The Allegory of the Cave and the Irresistible Symbols of the Digital Avalanche
Reading Notes
15-17 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Digital communication services are symbols of real life and reality. Addictive experiential design in symbol delivery. Plato's Allegory of the Cave applied to the modern digital era.
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A very close friend of mine is the kind of man who notices and observes other people. He doesn’t often share what he thinks. He keeps his opinions to himself, unless asked. When asked, he is both diplomatic and tactful. He is one of the few persons I know who will give me a brutally honest opinion and make me feel better for it, at the same time. Recently, I asked him what he thought my blind spots were. It was a dandy, firecracker of a conversation.
He told me a couple of mildly discomforting truths followed by a real whopper: I tend to act aloof in groups of people (100% true), I am too willing to stay silent when other people are talking (spot on), and that my desire to keep a firm distance from most social media and communicative technology has spilled over into the real world by not allowing myself to experience wider reality at large (disconcertingly correct).
It came screamingly clear: I finally saw that I keep a firm distance from most social media and communicative technology, and that has led to me being more sheltered and less willing to venture out and meet new people. I should mention my friend describes himself as a hopeless romantic, and he very much wants me to find a girlfriend. That thought aside, he was 100% right that I keep a firm distance from most communication technology, and I doubt that will change. I don’t appreciate communicating through a phone, messaging app, email, platform, direct message, ping, whathaveyou. This has always felt sort of cheap, uninteresting, and uninspired. I preferred a hang out or a meeting, or nothing at all. The thing is that I haven’t ever truly been able to pin down quite why it bothered me until recently. It happened after I read the following books, in order: The World Beyond Your Head, Against The Machine, and The Passion of The Western Mind.
Each book covers a great deal more than what I will share here. What follows are short, bite-sized pieces of information I gleaned and synthesized towards this point I want to make about digital communication feeling cheap and uninspired:
The World Beyond Your Head. For better or for worse, the digital world is symbol-rich, and symbols can be designed to keep us away from a real and authentic experience of living. Symbols, such as receiving a text from a friend, is a facsimile of hanging out with that friend. Sure, symbols can help destroy ambiguity (a stop sign should be 100% unequivocal). The other point of the book really got my attention: Many digital symbols are designed to be addictive, similar to machine gambling. It’s easy to posit that this is the case, that they have have suckered us into engaging impulsively and doom scrolling rather than living our story as human beings in the physical realm.
Against the Machine. The technology that made these symbols, as well as the addictive design of the experiences of the symbols, is now much more universally available to everyone regardless of location, language, culture, or economic means. For better or for worse, the democratization of technology has led to a widespread adoption of these symbols as the easiest way to experience a faux-reality. The chances of becoming addicted to these symbols is far greater.
The Passion of the Western Mind. This book is about the history and evolution of western thought. Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, a conversation between Socrates and Plato’s older brother Glaucon, is likely one of the most influential passages in his canon: Imagine being chained inside a cave at birth, unable to move or turn around, and the only exposure you have to what’s going on is through watching the shadows made by real things moving behind you but are reflecting on the wall in front of you. In such a situation, you are stuck interpreting these as actual reality rather than whats causing those shadows in the first place. To those who cannot see the actual cause of those shadows, who can only see reflections without seeing the source, these shadows become symbols, removed from actual reality.
Am I making you feel uncomfortable yet?
After reading the full text of the Allegory of the Cave as well as the two other books, I finally had the construct as to why I get super creeped out by the rapid pace of technology and it’s willingness to happily suck away both my time and creativity. Plato’s famous text absolutely nails the cultural moment we are in by directly stating that we are given access to symbols (like text messages, at it’s most benign) that can only approximate what it’s like to interact with a real human being, are addicted to these very same symbols due to the architects of these experiences making them irresistible, and very rarely living in the real world because it’s just too damned blinding, bright, scary, intense, and above all: Real.
At this point, it’s worth quoting, verbatim, a portion of the Allegory of the Cave, as translated by Thomas Sheehan:
SOCRATES: At this point I will show you something about the nature of education and ignorance. Picture the following in your mind. Imagine human beings living in an underground cave-like residence. Its entrance opens up to the light and reaches all along the cave. They have been there since their childhood, their ankles and necks chained, unable to move or turn their heads, forced to look ahead. The light from a fire blazing at a distance comes from above and behind them. Between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised walkway. Imagine also a low wall built along the way, similar to the screen that divides puppeteers from the audience and allows them to show puppets over it.
GLAUCON: I picture the scene.
SOCRATES: Now imagine that people walk behind the wall and carry various artifacts that extend above the wall. These artifacts include carvings of humans and other animals made of stone, wood, and other materials. Some of the people carrying these object are talking, while others are silent.
GLAUCON: You paint a strange picture and describe strange prisoners.
SOCRATES: They are like ourselves. Now do you think they see anything else except their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which light from the fire casts on to the opposite wall of the cave?
GLAUCON: How could they see anything else if they were forced to keep their heads still for their whole life?
SOCRATES: And what would they see of the objects that are being carried? Would they not see only shadows of them as well?
GLAUCON: What else?
SOCRATES: And if they were able to talk to one another, would they not think that the object of their conversation were the shadows they saw in front of them?
GLAUCON: Absolutely.
SOCRATES: And what if an echo bounced off the opposite wall of the prison? Would they not think that when one of the passers-by spoke the voice came from the passing shadow?
GLAUCON: Definitely.
SOCRATES: Such prisoners would think that the truth is nothing but the shadows cast by the artifacts.
Similar to the shadows on the cave wall, digital symbols are now presented to us in an onslaught that can overwhelm us in a nanosecond. They are related to real life, but not actually real life.
The Slack messages saying ASAP ASAP ASAP! The texts from friends wanting to spend time with you even though you have four kids. The 100’s of emails. The newsletters of businesses that now have your email address and think you’re possibly going to provide for them. The back-to-back Zoom meetings. Your racist uncle’s monologues that have 10,000 reposts on Facebook. The perfect photo from your coworker’s perfect life on Insta, and there’s nothing wrong! Everything is perfect! They have the best life evah! The wittiest Tweet (I don’t care that their name and ownership has changed… they’ll always be Twitter in my mind). The doom scrolling. BING! Your food has arrived from Instawhatevereats. The LinkedIn humble brags. The news articles from your favorite polarizing news network. And god help you if you even mention the word Capybara around your phone, for Instagram will serve up plenty of cute videos and then attempt to sell you Capybara stuffed animals.
If you’re alone but you have a smartphone, you are at best occupied, but truly, you are still alone.
To me, it’s all facsimile. Related to real life, but it ain’t real life.
What happens if you get tired enough of this quasi-real to get out from underneath it, to escape the cave, and see the world for what it truly is?
What it must feel like to unplug (for good?)
The merits of quick digital communication, via symbols of any sort, are many to count. Certainly, we’d prefer a way to keep in touch with our loved ones without pestering them mercilessly. Sometimes, a phone call is too much, but a text is just right. Sometimes, a little nudge is even better. Emoji’s have a purpose, too. I take hearty advantage of living in a different city than Hollywood but relying upon online cloud services to share files. Instantly delivering a score for a movie was unthinkable 30 years ago.
Digital minimalists would quickly suggest we get rid of all of this, throw the baby out with the bathwater. Throw the smart phone away. Get rid of all the apps, the profiles, the likes. Why not live simpler life?
Because it’s painful, impractical, and unbelievably out-of-touch.
The algorithms have our number, the technology these symbols are delivered on is designed to be supremely pleasing and addictive, and if we get tons of dopamine hits from small digital moments that add up to basically nothing in the end but social proof, then we are facing an uphill battle. Addiction is hard, baby. Very hard.
But, let’s say you actually got disturbed enough by the ample evidence that being underneath this digital avalanche wasn’t good for you, and you decided to actually attempt such a thing. Here, again, the old wisdom of The Allegory of the Cave paints a clear picture of what to expect. What happens when forced to walk straight into the light? Again, as translated by Thomas Sheehan:
SOCRATES: Now imagine what would happen naturally if the prisoners were released from their shackles and cured of their ignorance. Right after they are released and suddenly forced to stand up, turn their necks around, walk, and look towards the light, these activities will cause them pain; because of the bright glare they would be unable to see those things which they previously had seen only as shadows. Now what do you think they would say if one were to tell them that what they saw before was fooling them, but that now, when they are closer to what really exists and when they face that which more truly exists, they see more clearly, in a straightforward manner? What if that person pointed to the objects as they passed and asked the former prisoners to tell him what they were? Don’t you think they would be baffled and think that the shadows they formerly saw were truer than the objects that are now being pointed out to them?
GLAUCON: Far truer.
SOCRATES: And if they were forced to look straight at the light, would that not make their eyes hurt? Would they not try to avoid the light and turn back to the things that they can see? And would they not think that in reality the shadows are more clear than the objects they are forced to look at?
GLAUCON: True.
SOCRATES: But what if someone dragged them along a steep and harsh ascent against their will, and did not let go until they were dragged right into the sunlight? Would they not feel pain and discomfort? And if they walked towards the sun and their eyes suddenly filled with brilliant light, would they be able to see even one of those things that are now called true realities?
GLAUCON: No, not right away.
SOCRATES: I think that if they wanted to see the objects of the upper world they would need to grow accustomed to them. First of all, it will be easier for them to see the shadows. After that, they will see the reflections of people and other things in the water, and only after that they will see the objects themselves. After that, they will see celestial objects and the sky itself; it will be easier to see them first at night, by looking at the stars and the light of the moon, than during the day, by looking at the sun or the light of the sun.
GLAUCON: How could it be otherwise?
SOCRATES: Last of all, I think, they will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of it in the water or other media. They will be able to look at the sun itself directly and see it as it is.
GLAUCON: Definitely.
I will admit I felt this way when I started to keep a larger space from addictive digital communication technology. I quickly realized there were going to be some sacrifices I would need to make, that it would make me feel discomforted, at best. I had to make it through because ultimately I wanted to create more music, learn more about orchestras, and maintain a creative space that rewards me for the effort.
Forgive me for patting myself on the back here: I am grateful I figured out the right boundaries around technology. I first wanted to make it hard to check text messages, which was my biggest chink in the armor. I forced myself to only check text messages outside the house, on my front stoop. Yes, my entire house with exception of my front stoop is a text-free zone. At first, I was truly annoyed with forcing myself to walk outside. I’d have to put on pants (gasp!), be ready to possibly say hi to neighbors (double gasp!) and each time I’d risk getting pulled into an actual conversation (HMFS!). But eventually, after the annoyance wore off, I began to enjoy the moment I’d step out to hear from friends and loved ones, as well as the creative space I created inside my house. It felt overall more pleasant, quiet, and balanced.
It got even more intense after I read Deep Work by Cal Newport and experimented enough to figure out that my best work gets done in the morning, 5am to 12pm. That was rough, to begin with. I felt out of touch, annoyed, and desiring of some sort of connection with the world, no matter how fantastical it really was. The thing was, something happened after I completed a film I was working on called Finding Solace (forgive the self promotion. I’m proud of that film). The entire project took three months to complete. I saw that after I finished writing, producing, mixing, mastering, and eventually delivering that music, I was never happier as a creative professional. I loved the entire experience. I simply shut off my phone and got to work. I could never go back.
I highly doubt I’m the first to realize that digital symbols, as Matthew Crawford makes a solid case against in The World Beyond Your Head, are being delivered at break-neck speed by a communicative technology that’s out of control, as Paul Kingsnorth intuits both emotionally and passionately and frankly obstinately in Against The Machine, and that these same digital symbols are at best facsimiles of the real thing and that it hurts to be exposed to the actual way things are, as Plato and the Allegory of the Cave teaches. I hope I’m not the last, too.
Putting the tech back in it’s place
Often, I choose to limit interacting with these digital symbols because I prefer the real thing. Asking what a close friend thought my blind spots were scared the living shit out of me, but I did it because there was something I dared to know. I was craving a little reality, outside of me. Sometimes, to make the echos in the echo chamber stop, you need a voice that is far louder and a great deal more compelling. I hope you also have a friend who will tell you the truth, and I hope you can hear what that friend says, too.
And before you assume anything, I know I need these digital symbols to keep in touch with people that I care about. I might not answer them immediately; I know that the people who design the digital environments can manipulate me into feeling more connected with the outside world than I really am. They’re still just a facsimile of communication with a real human being I’d much rather be hanging out with. All things being equal, it sure is nice to send someone I love a quick note that says I’m thinking about them.
The best thing I can do to escape this digital landslide of symbols is to force myself to see the sun and get out and meet people, face-to-face. New people. People in my industry. Flirt with good-looking women. Goof around with friends. Build something interesting with my uncle. Play music with someone I just met and like the creativity of. Smoke cigars with people whom I openly disagree with, tell them they are full of shit, and loudly. Walk up to random people and ask them to try their best to insult me. After all, if my friend is correct that my biggest blind spot is that I am closing myself off from the world, I’d do well with a few punches to the face.
If we’re to believe that the Allegory of the Cave is pointing towards more engagement with the world, getting out of the cave of symbols, stepping away from the digital flood of notifications, and walking straight into the overwhelming daylight, we might as well ask: Are we willing to get sunburned to live a more balanced life?
Fuck it, man, fuck it.
I am.