Prof. Dr. Erol Göka
I used to believe that we live in a strange, unfathomable world, and for that reason I tried to write highly theoretical essays aimed at understanding it. As I grew older, I began to feel more peaceful and at ease; yet at the same time, I became increasingly anxious about the future of our world and humanity. I no longer see the world we inhabit as merely strange, but as a place that is becoming ever more dangerous for people, nature, and other living species.
To grasp why the world has come to this state and why my anxiety has multiplied, I want to propose two concepts that serve as the cipher of our modern times. The first is “the disenchantment of the world”
The Disenchantment of the World
“The disenchantment of the world” was first employed in the late 18th century by the German poet Friedrich Schiller to denote a turn toward rationalism and scientism—seeking truth in observable phenomena, and a full return to reality by purging life of mythology and religion, thus secularizing it. Later, the German sociologist Max Weber characterized it as the hallmark of the modern mind. Through the process of modern rationalization, this concept describes how the world has ceased to possess any mysterious, magical, or divine quality.
Some greeted this process with applause, while others met it with anxiety; yet by the end of the 20th century, George Ritzer felt compelled to write the book Enchanting a Disenchanted World: Revolutionizing the Means of Consumption. As he notes:
“Once upon a time, the forest was magical, and among the tree trunks and roots dwelt spirits and jinn. But now, the forest is managed by forest administration.”
Modernization has shown that human life is neither magical nor divine, and that everything is calculable and predictable. People began to fear God less, and with the advancement of modern science—especially medicine—their perceptions of life changed fundamentally. However, rationalization also gave rise to modern bureaucracy and capitalism, which started using every possible means to generate profit. A consumption-driven way of life materialized everything, bringing spiritual and emotional needs to the fore, and people began to feel “homeless and without a home.” Capitalism did not hesitate to exploit this as well, dressing consumption in a “magical” and “entertaining” guise. It was as if to say, “Since you need magic, here is magic and sorcery!”—the world thus embarked on a project of re-enchantment through new consumption devices and the so-called “cathedrals of consumption.”
Speaking of the disenchantment of the world, allow me to mention another very interesting book. In the Turkish edition titled Kapitalizmde Korku (Fear in Capitalism), for which Aziz Nesin also penned a lengthy foreword, psychoanalyst Dieter Duhm examines how, despite all the scientific and technological advances of the 1970s, “a person crossing a cemetery alone at night still feels fear even when there is no rational reason to do so—and this fear does not disappear even in socialist countries.” According to him, the reason for this fear lies not in the individual—it is a fear of fearing—and the root of this individually sourced fear is, again, in social life under capitalist conditions.
Duhm’s original German title is Angst im Kapitalismus (“Fear in Capitalism”), and although he later withdrew into seclusion and devoted himself to communal living under the influence of New Age spiritual movements, he undoubtedly no longer defends this book. Nevertheless, the work remains fascinating for showing how people once expected modernity to rid them of all their fears. Of course, that expectation never materialized; on the contrary, inner life became more troubled, and psychological disorders—especially anxiety and worry—have become one of humanity’s greatest ills.
All That Is Solid Melts into Air
Anyway, let me continue. The second cipher concept I propose is “all that is solid melts into air,” which first appears in the 1848 Communist Manifesto by Marx and Engels . They write:
“All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober senses his real conditions of life, and his relations with his kind.”
However, Marx and Engels—using this phrase to describe the transition from feudalism to capitalism—do not see these upheavals as a sign of despair. On the contrary, they celebrate the bourgeoisie for sweeping away every relic of the old order. Like all Enlightenment thinkers, they argue that the more rational and comprehensible the world and the individual become—as science and technology advance—the easier it will be to govern society. They anticipate problems arising from capitalism itself and focus on diagnosing and solving those issues .
They never envisage that with the progress of science and technology the world might slip further out of our control, endanger the entire planet, or even dehumanize humankind. Their disciple Marshall Berman, however, partially perceived this danger. In 1987, in his book All That Is Solid Melts into Air, he cried, “Modernism is eating its children!” and urged a return to the modernists of the previous century in order to build a healthy modernism for the 2000s .
Yes; with modernity “the disenchantment of the world” (dünyanın büyüsünün bozulması) and “all that is solid melts into air” (katı olan her şey buharlaşması), we have arrived at the present. Today, we find ourselves in an era when academics openly declare that “man was a historical category that has been surpassed; we have entered the age of the posthuman” (insan-sonrası). Old perspectives and theories no longer serve any purpose, and we’re hurtling forward as if “we’ve mounted an omen and are speeding toward apocalypse.” No one now insists that modernity is anthropocentric; concepts such as biotechnology, neuropsychopharmacology, implants, digital technology, cyborg, the metaverse, and artificial intelligence—terms people deploy without fully knowing what lies behind them—are proliferating unchecked.
Even if all you have is your cellphone, whether you venture into the fields, the mountains, or the farthest reaches, you remain right in the heart of the world. Where once we carried ourselves wherever we went, now the whole world comes along with us. In every respect, it is always at our side. All it takes is for us to connect, all it takes is to be “online”. This is the world, and there is no way out of it!
Arriving at the technomediatic world
I call this world defined and framed by technology and media the technomediatic world (teknomedyatik dünya), as this concept best captures our lived experience. This world is a new sea: “new” because it is completely different from the old, and “sea” because it is so all-encompassing that each of us becomes a fish within it. Hence, I add, “we are the fish of the new sea.” It is impossible to assess our psychologies without understanding this new sea. We are fish in the sea, oblivious to the sea itself.
“Technique” has existed in every historical period, but in modern times it has transformed into a form never before known in human history, which we call “technology.” The “medium” as the environment through which our communications flow has always been with us, yet the staggering complexity referred to as “media” only emerged with modernity. First writing became widespread, then visuality, and finally digitization entered the picture; today we live in cyber times where our cables are as vital as our veins.
Technology and media resemble each other as much as they differ; neither can exist without the other—they are inseparable components. When we look closely, their shared trait becomes immediately evident: artificiality. Artificiality is that which does not exist in its authentic form, but is made by humans—a fabrication…
To explain artificiality, one must focus on the distinction between truth (hakikat) and reality (gerçek). In artificiality, the aspects of things and relationships that are not inherent to their original existence but are later appended to their authentic being come to the fore. The artificial remains real yet is not genuine. That something is artificial does not mean it is unreal; rather, it signifies a departure from its original, bona fide form—its own truth. Just as fruit processed by modern agricultural technology is indeed real but differs in form and utility from its authentic state, so too are the communication environments mediated by modern media still communication but markedly different from traditional, pure interaction…
In the technomediatic world, relationships between people and between people and nature take on an artificial character. Virtuality is also linked to artificiality. Artificiality and virtuality enact the greatest transformation of authentic human existence by severely weakening the bond between thought and reality that concepts once mediated (one could read this as a harmful effect). Concepts progressively lose their power, and what is image and fantasy comes to the fore. This amounts to a kind of “de-philosophization.” Consequently, we no longer concern ourselves with the question of the “good life.” We have handed ourselves and our destiny over to engineers. Yet at the root of all this lies artificiality’s overriding of the authentic. We fail to value the intuitive, practical knowledge derived from our own lived experience. The notions of wisdom and insight barely register in our minds. Even those who profess the greatest faith in science love, at every opportunity, to indulge in astral travel via fortune-telling, sorcery, and New Age beliefs.
At first we spoke of bird flight, then of sound, and later of the speed of light… We value speed so highly that we have even forgotten what teennî (slowness) means. As all this unfolded, our very conceptions of truth changed without our noticing.
We remain continuously connected to both the Internet and our relationships in a constant (mütemadi) fluidity. Our language of relationships now mirrors our Internet language. We try to surf a network of relationships. We seek connections that can be entered and exited effortlessly, that require no upkeep, care, or seriousness, that are sleek and user-friendly, and that can be discarded at the press of the “delete” key.
We know how information technologies have precipitated sweeping transformations—from medicine to architecture, urban planning to archiving, production processes to sales and marketing, arms manufacturing to automotive, librarianship to intelligence. Even setting those aside and focusing solely on our daily lives, the panorama is astonishing. With each passing day, a network forms in which we are bound without a digital environment, and our smartphone becomes a new extension of our body. We handle many tasks effortlessly thanks to the Internet, and, captivated by the magic of speed, exclaim “wow!” The Internet is increasingly the first choice for shopping, banking, scheduling hospital appointments, and planning travel. Media has long since become indispensable for reading newspapers, magazines, and books; watching television; chatting; gaming; entertainment; and even doing homework, attending lectures, checking exam results, and communicating.
The digitization of life to such an extent—and the daily substitution of reality by virtuality—is stripping our language of its very “language” quality. Rather than volumes of books, the chirping of social media attracts us more. When we speak of “going somewhere,” “wandering,” “journey,” “surfing”; of “sites,” “pages,” “addresses,” “settlements,” “worlds,” “rooms,” “spaces,” we are now referring to things utterly different from what those words meant twenty years ago.
We would be ungrateful to deny the conveniences and benefits these changes have brought to our lives. Granted. Yet we must also recognize how much we have sacrificed and lost in the name of greater speed, more pleasure, and longer lifespans. Isn’t it naiveté not to see that this trajectory may spell the end of humanity and the world as we know it? For some time now, we have noticed that concepts like “human rights” and “democracy” are all but useless in this “brutal new world” where notions such as violence and fanaticism seem far more apt.
Especially after Gaza, we have come to understand fully that those in power—these paranoid sociopaths—will stop at nothing to protect their interests; they will not hesitate to spark a world war or deploy nuclear weapons. People, humanity, and the future of the planet mean nothing to them!…
I have long since abandoned theoretical tedium; I now write essays and books that give voice to my anxiety and concern, calling us all to unite—at least around the concept of insanın mükerremliği (the nobility of humankind)—while striving to be as readable and comprehensible as possible. I often find myself repeating past observations and quoting earlier remarks, but so be it!
*From the Preface to Umuda İmkân Aramak by Erol Göka (İstanbul: Kapı Yayınları).