Hyperreality, simulacra: in which our digital copies—seemingly existing “beyond” the form of circuit, wire, electric current, motherboard, flashing screen—hold more detail and articulation than the physical movements of our lives, or even more shockingly: they hold more meaning, effect than our lives in reality do (because, for one, there are so many more eyes to see. . . ). We could call this the ultimate delusion. Our extensions have become essence and any essence has become an incessantly necessary extension to our digital copies (for now)—no longer do our actions speak for themselves (in secret or to a grand audience) but “speaking” is action
Kant argued that we should never treat a person as a means to an end, only as an end in themselves. What do we say of a person who only treats themselves as means towards fantasy-expression, a mock-social-being? Have they betrayed Kant, against themselves?
In truth though: the problem was already manifest, and still manifests itself, outside of the digital, for hyperreality is not confined to this area alone (Facebook, twitter et al.). The modern phenomenon is but an exaggeration of a previously existing one. Any excess of egocentric symbolism, sans honest humility, is the human condition as fraud par excellence. To speak, to advertise oneself as action (qua social being) without thought for objectivity (where the universal overrides the parochial) is the exemplum of narcissism. To turn oneself into a “hero” is simply to avoid death, to ignore the animalist defecation of one’s own mortal body. It is just that today, in the age of information technology, the “low” heroics of work, basic character, myopic relationships (i.e. mediocrity) have surpassed all “high” heroics and fables. To accept death, the abyss, is of course a high task for any human—to relegate human existence to the loud mouths of the self-centred “me-generation” was the coward’s choice, the lowest of courses, that our times have taken (perhaps an inevitable conclusion of late capitalism).
Let us not be fooled, this is what happens today, as we “express” ourselves digitally, with care to spend more time shouting, screaming our statuses, updates etc. than involving ourselves in the activities per se. in truth we all know that if our existence were truly important/meaningful, then we would have no need to prove them socially (though at times, one may have to accept, actions are to be proffered to the public gaze). As with love, life in its magnanimous form/manifestation would be passed in silence. . .
Instead we have hyperreality, hours and years of our lives spent telling the next person in line what we are doing, what we were doing and what we will be doing. This is why I propose an ethical conclusion to Hume’s claim that we are “bundles of ideas”: never mind the metaphysical difficulties of the statement, the implications of acting in a world in which the development of idea is a primary concern is astounding—all other expression is just a propagation of zero upon zero upon zero, ad infinitum: the sum is still nought. Cannot we be silent, admit our animalistic, meaningless existences, resist the buzzing of our immortality in our chests and speak only of the abstracts that exist in the ethereal space above our heads? We are, after all, acephalous cohabiters of pure reason’s dialectical sphere . . . idea has no application without extant observance and we nothing to observe beyond it. The public space should not be for trivial talk and dramatics (this has always been the burden of domestic life). And if we must pander to our feelings of immortality, why not be brave enough to do something grand, with vision, instead of “fluffing up our feathers”?
As much as we try to escape it, this is how society is fashioned today: meritocratic in a false sense, where the measure of achievement and success is based upon our own ability to advertise (without much objectivity placed into the process). Whilst thinking about this, I, by chance, came across the following passage written by Alain de Botton: “one’s status might now well be determined by one’s confidence, imagination and ability to convince others of one’s dues—a possibility of achievement which [shines] a less flattering light on philosophies of stoicism and resignation [. . . o]ne might be doomed not by a lack of talent, but by a species of pessimistic pride.” In a sense: only the sell-out is a capable member of society today—the rest are the uncounted majority, that have no say in altering the hegemonic standard, or even shaping it.
I will not venture to speak of business, or of its culture, but the issue is more pronounced in how sales & marketing has somehow infiltrated each stratum of society (this is commodity fetishism par excellence). We are nothing more than replicas of ourselves, purely symbolic as parts of a system of exchange and spurious values—it is from this perspective, this vantage point, that I can appreciate those that live “off the grid”, though I have always had an issue with the idea of personal escape, of “washing ones hands” of a social problem. The only solution is within the problem, involved: to proudly wear an alternate perspective, a slight twist, off the grid but visible. Here is the revolution, freedom that means something, ipso facto: to admit, openly, “yes, I have no value to you or to your game . . .” Many of us do this, to the dismay (and jealousy) of those in it (the game). This upsets the whole order, which somehow cannot ignore the free few, instead bombarding them with insults and penalties (which should say something in-itself).
Even Kierkegaard saw the value of man in the age of capital, the consumer turned commodity: “he recognises himself only by his dress.” To this phrase Ernest Becker comments: “This is a perfect description of the ‘automatic cultural man’—man as confined by culture, a slave to it, who imagines he has an identity if he pays his insurance premium”. This is our modern-day “freedom”: to speak and scream; to SPAM; to update, update, update (even emotion is better expressed by the retarded presence of an on-screen icon)—continuously proving the vacuity within us, being Protean in our weekly, daily, hourly lives and acting as if it meant anything at all. Lacan once said: “in a country where you can say anything, even the truth, the outcome is that, no matter what they say, it has no kind of effect whatsoever”. To this, however, I would add that whilst what we say has no meaning or effect, we do however infuse power into it by the manner in which we say it, by how often we say it and how loudly. In place of content we position noticeability, self-as-propaganda (this is what talking about oneself truly is). We no longer speak of anything, we just flap our lips, roll our tongues and tap our keys . . .
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