Technology and Media as Social Surrogates in Kristen Radtke's Seek You

The Thematic Claim: Media as a Substitute for Presence

In Seek You, Kristen Radtke argues that technology and media—from the laugh track to ham radio to social media—function as social surrogates: they promise to bridge human distance but often substitute for genuine connection, leaving the underlying loneliness intact. The book complicates this idea by showing that such surrogates are not a modern invention; they have always been part of how people cope with isolation. Radtke’s central claim is that these tools do not create loneliness but rather respond to it, and that the act of reaching out—even through a fabricated medium—can be a form of survival, even if it rarely delivers the connection it promises.

Ham Radio: Reaching Out Without Touching

One of the most intimate examples of a social surrogate appears in Radtke’s account of her father’s obsession with ham radio. As a child, Radtke knew her father as stoic, strict, and emotionally distant—a man who valued order and discipline above all. It is only through an uncle’s story that she learns her father spent every night making CQ calls, a ham radio signal that means “seek you” (chapter 4). These calls were broadcast across low frequencies, bending around the earth to reach strangers thousands of miles away. The father’s handle, WD9JHQ, and the QSL cards he exchanged were evidence that contact had occurred, but not that any real relationship had formed.

The CQ call is a perfect metaphor for the surrogate connection: it is a reaching outward, an invitation for anyone to answer, but it is also a one-way broadcast that requires no vulnerability. Radtke’s father could seek connection without ever having to expose his inner life to his family. The radio became a stand-in for the intimacy he could not express at home. The QSL cards, as Radtke notes, are “evidence that you exist” (chapter 4), but they are also participation trophies—proof of contact, not of conversation. This pattern recurs throughout the book: technology allows people to feel they are connecting while actually maintaining distance.

The Laugh Track: Learning to Feel from a Machine

Radtke’s childhood experience with the laugh track offers a second distinct part of the plot. In chapter 5, she describes discovering an old TV in the basement and hiding it in her closet to watch Friends reruns at a volume just above mute. The laugh track, she writes, taught her what she was supposed to find funny and, more broadly, what friendship and love were supposed to look like. The fabricated laughter of a studio audience became a surrogate for real social learning. Radtke did not have a group of friends to teach her these cues; she had a machine that simulated the sound of a room full of people.

The laugh track’s history is telling: it was invented to make solitary viewers feel less alone. As Radtke explains, the technique of “sweetening” was developed because producers did not trust audiences to know when to laugh. The machine contained hundreds of distinct laughs, including “housewife giggles” and the hollow response of someone who does not get the joke but laughs along anyway. The goal was to create the sound of a room the viewer wanted to be inside. This is a direct example of media as a social surrogate: it provides the feeling of shared experience without any actual shared experience. Radtke’s own response—watching alone in her closet, learning emotional scripts from a sitcom—shows how the surrogate can shape a person’s understanding of connection, even as it leaves them physically isolated.

Social Media: Performing Grief and Identity

The third distinct part of the plot is Radtke’s examination of social media, particularly through the story of ScanCouver, a Vancouver woman who tweeted the news of her husband’s death in real time. In chapter 12, Radtke describes how ScanCouver shared the details of the accident with her followers before telling her children, and how she continued tweeting through the night. The internet responded with a wave of support, but also with judgment when ScanCouver’s behavior did not match strangers’ expectations of grief. Radtke observes that social media allows people to publicly enact their deepest losses, but it also turns grief into a performance that can be scrutinized and condemned.

ScanCouver’s story is a stark illustration of how media can become a surrogate for real human connection. She used Twitter as her “outlet,” a place where she felt safe, but the platform could not provide the comfort of a physical presence. The strangers who offered condolences were themselves performing a kind of connection, sending “crying cartoon faces and quick lines of unpunctuated text” from their phones. Radtke also implicates herself in this dynamic: in chapter 11, she describes visiting Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Mirrors installation and taking a selfie inside the mirrored room. She had earlier felt superior to the crowds lining up to photograph themselves in front of art that critiqued self-obsession, but when she stepped into the kaleidoscopic space, she did the same thing. The selfie becomes a surrogate for genuine engagement with the art—and with the self.

Complexity and Contradiction: The Surrogate as Both Escape and Rescue

Radtke does not present technology and media as simple villains. She acknowledges that they are easy scapegoats for a society that has always been lonely. In chapter 11, she cites the philosopher Lars Svendsen, who argues that the spaces between people are not widening at a uniquely alarming rate. Radtke writes, “It seems to me quite possible that we have always been a very lonely people.” This is a crucial complication: the surrogate is not a new problem but a recurring response to a persistent condition.

The book also suggests that surrogates can have genuine value. The laugh track, for example, works because of the brain’s premotor cortex, which responds to laughter by preparing facial muscles to mimic it. Radtke cites neuroscientist Robert Provine, who found that people are thirty times more likely to laugh in groups than alone. The laugh track coaxes a solitary viewer into a sense that she is not alone, and this can trigger real endorphin release. Similarly, the cuddle industry and robotic companions like Paro, the animatronic seal, are presented with ambivalence. Radtke initially feels superior to the man who hires a cuddlist, but then she questions her own judgment: “Maybe it is significant to simply be held.” The surrogate may be a poor substitute for human touch, but for someone who has no other option, it can be a lifeline.

The contradiction is most visible in Radtke’s own behavior. She criticizes the crowds at Kusama’s show for taking selfies, then does the same. She wonders whether posting about her life on social media is a form of self-deception, but she also acknowledges that the act of telling a story can become a way of making it real. The book’s final chapter, “Listen,” returns to Casey Kasem’s Long-Distance Dedications, where listeners sent letters to a stranger to be read aloud to millions. Radtke finds comfort in these stories, even though she knows the resolutions rarely come. She writes that the act of telling may be the catharsis. This suggests that the surrogate is not merely a false promise; it can be a genuine form of reaching out, even if the connection is mediated and incomplete.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does Radtke’s father’s use of ham radio illustrate the theme of technology as a social surrogate?

Radtke’s father used ham radio to make CQ calls to strangers across the world, but he remained emotionally distant from his family. The radio allowed him to seek connection without vulnerability, and the QSL cards he exchanged were evidence of contact, not of relationship. This shows how technology can substitute for genuine intimacy.

2. What role does the laugh track play in Radtke’s childhood, and how does it function as a surrogate for social learning?

The laugh track taught Radtke what to find funny and what friendship and love looked like, as she watched sitcoms alone in her closet. It simulated the sound of a room full of people, giving her a sense of shared experience without any actual social interaction. This is a direct example of media replacing real social cues.

3. How does the story of ScanCouver complicate the idea that social media provides connection?

ScanCouver used Twitter to share her husband’s death in real time, receiving both support and judgment from strangers. The platform allowed her to perform her grief publicly, but it also subjected her to scrutiny and turned her tragedy into a spectacle. This shows that social media can be a surrogate for connection, but it often deepens isolation by making grief a public performance.

4. What evidence does Radtke offer that technology is not the sole cause of loneliness?

Radtke cites the philosopher Lars Svendsen and notes that loneliness has likely always existed. She points out that every new technology—the telephone, the radio, the television—has been met with fears that it would destroy community. She argues that these tools are not the cause of loneliness but a response to it, and that humans have always sought ways to bridge distance.

5. How does Radtke’s own behavior, such as taking a selfie in Kusama’s mirror room, reflect the book’s ambivalence about surrogates?

Radtke criticizes others for taking selfies in front of art that critiques self-obsession, but then does the same herself. This moment shows that she is not immune to the pull of the surrogate. It also suggests that the line between genuine engagement and performative connection is blurry, and that even those who critique technology are complicit in using it as a substitute for presence.