In one of the most memorable scenes of The Matrix, rebel-in-chief Morpheus summons Neo to decide whether or not to commit to freeing his own mind. “This is your last chance”, he says, “After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.”
Western civilization now seems to be in a similar predicament. We must choose between going to bed at night believing whatever we want to believe, or examining more closely the nature of what we think we know (and possibly losing some sleep over it). Understandably, many are opting for the former rather than the latter. One reason might be lack of spare time to deal with the epistemological challenges of an increasingly complex world. Another might be a deep sense of confusion caused by information overload, combined with a lack of desire to sort through it all. Plus, the simple act of questioning things might come at a very high cost nowadays, including losing one’s reputation or livelihood. In other words, it’s a matter of self-preservation.
That said, I will dare to pose the following question: What price are we willing to pay for taking the blue pill?
In order to grapple with this, we must first recognize that we are dealing with a public health crisis unlike any other humanity has ever experienced (yes, a lot worse than Covid). Just like severe environmental pollution has been one of the nasty byproducts of the industrial age, the information age produces incalculable amounts of contaminants, except in this case the ultimate impact is the clogging of our minds. Where does this leave our ability to make sense of things? While corporate behemoths like Google, Apple and Microsoft have committed to reducing their ‘carbon footprint’, they continue to enable a digital ecosystem that lacks any proper waste management infrastructure. The result is that we are constantly immersed in a landfill of nonsense, rarely pausing to notice its detrimental effects.
To be clear, my intention here is not to single out any particular company but simply point out the gigantic challenge we face. In fact, we must acknowledge that we all are accomplices in creating and curating this informational habitat. The question is how much garbage each one of us is willing to consume, and potentially contribute as well. In writing this post, for instance, I genuinely wish to create as much value as possible with as little waste as possible. Will I succeed? I must accept the possibility that anything I say might be partially true at best, and willfully misconstrued by some readers at worst. This basic awareness raises the stakes for me, and it makes me want to choose my words slightly more carefully - not in the spirit of self-censorship but craftsmanship instead. I try to apply the same principle when I share or comment on someone else’s content, too. In the heat of the moment, this is sometimes easier said than done.
Consider the following example: “SILENCE IS VIOLENCE”. A quick online search of this nonsensical slogan (quite popular in 2020) produced 157,000,000 results, which is a considerable amount of internet traffic. Perhaps I’m oversimplifying here, but hopefully you’ll get the gist of what I’m trying to say.
What happens to truth in this context? Well, it depends whom you ask, I suppose. Fundamentalists, skeptics, relativists, pragmatists, constructivists and idealists will all have a different take on it. Given the constant bombardment of catchy phrases and conflicting messages, I certainly don’t blame anyone for giving up on the existence of objective truth. But, as Carl Sagan claimed, “for me it is much better to grasp the Universe as it really is than to persist in delusion, however satisfying or reassuring”.
In the end, should we not strive to build a shared reality, if we are to have a shared future?
This reminds me of Lincoln’s habit of putting aside letters he wrote in anger to some of his cabinet members, colleagues and generals, only to look at them the next day before deciding whether to send them or not. He did this, so he could "attend to the matter with a clearer eye". More often than not, he wouldn’t send the letter.
In this clip, Carl Sagan explores questions around knowledge, including “Whose interest does ignorance serve?”