The discussion above has important theoretical implications with regard to studying the meanings of reciprocity, online discourse, and effort in digital environments. Whereas much of prior scholarship characterized reciprocity as something “good” or advantageous and commodified relationships as “bad” or exploitative for online groups, the findings suggest that participants do not always perceive these categories in such a binary way. People in the study who wished to pursue their dream occupation were often very pleased that YouTube offered a way for them to gain visibility for their work, which could lead to pursuing a cherished professional métier. In a reciprocal arrangement with YouTube, some participants who posted videos and complied with the terms of service were successful enough to receive compensation from YouTube (through ad revenue, for instance) for their work. Rather than mechanically “labor” to earn a living during the day while pursuing their real interests as a hobby after hours, some YouTube participants embraced the idea that revenue shared with YouTube could enable them to pursue preferred lines of work that facilitated joy and self expression (Radin). They benefited from social relationships on the site that assisted in achieving their professional goals.
On the other side of the coin, reciprocal behaviors were not always perceived as a panacea and as a universally preferred method of interacting on YouTube. In certain important ways, people often privileged notions of promoting high quality videos over friendship bonds as indexed through reciprocal helping practices. In some cases, ideas about honoring the contribution of others (such as leaving thoughtful comments on a video) were deemed as less important than projecting respected reputations of quality. It was better to delete a low-quality video, even if that meant jettisoning reciprocal contributions of viewers who took the time and effort to contribute to one’s YouTube project. Some participants also viewed certain antagonistic forms of reciprocal behaviors rather cynically, as not indexing helping or friendship, but rather as a method for focusing on quantifiable metrics in commodified or at least impersonal relationships with viewers, rather than on sincere, interpersonal interaction.
These findings suggests that in future studies, scholars should attend closely to the meanings that individuals ascribe to particular behaviors, rather than assume they will be perceived in particular ways based on their structural position in a commodified entertainment platform. Certainly future studies should attend to the ways in which sites that intermingle the commercial with the social may exploit the supposedly ephemeral contributions of its participants. At the same time however, exploitation may manifest not only through structural, top-down entities. In online environments, the very same act can be perceived in different ways by different parties to the interaction. Scholars should pursue rather than ignore exploration of these contested categories, which will likely reveal much about online cultures and individual desires of participants.
The philosophical debate about whether it is possible to speak of true “reciprocity” in cases where behaviors are self-serving will likely continue. Yet, anthropological perspectives that acknowledge possible asymmetrical forms of reciprocity may offer important insights into particular online cultures and the forms of exploitation that may emerge not only from top-down entities, but from well-meaning peers. Scholars should closely examine the contested meanings, appropriations, and re-appropriations of “things” such as comments, video responses, and subscription pledges, rather than assume that their only analytical interest lies in their market value and exploitability potential. Further, scholars should attend not only to obvious reciprocal exchanges such as the practice of “sub for sub,” but should also investigate more subtle forms of reciprocal understandings about providing feedback and what participants’ expectations are regarding the permanence of such feedback in the interactional archive.
The research also aimed to broaden theoretical understanding of so-called “immaterial” and “affective” labor. In the first decades of online research, it has become all too easy to over-generalize and romanticize the digitized aspect of online interaction. Yet a close inspection quickly reveals that much of what is termed “immaterial” labor has quite physical, tangible roots. When such tangible practices are ignored in scholarly research, the potential to create analytical misconceptions about individual contributions increases. For instance, purchasing a camera and equipment, learning to use that equipment, and then gaining the ability to post a video are all quite tangible enterprises with a price tag that indexes material investments and time expended. Scholars should not confuse ephemerality with immateriality. Because something can be removed easily does not mean it has no material sources or physical interconnections. In fact, that comments and other types of online response can be manipulated highlights rather than negates a sense of their physical materiality. We cannot touch a feeling, perhaps, but we can delete a comment on a physical system through a device. If materiality is defined through the potential of sensory engagements and impacts on the body, then a comment-as-thing is something that the body engages with. It can be measured and manipulated in ways that benefit some participants, but may exclude others. Affective or immaterial effort becomes expressed through tangible things that have physical and aesthetic qualities. Seeing such affective effort as “frivolous” or “virtual” simply because it is digitized online potentially leads to an underestimation of their effects and impact, especially if they are unceremoniously excised from YouTube’s interactional history.
This research also challenges prior discourses that claim that YouTube participants are unaware of or uninterested in improving their work and attending to quality. Popular and scholarly discourses often point to YouTube’s ad hoc arrangement as proof that so-called amateurs eschew a drive toward maintaining quality for their work or the site as a whole. In the case of YouTube, withholdings of certain forms of reciprocity show that many people attend to quality and wish to maintain reputational, creative integrity for individuals or for the site as a whole. In video discourse, text comments, and interviews, participants often displayed sensitivity to their media-making abilities and reputation and they sometimes privileged their media-making persona over lending a “helping hand” to a fellow YouTuber. Most people would quite likely feel sympathy for someone who wishes to remove a “poor quality” video from their online oeuvre. However, at the same time, such decisions have tangible and emotional impacts on people who have spent time and effort translating their affect into material efforts. Despite the rhetoric of YouTube as having no aesthetics, such contestations over reciprocity demonstrate that video creators’ abilities exist on a moving trajectory, and removals may be used to highlight personal reputations even at the risk of aggravating friends and supporters.
The data also suggest that it is time to reconsider the theoretical implications of studying “texts” such as videos as stand-alone phenomena. Seen from a social perspective, text comments and video responses to videos are part of interactional biographies that have particular meaning to those participants who choose to use YouTube or other creative sites in social ways. Studies of YouTube are typically concerned with analyzing videos; such studies regard text comments and videos that are posted to other videos as ancillary or parasitic. But for some participants, comments and video responses are as important to the structure and participation matrix of YouTube as are the original videos to which these rejoinders were posted. Text comments are not simply “text,” they are, in certain circumstances, indexes of interaction that deserve consideration as part of what constitutes “YouTube.”
Privileging a video or channel as the central focus of interaction also has key design implications. The ego-centric design of so-called “social” network sites implies that with a touch of a button, a single video creator is empowered to erase complex historical records of interaction from the archive—a loss which may be keenly felt by some participants. While some comments and video responses may not be given much thought, some people on YouTube have used the site to interact and provide important forms of creative, social, and emotional support. YouTube is not just an “accidental archive” of videos, but also of texts that index certain forms of sociality. Treating these contributions as far less important than the original videos to which they are posted may have participatory ramifications. Future online social sites would do well to pay attention to how peer-to-peer forms of effort are treated. Seeing their social contributions devalued may discourage active participants from contributing the very forms of effort that have made YouTube an interesting site worth watching.