The Stoa’s YouTube channel disables comments on video recordings of events happening at The Stoa. However, comments are enabled for all other videos. Some people dislike this policy, and on the videos where comments are enabled, remarks like these frequently appear:
I receive the occasional devastating critique as well:
The main arguments against having the comments disabled seem to be:
You will miss out on good criticism.
You will appear to be afraid of criticism.
Your channel will not grow.
My response to these arguments is below:
I do understand the logic. If you want to win in the attention economy, there are certain best practices to follow: enable comments, engage with them, ask people to “crush the like button,” and be sure to have clickbait thumbnails.
The argument continues: if someone believes their message is valuable, they must disseminate it as widely as possible. Therefore, they need to “play the game” and adhere to the best practices for winning attention. This reason is coherent, but is it wise? No, it is not. Subtle trade-offs lead to subtle corruption, and engaging in bullshit behavior, regardless of the rationale, leads to bullshit personalities.
Everyone on the internet is starting to feel like the same person now. They operate under the same logic, employ the same strategies, and interview the same people. Winning attention intentionally has become a Pyrrhic victory, one that is not safe for the soul. I used to think I had to play this game, but now, playing it seems deeply foolish. One thing seems deeply true: the internet is starting to feel soulless.
I know you feel it. I feel it too. Those who see me in my inquiry practice feel it as well. They want to express themselves, create freely, and follow their aliveness. However, a bullshit belief is present, preventing many from creating:
You need to play the game. Start a podcast. Promote yourself. Get on social media. Get followers. Care what they say. Go viral and become a meme, which is to say, become a digital virus. Spread, spread, and spread some more. Be online all the time. Everyone needs to know you, like you, and subscribe to your “community.”
No.
We do not have to play this game. It’s a trap. Turn away. There are better ways to be. More beautiful ways to be with others, which reside far outside the logic of the attention economy. We can create with aliveness without getting trapped. I’ve seen the timelines, and here are two in front of us:
In one timeline, we choose to become a virus, memeify ourselves, and compete with deepfakes, ultimately becoming deeply fake ourselves. Our souls fade as we are sucked into the screen, with screens glued to our heads, eventually getting implanted within them. In the other timeline, we choose to become solarpunk hotties, embodied both on and off the screens, spending more time off them than on. Why? Because we are vibing with what matters most. And what matters most cannot be found in any meme that goes viral on a screen.
I have made my choice.
The Stoa is not a YouTube channel. It is a beacon, inviting others into a new way to be online. It offers an escape from the increasingly inhumane surface web, leading us into a “dark forest” where we rediscover the true essence of our collective being together.
