by By Kate Pulsifer
In a 24-hour livestream, you can watch real-time antics unfold from Elbo Room, a dive bar in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, from anywhere in the world. It’s people-watching from the comfort of your own bed. It’s the best part of going out without going anywhere at all. The stream gained popularity after a viral TikTok showcased a particularly chaotic night, filled with comedy and drama.
Multiple cameras cover the bar and patio, and while the livestream is free to watch on YouTube, an additional $2.99 unlocks audio from the band and access to comments. Last Friday night, about 50 patrons packed the bar, listening to a rock band play horrible renditions of infamous one-hit wonders, such as “Run Joey Run” and “Play That Funky Music.” Drinks spilled, patrons yelled, danced, swayed in their seats and occasionally collapsed into fits of laughter. It was equal parts hilarious and painfully awkward to watch older men try, and fail, to pick up obviously uninterested girls.
Platforms like TikTok, Twitch and YouTube amplify this spectacle, encouraging a kind of participatory fandom where viewers invent nicknames for recurring patrons and invent storylines about the mini-dramas that unfold.
When you walk into a bar, you don’t assume 600+ anonymous watchers are dissecting your every move. This raises questions about the ethics surrounding surveillance and digital media. Are the bar patrons aware they’re being broadcast to a 24-hour livestream? Would they behave differently if they knew? Would they consent to being recorded? Would they be embarrassed knowing their antics from the night before were broadcast to anyone for free, then posted to TikTok without their knowledge? How do we weigh the privacy (or not so much) of the patrons against the entertainment of hundreds of online viewers? When the bar charges watchers for audio access, is it ethical to profit off people who didn’t consciously consent?
For over two hours, we were entertained by a man we named “Peacock Carl,” who danced with two women twice his age. His antics, seemingly inconsequential in real life, took on an absurd, almost performative quality for us, the online audience. We said to ourselves, “He has to know we’re watching, right? Do people really just act like this?” Yet there’s still an underlying tension. The same moments we laugh at are someone else’s private experiences, captured and commodified for digital consumption, regardless of how entertaining.
As livestreams like this become more prevalent in our lives, we must ask ourselves how to balance entertainment with respect for privacy. Are we complicit in normalizing voyeuristic tendencies when we watch, share and laugh at these moments? We must ask ourselves: how much of our real lives are we willing to make a spectacle for everyone to see, and what are the costs those who don’t want to be a part of the show have to pay?
Ultimately, the most important step is transparency. Patrons should know when they are being broadcast so they can make an informed choice about participation. Until then, every laugh, spill and embarrassing dance move on these livestreams carries a double-edged sword. Entertainment for the viewer, with potential violation of someone else’s privacy. How can we enjoy the spectacle without forgetting the humanity behind it?
Click below to watch the Elbo Room livestream!
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Wow! This is such an interesting concept to implement in a social place like a bar. I wonder if the livestream at this bar has negatively or positively impacted them financially. You could consider the fact that the livestream turns away potential customers or it could generate money from online donations and turn the spot into a tourist attraction. Really interesting concept!
Hi Kate, I think your blog does a great job exploring the fun and the ethical questions behind livestreaming real people. I like how you make readers think about privacy and consent while still describing the situation in a funny and relatable way.
This is a very interesting dilemma – would you want to go to a bar if strangers got to peer into your social life? How different is it meeting strangers at a bar or having strangers see you at a bar online? It feels like there’s a difference based on the anonymity. Also, how does this place being live-streamed affect how people behave when they’re at this venue?