Hannah Mepham (she/her)
In this age of infinite stimulation, are we ever stopping to smell the roses or are we too busy running to the next garden?
Textile workers once went on strike after their pay was cut by 32 cents – the equivalent of 3 weeks’ bread. In amongst the crowd was a young woman holding a banner reading ‘Bread for All, and Roses too’. Her message made this strike legendary. “Bread” represented the very basics – shelter and safety. In contrast, the “Roses” were ‘music, education, nature and books’, or what we might today call leisure and culture. The phrase was cemented in James Oppenheim’s poem and later in song by Caroline Kohlsaat. Bread and Roses was sung on picket lines not too far away from here during the UK Miners’ Strikes of 1984-85. The idea that the inessential is actually central highlights how our bodies and minds are not just destined to work for the capitalist machine. The body then becomes a tool for pleasure, as opposed to simply a tool for profit. Conceptions of leisure are shifting – is the threat of the algorithm one we can overcome?
I recently read Michelle Tea’s Valencia, which explores the 1990s San Francisco dyke scene and the hedonistic, beer-sticky hook-ups and chaos that it entails. Despite the stories of the kinky underbelly that Tea revels in telling, I was most struck by her descriptions of boredom and the emptiness in between the dopamine-filled sexual experiences and drug-induced highs. We exist now in a world where there is a constant stream of dopamine available to us at all times. Much of the work of existing has been streamlined. We can order food with the touch of a button. We can get AI to write our grocery lists. We can communicate seamlessly with anyone in the world at any time. We can live without a drop of boredom, but is this bringing us more joy or more pleasure? In this age of infinite stimulation, are we ever stopping to smell the roses or are we too busy running to the next garden? I delete TikTok but my finger looks for it unconsciously on my screen. Even when I satiate myself with hours of scrolling, I am never full. But perhaps more importantly, it does not bring me pleasure, even with all my dopamine receptors gasping for air. It seems we have entered an age where the options of roses are endless, so we must be much more intentional about the pleasures we choose.
Not only must we be intentional with the pleasure we seek and choose, we must also seek and experience joy for joy’s sake alone. Social media doesn’t only provide us with constant dopamine, but the algorithm also demands of us an endless, unrelenting performance. Are we dermaplaned enough? Are we palatable enough? Are we enthusiastic at all times? If that isn’t enough, in this period of rising costs, we feel more and more inclined to monetise every aspect of our lives. But can a hobby really be just that if it’s also a job? And can anything we do for profit bring us genuine pleasure? I don’t have a definitive answer, but it does feel true that joy-for-contents- sake becomes complex. It seems important here to distinguish between content and art. The act of translating your inner world into this external reality will always be an, if not pleasurable, at least gratifying experience. It is when that translation becomes monetizable that we must consider whether it still brings us joy. Greek economist Yanis Varoufakis describes this monetisation of our lives through the content we circulate to the “technofeudalism” of centuries past. When we post, like, share, and comment, we teach an algorithm that makes big money for a select few billionaires. While it is possible to make small sums off sharing our lives, hearts, and sexcapades, we remain mostly unremunerated for our hard work, while tech bros grow ever richer and more powerful. They’ve even made it to the White House. So maybe next time you see the roses, keep the pleasure for yourself, and not some Silicon Valley executive’s wallet.
In the same way that Todd and the strikers argued for ownership over their bodies as a vehicle for pleasure rather than profit, we too must protect our joy for ourselves and not just for profit-run algorithms of the world’s wealthiest. Maybe that looks like consuming and making more physical media or learning a new skill for yourself and not to sell something, hosting a dinner party, and collaging all the photos on your bedroom wall. So, here’s to stepping away from our phones, stopping, smelling the roses – and not posting anything about it.
