“We met on Tinder” is a frequently repeated phrase today when we talk with friends about encounters or sexual relationships. And I believed it, which is why about a month or two ago I tried to install various dating apps, trying to find a balance between apathy and hope. But now that I’ve read one of my pending books, ‘The algorithm of love’, by Judith Duportail (Contra, 2019), I will only be able to answer everyone who tells me the sentence that heads the article: “You haven’t met, Tinder wanted you to meet & rdquor ;.
We live in a time when we choose little, the digital has flooded our lives through personalized ads and generation of leftover needs. Our lifestyles depend on one of the most perfect dictatorships in the world: algorithms. Y sexual-affective relationships are not saved.
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Reading Duportail I realize that the seriousness of these applications is not only find some emotional indigence or sore egos camouflaged with perfect photos, it is all the machinery that supports them. When we give away our data, our time and our money (with the various payment options they offer), we do not imagine that there is a whole gear to decide how and to whom we wish. And how do they do it? They create scores that place us in a ‘ranking’ of desirability based on visual and, above all, demographic data, which do not respond to our interests, but to the interests of the prevailing system and of the companies themselves. Some companies that have increased their turnover by 50% during the pandemic, by the way.
With such a scenario, It is not strange that sociologists like Eva Illouz speak of the end of love. What is strange and worrying is that ontological insecurity and uncertainty lead us to participate in these formats and not to generate alternatives that provide us with real well-being. And I, what do you want me to tell you, I think that If someone has to choose for me, let them be my friends. Uninstalled apps and send article.
Reference-www.elperiodico.com