Techno-Social Experiences of Privacy and Intimacy in College Culture

Abstract

This work considers the contemporary intersections of intimacy, technology, and privacy among college students in the US. This article outlines a framework for shifting social meanings and theorizes some potential implications. This project includes data from two primary field sites, a private university in the northeast and a public college in the southeast. I used a combination of face-to-face interviews and online ethnographic data collection methods for this project. Findings from this study indicate that while the concepts of intimacy and privacy remain fundamentally important to participants, the definitions of such concepts and their relationship with one another are being changed by communication technologies. Increasingly, young adults are defining privacy as the experience of managing their digital identity and understanding intimacy as being potentially disconnected from shared exchanges of private information. However, these ideas are in transition, and still deeply contested by participants.

Introduction

In recent years, academic research and news media in the areas of privacy studies, have focused on claims that technological tools collect and manage data in ways that ostensibly violate privacy expectations and potentially damage relational intimacy (Osatuyi 2015). Yet, comparatively little consideration of the impacts that such tools have on the concepts of “privacy” and “intimacy” has emerged from this larger conversation about technological data management. Here I explore some of the implications of the emerging norms related to privacy and intimacy within a techno-social environment, among young adults.

Contemporary young adults exist in a world in which technological interventions into every aspect of personal and social lives are not only “normal” but are fundamentally unremarkable. This socially normative pattern of hyperconnectivity (Brubaker 2020; Osatuyi 2015) results in new and changing expectations about social life. The most intimate aspect of contemporary social life is increasingly rooted in a complex amalgamation of face-to-face interactions and digitally mediated communication technologies. Within this complex array, the concepts of privacy and intimacy, and the relationship between the two ideas have become a site of social contestation. Making sense of the two concepts, and their role in social interaction has become a site of tension between participants.

This work is situated at the intersections of symbolic interactionism, discourse analysis, and theorizations of media impacts on social environments (Blumer 1986; Foucault 1982; McLuhan 1967). This project focuses on the nature of intimacy, and physical or emotional intimacy in digital spaces. Specifically, I examine the nature of contemporary experiences situated at the intersections of intimacy, privacy, and technology among college students in the US. I begin by exploring how techno-social practices surrounding relationships are deeply connected with shifting meanings attached to the concept of privacy, which is shaped and reshaped by shifting narratives that define intimacy. I also suggest that while the concept of intimacy remains fundamentally important to participants, the concept is increasingly dependent on the techno-social discourse which has emerged to frame the experience of privacy among college students. Next, I address some of the shifting patterns of collective social experiences of intimacy, and the consequences of such experiences to the meanings attached to privacy, as well as the implications of such consequences to understandings of privacy and intimacy.

Intimacy and Privacy

Privacy as a conceptual starting point is “a concept in disarray,” (Solove 2010, 1). Contested and ambiguous, privacy is articulated as a set of contradictory, contextual, and inconsistent concepts across academic subfields, legislative bodies, and cultural contexts. Historically, attempts to define privacy have been hampered by issues of context, power, and social environment (McClintock 1995; Nissenbaum 2004; Solove 2010). The intervention of ever more complex technologies into the existing theoretical chaos of privacy has created even more ambiguities. However, I argue that through careful consideration of the implications of emerging narratives of privacy, intimacy, and lived experience, it is possible to develop a contextual, if contested, understanding of the concept within contemporary youth culture.

Further, a conceptual relationship between intimacy and privacy has long been made complex by an ever-shifting understanding of the socially normative definition of privacy articulated by Solove (2010). That said, we may be able to argue that privacy, however, contested, exists at the nexus of control over information about the self, access to an individual self, and intimate decision-making about actions by the individual self (Inness 1996). The experience of being in control of information about the self sits at the experiential and sociological definition of privacy. Thus, it is no surprise that technological intervention, which has so reshaped the spread and control of information, has also reshaped the discourse of privacy, and increasingly of intimacy as well (Dalessandro 2018). With the addition of renewed tensions driven by technological innovation in recent years, conceptual agreement about the boundaries and meanings of privacy is no settled thing (Marwick and Boyd 2014; Turkle 2016).

Intimacy, while also complex, has not been subject to the same levels of contestation as privacy, especially in the contemporary era. For some scholars, it has long been considered to be a matter of practicality, copresence, and geography (Buhrmester and Furman 1987; Moss and Schwebel 1993). Additionally, intimacy has been defined as being a condition of commitment, affective closeness, cognitive closeness, physical closeness, and/or mutuality (Moss and Schwebel 1993). Intimacy existed, in part, because of geographic closeness and day-to-day interaction. However, recent work suggests that the structure of communication technology allows for social integration, centralization, and shared imaginaries that foster a sense of group solidarity creating social intimacy, in part by collapsing imagined audiences and stripping away complex contexts (Marwick and Boyd 2014; Raacke and Bonds-Raacke 2015; Turkle 2016). Scholarship on shifting social practices has detailed how communication technologies are increasingly embedded in private and intimate life (Halberstam and Knight 2014; Masip, Suau-Martínez, and Ruiz-Caballero 2017). Some scholars have identified significant consequences to this including transformations in the experience of privacy and intimacy (Lambert 2013). The vast body of research in a variety of disciplines that makes up the collective knowledge on human connection demonstrates the importance of intimate relationships in the social world.

Within the social world, the importance of intimacy is immense. Intimacy has historically been constructed as being about the private, informal social experience of small groups (Valentine 2006). The idea of technology as a tool to create intimacy or, conversely, as a potential threat to intimacy, is a common theme in studies of techno-mediated relationality. It has been argued that the internet is a place where individuals are separated from the natural world, isolated from offline reality and their real and more genuine relationships (Birkerts 1994). Others have suggested that techno-mediated relationships, particularly romances, and sexual relationships, can be understood as artificial and inauthentic (Dalessandro 2018). The degree to which intimacy can be achieved is made more complex by this view of technology as a “distancing” force. Some research has claimed that technology may interfere with intimacy, while others have suggested that technology use has the opposite effect for some groups (Bradley and Poppen 2003). Other scholarship suggests that how technology uses impacts experience is based on the types of technologies involved, the emotional well-being of the individual, and a variety of other issues, calling into question the validity of negative perceptions of internet-mediated intimacy (Bazarova and Choi 2014; Dhir et al. 2018).

I utilize the work of Goffman and others to examine this issue. Historically, this important theoretical approach to understanding privacy situated within symbolic interactionism, suggests that interpersonal interactions are controlled by a series of social expectations about behavior that imply formal rules of the basic human interaction (Blumer 1986; Goffman 1959). Such rules might be the result of interactions between the self and social world in clearly defined public and private spaces (Goffman 1959; Rettie 2009). Goffman argues that public settings or “front stage” settings are areas in which the performance of social identity occurs; however, the scope and nature of audiences of such performances are shaped by boundary setting and access to information (Goffman 1959). If we accept this premise, then access to information and control of communication plays a central role in social interaction and meaning-making around core social concepts, including privacy and intimacy. This project seeks to contribute to this discussion by exploring how young adults understand and experience privacy and intimacy within a techno-mediated social world.

Methods

I began this project with the following research questions: How do young adults define and understand the concepts of privacy and intimacy, especially within social media environments? How do such understandings shape their perceptions and experiences of intimacy within those same contexts? What implications does this have for their perceptions and experiences of the relationship between privacy and intimacy within their own lives?

To answer these questions, I utilize a grounded theory approach to data collection (Glaser and Strauss 1967). I used a combination of face-to-face interviews and online ethnographic data collection methods for this project. This project includes data from two primary field sites, a private university in the northeast and a public college in the southeast. I collected data on 68 participants, between the ages of 18 and 24. The average age of my participants was 20 years old. 50% of the respondents were women, 46% were men, and two respondents were non-binary. No financial compensation for participants was provided; however, several professors at both colleges routinely offered “extra credit” for participation in faculty and student research projects as part of their course policies. I asked interviewees for recommendations of persons who might participate, at the end of the interviews, utilizing “snowball” methods to map the social terrain of the college community at both institutions.

Participants in the online observation portion of this research project were recruited from among interviewees. Each of the 23 individuals I followed on social media permitted an initial interview. I conducted fieldwork with participants via their preferred social media platforms for 3 months. I took extensive field notes and collected posts for analysis. I specifically do not quote searchable social media postings in this paper to avoid compromising the privacy of participants. I interviewed 68 students and engaged in ethnographic data collection with 23 student social media accounts. Questions were open-ended and encouraged participants to tell their own stories and express their meanings. To maintain confidentiality, all names used in this work are pseudonyms. The interviews were between about 45 and 90 minutes and 1 hour on average.

The online ethnography generated several hundred pages of postings and field notes. Interviews and field notes were then transcribed and coded, allowing trends and themes to emerge from the transcribed documents. Analysis was largely inductive, with findings and theories being developed after observation. While this data was informative, it was not comprehensive, as privacy settings available in social media limited my ability to view all of their postings and data. It is worth noting that while I was able to collect rich, in-depth data, it is not randomized nor is it generalizable. The student experiences I highlight reflected overall trends I was able to identify in the data, but as with any non-randomized ethnographic data, this work reflects only the contextual and located experiences of participants.

Results

Among my research participants, the meanings of privacy and intimacy, and the nature of the relationship between the two is a space of tension. Not only do participants demonstrate different, and at times contradictory, understandings of the concepts, but they also discuss how technology plays a role in individual uncertainties about the meaning and social norms. Here I discuss how meanings attached to intimacy and privacy have been shaped and reshaped by technological interventions, as articulated by participants. I also explore the implications of such conceptual reframing, which impacts experiences of intimacy and relationships among participants in this study.

Understanding Privacy

One important classical discourse of intimacy and privacy assumes that privacy is something that is experienced primarily by limiting or withholding information about the self and gives rise to specific spaces and forms of information that are by default, “private” (Solove 2010). Some participants believe only if they can withhold information about themselves completely, will they experience a sense of privacy. For others, a sense of privacy occurs when the individual can manage what information is displayed via social media, and the right to choose what information is presented, rather than by limiting information, even if that information is highly personal. This suggests that the way privacy is experienced and understood is nuanced by technology for my participants. For some participants, privacy may be possible, even if a large number of people have personal information about them, as long as they can choose what information is available and who sees it, at least to some degree.

On the surface, the nature of social media is such that personal information is made public, or at least available to social media corporations themselves. Yet social media also provides a means to limit that exposure in some ways, through privacy restrictions for example. This is something that influences how some participants perceive privacy. Below, Aiden outlines both his concerns and the realities of technological intervention into privacy and touches on the issue of choice and control of information.

There are the options to place your private information online on a site that you’re a member of. . . put personal and put personal information, maybe not listed—this is my name, this is my address, this is my phone number, you can call me up. Or maybe just end up talking about. . . you believe or reveal something about your personal self, and then people have access to it. But you can also just be searching sites, you don’t type in anything, and you can be clicking on stuff, but someone just tracks your click. It’s just. . . well, you opened an internet browser, so you’re kind of at fault if you want to blame anybody.

As Aiden explains, participants have a choice about some of the information they share, while other information is generated simply by internet use. So, technology users are faced with a choice, they may consider the rejection of social media altogether or they may accept that some information is going to be available to social media companies, peers, or other digital actors. This inevitability is the result of the nature of technology. To deal with this social conundrum, many redefine the idea of privacy itself, in the face of technologies that blur public and private boundaries and take control of information from individuals and place it in the hands of technological corporations. Aiden argues that engagement with technology is a choice, and he goes on to claim that privacy is about choosing to engage in data management rather than more traditional conceptual frameworks based on limiting certain forms of information within specific groups or spaces.

To understand the difference that Aiden is articulating it may be helpful to consider the difference between limitation and management. For Aiden and others, the limitation of data is concrete and specific. Limitation means that certain information is to be kept from public view. That this limitation then creates privacy. However, the management of data is about choice, the ability to selectively manage information and to thoughtfully and strategically reveal information digitally. That is, it is the ability to make a choice that is privacy, by definition. This is in some ways a radical departure in the definition. On one hand, privacy occurs as a result of an act, limitation of information. On the other, privacy occurs as an ability or action. In this context, the action rather than the result is understood to be privacy. This shift results in ambiguities and inconsistencies among participants who struggle to accept or reject or simply adapt to this new discourse.

Participants understand this specific definition of privacy within a framework that views technology as a tool to allow for the management of personal information, which is increasingly viewed as the primary form of privacy. This makes technological communication a central tool in the creation of privacy, through choice. Alexander is one of the most candid posters that I observed in my time online. He comfortably discussed his experience as a transman undergoing both hormonal and surgical transition. Detailing his experiences with medical practitioners as well as his feelings. He also went on to discuss in detail his feelings and experiences about the death of his father.

Today Alexander posted on his wall his feelings about the recent death of his father. There were many, many posts offering sympathy and support. His response might be summarized as a gentle thanks and an acknowledgment of his pain, followed by an “I couldn’t do it without you all.”

He discussed relationships with family members, romantic partners, and close friendships. For me, the most extraordinary thing about being connected with Alexander via social media is the degree to which he considers it a place for traditionally private communication. The candidness of his posts is unlike what most of the participants demonstrated and what other researchers have observed (Raynes-Goldie 2010; Turkle 2016). He regularly indicated his affection for individuals and his social media community as a whole, and in return, he is flooded with affection and support in turn. None of my other participants put so much of their lives on display, and no one else received the same level of positive reinforcement and support in return.

During and after the death of Alexander’s father, he shared personal discussions of his trauma with his social media community. Alexander shrugged off privacy concerns and stated,

I decide what is private in my life, I. . .decide what I want to post and what I don’t. . ..if I want to have a private relationship with 300 people at the same time, on social media, well that’s what I’ll do.

Alexander’s notion of having a private relationship with so many people demonstrates one of the key ideas presented by participants. Some traditional notions of privacy are rooted in social and cultural processes of Western worship of the individual (Putnam 2001; Solove 2010), as well as the ability to limit information about the self. Alexander suggests that his world is a much more community-based environment, in which things that were considered “private” in the recent past, such as medical care and sex, are not automatically private.

Furthermore, in our conversation, he rejects the notion that the limitation of information is characteristic of privacy, but instead argues that the strategic control and management of information is by his definition, privacy. The degree to which Alexander can control the access that others have to information about him is more relevant to him than the limitations of the information. Further, that he can choose to reveal personal information to “300 people” is an example of this evolving definition of privacy. In addition to this nuanced view of privacy, Alexander frequently blurs the boundaries between privacy and intimacy in our interviews. After I asked about his perceptions and feelings about privacy, Alexander noted that he doesn’t share his “private business” with the whole world, just with the people who support him “because, even if they don’t know me, well, they choose to follow me, so we are intimate and you know in a private relationship, in some ways.” This is just one example of how the discourse of privacy has moved away from being conceptualized as a static dichotomy of limitations, and toward a narrative of fluid and strategic management, rooted in technological tools that function as extensions of the senses to allow connection across distance (McLuhan 1967).

Many other respondents demonstrated a kind of tension or sense of ambiguity when trying to establish the meaning of privacy and its relationship to intimacy. When asked if social media specifically functions as a public or private place, Mia goes on to express confusion as she struggles to work through her feelings about the question.

Well, it depends on, your settings and everything, ’cause you can make it so that only your friends can see your account but then again, anyone that’s in your network. . . And anyone on that network can see parts of your page. But then there’s another setting where, friends of your friends can see your page. . . I don’t even know what mine’s set at, who knows who can see mine. but I know, some people I’m friends with them and I can’t even see all their stuff. So, it really depends on the settings you put up, I guess. Because you can make it, pretty private, I think. . . not completely, obviously. . . it’s on the internet, it’s not, but you can make it pretty private, I think. . ..except we’ll think about it as, a public space, for the most part. . .I am not sure.

This question and the struggle that Mia had in answering it is a reflection of the transition away from clearly articulated public/private boundaries to a more nuanced discourse rooted in perceptions of the individual’s ability to manage what information is presented, and in doing so build intimacy between individuals and within a community. As Ella explains,

See the thing is privacy. . .it’s not really about not having people finding out about you. . .it’s really about creating who you are. . .. Because online, the internet, a profile. . .it’s part of a person. And I have specifically chosen to do that. That’s how it’s private and it’s public. . .at the same time.

For something to be both public and private, at the same time, it’s necessary to embrace an understanding of the social world that rejects the binary notions of “separate spheres,” in essence to reject the public/private dichotomy, and with the focus on privacy as a limitation. Instead, Ella views privacy as the act of creating an identity through the management and control of information. She goes on to argue that we should understand privacy as being less about the limitation of information in favor of an understanding rooted in the experience of choice and management.

Yet, it’s important to understand that this discourse is still deeply contested. Participants grapple with complex ideas about privacy and intimacy. While some participants suggest that they experience privacy as a choice or as the ability and desire to manage their information, not everyone agrees. Some argue that the ability to engage in meaningful impression management is illusionary at best. That privacy is not an abstract experience of impression and information management, but instead a more concrete but less accessible experience in digital environments. As Tyler notes,

. . . it’s your private page, right, yes, you’re making it. . . is it. . . it’s public in the sense that a lot of people are seeing it. However, the people that are seeing it are your selected friends. So, it is a limited public space; but, you don’t know who’s on the laptop now, looking at that friend.

For Tyler and a minority of other respondents, privacy is still about limitation, mostly. Tyler discusses that the inability to limit the access of outside individuals to his information makes it a public space, by definition. Zoe agrees as she struggles to discuss how important it is to be aware that:

People have access to information about you. . . Just ’cause you’re putting it up and you’re assuming only your friends see it. But it’s so easy for other people to get on your account, or you know look at your friends’ phone and stuff. So it’s not private at all. Because it’s out there, where people can see it. Your friends or anyone really. So not private.”

Thus, ambiguity remains about the nature of what constitutes “privacy” itself and the degree to which such technology makes the concept increasingly nuanced.

As one participant, William, notes “I think the problem is, is that we are using older standards of public and private and personal and private to apply to a completely new form of communication.” William suggests that we are dealing with fundamentally new forms of communication within a networked society, and that has consequences. Within a technological framework, for some participants, the ability to control information about the self, and to gain information about others, shapes core concepts of sociality. The connection between privacy and intimacy is not new to the human experience. Privacy may today be more like the carefully curated world of the celebrity or the politician than the private citizen of the past. The contested, ambiguous, and transformative definition of privacy that we see emerging in contemporary culture has some significant implications in a variety of contexts, for sure. However, among my participants in this study, the most important implications of the changing nature of privacy were articulated concerning the creation and maintenance of intimacy within interpersonal relationships. The ambiguity about privacy and the role of technology in relationships emerged as being a central site of tension and contestation in the lives of my participants.

Intimacy and Relationships

Reframing privacy, though still contested, has implications in a variety of areas, including constructions of the self, social networks, mental health, and public policy (Dhir et al. 2018; Solove 2010). However, it is the emotional experience and meanings attached to intimacy, that emerged as the single most relevant issue related to privacy in this study. During the time that I observed participants, I was privy to a great deal of information that I perceived as personal or intimate, based on more traditional notions of privacy. I learned about romantic relationships, sexual behavior, family relationships, emotional crisis, personal pain, physical health, and more. Yet, I rarely found myself feeling as if my relationships with the participants were intimate. So, I too experienced this ambiguity about the relationship between the private and the intimate. For me, intimacy is a form of sociality that may be produced by the exchange of private information. Yet in this new environment, I have come across private information, willingly shared with me, but haven’t developed a sense of intimacy with the participants. To make sense of this ambiguity it is necessary to better understand the experience of intimacy within this population.

How individuals define privacy, and how they experience it as connected to intimacy is increasingly rooted in emerging technological experiences, in ways that my participants struggle to articulate fully. The ambiguities and inconsistencies presented in my interviews are often a reflection of the increasing ambiguities of social environments and digital life. Arguably these disruptions do allow for a deeper engagement with concepts of “front stage” and “backstage” identity (Goffman 1959, 1971), by demonstrating most effectively the concepts of control and boundary setting. The distinction between intimate and private backstage spaces and public front stage grows more indistinct, and difficult to explain. Instead, my participants rely on a complex understanding of related concepts such as intimacy, formality, and respect to make sense of their worlds.

Seeking a universal definition and description of intimacy is a challenge, for participants. First, it’s worth noting that study participants not only have an inability to but also a disinterest in, attempting to fit techno-social forms of interaction into traditional notions of intimate communication consistently, as Ruth explains:

Okay, text, is. . .less, it’s less formal and it’s less personal, like. . . right now, a girl in my class. . . let’s say we have a group project. We’ll give each other our numbers, and we’ll text each other. We won’t call each other, like, “Oh let’s meet here.” But we’ll most likely text. It’s kind of weird to talk. I feel like someone’s voice becomes. . . personal.

Techno-mediated relationships are “informal” but not “personal” while face-to-face discussions are both more formal and more personal. This argument, which appears again and again among participants, fundamentally challenges constructions of intimacy that rely on perceptions of private informality and physical co-presence. Certain modes of communication are understood to be more formal, in that they convey higher levels of social respect, and are socially normative in professional and traditional settings.

However, such modes also are experienced by younger participants as more intimate, in that they are reflective of emotional and cultural closeness, within the emerging privacy narrative. This understanding of intimacy runs counter to those who argue that only the ability to engage in informal and private interactions that are socially exclusive is an indicator of intimacy (Buhrmester and Furman 1987; Goffman 1959; Inness 1996). One participant, Kayla, has a possible explanation “talking to people on the phone is intimate, because it’s not behind the screen, it’s their real voice, its personal. But it’s formal because it is what older people do, what you do in business, at work, or with your grandma. It’s serious, not like texting, which kids do you know.” This suggests that generation and social status play a role in what forms of communication are seen as intimate, and what forms are seen as casual. This is an area of significant disagreement among participants, many of whom struggled with the concepts of private and intimate, formal and informal.

Texting is one form of communication that doesn’t fit neatly within traditional perceptions of intimate communication. With a few exceptions, participants note that they would not text a teacher or a boss because it might be seen as too informal, too private, and thus disrespectful. Anna agrees and explains,

I would never text someone I’ve met professionally, to say thank you or to have another meeting with them, like, “Oh do you want to grab lunch?” I would never text them. . . . I would always call, even though that is super intimate, but intimate is more serious, more formal, right? Texting is something you do in a private relationship if you are close, or [conversely] maybe a friend or classmate, someone you don’t know well.”

Although Anna would “never text” a professional contact, she goes on to note that she texts people she is very close to, or in a serious relationshp with, AND also texts people she knows only slightly. Despite a clear connection between privacy and intimacy that is located in previous cultural experiences of privacy, here we see some confusion. Further, the idea that texting is a way to engage in intimate communication is disrupted by the inclusion of texting as a way to communicate with people who are explicitly not intimate connections. Lisa shares Anna’s feelings but expands on the issue. She too outlines the relationship of text messaging in a relationship. She explains that she texts people she is either very close to or barely knows. Eva also agrees, explaining that it is something that can indicate either closeness or distance, depending on the situation, suggesting that the meanings of texting and phone calls are contextual. The way participants perceive texting depends on the relationship between participants. In some cases, texting is a casual and easy way of contact, and she texts, “. . . usually new people, like, in college,” after she meets them, rather than calling. However, texting is intimate and deeply private, as well. Eva goes on to explain,

If it’s a person whom you normally would carry on a conversation with, that’s a person whom you would just text. I text one of my closest friends a lot. And then, I text my boyfriend a lot, as well. Those are the main people I text every single day. But also, if you don’t know them, a conversation would be weird. Then you would text them too.

For most, texting is the preferred mode of contact for peers. So generational norms, and tension around shifting discourses of appropriate communication in relationship building undoubtedly play a powerful role here.

Telephone calls also highlight an inconsistency, in the emerging discourse of privacy and intimacy. Specifically, participants suggest that calling on the phone is a technology that is more formal, and more intimate, which seems to challenge traditional notions of intimacy based on informal and intimate communication. Phone conversations are seen as too intimate for casual associates and too formal to use for contact with those who are close unless it’s a special occasion. This pairing of strict non-intimate formality and intimacy disrupts the traditional narrative of intimacy, privacy, and informality. Eva points out, her use of the phone is limited to situations where she feels it’s necessary because of contemporary convention, like with professors or her boss. This she explains is because “I have to do what the adults expect, even if it’s weird or uncomfortable. . .” Otherwise, talking is limited to very intimate relationships in “special” circumstances. Eva highlights the contestation between narratives that prioritize face-to-face communication as inherently desirable in intimate and professional relationships and the emerging norm of techno-communication that is more deeply contextual for young adults.

For Olivia, phone communication is understood to be intensely private, and as a result deeply intimate. As she explains, “It’s kind of weird to talk. I feel like someone’s voice becomes. . . becomes personal. . . it’s private.” For Olivia, the voice is deeply personal, and the intimacy of phone conversations is something that she is not comfortable with. Despite the expectation that she uses the phone for communication with people in formal situations, Olivia acknowledges that it still feels “weird,” and she prefers to use email, as a more formal and distant communication style whenever possible in formal situations. For many participants, telephone use is deeply intimate and extremely formal at the same time. Like texting, this perception of what constitutes private communication appears to inject some ambiguity into social constructions of intimacy.

While most participants express discomfort at being expected to engage in face-to-face communication as the primary means to maintain status and create intimacy, not everyone agrees. Kacy explains that, for her, it is the very intimacy of the phone conversation that she most enjoys.

If you’re a friend, I call you, I like to hear your voice. It’s just that I’d rather do it in person, ’cause I don’t have a lot of personal contact with people. It’s just. . .their bodies [are] in my world during the daytime, so when I have the opportunity to actually interact with someone, in person, physically, in front of me, or talk to them, verbally, it’s an opportunity for me to get to know them.

Kacy claims that she is unique among her friends in that regard. She feels that texting and social media are incomplete forms of communication that just allow for distant contact. Kacy prefers rare but intense communication. For her peers, Kacy explains, texting and social media are ways to easily maintain intimacy with friends and contact with acquaintances. She fully acknowledges that the tools operate differently in different relationships at times “letting people stay close.” Yet, this is something that she is personally uninterested in because it is “too shallow, too casual.” Kacy argues that for her the technology is inadequate but for others allows them to build “real relationships.” Despite her feelings of uniqueness, Kacy is not totally alone in her feelings, as Mia too values the intense intimacy of voice communication.

I like to be able to talk to them directly and occasionally there will be an awkward silence. Online, you would put in a sarcastic comment, but you can’t even tell that it’s sarcastic, because it’s over the internet, you can’t hear the inflection of voices. You can’t hear laughter or something like that, so. . . it kind of stops the personal connection being made—you can’t feel the emotion, you just get the words.

Despite Mia and Kacy’s perceptions of difference, many participants in this study feel that they must go beyond technological communication and engage in multiple modalities to create intimacy. This strategy might include texting, social media, and face-to-face meetings. When pressed, participants largely rejected the idea that face-to-face communication is the primary means to create intimacy. Instead, they argue that intimacy, within this context, requires deliberate actions embedded in technological forms of communication to be established and maintained, through both public and private communication. One participant, Oscar, noted regarding dating that “relationships aren’t real till they are on social media, people have to know.”

No longer can interpersonal intimate relationships be limited to face-to-face interactions, rather the power of performance is extended onto a virtual “front stage,” with a much more expansive audience. This demonstrates a technological intervention into the social experience and strategies of impression management (Goffman 1959). Technology allows individuals to engage in interactions that focus on utilizing desirable representations to meet audience expectations (Baumeister and Hutton 1987), without having in-depth knowledge of the potential audience. This creates a kind of contextual collapse (Marwick and Boyd 2014), where the lines between audiences and the lines between front stage and backstage life blur and grow indistinct.

I acknowledge the contested, and troublesome nature of conceptual frameworks and emerging social norms, as illustrated by the diverse perspectives within my study, it is also important to reiterate the importance of technological intervention in forming intimate relationships among my participants. For some of my participants to reject technological tools in conducting relationships is deeply problematic. Participants largely report being unwilling to engage in social interactions via techno-mediated processes as a rejection of intimacy. As Walter explains, refusing to engage with others on social media sends a message about how they are valued.

. . . people really take it personally, though, if you don’t connect with them. Then they’re like, “Oh, OK, so, we’re not friends.” So, it’s just really. . . yes, it definitely makes for a different kind of friendship, but it totally matters because some people. . .it really hurts.

In the techno-social world, refusal of technological contact, even to prioritize face-to-face communication, sends a very strong message of rejection. Inaccessibility via texting or social media sends an even stronger message than inaccessibility in face-to-face communications, which is often explained away as “being too busy.” However, being busy doesn’t excuse technological absence at all. Rejection of technological communication is seen as an active rejection of the individual or group and an unwillingness to participate in the building of intimacy.

As Abby notes, her previous relationship was damaged by her girlfriend’s inability to engage in what Abby perceives as intimacy-building activities, like texting.

My last relationship, we didn’t text at all. It was always phone calls. Which I hated ’cause I hate talking on the phone and I was, “Can we please text?” And she was like, “I don’t text.” So. . .it didn’t work out. But my new girlfriend, we text, like, nonstop and that’s just. . . it’s about just random stuff and really nothing in particular. But then, it’s just keeping in touch all day. . . I’m always in contact with her.

The ability to stay in contact, to know what is going on without seeing someone, is one of the ways technological communication provides participants with a means of establishing intimacy and functions as a form of connection that is necessary to intimate relationships. This establishment of a virtual presence not only results in the engagement of intimate relationships but reinforces the bonds in more casual interactions as well. Abby goes on to acknowledge that not only does having the availability of others via text matter in her romantic relationships, but it is also relevant in her close friendships.

. . . everyone here I kind of keep in touch with texting and stuff if I need to talk to them. . .. I can send and receive upwards of a hundred a day, easily. . .. I text and have, like, entire conversations with people. We don’t really talk about anything important, it just kind of. . . I don’t know, keeping in touch.

For most participants, techno-social mediums are just one part of the set of social practices that result in establishing and maintaining a sense of emotional intimacy in private relationships. For some, intimacy is developed through multiple forms of interpersonal communication, both techno-mediated and face-to-face, and the management of information. Despite geographic distances, it is possible to demonstrate emotional commitment to maintaining intimacy. Individuals in circumstances that make it impossible to engage in physical closeness, intimate relationships, and individual wellness may have been at risk in the past. However, the emergence of technological architectures and complex redefinitions of privacy has resulted in fundamental changes in how participants experience intimacy and privacy. Today, physical closeness may be a lesser issue when technologies extend the senses to allow for interaction at a distance (McLuhan 1967). Hallie discusses her experience with the issue.

. . . my boyfriend lives on Long Island. So, we’re pretty far apart. And he just graduated, so, I feel like if we didn’t have the technology, we probably wouldn’t stay together.

As this participant notes, willingness and the ability to utilize technology to provide interaction in intimate relationships is an important aspect of the techno-social world, through the management of private information. Additionally, the construction of privacy as an experience of control allows for a form of techno-mediated intimacy that is experienced and created in ways that are different from experiences rooted in proxemic or geographic narratives of privacy. The ability to use technologies to create intimacy in circumstances when traditional forms of communication fail is one of the most important characteristics of these technologies. Olivia gives us another example of this.

My best friend, my whole life, her family moved around a lot; her dad’s, a casino executive. we’ve stayed close and we’re still best friends, and now we’re twenty-one years old. I feel like if it wasn’t for technology, we wouldn’t be that way because we talk every day. We send each other pictures. We are still really close; even though we see each other, maybe, once a year or twice a year.

For some, a lack of technology would mean a lack of intimacy or even the loss of a relationship. Olivia explains that technology allows her to engage in a relationship that would be impossible without technology, and she builds intimacy through the use of technology.

Today, forms of intimacy, privacy, and communication are possible that did not exist in the past, due to technological intervention. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the value people attach to intimacy or privacy is fundamentally different. Rather, it suggests that intimacy and privacy can be achieved in new ways and through new mediums, but in doing so, we also see transformations of the meanings attached to these concepts. These transformations can and do affect the nature of relationships, but they can also transform the nature of the self and the creation of new discourses of understanding the human condition. The creation of new forms of intimacy, and new means to achieve them, help us to better understand conceptual frameworks of privacy as well.

Discussion

The implications of a transforming notion of privacy on the construction of intimacy are profound. The shift away from defining privacy within proximate, geographic, or topical boundaries and moving to a focus on the experience of managing data, reshapes the experience of and attitudes about intimacy. While linked to privacy, the reframing of intimacy as a social concept that orders relationship building has undergone important changes in symbolic meaning as well. Intimacy and specifically intimate communication emerge from this discursive transformation as a contextual and even disorienting experience for participants. It becomes a site of inconsistency, in part, because it is in transition. Participants articulate tensions between notions of intimacy creation which they claim is rooted in a traditional or “dated” idea of co-presence within private spaces and informal connections and emerging norms that demonstrate a different approach to intimacy and relationship building. Increasingly, the intimacy articulated by my participants is one in which close contact between individuals is no longer necessarily private, and sharing certain forms of information doesn’t necessarily denote intimacy. Yet they continue to interact with a population, often parents and professors, who understand certain information and places to be private, and have somewhat more clearly articulated boundaries between the public and the private. Therefore, ambiguity and discursive transformations about the nature of privacy are fundamental to understanding contemporary forms of intimacy.

The purpose of this project is to engage with contemporary notions of intimacy, privacy, and technology and highlight some of the ambiguities, inconsistencies, and developments. I argue that the emerging discourses of techno-mediated privacy and intimacy among college students allow for a better understanding of social behavior and lived experiences, as well as allow us to consider new iterations of social interaction. Furthermore, by acknowledging and grappling with the current shifting experiences and evolving conceptualizations of techno-mediated privacy and intimacy it may be possible to further develop theories of human–technological interaction. Like all research, this project has flaws, most notably that it is an exploratory work intended to help us develop a conceptual framework rather than make claims based on aggregated data, and it is not generalizable. Further, this paper’s core findings reflect contemporary transformations in meaning and experience, which are still in progress. Therefore, it’s impossible to make universal claims about these in-progress changes, and thus understandings of intimacy and privacy within relationships, and indeed their very definitions, remain slippery and undefined. This is by no means a new claim, and therefore this work is a contribution to an ongoing conversation about technology, and its relationship with privacy and intimacy. As a result, the tension between the concepts in the paper is reflective of that reality, making perhaps challenging reading. However, despite this ambiguity, or perhaps because of it, it’s possible to identify some emerging concepts surrounding the issue.

First, while privacy and technology issues have emerged across the globe in the form of legislation, news media, and popular conversation, privacy remains an ill-defined concept. In this paper, I theorize privacy not as a concrete concept but as a contextual experience rooted in the experiential realities of my participants. This framing is subjective, experiential, and local within my population, yet some interesting ideas emerge. Most notably, the rejection of public and private as a static dichotomy and the framing of it as an experience of information management. Privacy and technological interventions into “private life” are of concern to researchers, who are focused on the relationship between technological communication and intimate social life (Bradley and Poppen 2003). Thus, it is important to consider the ongoing contextual and evolving nature of the concept of privacy, rather than make assumptions about a static understanding of the concept.

Next, the definition of privacy continues to undergo a transition in meaning, that is shaped by increasingly complex and hegemonic technologies. These transitions not only continue to redefine privacy but also reshape the experience of participants. For some, privacy is taking on new forms that are made possible by transformations in information and communication technologies, such as texting, social media, and video chat. Such technologies facilitate communication across geographic distances and redefine how private information is shared and how such sharing frames the nature of contemporary formations of intimacy. Additionally, historically intimacy has been defined as the result of copresence and geography (Buhrmester and Furman 1987; Moss and Schwebel 1993). Yet, today the degree to which intimacy can be achieved is made more complex by the view of technology as something that can bridge distances and make proximity less important for communication. For participants in the study, the changes in emergent technologies have resulted in some transformations in social expectations of intimacy. Technological innovation, far from creating distance has, for many participants come to be defined as a necessarily connective part of relationships. Concepts associated with relationship connections, such as privacy and intimacy have been redefined, and have taken on different symbolic meanings, within college student culture.

As a result of this, communication within intimate relationships between individuals is not necessarily private, and private information and interaction don’t necessarily denote intimacy. One area of concern here is the growing power of communication technologies, and more specifically technology mega-corporations to create frameworks that define and reshape our social perceptions and experiences. One area of future research is to more explicitly consider the role of technological structures, driven primarily by profit motives, in the reframing of social behavior and social attitudes within interpersonal relationships.

Finally, I suggest that modern intimacy can be best understood by examining the complex and multi-layered narratives that surround the shifting conceptual frameworks of relationship connections and privacy. Intimacy has historically used the language of proximity, such as the term “close” to describe the relationship between the individual self and others, yet contemporary technology challenges this notion by redefining what closeness is, how it relates to privacy, and how it is, and is not, implicated in constructions of intimacy within relationships. These findings are reflective of a shift in social experience and understanding that is still in progress and may indeed continue to evolve in new directions. As such, it is one of how contemporary digital environments are reshaping the human experience within a broader network society and may have profound impacts on the broader social world in the coming years.