What's on Your Mind?
Samiha Ahmad
While researching texts written about social media behavior, I found several articles about the psychology of why we share, particularly focusing on broad themes like validation, connection, and self-image (Lee-Won et al., 2015). The authors contextualized user behavior within a technological or sociological trend by discussing the rise of the influencer, the culture of likes or the phenomenon of viral content. Although they discussed user motivation and cultural impact, I found little deliberation on another crucial agent in user interactions: the specific design of the social media interfaces themselves. Scholars such as Sano-Franchini (2018) begin to address this gap through a framework of critical interface analysis, arguing that digital platforms themselves can create or amplify behavior. This paper adds another layer to this conversation by examining social media platforms, specifically Instagram, as persuasive texts whose prompts and layouts actively shape user behavior by appealing to emotional pathos.
To build this argument, I will first establish a framework for understanding interface design as a form of rhetoric by pairing Ian Bogost’s procedural rhetoric with B.J. Fogg’s captology. Then, I will analyze specific features in Instagram to demonstrate how they function as deliberate appeals to emotion. Finally, I will present findings from my interviews with Instagram users, showing how their lived experiences align with this discourse of persuasive design. The evidence will demonstrate that user behavior on Instagram is a response to an architected environment designed to elicit specific affective reactions.
According to Bogost (2007), procedural rhetoric is the “the art of persuasion through rule-based representations and interactions, rather than the spoken word, writing, images, or moving pictures” (pp. 8–9). He argues that interactive media like videogames operate through formal processes that do not contain meaning on their own. Instead, meaning emerges through user interpretation of how these systems behave. To illustrate this, Bogost describes the difference between returning a defective product to a physical store versus an online retailer:
Imagine that you purchased the DVD player from an online retailer. The return process is no less codified in procedure, but this time a computer, not a human, manages your interface with the procedure. Instead of speaking with a person, you must visit a website and enter your order number on a return authorization page. A computer program on the server performs a simple test, checking the delivery date of the order against the current date. If the dates differ by more than fourteen days’ time, the computer rejects the return request. (Bogost, 2007, pp. 17–18)
In this case, the persuasive force is the rigid enforcement of rules. The software makes a decision by determining which actions are possible and which are not. Users are compelled to accept the outcome not because they were convinced verbally by a person, but because the procedure leaves no room for negotiation. This demonstrates Bogost’s claim that meaning in procedural systems emerges through interaction with their processes rather than being inherent in the system itself.
Although Bogost focuses on video games, his reasoning can be extended to digital interfaces because they also employ procedural arguments in their design. When we use social media, its layout, buttons, and prompts guide us toward certain actions and specific values. They want us to notice what they’re doing and assign meaning to them. For instance, when you reach the bottom of your feed on Instagram, it automatically loads more content instead of giving you a stopping point. The lack of a procedural endpoint signals that scrolling is the expected action. This is to say that Instagram doesn’t force us to scroll, post or check likes, but it creates conditions that make these behaviors feel natural or rewarded simply by making them available for use. As a result, we assign meanings like comfort, familiarity, or anticipation to these interactions, even though the platform itself is simply executing its rules. So, users only get to interpret the options, paths, and cues that are available for interpretation. This transforms a platform’s design into persuasion.
To further analyze how these procedural arguments work in practice, I want to introduce B.J. Fogg's concept of “captology” (Computers As Persuasive TechnOLOGY). According to Fogg (2003), captology focuses on the “design, research, and analysis of interactive computing products created for the purpose of changing people’s attitudes or behaviors” (p. 5). This focus on design choices concretizes Bogost's theory of procedural rhetoric because it translates abstract procedural logic into identifiable interface strategies that can be directly observed in platform design. Fogg outlines seven types of persuasive tools employed by interactive technologies to engage users. For my analysis on Instagram, I will focus on four of these strategies:
- Reduction: makes a complex task easier and faster.
- Tunneling: guides users to follow actions in a certain manner.
- Self-monitoring: enables users to track their own progress or activity.
- Surveillance: enables users to observe others’ progress or activity.
These tactics make up the building blocks of user experience on a platform like Instagram and they all go hand in hand. Instagram’s entire design is oriented toward visual communication that is immediate and optimized for engagement. It prioritizes image above all else, making a visual persona the user’s primary form of identity. We see this through Main Posts, Tagged Photos, Stories, Highlights, Reels. However, its interface is also evolving to allow for newer, non-visual forms of engagement. One key example of this is the Notes feature that came out last year. Initially, "Stories" served as the platform's low-stakes posting space. However, with the advent of "Notes” —a non-visual, text-based form for sharing— the rhetorical function of "Stories" has been reduced, despite both formats disappearing after 24 hours. Because Stories require having at least an image in addition to text, stickers, or music to post, Notes reduce this action to merely typing out a few words. Now, Stories are typically used for content intended to remain for the entirety of the 24-hour period, whereas Notes are more transient and function as a way to share thoughts throughout the day. In addition, Notes provides users daily prompts such as “Share a song” or “Current mood?”; for October 31st, it displayed “Halloween plans…” as seen in the screenshot. What this does is tunnels users into sharing by offering them timely attention through sort of an emotional check-in. Users want to post something when they have a prompt to answer.
Similarly, the follower count is a public, numerical metric that directly appeals to the user's pathos. It is a tangible measure of popularity. The choice to place this number next to the user’s name on the profile page makes an argument that your social value is quantifiable. It enables users to self-monitor their likability by tracking the growth of their own audience over time. The underlying message here is that the more followers you have, the more people love you, are interested in you or the more your content resonates with people, which in turn makes you feel good about yourself. It also signifies that people are invested in you which gives them purpose to post and encourages them with a sense of obligation to share content and put on a show for their audience.
At the same time, the follower count facilitates surveillance by allowing users to compare their metrics to others'. This can evoke pride, anxiety or competition, especially when users see others with a higher follower count. The platform’s culture, Marwick (2015) notes, compels users toward self-presentation techniques to achieve "Instafame" by showcasing “buxom bodies, sports cars, and designer clothes” (p. 157). This is where Instagram becomes an app for highlighting life’s most enviable moments, tunneling users to do the same in order to avoid feeling bad about themselves. Thus, rather than operating as isolated strategies, Instagram’s features collapse Fogg’s persuasive tools into a single interaction, where surveillance, self-monitoring, and tunneling all reinforce one another simultaneously. Every feature from notes to posts is a part of a larger system designed to capitalize on human emotion toward maximum engagement.
Now, I conducted qualitative interviews with seven active Instagram users to understand how these persuasive mechanisms manifest in female college students' experiences. Their reflections revealed that the emotional and behavioral responses elicited by the app’s design are deeply felt and internalized in the way students think about and leave their digital footprint. I asked participants a series of open-ended questions about their thought processes when posting on Instagram, the emotions they hoped to achieve through sharing, and whether specific app features ever influenced their decisions to post.
First, a majority of participants described using Instagram as a tool for self-presentation or a way to project a version of themselves. Participant A explained that posting allowed her to “spotlight what [she] had done during the day and prove a bigger picture that [she] actually [has] a life.” This was reminiscent of the self-monitoring and surveillance principles as she seemed to be evaluating herself through the eyes of others. For her, the act of posting was less about sharing and more about proving that her life is happening, and that it’s worth watching. Similarly, Participant B admitted that she sometimes shares content so others “don’t think [she’s] too focused on school.” The fear of being misperceived is another human emotional factor. She added, “I think that people think I’m boring or too sophisticated which is why I feel a need to post something to let them know I can have fun too.” Participant E articulated, “I feel the need to post whenever I dress up because I rarely ever dress up.” Such responses suggest that posting is often motivated by perceived social relevance. Instagram's public metrics feel like an imaginary audience is always judging you. This imagined scrutiny driven by both self-monitoring and surveillance normalizes constant sharing to the point that when we see our friend post, we feel urged to post as well as a sort of defense against negative speculations on us.
Second, the strategy of tunneling is illustrated in how participants describe being influenced by the app's features such as the repost feature, tagging, and hashtags. Participant D noted, “the repost feature makes me feel like I need to repost everything I’m tagged in and in turn post pictures with friends because I can tag them.” While she didn’t explicitly explain why she feels this need, it is implied that on Instagram, social reciprocity is expected. Being tagged on a post is like being waved at in public: there’s an unspoken expectation to wave back. Now if you don’t wave back — repost — it is rude and dismissive. The interface thus tunnels her toward participation by embedding social reciprocity into its design.
On the same note, Participant C mentioned that the virality of certain hashtags “convinced [her] to partake in trendy events like the USC Ice Bucket Challenge because everyone was doing it.” I acknowledge this sentiment myself as I also participated in the USC challenge for the same exact reason. Hashtags for trending challenges foster a sense of immediacy and expectation. It creates an exigency: if you don’t join in while the trend is still hot, you risk being left out. This prompts the performative need to be seen taking part in something to the point it overshadows the original intent of participation, which in the case of USC Challenge was to raise awareness for mental health. It demonstrates how Instagram facilitates tunneling for users to join in activities to maintain socially relevant.
In contrast, the experiences of Participants F and G indicate that the persuasive design of Instagram is not all-influential. They claimed not to feel a strong "need" to post unless they encountered "something meaningful" or "beautiful like nature or clouds." This indicates a degree of resistance to the platform’s persuasive strategies as they do not feel the same urgency described by other participants. While their preference for 'meaningful' or 'beautiful' content still operates within the platform's broader aesthetic framework, their posting appears to be more self-directed. The persuasive design is present, but part of its influence is consciously rejected by them.
All in all, my interviewees’ experiences affirm that user behavior on Instagram is not a product of individual whim; it is actively elicited, shaped, and reinforced by an environment designed to engage users through their emotions. The users are responding to the prompts of a space built to make them feel a certain way and therefore post to do something about it. It also directly aligns with the aforementioned persuasive tools, demonstrating how the interface successfully appeals to emotional pathos to shape behavior.
Personally, I have transitioned from being highly responsive to the platform's pulls to a state of indifference now. This evolution makes me wonder under what conditions its persuasion fails. Is it a matter of age? Maturity? Educational level? I am very curious about the internal shifts that create this distance. Does it happen when a user's internal sense of validation becomes stronger than the external metrics the platform offers? Or when their identity outside the app becomes so grounded that it renders their online performance unnecessary? While my paper can’t fully answer these questions, more research should be done to probe this layer of human-computer interaction. Eventually, I’m left asking not just how platform design persuades, but what the success of that persuasion reveals about the unmet emotional needs we carry into these digital spaces.
Our understanding of social media usage is incomplete without a critical reading of its app design. At the heart of our sharing lies a human desire to be seen, heard and feel good about ourselves. Instagram does not host this vulnerability, it creates and capitalizes on it. It turns human connection into its resource. Its prompts and layouts are active agents in shaping why and how we share by appealing to our emotions and guiding our behavior in ways that align with the platform’s growth. Ultimately, by learning to read in between the lines of our digital spaces, we can better understand the implicit but powerful forces that form our contemporary sharing habits. After all, it is the first step toward reclaiming our agency over why, how, and when we share.
References
Bogost, I. (2007). Persuasive games : the expressive power of videogames (1st ed.). MIT Press.
Fogg, B. J. (2003). Persuasive technology : using computers to change what we think and do (1st ed.). Morgan Kaufmann. https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-1-55860-643-2.X5000-8
Lee-Won, R. J., Herzog, L., & Park, S. G. (2015). "Hooked on Facebook: The Role of Social Anxiety and Need for Social Assurance in Problematic Use of Facebook." Cyberpsychology, Behavior and Social Networking, 18(10), 567–574. https://doi.org/10.1089/cyber.2015.0002
Marwick, A. E. (2015). "Instafame: Luxury Selfies in the Attention Economy." Public Culture, 27(1), 137–160. https://doi.org/10.1215/08992363-2798379 Sano-Franchini. (2018).
Designing Outrage, Programming Discord: A Critical Interface Analysis of Facebook as a Campaign Technology. Technical Communication (Washington), 65(4), 387–410.