Death by selfie: Living for the photo instead of for the moment
Last year, more people died while taking selfies than while being attacked by sharks.
In a far-from-scientific study, Mashable and several newsrooms put the death-by-selfie count at 12, compared to death-by-shark at eight. Others counted 27 selfie-related fatalities last year, making us wonder whether the question should be not “Is it safe to go in the water?” but “Is it safe to strike a pose?”
Of course, it’s not the selfie itself that is dangerous; it is the shooter’s lack of attention to, say, the edge of a cliff or live electrical wires. Or, it is their foolhardy quests to pose before fast-approaching trains and raging bulls.
Somehow, our enthusiasm to document moments of our lives is, increasingly, costing lives. Somehow, the goal has become recording the experience and sharing proof with our friends, rather than to simply live through the experience itself.
We are part of a culture in which celebrities complain they don’t meet fans anymore, they meet iPhones; a trip to a Major League ballpark is not a chance to watch a game, but to make duck faces while posing with churros; and beachgoers are so excited to find a baby dolphin they end up killing the creature while passing it around for photos.
As aptly described by Dr. Linda A. Henkel, professor of psychology at Fairfield University in Fairfield, Ct., we have outsourced our memories to our cameras. Why bother to absorb the wonder of a moment when we could instead just hit the button on our smartphone?
As a parent, I know that we can be some of the worst offenders. Whether it’s a baby’s first taste of broccoli or our kid’s last time at bat, we are moved to record the moment in digital memory.
And therein lies the loss. When we turn the moment into a photo opportunity, we miss the chance to record the moment into our souls.
“As soon as you hit click on that camera, it’s as if … you’ve said to your brain, ‘You know what? You don’t have to process any more information ’cause the camera’s going to remember for me.’ ” Henkel told NPR host Robert Siegel. “So, any time we kind of count on these external memory devices, we’re taking away from the kind of mental cognitive processing that might help us actually remember that stuff on our own.”
Henkel conducted an interesting experiment: She asked a group of people to visit a museum, with some of them using smartphones to record what they saw. She found that when people were asked later to recall what they had seen, their memories were weakened by having used the cameras.
“When people rely on technology to remember for them – counting on the camera to record the event and thus not needing to attend to it fully themselves – it can have a negative impact on how well they remember their experiences,” she explained to Psychological Science.
This all came to mind this past weekend while I helped my 9-year-old prepare for his Little League evaluation. This was a big deal for me. After years of moving around, with little time to settle into a place, we finally are in a community where I can promise we’ll be around long enough for them to become part of a team. For my baseball-loving dad, this is the first time he’s able to see one of his grandsons put on a glove.
My dad came up to Merced to be there as Matthew put on his first pair of cleats and his new Dodgers cap. Before heading out to the field, I had them pose for one photo, and realized that I barely had enough space in my phone’s memory to record the one image.
Matthew and I arrived at the Hoover Middle School parking lot, where dozens of boys and coaches were throwing balls and getting ready for springtime. As Matthew took his place in line, I thought I should clear space on my phone to record a video of his first time out. But, before I knew it, his number was called and out he went. All I could do was put the phone back in my bag and watch.
Mind you, Matthew has never thrown a baseball in his life. But, even so, he hustled. With the new glove on his hand, he kept his eye on the ball and moved forward to catch the grounders coming his way. He stretched up like a cat and jumped for the high ones. He imitated the coach’s moves and arced his arm around to cast the ball across the asphalt.
The sound of balls hitting leather; the crowd of moms catching up on winter’s news; the line of boys checking each other out with all the nervousness and excitement of new beginnings. Having no camera ready to record it, I stood there mustering all the focus and attention I could.
As rain clouds grew darker, my boy caught and threw. Then, it was done. I know that the flashing breath of Matthew’s first baseball experience is something I now have stored to deep memory, my memory.
And, there is no photo to share with you. You just had to be there.
Michelle Morgante: 209-385-2456, mmorgante@mercedsunstar.com
This story was originally published March 8, 2016 at 6:28 PM with the headline "Death by selfie: Living for the photo instead of for the moment."