Art & Cancel Culture

I too awaited the expected guest.
                                    – T.S. Eliot 

Like a Sisyphean jigsaw puzzle with no end, culture is pieced together by works of art addressing the political and socioeconomic trends of the day. The artist ‘looks to windward’ and becomes a voice for our collective psyche. At times, she attempts to point a new direction. In our day, cultural output has reached a point where, whichever way you guide the sails, the ship is bound to sink.

We are officially on autodestruct with our so-called Cancel Culture where no voice may speak except that it risks being silenced by the anonymous mob that dictates morality. As if vested with divine authority, the algorithm calls the shots on what is right or wrong, what is allowed to ‘reach’ others and what is not, and whether it reaches those likely to be in approval or disapproval. People are only allowed to nod and ‘like’ – or unfriend, unfollow, block and ‘cancel’ – depending on if the voice adheres to the moral code set by the technocrats we have unwittingly elected as our rulers.

The inspiration behind this essay came from a social media post made by a perfume lover who decided the time had come to cancel me and all of my future works in the field of artisanal perfumery. Rather than provide anything constructive in the post, the disgruntled patron opted to toss a Molotov cocktail in a predominantly peaceful and respectful space, voicing the gripe that EO has lately engaged in ‘gaslighting’ consumers and therefore deserved to be canceled out of existence. A moderator unfortunately deleted – ‘canceled’ – the post without consulting me, and so I decided to write what has been on my mind for quite some time with regards to our prevailing ethos and collective cultural ‘direction’…

Traditionally, there has always been a toll anyone treading along a path must pay, and that toll was to give credit to the hands that paved the way for them. This linear, attributional ‘genealogy’ is what culture was built upon. Bernard de Chartres called it “standing on the shoulders of giants” in 1159, defining acceptable artistic etiquette for the remainder of that millennium. No artist, philosopher or scientist would conceivably attempt to trample upon the predecessor whose shoulders they stood upon. “If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants,” Newton echoed in 1675.

What we see in our Cancel Culture is that successors rush to demolish the image of those who went before. They want to be the sole treader of their chosen path. As such, our current culture is one that makes it impossible for works of lasting influence or legacy to be put out. They are indeed put out, but the influence is short-lived, given our shot attention span which is on the constant hunt for ‘likes’ and new ‘reels’ to flick through.

The architects of the Metaverse have cracked the code of what makes the human psyche tick, and each release of dopamine we experience when we receive a ‘like’ from virtual eyes approving of our dinner plate has come to replace a mother’s nurturing voice, and a father’s approval. Social media is the most antisocial construct anyone could have possibly invented.

As we interact with the behemoth of cancellation that are the social media platforms, each of us is in a virtual prison cell, unable to connect deeply and meaningfully with others. We even see people address their dead relatives in the Metaverse, assured by all the ‘care’ and ‘love’ reactions facilitated by the algorithm that their loved one has indeed received their prayers and is sending acknowledgment and gratitude in turn.

Not only our psyche – our soul has been hacked. Each teensy trickling of dopamine upon finding an appropriate GIF response to a virtual situation makes us feel that we are in control, that we have influence, and that our voice counts – even as our children are anesthetized by our side, oblivious to our being just as we are oblivious to theirs. With everyone a certified reel artist, who needs artworks of lasting value to take inspiration from? New reels are bound to follow, with previous ‘masterworks’ irretrievably lost. What can we possibly need to know about the meaning of life when life is this unending dopamine reel fueled by ‘love’ and ‘care’ coming from all corners of the Metaverse?

“Hi, I am Siri. Choose the voice you want me to use!” – literally went off as I was typing.  

Who needs the shoulders of giants to stand upon and broaden one’s horizons when there are reels of anonymous Metaverse citizens flickering right in front of us with each passing second, offering an instant high and a virtual ‘reality’ we could experience right now? I hear there is a tactile feature being developed for the Metaverse where you would eventually be able to procreate and get to ‘feel’ your virtual child by wearing a pair of gloves. That we will soon be eating synthetic beef is completely unrelated to any of this.

Our attention span has been shot, and our brain is on crack. We do not need enrichment or insight – we require stimulation and approval by fellow captives of the Metaverse.

“You removed a post. Get support with this.” – Heartwarming ‘support’ is only a click away. If you choose to, you may leave a testament as to who should inherit your Facebook profile upon your passing.

If what the algorithm does to our minds were a material substance, it would be banned. That it is allowed, being a ‘virtual’ thing, only indicates that the future of humanity as we know it carries a heavy question mark.