Sandra Moyano Ariza: "There is nostalgia for a pure love"

She is the first person in her family to attend university. She graduated in English Philology and became interested in surveillance studies in modern literature. A Fulbright scholarship brought her to the United States in 2014. She currently teaches at Barnard College, Columbia University, a center for gender studies. Her thesis is titled: Algorithmic love, reorganization of romantic love.

Love and algorithms. Why did you find them interesting?

— I noticed a lot of nostalgia for a love from another era, and also a paternalistic discourse about technology that grated on me, but I didn't know why. I wanted to understand the melancholy and be able to critique technology from a place of understanding. Why do we criticize technology without being able to let go of it? And love was a good way to approach all of this.

What are we nostalgic about?

— From a world that was once more stable. But to understand why this happens, we must understand the fundamental changes that occurred at the turn of the century (from the 19th to the 20th) and that developed modern subjectivity, which implies an interiority.

Interiority…

— You have to know yourself, know what you want, have self-esteem. And this happens at a time when the structures that were once strong and marked the way—church, family, class—are weakening. And this makes seeking love a way of exercising freedom.

Because?

— Because you can choose who you want. And at the same time, a capitalism is developing that conditions the way we relate to each other, because it regulates time outside of work. You have the entertainment industry, fashion, film, makeup... All of this accelerates individuality. And finally, we have technology, which had developed thanks to wars, but which reaches the individual. And postmodern nostalgia begins.

What do we miss?

— That belief that there was a stable love, and a love that was created by magic, that was purer and lasted a lifetime.

Was this what love was like?

— This is the question: has it ever been? Marriage could indeed provide stability, especially financial, for women. But this cannot be confused with the happiness of love. I believe that love has always been something difficult.

But if we have all these mechanisms that should make it easier, why do we say it's difficult?

— It's the paradox of love or freedom. You have the freedom to love whomever you want, but at the same time, there's an imposition, an individual responsibility to do so. And you have technology that does it for you. And how many things can the app offer you?

So we have the feeling that nothing is enough?

— Before, you might have also said: I don't like that that much, but I don't have much of an alternative. Now there are apps that give you the illusion of an alternative.

Do apps change love?

— Yes, algorithms change love. There are theorists who say that technology has corrupted that pure love that seemed magical and easy. And others of us think that what's happened is that processes that were already happening have intensified. There are behaviors we encounter every day in the real world, like sexism, and that's inherited from technology. It was important for me not to fall into the idea that "technology controls us," and I also don't believe in the idea that "technology is the tool and how you use it matters."

What do you think?

— There's a co-production between technology and human beings. Before, we didn't live all day in an app, and this changes us all, whether we're on dating apps or not. The algorithm has been able to monetize the initial phase of dating, but what it intercepts is the desire to find someone. And this search, this endless options, affects us; you don't have to be on Tinder to reap its consequences.

What could be the consequences?

— The emotional distance Eva Illouz talks about: creating distance, the fear of commitment, the idea of cultivating yourself first...

Is fear of commitment a consequence of apps?

— It could be a fear of commitment or a reaction to the emotional drain that all this entails. Individuality exacerbates the need to be seen. This has always been the case: we need to be perceived and important to others. And the digital revolution has made it even more so, and we turn to apps to find out.likesBut let's look for something more, let's look for meaningful relationships. So maybe it's not just fear, but also a reaction to the weariness of being there constantly.

Are apps superficial?

— It's interesting that people see algorithmic love as just consuming bodies and being casual, but younger generations, and since the 1960s, we've had less sex. We've had less sex. So there's a cultural discourse that tells us this is very superficial, data that indicates there's less sex, and a society that's worn out and disappointed with love. All of this is real. What do apps give us to keep us there?

What do they give us?

— A companionship, even if it may seem fake. There are also people who felt lonely before social media existed, and now they've found a digital community. And I think we need to understand all of these things, now more than ever.

Why more than ever?

— Because the right, in the midst of the reactionary turn we are in, is using this technology to generalize discourses. This can be seen, for example, in the case of the tradwifesIn a time of misery and unrest, where there's so much pressure to make decisions, it's good to have someone tell you how to make no decisions at all.

Do we like not deciding?

— If you're trying to find a job, paying for a house, or looking for love, there's an emotional drain. That's why the idea of not deciding can be seductive.

Where does wear and tear come from?

— We're hypermedia, and that kills any butterfly. Fifty years ago, when you liked someone, it dragged on. Today, everything speeds up. On top of that, the narrative is to make an effort, use apps, go to the gym, etc. Capitalism is capable of selling love as an equation, and it isn't.