Thanks to quarantine, the unprecedented nature of this situation, Trump, government response to the protests糖心传媒攅verything feels like an illusion. Not an illusion in the sense that 糖心传媒渘othing is physically realm,糖心传媒� although one could argue that scientists have yet to prove the immutable, primary substance giving rise to reality, and cosmologists never get to the end of the universe糖心传媒攖wo scientific situations that can really call into question the concept of 糖心传媒渞eality.糖心传媒� But no, I 诲辞苍糖心传媒檛 want to argue that we糖心传媒檙e all living in some wild constructed world, or, better yet, a Westworld-style simulation of Jean Baudrillard糖心传媒檚 final acid trip.

[Disclaimer: I have no idea if Baudrillard dropped acid.]

Instead, I want to talk about how 2020 is the Year of Illusions糖心传媒攂oth in physical and ideological domains糖心传媒攁nd that the acknowledgement of how these illusions have propped up various power structures could, theoretically, usher in a time of radical change.

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COVID-19 is the most Baudrillard of all catastrophes I糖心传媒檝e lived through. The 9/11 attacks were the previous high-water mark, given the significance and emotional impact the destruction of the Twin Towers had on people who only saw it on TV糖心传媒攑eople who maybe have never been to NYC, even now, twenty years later糖心传媒攐r heard about it on NPR; experiences that are mediated in one way or another.

On the way to work that particular morning, I didn糖心传媒檛 have NPR on at all. Instead I was listening to Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (not joking), while driving a new employee to the Dalkey Archive offices out in Funks Grove, an extremely remote wooded area surrounded by the largest fields you糖心传媒檒l ever see; a setting that made the approach to John O糖心传媒橞rien糖心传媒檚 house糖心传媒攑lanted at the border of the woods and fields, right where the road curves 90 degrees to the right糖心传媒攆eel like you were about to drive off the edge of the world.

It wasn糖心传媒檛 until we were out of the car, walking toward the office door that Angela (another employee and John糖心传媒檚 wife) yelled to us that the Twin Towers had been attacked.

I can糖心传媒檛 remember if we saw the second tower fall 糖心传媒渓ive糖心传媒� on TV, or if we only saw the replays. All the replays. The scroll. That will never, ever go away. The moment that we糖心传媒攖he U.S., the Western world, everyone糖心传媒攅ntered into our current moment of hyper-anxiety, an new sense of dread coupled with an inherent understanding that not matter when, or where, a catastrophe takes place, in a short order of time, we糖心传媒檒l be able to see footage of it online. All catastrophes are now viewable, almost immediately. It was 糖心传媒�63, but with the Internet.

The fact that this was such a video-centric occurrence糖心传媒攂oth at the Twin Towers and the Pentagon糖心传媒攚itnessed in real-life by a tragic number of people, but internalized by so many millions of others who chose to create their own narratives about the how and why of it all only enabled the spread of the suspect conspiracy theories, the over-analysis/doctoring of images, the mobilized hatred against a specific group of people.

And for many, these illusionary beliefs have become real. Have lead them down an increasingly questionable and walled off set of opinions (or straight out falsehoods) masquerading as 糖心传媒渇act,糖心传媒� and existing in a miasmic digital world in which 糖心传媒渞eality糖心传媒� is based on which illusion you prefer.

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All these interactions online, through these mediating properties糖心传媒攕ometimes intellectual, such as a predictive algorithm, sometimes mechanical, such as the iPhone, sometimes crowd dynamics, like on Twitter糖心传媒攆unction off of the illusion that by interacting with these systems, you will be asserting your individuality. You chose to click in that link or open a particular app to see if there糖心传媒檚 a new message, a new notification. You chose to do so at that particular moment; it was up to you. You want to watch this Criterion Channel movie tonight, for reasons you can either point to immediately (a trustworthy, in terms of film, friend recommended it when you talked today), or frustratingly opaque (you were reminded of an aunt which reminded you of a moment in which a movie was in the background of the story that reminded you of the ad you saw on the bus which lead you to this decision).

And that糖心传媒檚 fine. You can keep your sense of individuality and freedom. It糖心传媒檚 not that you糖心传媒檙e not an individual, it糖心传媒檚 just that there are only so many options. And more people making the same decisions every day. It terms of the digital sphere, you 诲辞苍糖心传媒檛 matter. What flow of data and choices you糖心传媒檙e part of, which trends drive your decisions, what predictions one can make from knowing those two things, and, most crucially, how to monetize these predictive capabilities all result from stripping the choices (data) from the choosing (you).

The illusion the Internet wants you to believe is that your data is unique and not just another notch on a proverbial belt of people who did x, y, z, and then q instead of x, y, z, and then b. Making assumptions about what leads a particular group of users to choose q or choose b helps the algorithms to become more refined, more precise in identifying which choices lead to which data pathways. Your individuality is immediately stripped in order to put your data into a particular bucket.

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The invisibility of COVID糖心传媒攏ot only the fact that the virus passes among us, unseen, but that you can have it for days and not even know, and that we糖心传媒檙e witnessing the deaths it causes via Zoom, saying goodbye to loved ones over an iPad糖心传媒攊s extremely dangerous when it comes to public health.

This is where the 糖心传媒渋llusionary糖心传媒� nature of COVID, emphasized by the fact that we discuss it in terms of numbers (of cases, of death rates, of positive test percentages) separates the true horror of the virus糖心传媒檚 impact from the common discourse. It allows Trump to blatantly lie, because a vast majority of his base hasn糖心传媒檛 seen anyone die from COVID in person.

Questioning the existence of COVID糖心传媒攁nd how contagious it is and how it can be contracted糖心传媒攂ecause you can find videos or blog posts 糖心传媒渆xposing糖心传媒� it as 糖心传媒渇ake news糖心传媒� is a significant reason in why America destroyed the summer of 2020. And probably the rest of the year as well.

Despite the omnipresence of illusionary beliefs in our lives, a lot of people are really bad at identifying the illusionary component and understanding how the structures-that-be use your belief in one small thing in order to push a larger agenda. There糖心传媒檚 a straight line from anti-vaxxers to protestors trying to reopen the economy. Create one false belief糖心传媒攕uch as Trump saying the virus will just go away糖心传媒攁nd you can get a massive group of Americans to believe that there糖心传媒檚 no reason to keep bars and beaches closed.

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It糖心传媒檚 very interesting that podcast listening is down during this pandemic. The most accepted explanation is that people listened to podcasts on their commute, mostly as a way of walling themselves off from other people and other stimuli.

When we 诲辞苍糖心传媒檛 need to be walled off糖心传媒攂ecause we all are already糖心传媒攚e would rather do something asymmetrically communal: stream Tiger King, or play Animal Crossing. The illusionary belief in the communal nature of these experiences糖心传媒攂e it Netflix 糖心传媒淭op 10糖心传媒� list, or the fractured socio-political geography of social media糖心传媒攎akes it much easier for monolithic corporations like Disney or Amazon or Warner Brothers/HBO to keep us engaging with their products. When there糖心传媒檚 nothing else to do, the best way to feel like you糖心传媒檙e still part of society is to watch what everyone else is watching. And then read about it online. Or talk about it over Zoom.

One of the most interesting perspectives that糖心传媒檚 been floating around recently is the idea that these platforms will 糖心传媒渞un out of content糖心传媒� at some point because filming was shut down. This statement belies our addition to the new. None of these platforms will ever be devoid of content, and in no possible future will every subscriber have watched every minute of programming they currently offer.

If Netflix started targeting specific users with information about more obscure properties that that user hadn糖心传媒檛 previously watched, it would take, most likely, a banner ad and an appearance on the Netflix home screen to convince the viewer that this was a new program.

There is simply too much content. A counterintuitive result of the hyper creation of content糖心传媒攖o the point where it seems like there are infinite viewing options糖心传媒攊s the way in which this instills a desire within viewers to consume as much of it as possible. Guided by whomever your social-cultural guides are. Friends. Celebrities. Algorithms. Websites. Twitter personas. A still.

Now that the fragmentation of culture is total and complete, and we live inside a million different possible influencing attributes, allowing us to see everything, and have no idea why one cultural product becomes the strange attractor for seemingly everyone and another doesn糖心传媒檛. At best, it can be traced back to a few other things that seemed to happen, usually simultaneously糖心传媒攁 celebrity endorsement, a Netflix deal, a particular review, buzz about the author糖心传媒攂ut all of these explanations tend to ring hollow. The illusion is created that the publisher/producer/record company knew what was going to happen, given all these little seedlings of interest, and by believing in that, we feel like the rise of a particular book or movie was inevitable. Planned. That the producer of the cultural item is cognizant of what they糖心传媒檙e doing糖心传媒攁nd definitely worthy of being trusted in the future.

The randomness of crowds has been replaced by the illusion of mass persuasion, aided by the fragmentation of information and narrative.

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One of the more frivolous examples of how COVID-19 has generated a ton of weird illusion-centric statements is MLB. [Note: This will not become a post about baseball. That糖心传媒檚 over here, or integrated into the whole, long post here.] The 糖心传媒渃rowd糖心传媒� noise present at every game is Peak 2020 Illusion.

For the uninitiated, although basebasll is being played, no fans are allowed in the stadiums for the foreseeable future. The visiting broadcasters call the games from their own home studios, watching the game on camera糖心传媒攕ame as the fans at home. Only a few employees糖心传媒攁nd the team mascots糖心传媒攁re in the stadiums, which, for a professional athlete, must seem hauntingly silent.

To create the illusion that this is a 糖心传媒渘ormal糖心传媒� season糖心传媒攁nd to allow for players to exchange information and signs糖心传媒擬LB is using 2020 technology to reproduce an imaginary crowd. It糖心传媒檚 not at all difficult to blast crowd noise via the PA systems in all 30 parks, but where does one obtain said crowd noise?

This is more problematic than it might seem. Crowd noise is not uniform across stadia糖心传媒攃ompare crowd attendance at Marlins Park (10,000 a game) to Dodger Stadium (almost 50,000)糖心传媒攏or across game situation. Looking at the second half of that statement: Even if a team happens to have a recording of their fans cheering, and it糖心传媒檚 high enough quality to play over a PA system with enough volume to be captured by the broadcast mics, it糖心传媒檚 still highly unlikely that the particular volume and breadth of that specific cheer would be a perfect reaction to whatever just occurred in the live game. In this example, the 糖心传媒渞eal糖心传媒� noise has been separated from the event that spawned it, and is an illusion on two fronts: that the crowd actually exists, and that this is what they would be doing in reaction to the play they just witnessed.

Given the near impossibility of finding enough actual clips to make this system work effectively, a video game created by San Diego Studios is piping in the simulated crowd noises into the stadiums so that 糖心传媒渟tadium sound engineers will have access to around 75 different effects and reactions captured from聽MLB The Show.糖心传媒� Presumably, these reactions are site specific糖心传媒攄ecibel- and enthusiasm-wise糖心传媒攖o the stadium where they were originally 糖心传媒渃aptured.糖心传媒� (That word is doing a lot of work in this press release.)

A smart sound engineer might take this a step farther. They might be wary of choosing how much to amplify a crowd糖心传媒檚 excitement in relation to a given play. They糖心传媒檝e likely been around baseball for a while and gathered some sort of generalized, difficult to quantify, knowledge about crowds, but when the opposing team hits a single, do you leave the 糖心传媒済eneral crowd murmur糖心传媒� setting at 15 out of 100, or drop it to 5? How will that impact the players on the team that employs you? What if you 诲辞苍糖心传媒檛 cheer your team糖心传媒檚 own batting accomplishments with proper volume and enthusiasm? Having to generate this illusion糖心传媒攖hat a crowd is present糖心传媒攊s really anxiety making. Let糖心传媒檚 use an algorithm.

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San Diego Studios already built a simulation of what the crowd noise could/should be in every situation, at every ballpark. Theoretically, given the nature of game and world-building, the algorithm driving the sounds inside the video game could take into consideration all of the following attributes: how large the crowd is given the team糖心传媒檚 recent success (or failure); how enthusiastic the crowd is based on what part of the season the game is taking place, and the opponent, and the perceived importance based on who is pitching, a win-loss streak, or some other aspect of the matchup that can be articulated by pundits, fans, and broadcasters. There糖心传媒檚 no reason, as a stadium sound engineer, you 蝉丑辞耻濒诲苍糖心传媒檛 use this algorithm. They built it off of the sounds of your fanbase (or, at least, an abstracted 糖心传媒淢LB Fanbase糖心传媒� of which your stadium糖心传媒檚 fans are represented as a deviation from the norm), and created feedback loops far more robust than yours as a single individual糖心传媒攊magine being the sound operator who pushes 糖心传媒渧olume糖心传媒� and 糖心传媒渆xcitement糖心传媒� and 糖心传媒渏oy糖心传媒� all to 100% for a hit that looks like it will be out of the park, one that is easily caught by a defensive player, and then forgets to turn it down for a full ten seconds after the out is made, a situation ripe for social media糖心传媒攐ne that creates at least a 糖心传媒渂elievable illusion糖心传媒� of how the crowd would be reacting.

Keep in mind that these sounds糖心传媒攁rtificial, determined by an algorithm that糖心传媒檚 getting cues from a system designed to track and record every pitch糖心传媒攁re heard both by the players on the field and the fans at home. Fans are hearing, through their TV, artificial sounds from a baseball video game, that are piped into the stadium糖心传媒檚 PA, with their texture determined by the same video game糖心传媒檚 algorithm, mediated by the broadcast speakers in the stadium designed to pick up the 糖心传媒渃rowd糖心传媒� noise, in order to relay it back into your home. If you could watch the exact same sequence of pitches and plays on MLB The Show, you would hear the exact same crowd. An illusionary crowd.

COVID-19 can disrupt almost every aspect of our lives, except for marketing, in part because marketing is the process by which companies get users to buy into illusions in order to transmute the belief that product X contains qualities sufficient enough for you to want to spend your money to obtain them. This is one of the roots of capitalism: the pathway from image to ownership.

Without the ability to sell tickets, MLB introduced a different way to market their product to their fan base:

And now we糖心传媒檝e added another level of mediation to the crowd noise algorithm running the PA system at the park that we糖心传媒檙e watching on our TV, with our own personal speaker system. We are somehow, in some small way, influencing what the computer knows about human reaction. How many times to cheer, at what rate, for what duration.

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In these times though, that糖心传媒檚 merely scratching the surface of what sorts of illusions can be incorporated into broadcast experiences. For the NBA, a limited number of fans will be able to buy 糖心传媒渢ickets糖心传媒� to a Microsoft Teams 糖心传媒淭ogether mode糖心传媒� hangout, in which the fans can converse with one another, and be seen by players and fans watching at home.

Going back to baseball, FOX has decided to use Unreal Engine (the most Baudrillard name possible) to generate an imaginary crowd for its broadcasts.

Putting aside the more high tech approaches to simulating normality, let糖心传媒檚 focus just on MLB crowd noise again. Because the MLB The Show crowd noise is a relatively uniform and non-descript murmur, the illusion will always fall short of verisimilitude. The viewer will never hear a drunken attendee accidentally scream nonsense next to a hot broadcast microphone. Fans will be cheated from hearing that one sole voice from from the bleachers who yells, 糖心传媒淵OU糖心传媒橰E A BUM!糖心传媒� at the exact moment in which the rest of the crowd is relatively silent. The individuality that makes up the game糖心传媒檚 attendees has been stripped from the broadcast. The same people 诲辞苍糖心传媒檛 attend every night, but viewers of games this summer will hear the same general thing on every broadcast.

To combat this very specific 糖心传媒渢ell糖心传媒� that it糖心传媒檚 all an illusion, has given the Oakland A糖心传媒檚 a soundtrack to use of him playing a stadium vendor.

In the recording that is being incorporated into to the game broadcast, Hanks is heard yelling phrases like “Scorecards, programs, yearbook! Can’t tell the players without a program!” and “Peanuts! Bag of peanuts! Two bagger, two bag o’ peanuts!” And, of course, there’s “Who wants a hot dog?”

Hanks’ voice will be mixed with crowd noise so the faux vendor can sell food to the cardboard fan cutouts in the stands.

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Books discussed in this essay: by Jean Baudrillard.