Robert D. Kaplan is author of “The Return of Marco Polo’s World: War, Strategy, and American Interests in the Twenty-first Century.” He is a senior fellow at the Center for a New American Security.
I
recently had a private tour of Paramount Studios in Los Angeles. I was
shown the famous stage where the original “King Kong” was filmed. “Do
you know how big the real King Kong was?” The tour guide asked me. “He
was huge!” I exclaimed.” “Wrong answer,” she said. “King Kong was an
18-inch puppet. Magnification and special effects did the rest.” Next we
went into the prop room where a model submarine only a few feet long
was hanging on a wall. “That’s the real Red October,” she said. The rest
of the movie was filmed on a stage set. Then she showed me an ordinary
parking lot. “Here is where we parted the Red Sea in ‘The Ten
Commandments.’ ” A trench had been dug in the middle, and then the whole
area was flooded with water. The film was edited and restitched
backward so that the trench looked like it was emptying out. “Everything
here is fake. That’s what you have to realize,” she said.
My
tour guide did not mean “fake” in any negative sense. In the 20th
century, such fake material was confined to the entertainment industry,
which in that earlier age of technology was clearly separate from the
news industry. Now the scope of what constitutes fake is vaster. And I
do not mean President Trump’s false claims of “fake news,” which is
merely news he doesn’t like or agree with. I mean the world of digital
and video technology that has allowed the Hollywood mind-set of
manipulating reality to distort how we think about the great issues of
the day.
Objective, professional
journalism — which seeks balance among respectable points of view —
flourished, we should remind ourselves, within the context of the
print-and-typewriter age: a more benign technology much less given to
forgery and alteration compared with that of our current era. The
digital-video age may have begun in the latter part of the 20th century,
but we saw its dramatic effect on politics during the 2016 election. It
is common for there to be a lag time between technological innovation
and political-military effect. Recall that although the Second
Industrial Revolution began in the mid-19th century, we did not really
see its effect on war until 1914.
It
is impossible to imagine Trump and his repeated big lies that go viral
except in the digital-video age. It is impossible to imagine our present
political polarization except in the age of the Internet, which drives
people to sites of extreme views that validate their preexisting
prejudices. And, in the spirit of Hollywood, it is impossible to imagine
the degree and intensity of emotional and sensory manipulation, false
rumors, exaggerations and character assassination that decay our public
dialogue except in this new and terrifying age of technology which has
only just begun.
Digital-video technology, precisely because it
is given to manipulation, is inherently controlling. Think of how the
great film directors of the 20th century were able to take over your
mind for a few hours: a new experience for audiences that previous
generations had never known. Theater may be as old as the ancient
Greeks, but the technology of film lent a new and powerful force to the
theatrical experience. Moreover, it was contained within a limited time
period, and afterward you came back to the real world.
In the
21st century, dictators may have the capability to be the equivalent of
film directors, and the show never stops. Indeed, Joseph Goebbels would
undoubtedly thrive in today’s world. As for warfare itself, it will be
increasingly about dividing and demoralizing enemy populations through
disinformation campaigns whose techniques are still in their infancy.
The
Chinese, eventually with the help of big data, are working on following
the Internet searches of their citizens, and then determining who needs
to be singled out for further observation. If a government or a company
knows the destination and sequence of all of your searches, it is
virtually inside your mind. The possibilities are frightening, and the
vistas for oppression unbounded. The digital age, originally sold to us
as empowering, could yet become the greatest threat to free thought and
democracy in history. The very idea of something going viral is an
expression of the mob more than of the individual. The fact that Google
partially ranks search results in terms of how many other sites have
linked to them reinforces groupthink, not individuality. The entire
logic of the Web works toward popularity, not quality, and certainly not
toward truth.
Never before have we had to
fight for democracy and individual rights as now in this new and — in
some sense — dark age of technology. We must realize that the fight for
democracy is synonymous with the fight for objectivity, which lies at
the core of professional journalism — a calling whose foundational
spirit was forged in the print-and-typewriter age, when mainly the
movies were fake.
We will fight best by thinking tragically to
avoid tragedy. This means learning to think like the tyrants who feed
and prosper on misinformation so we can keep several steps ahead of
them. Only in that way can we build safeguards against the specific
dangers of the digital experience. The pioneers of Silicon Valley were
inherent optimists who simply believed in connecting the world. But it
is precisely such integration that provides our authoritarian enemies
with access into our own democratic systems. The future will be about
wars of integration rather than wars of geographic separation. So now
constructive pessimism is called for. The innocent days when illusions
were the province of movie stage sets are way behind us.
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