The absolute core keyword cutting through bookstore shelves and social media feeds lately is, without a doubt, "being yourself" (nadaum). A life untouched by trends or the gaze of others, possessed of one’s own sovereignty, enjoying hobbies one genuinely loves and can immerse oneself in—this is the most ideal human portrait defined by our current era. People claim that rather than pouring energy into uncertain relationships like love or marriage, using that capital to construct one’s own dense, private world is far more "authentic and liberating."
But here, we must pose a chillingly cold question: Is this "authentic life" they so confidently proclaim truly a genuine individuality drawn from the depths of their inner selves? Or are they merely consuming a "ready-made ego," meticulously edited and packaged for them by capitalism and algorithms?
Running as an Ascetic Practice, versus the ‘Running Self’ as a Sign
Step out onto the Han River banks or city parks these days, and you will easily spot "running crews" jogging in massive packs. Running has emerged as the hippest hobby, symbolizing health and self-care. But among those crew members, how many are truly captivated by the pure physical agony of running itself—by the "bodily asceticism" of piercing through the limits of cardiopulmonary capacity?
To be brutally blunt, the majority are not consuming the act of running, but rather the image of "the running self." The portrait of a trendy modern individual cutting through the dawn air, draped in sleek running gear, leading a healthy wellness life. The moment the distance and pace measured by a smartphone app are authenticated on social media and receive the "likes" of others, this hobby finally reaches its completion.
As the French philosopher Jean Baudrillard noted, modern individuals do not consume the essence of an object or an act; they consume its "sign (image)." Unless they genuinely love running for its own sake, the moment running photos on Instagram are deemed tacky and the running crew trend loses its steam, those vast numbers of runners will vanish like magic. Can an ego that recedes like the tide the moment the wave of a trend subsides truly be called "oneself"?
The Society of Marketing "Authenticity" and the Convenient Illusion
Human beings are, by nature, creatures that cannot endure a vacuum of meaning—that is, futility. In a modern society stripped of both love and grand ideologies, inventing the answer to "Why do I live?" out of absolute nothingness is a high-level task that even genius philosophers struggled with.
At this juncture, the market and its algorithms present exhausted moderns with an incredibly alluring and convenient proposition: "Here, we have packaged a ‘healthy running ego,’ a ‘hip whisky-savoring ego,’ and a ‘tranquil pottery-baking ego’ just for you. All you have to do is pay the fee, join this crew, and display it; you will instantly become an individual of clear conviction and meaningful existence."
Humans eagerly bite into this seamless proposal, sweating away as they fall into an illusion: "Ah, look at me immersing myself in my own tastes without being swayed by others—how truly authentic and free I am." In reality, however, they are no different from passengers pacing inside the carriage of a massive speeding train, under the illusion that they are "walking freely." For the moment the train halts or shifts its tracks, that freedom meets its demise as well.
Conclusion: When Does the True "Self" Begin?
Ultimately, the "authenticity" spoken of by many today is highly likely to be the most sophisticated mutation of a trend—simply another form of an "exhibitionist ego" craving the validation of others. A life absorbed in hobbies under the belief that a loveless state is liberating may, in truth, be the byproduct of fleeing into a safe playground engineered by capital, purely to avoid the labor of being tuned and adjusted by another human being.
When the trend ends and everyone leaves the plaza, when no one is watching or recognizing you, if you still continue that act within the perfect solitude faced after turning off your smartphone screen—then, and only then, is it true authenticity. However, if it is an act that ceases the moment the audience vanishes, it is not authenticity; it is merely a faithful performance of the era’s trend.
Are we truly living as ourselves right now, or are we living as actors on a stage designed solely to make us look like the most "authentic human beings"? It is time to cast a cold, sobering look behind the curtains, at the backstage after the cameras have been turned off.
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