Why the “Red Recording Dot” Silences Me
In my last post, I asked if the silence in our online classes is a structural problem. Today, I want to talk about the tool we use every day: Zoom. Every time I log in, I feel like I’m walking into a space of total visibility. It reminds me of the “Panopticon”—a prison design described by Michel Foucault where inmates are constantly watched but never know exactly when. But Zoom feels even more intense. In the “Gallery View,” it’s not just the professor watching us; we are all watching each other. One scholar calls this the “Synopticon” (where the many watch the few). But honestly? It doesn’t feel like we are equals. It just feels like “hyper-visibility”. I feel like I’m constantly on stage, performing “attentiveness” just to survive the class without being judged.
The “Red Dot” Effect: Why I Don’t Speak Up The biggest reason I stay quiet isn’t because I’m shy. It’s that blinking red “Recording” icon in the corner. In a real classroom, if I say something slightly wrong, it vanishes into thin air. It’s forgotten in five minutes. But on Zoom?
- The Permanent Record: As some researchers point out, these platforms turn our classrooms into “surveillance spaces”. Everything I say is recorded, saved, and can be replayed forever. It creates an “electronic panopticon” where trust disappears.
- The Fear of Being Wrong: Knowing that “everything is designed” to be saved, I second-guess myself constantly. Why risk leaving a permanent digital footprint of a mistake? It feels safer to just say nothing.
The “Zoom Gaze”: Staring at Myself in the Mirror It’s not just the recording, though. It’s the interface itself. Unlike a physical classroom, Zoom puts a digital mirror in front of me—my own video feed. Educator Autumm Caines calls this the “Zoom Gaze”. I’m forced to see myself “being seen.” Instead of listening to the lecture, I catch myself obsessing over my own image: Is my lighting okay? Do I look bored? This “alienating hyper-awareness” is exhausting. I’m so busy monitoring how I look to others that I have no energy left to actually participate.
Reflection: Maybe My Silence is Resistance? This week’s research changed how I see my own behavior. I used to think keeping my camera off was just me being lazy or disengaged. But maybe it’s actually a form of defense? I found an interesting argument that turning off your camera can be a “counter-declaration against surveillance”. By making ourselves invisible, we are carving out a private space in a system that demands total transparency. I realized that when I stay silent or hide behind a black screen, I’m not just checking out. I’m trying to protect my psychological safety from the archive. I’m choosing the safety of silence over the risk of being recorded.
Next Steps So, the technology sets the stage for this silence. But why are we so terrified of this permanent record? I think the answer lies in how this record is used for our grades. Next time, I’m going to dig into Power and Evaluation, and ask why we’ve lost the “freedom to be wrong.”he intersection of Power and Evaluation, and why the “freedom to be wrong” is disappearing from our rubrics.
📚 References
Camera as Resistance: Nelson, S., & Vee, A. Transforming the Subject, Transforming Ourselves: Resisting Surveillance in Virtual Learning Environments. Digital Culture & Education. Link
Foucault’s Panopticon: Foucault, M. (1977). Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. (Referenced for the concept of “object of information, never a subject in communication”).
The Synopticon: Mathiesen, T. (1997). The Viewer Society. (Referenced for the concept of “the many see the few”).
Surveillance in Ed-Tech: The View from “Zoom University”: Surveillance and Control in Higher Ed’s Pandemic Pedagogy Pivot. Enculturation. Link
The Zoom Gaze: The Zoom Gaze. Observatory – Institute for the Future of Education. Link
