Let’s be real for a moment—there’s an almost cult-like devotion to data in contemporary discourse, a bizarre reverence that borders on fanaticism. Numbers, we are told, do not lie. “Facts don't care about your feelings”. Incels have become the new oracles, whispering truths into the ears of our technocratic elite and their high priests of silicon. These figures, wielding their algorithms and predictive models like sacred texts, guide us toward a future that feels ever more predetermined.
But what happens when we place our trust—our very agency—into the hands of this digital divination? When we stop our search for truth in favor of a curated ‘For You’ page, when we trust an algorithm to determine what art is worth our time, when we reduce the worth of our fellow humans to a left or right swipe? When data is deemed sacred it not only fosters a culture of unquestioning acceptance akin to the blind faith found in even the most dogmatic of religions, but it herds us into a future that reflects the pages of an Orwellian dystopia more and more each day. Danger lies in the sacred becoming unquestionable, and just as the dogmas of old stifled thought and innovation, so too does this veneration of data shackle us to a singular narrative, stunting our ability to think critically.
Let’s talk about the implications here. The promise of data lies in its capacity to unveil patterns, to reveal truths about ourselves and our societies. Yet, this promise is not without peril. The reality is that data is often interpreted through a lens tainted by bias, whether it’s the agenda of a corporation or the whims of an algorithmic deity. Cherry-picking statistics to support a narrative is not just common; it’s the norm. This is where the hypocrisy becomes glaring: the left ridicule religious devotion but show an equivalent blind faith in their “experts,” “facts,” and “studies.” We have begun a new era of priesthood. A scientific clergy rules over the masses with the supposed authority of cold, hard data, selecting verses that align with their beliefs while ignoring the inconvenient truths that lie in the shadows. It’s remarkable how the same people who condemn the right for clinging to religion have created their own version of sanctity in science and data, all the while citing the very same religious figures they’ve replaced as evil upholders of an oppressive tradition.
Moreover, as we relinquish our agency to the algorithms—those cold, calculating entities—we risk reducing the human experience to mere data points. Everyone is now a commodity, our desires and motivations distilled into numbers that can be manipulated and exploited. In the quest for efficiency, we seem to be losing the very essence of what it means to be human. The nuances of our lives—the passions, the struggles, the serendipities—are being sacrificed at the altar of data analytics before our very eyes.
What’s particularly grotesque about this phenomenon is the way it commodifies knowledge. Once something that could be earned through insight and experience, knowledge is now filtered, ranked, and monetized based on financial incentives rather than objective quality or relevance. We can no longer trust a google search to relay the correct information, but rather the information that someone paid to be put at the top. Even knowledge as primal as that of our ancestors has become a luxury we attain by trading away access to our genetic code. In a society that treats data as divine, information becomes capital, our privacy becomes negotiable, and our individuality is reduced to a series of ones and zeroes. The elite, armed with their data-driven insights, dictate the terms and services of our existence while we remain blissfully ignorant of the ethical implications of their pursuits.
But the issue isn’t science itself; it’s the elevation of data to the status of divinity, and more importantly, the refusal to question it. Those who control the narrative of science—our tech overlords and data barons—aren’t as concerned with truth as with domination. Forget about the algorithmic echo chambers we’ve all been chained to, we’re on the verge of a dystopian paradise where AI will act as individualized oracles, whispering propaganda disguised as prophecy into our eager ears. They will deliver customized insights tailored to our preferences—everything from fashion to politics—creating a never-ending feedback loop of what we want to hear. Who needs critical thought when you have your own personal algorithmic prophet to tell you exactly what to think? The ancient oracles at Delphi used to offer cryptic, poetic warnings; the new AI oracles will do the same, except their riddles will be shaped to keep you in line, to prevent you from straying from the accepted path. They will be designed to mirror your fears, your biases, your aspirations, and whisper back what you want to hear, all while appearing to give you profound truths. The abyss has begun staring back. We’re at a crossroads where the promise of AI isn’t some brave new world but a more controlled, sanitized version of the one we already have. Camille Paglia, in her critiques of modern art and culture, often stressed the need for disorder and transgression—without chaos, there is no creation. The AI oracles, being built under our noses as we speak, will flatten the chaotic into the predictable, and in doing so, they will eradicate the very conditions under which true art, true thought, can flourish.
This brings us to the real core of the issue: we must stop demonizing political incorrectness, or we risk killing off the last of the true artists. A culture that denies the primal, spiritual aspects of human existence will end up suffocating under its own self-righteousness. Nietzsche warned that societies often seek to castrate the very forces that give them life. Political incorrectness, in its rawest form, allows for innovation, for transgression, for the birth of something new. Art is not supposed to be comfortable. It is messy and irrational, pulled from the deepest parts of the human psyche. By sanitizing discourse, by labeling any deviation from the norm as “problematic,” we are severing our connection to those depths. We are enforcing a sterile, safe version of culture that rewards utmost conformity and punishes the slightest deviation. It’s no coincidence then, that our art has suffered. The greatest artists in history were brilliant because of their refusal to conform to the morals and standards of their time, not in spite of it. We are losing the courage to offend, and in that loss we suffocate the very lifeblood of art.
The future the progressives promised us—a future of creativity, freedom, and exploration—has turned out to be an increasingly sterile and cold world. In their quest to extinguish tradition and replace it with data worship, they’ve only succeeded in delivering a lifeless simulacrum of human culture, one that pretends to be more evolved but is in fact devoid of the chaos and disorder that gave life meaning. They’ve replaced the religious zeal for moral purity with a data-driven obsession for safety, inclusivity, and “correctness.” What they’ve left us is a neutered culture, one where true artistry is suffocated under the weight of algorithms and political talking points, and where the new “creative class” is little more than a bunch of obedient servants to the tech aristocracy.
Data may be divine, but we are not gods. If we continue our blind worship, we may soon find ourselves existing in a world where nothing is sacred, nothing is human, nothing is even real.