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Ian J.F. Wagner
Wishing for Ignorance or: How I Want to Stop Worrying and Love the Digital World

We live to consume. This is hardly a world-view-challenging statement. We live to maintain the status quo. Again, not an unsettling quip. But what if the status quo that we maintain does not actually exist? What if the system that we maintain is only a spontaneous Virilian accident that has constructed itself via our uninformed consumption of the media commodities that keep us subdued and complacent?

As I sit here typing this sentence, I am aware of two things: that my thoughts are unoriginal and that I have spent more time with this computer screen than any physical individual in my lifetime. Quality time. My keyboard loves the way that I stroke its keys to stoke the screen’s simulated performance. This screen maintains “the illusion of actuality” that concretizes my place in the techno-organic world, as it does for the billions of others that populate the space of the globe directly and the internet indirectly (Baudrillard, Simulations 71). (This forgoes a discussion of the paralyzation of the masses in front of various screens, from cell phones to movie screens.) The “speed” of things, the very instantaneous transmissions of our (mis)guided thoughts has created “a panic phenomenon of dependence” on the “audiovisual continuum [that] now replac[es] the public space of our daily lives” (Virilio 3, 18, 50). Our dependence on the televisual, the non-existent, inexhaustibly maintains our maintenance of the spontaneous accidental system (that may or may not actually have existed at some point) that rules over our multiple digital and physical lives. “Socialization is measured according to exposure through media messages” (Baudrillard, “Implosion of Meaning” 95). Baudrillard’s simulacra has become what it originally signified.

The Lego Movie is, (un)jokingly, a contemporary parable of this very line of thought and a prime example of the visual spectacle discussed by Guy Debord (“Spectacle”). It has the typical hero character, the love interest, and the wise mentor (who bites the [Lego] dust), all trying to save their world from the corrupt tyranny of a corporate monster and all in the interest of teaching (young) viewers the incentives of friendship, contemporary family values, and capitalism. Emmett, the hero, humorously stumbles upon the predetermined made-up role of “the chosen one” and comes to realize that the Octan corporation controls every aspect of the little yellow bricks’ sad pathetic puppet lives. Octan writes the instruction manuals that every individual of the Lego City blindly follows as they mindlessly consume the televisual and audio nonsense that keep them entertained, complacent, and oblivious of the structures through which their little brick lives are manipulated. (This is to say nothing of the role that the Octan corporation is forced to play in this societal structure.) “…the perceptible world is replaced by a set of images that are superior to that world yet at the same time impose themselves as eminently perceptible” (Debord, “Spectacle” 26).Wait a second… this seems awfully familiar… Oh, yes. That is the life that we live out everyday through our techno-organic Cronenbergian existences. Long live Skynet Google. The Lego Movie IS a Hollywood spectacle inclined to espouse the virtues of contemporary American living and drive sales of expensive colored bricks, but it is also a spectacle that relishes its role as spectacle and mirrors the spectacle of the audience’s physical existence. In ways, it is the bright, cheery, iridescent colored twin of the 1998 film Dark City, another commentary on the spectacle of the 20th/21st century.

Our contemporary societal fable is best summed up by Baudrillard: “Our entire linear and accumulative culture would collapse if we could not stockpile the past in plain view” (Simulations 19). Our “stockpiled past,” in, of, within, without, is a fictitious construct that serves to show us that which we wish had happened rather than that which was actually experienced. Our history, personal and societal, serves a purpose that remains malleable, more so now due to its digital existence. This purpose was once enacted primarily through the (-cough-) “fine” arts, but is now maintained by the “low” arts and our self-created digital doppelgängers. “All that once was lived directly has become mere representation” (Debord, “Spectacle” 12). The digital identities that we believe we control are task oriented inorganic organisms that continue to live because we raise, coddle, and feed them like the cannibalistic newborns that they are, unaware of the impending flaying of our flesh by our techno-children’s hands.

This monologue has avoided the role of art as a personal and social tool of propaganda that perpetuates the readymade molds (role models) of “creativity,” “artistry,” and the “outsider.” I think, therefore I am artist. I am artist, therefore I am different. I am different, therefore I am just like the millions of other individuals that are different. Uniqueness does not reside within our techno-organic society; only its parody and approximation exists in a manner that serves to give the false perception that there is room in the system for elements that are beyond the direct control of the overarching system. It is a pursuit of “uniqueness” that forces those who pursue it to suffer the delirium of believing that they can break free of the techno-organic normalcy/bureaucracy. “Any sign or word is susceptible to being converted into something else, even into its opposite” (Debord, “User’s Guide” 20).

We exist in predetermined roles. We may argue that we have consciously chosen the paths that we walk, but we walk them within the confines of the media-societal structure that dictates what the role that we choose is to exist as. (We follow role models.) Our relationship to the other/Other indoctrinates us to predetermined sets of actions that are socially/technologically acceptable. There are certain dictates that come with the occupation of teacher, artist, friend, child, adult, human being, that we subconsciously enact that are deeply rooted in the genesis of our developments as individuals. Our particular beginnings are brought about in an already fabricated societal conglomerate that dictates how we are to survive, but not exist. Existing is separate from survival, and our existence is controlled by the media that serves the motives of the overarching societal structure that we have the (mis)fortune of coming into. We are our own spectacle that fantasizes about the spectacle of a systemless system. We are the dream that dreams that which imposes its dream upon us. As Jon Fratelli sang: “I’m a cynical cunt and I’m much too lazy to change,” but one made so by the media that I consume.

Works Cited

Baudrillard, Jean. “The Implosion of Meaning in the Media.” In the Shadow of the Silent Majorities. Trans. Paul Foss, Paul Patton, and John Johnston. New York: Semiotext (E), 1983. 95-110. Print.

—-. Simulations. Trans. Paul Foss, Paul Patton and Philip Beitchman,. New York: Semiotext (E), 1983. 1-75. Print.

Dark City (Director’s Cut). Dir. Alex Proyas. Perf. Rufus Sewell, Kiefer Sutherland, and Jennifer Connelly. New Line Home Video, 2013. Blu-Ray.

Debord, Guy. The Society of the Spectacle. Trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith. New York: Zone Books, 1993. 11-34. Print.

—-. “A User’s Guide to Détournement.” Situationist International Anthology. Ed. Ken Knabb. Berkley: Bureau of Public Secrets, 2006. 14-21. Print.

The Fratellis. “Lookout Sunshine!” Here We Stand. Interscope Records, 2008. CD.

The Lego Movie. Dir. Phil Lord and Christopher Miller. Perf. Chris Pratt, Will Ferrell, and Elizabeth Banks. Warner Home Video, 2014. Blu-Ray.

Virilio, Paul. The Original Accident. Trans. Julie Rose. Malden: Polity Press, 2007. 3-53. Print.

 © 2022 Ian J.F. Wagner