. It discusses the performative nature of online identity and its consequences for self-perception and social interaction (See Chapters 1-3 for core concepts).
• Lowen, A. (1985). Fear of Life. Bioenergetics Press.
  While not exclusively about digital technology, Lowen explores the psychological consequences of suppressing one's true self to adopt roles or images for acceptance. He discusses how this self-abandonment leads to anxiety, a feeling of emptiness, and a desperate striving for success in the adopted role, which ultimately distances the individual from genuine vitality and fulfillment (Relevant sections often appear in chapters discussing narcissism, roles, and the surrender of self, e.g., potentially Chapters 5, 7, 12, depending on the edition).