In the contemporary society, digital field, especially in countries like India, ideas of what is acceptable, decent, or moral are changing quickly. Things that used to be considered shameful—like showing too much emotion, being loud, acting against traditional norms, or posting content seen as vulgar—are now gaining attention and value on social media platforms like Instagram, YouTube, Moj, and ShareChat. What was once seen as inappropriate is now a tool for gaining popularity, status, and even money. This shift shows a major change in how morality, identity, and media are connected in digital life.
Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of capital helps us understand this shift. Bourdieu explained that capital is not only economic (money or property), but also includes cultural capital (knowledge, education, skills), social capital (networks, connections), and symbolic capital (honor, prestige, recognition). He also believed that different forms of capital can be converted into one another. For example, a person with cultural capital (such as the ability to speak English fluently or understand elite behavior) can use it to gain a good job (economic capital) or social respect (symbolic capital).
In today’s digital environment, shamelessness is becoming a new form of cultural capital. When people share bold, emotional, or controversial content online, it draws attention. This attention brings followers, likes, and views—metrics that are valuable in the digital world. These numbers can then be used to gain brand deals, collaborations, or even fame. In this way, shameless behavior—when planned and performed in the right way—can be converted into social, economic, and symbolic capital.
Bourdieu also used the idea of the field, which is a space where people compete for capital using the rules of that space. The digital field works on a very different set of rules than traditional society. In the digital field, what matters is not virtue or truth, but visibility and engagement. The more reactions a post gets—even if it’s negative—the more valuable it becomes. As a result, many people perform extreme behaviors to remain relevant. This is the new nomos (logic) of the digital field: virality is more important than morality.
Erving Goffman’s theory of the presentation of self also helps explain this. Goffman said that social life is like a stage: people present themselves in a certain way on the front stage (in public), while they prepare and hide their true feelings in the back stage (in private). However, in digital life, this has reversed. Now, what used to be hidden—personal emotions, controversial opinions, private experiences—is put on display. The digital world becomes the front stage, and the physical world becomes the backstage, where people plan how to present themselves online.
This digital performance of shamelessness is not just for fun. It is carefully crafted to attract attention and gain digital capital. People now spend time preparing themselves offline—thinking about what to wear, how to act, what story to share—just to maintain their online image. Over time, this online identity influences their beliefs, behavior, and lifestyle offline. What begins as a digital performance can start to shape their real personality and social interactions. Their dispositions, or the ways they think and act, are influenced by the need to match their digital image. This is what Bourdieu called habitus—the system of deeply internalized ideas and behavior shaped by one’s social field.
In India, this shift carries unique importance. Traditional society has long relied on shame to control behavior, especially through family honor, caste rules, and religious values. But social media bypasses these structures. Instead of being judged by neighbors or elders, people are judged by likes, shares, and views. Those who were once excluded or silenced in the name of tradition can now find a voice online, by rejecting shame and turning it into power. But this new power often exists only in the digital world. In real life, these individuals may still face exclusion or violence. They live in a kind of split identity, strong online but vulnerable offline.
There are also serious ethical concerns. If platforms reward visibility without responsibility, then people may feel pressured to create more shocking, misleading, or harmful content just to survive online. The line between authentic self-expression and strategic performance becomes blurry. What looks like empowerment may actually be a form of exploitation—both self-imposed and driven by platform algorithms. This kind of content may spread harmful ideas, glorify misinformation, or normalize emotional exploitation, all in the name of visibility.
Creators, especially those from small towns or marginal backgrounds, often feel they have no choice but to take bigger risks to stay relevant. In this way, shamelessness becomes labor—an emotional and moral job that must be performed to gain income and attention. It may feel like freedom, but it is often shaped by market demands and platform pressures. The performance of shamelessness becomes a strategy for survival in a world where attention is the most valuable asset.
This reality forces us to ask deeper questions. What kind of values are we promoting in the digital public sphere? Who benefits from this system, and who is harmed? Are we building a society where only the loudest and most controversial voices can be heard? And what is the long-term cost of normalizing moral transgression as entertainment?
India, like many societies, is navigating the tensions between tradition and modernity, between control and freedom. The rise of shamelessness as digital capital is both a sign of change and a warning. It shows that people are finding new ways to express themselves, but also that the systems they rely on may be pushing them to extremes. To build a healthier digital culture, we need to understand not just what content is being created, but why—and under what conditions. Only then can we imagine digital spaces that are not just popular, but also ethical, inclusive, and responsible.
