By now, we spend more time on social media than in real life, and this is a fairly obvious observation. The amount of time people spend on these platforms is increasing significantly, and cases of addiction are on the rise. This is no accident, but rather something deliberately engineered by companies that profit from people spending as much time as possible on their platforms. Clearly, they have no moral qualms about implementing mechanisms that essentially amount to gambling.
Civil society complains from time to time, and occasionally an investigative documentary comes out on Netflix, but the reality is that no one is willing to join forces and take serious action. The siren’s lure is increasingly effective at reinforcing the invisible chains of addiction.
Life lived through social media, as mediators of our lived experience, distancing us from the direct experience of reality, is comparable to that of the prisoners in Plato’s cave: individuals addicted to the shadows on the wall that mimic reality, and which end up being preferred over reality itself (with its risks and “imperfections”) and, indeed, more “real” than reality.
Every now and then, someone decides to look for a way out. I’m referring to those who occasionally come to this subreddit to share how they didn’t just deactivate, but actually deleted some of their social media accounts.
People who, for one reason or another, often due to an almost sudden realization, come to understand the costs and benefits of their lifestyle, and just how much they’re actually missing out on. Once you become aware of this, it’s nearly impossible to remain indifferent.
What one feels, therefore, when trying to break free varies from person to person. Some feel immediately invigorated, while others begin to sense a subtle sense of anxiety. I identify much more with those who feel anxiety, and I’ve been reflecting on this fact: clearly, stepping out of the cave, or at least trying to, is in itself a positive thing. We know the true nature of the chains from which we’re trying to free ourselves; it’s no mystery.
Yet, when we emerge from the cave, we rarely find other people with us. We look back and see that many of the people we considered our friends not only stayed behind to watch the shadow play but also seem to have immediately forgotten us. In fact, sometimes it seems as though they never truly knew us at all.
Obviously, I’m referring to the feeling of loneliness and isolation one experiences when, after deleting one’s accounts, one finds oneself alone facing the realization that the people in our lives with whom we have a true and authentic relationship of friendship and intimacy are few, very few. Sometimes, for some people, there’s really no one at all.
The sense of desolation is real. It’s like finding yourself suddenly in a desert, gripped by thirst but with no water to quench it. We had fled the cave, in a sense, precisely to satisfy that deep, inner need for Life, but we’ve seen that there are few of us contributing to it, at least in our immediate surroundings.
At this point, I’m not exactly sure what kind of answer to give. The only thing I feel I can say is that this feeling of desolation will pass. It will pass, just as everything else does. This is a precious opportunity to reflect on the precariousness of the bridges we delude ourselves into building out of fear of loneliness, and on the importance of prioritizing quality over quantity, given that social media is the very embodiment of the realm of quantity. It’s difficult, absolutely, but this is what we’re called to do.
What do you think? I wanted to put this reflection of mine in writing after recalling Plato’s myth of the Cave. I’d be interested to know how you approach all of this.
