Brian Boyd: Towelgate shows the failings of social media

It has become the Zapruder film for the social media generation. The footage has been pored over frame-by-frame: first there’s the trajectory of the towel after it is thrown, then there’s the controversial “lean over” intervention, which culminates in “the tussle”.

We all know where we were and what we were doing last Tuesday afternoon when US tennis player Jack Sock, on completion of his first-round match at Wimbledon, reached into his bag to throw a souvenir Wimbledon towel into the crowd.

As the footage shows, Sock's magnanimous gesture resulted in the towel landing in the lap of an elderly man who is now referred to as "Panama Hat Man".

However, just before the towel landed in his lap, a young man, who we now know to be Irish and who was seated behind Panama Hat Man, reached over to try and grab the towel.

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A tussle ensued, with Panama Hat Man proving to have the tighter grip and the higher level of determination. The young Irish man was ultimately vanquished by a stronger, more focused opponent.

One observer astutely noted that Towelgate 'had become a metaphor for Brexit'

As the video of Towelgate spread on social media, there were easy pickings to be had.

First up was Jack Sock himself. Despite the fact that such was his lack of interest in who got the towel that he didn’t even look up from his bag when he threw it, Sock tweeted sympathetic words about “the kid that unfortunately had the towel ripped out of his hands”.

He solemnly promised that if the “kid” were to be tracked down, he would go out of his way to send him a replacement.

And who among us hasn’t dreamt of getting a towel sent to us by a not very well-known US tennis player who struggles to get out of the early rounds of Grand Slams?

Judy Murray, Andy Murray's mother, then entered the fray, tweeting that Panama Hat Man "should be ashamed of himself".

Vituperation rained down digitally on Panama Hat Man. The Daily Mail assumed their default righteous campaigning position and asked their readers to come forward if they knew the identity of Panama Hat Man and his wife, who was sitting beside him at the time of the incident and also got her fair share of very personal abuse.

Despite the uproar, JK Rowling and Piers Morgan have yet to tweet their thoughts on the incident.

As the dramatic Sturm und Drang played out, one observer astutely noted that Towelgate “had become a metaphor for Brexit”. Indeed.

Within 24 hours the narrative had become fixed. The Good people here were Jack Sock - “such a lovely guy to offer the young fan a new towel” being a flavour of the encomiums directed at him - and Judy Murray, who, remember, had a key reporting role in the whole affair. The Bad person was Panama Hat Man - plus his wife, on the basis of guilt by association.

Wimbledon itself, a club that refused black and Jewish people membership right up until the 1950s, patted itself on the back that one of its tournament towels had provoked such a social media love-in.

Rather envious of all the digital hugs being given out, the three other Grand Slams (the US Open, Australian Open and French Open) came together in an unprecedented show of compassion to say they would all donate one of their tournament towels to the young Irish man, so he may have (goodness me) a "Grand Slam of towels".

Many of the concerned parties here got a lot of love and a lot of "likes" for heaping abuse on Panama Hat Man and portraying the young Irish man as if he were a figure out of a Charles Dickens novel.

Video evidence

But let’s go back to the tape: the evidence clearly shows a bored tennis player throwing a towel into the crowd after his match with absolutely no interest in who the recipient might be.

It was destined to land in the lap of Panama Hat Man - who incidentally never looked around to see that he was engaged in a struggle with a much younger man for possession of the towel.

The Daily Telegraph’s unputdownable analysis of the incident argued that far from being the victim of the piece, the young Irish man “invaded the personal space” of Panama Hat Man by reaching over him to grab the towel.

The ersatz forms of likability and popularity involved in digital status seeking are playground pleas for acceptance

Serendipitously, the fatuous and sanctimonious hand-wringing over this peak silly season story comes at a time when a compelling book, Popular: Why Being Liked is the Secret to Greater Success and Happiness, has just been been published.

In it, author Mitch Prinstein is able to explain away the social media hysteria about Jack Sock's towel.

All of those who posted and tweeted their outrage over the Irish man’s Wimbledon ordeal and offered him support and digital hugs saw their posts being liked in very large numbers.

Prinstein refers to this phenomenon as “the trap of digital status seeking”. He explains that, even as adults, we never really leave the school playground in terms of wanting and needing to be liked and popular.

Working off research, he shows how digital status seeking (in all its desperation) has fundamentally altered how we conduct our social relationships.

He finds that such is the powerful pull of social-media popularity that it actually has a positive neurological effect on us.

Hence people drawing attention to their inherent goodness by contriving to be “upset and sad” about what happened to a towel thrown by an obscure tennis player.

As with Towelgate, even when the video evidence is such to show that there can be different interpretations of an incident, people will ignore the facts in order to be perceived as caring, sharing, likeable, and (this is the holy grail) popular.

As Prinstein points out, real likability and popularity exist - but they are based on our actions, not words, and indicated by how much others genuinely want to spend time with us.

The ersatz forms of likability and popularity involved in digital status seeking are the desperate school playground plea for acceptance.

The first bring you a lifetime of benefit; the second will have you tweeting about towels.