Said Jesting Pilate
VIRTUAL
REALITY
Beatitude OF THE SENSES?
The Madness of a new medium
What is truth? said jesting Pilate,
and would not stay for answer.
--Francis Bacon (1561‑1626)
What, indeed, is truth? What is reality? This is a question which we too often take for granted. We assume without thinking that all around us see what we see. We are wrong in this. It is not simply the fact that there are functional crazies all around us–folk who, despite seeing or hearing things which are not there, manage to hold down jobs and apartments. A small minority may snap and win news coverage, but the vaster number go through life in one or another odd way, outside of reality. It makes one wonder when confronted with the bumper sticker “I break for hallucinations.”
Yet, one need not be certifiable to live in a world of illusion. Non‑Catholics of all types do. This may seem a bit rash, but think on it. We live in quite a wonderful cosmos. Despite appearances, bread and wine turn into the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, Himself the truly Human and truly Divine Incarnate Second Person of the Holy Trinity. His Sacred Heart beats and Precious Blood pours out to redeem us. The latter is concretely applied to us via water in a ritual which makes of us an entirely new creature. Yet, this blood and flesh was taken on by the Godhead through a Virgin. Eucharistic miracles and wondrous images give testimony to these facts.
Moreover, all of this is by way of allowing us to escape the machinations of a dreadful and powerful enemy, who, from before the creation of humanity, was dead set against us. He and his equally horrid minions are not merely behind revolutions, famines, storms, and other unpleasantries in the great macrocosm, but tempt each and every one of us. Hence, life for us is an attempt to gain Heaven and escape Hell.
Heaven is what we were made for, the culmination of all our hopes, dreams, yearnings, and longings. There is nothing here on Earth that can really make us happy. Why is it that both rich and poor are unhappy? That the wealth of one, and the freedom from responsibility of the other cannot satisfy them? Surely, for all the desire for riches the poor can muster, and the release from caring for their possessions the rich at times express, those of their comrades who make the transition either way do not achieve happiness. Moving from New York to Los Angeles (or vice versa) does not help, for the accidental annoyances of living in one place are replaced by others upon arrival, and are not compensated for by the departure of primary problems, which center upon our own personalities. As St. Augustine put it, “where may I go that I will not follow?” Vacations are never as wonderful as we imagine they will be, and the one acquisition which will make our lives perfect somehow never does.
If a woman falls for a man and marries him, her dreams of romance are soon drowned in an ocean of formula and dirty diapers; her husband’s quest for glory falls to his need for steady employment. But let either of them remain unmarried to pursue their dreams, and middle age will find them unfulfilled and frustrated, often for reasons they cannot describe. Love itself in either case is not perfect; the object of our affections comes complete with a set of flaws matched only by our own. Youth and beauty either melt into crabbed age before our eyes, or else are cut off cruelly in mid‑bloom. Why must it always be thus?
Valley of The Shadow
Because we were not made for this world, but are only passing through it. The desire for perfect knowledge and happiness, for love, for ecstasy in each of us may be satisfied only beyond the confines of this darkened world.
This is not to say that “shadows of ecstasy” (in Charles Williams’ phrase) do not occasionally gleam through to this clouded planet. Perhaps in some solemn rite in a noble church or cathedral, in the sprinkling of holy water or the smell of incense we have seen it. It might have been in the eyes or lips of a loved one, or in the stars over a pounding sea.
Maybe it is present in riding through green woods in a light rain, or singing carols in a Christmas–decked room with friends or family. Sometimes rock formations in the desert, or the drift of snow in a city park can evoke it, this mystery, this awe, this ecstasy. Even reading may call it forth, in a book of devotion, folklore, or myth, fantasy, or even horror. Not even cookbooks are immune, nor an especially fine meal or song. In all of these may be found that sense of wonder which is a foretaste of Heaven, that realm which, as Chesterton says, combines the comfort of home with the excitement of travel.
Moreover, not only do we have such an end; but our course attempting to gain access to this place is rather extraordinary. Due to the intercession of saints and angels, we are never alone. By God’s power, via the medium of prayer, our inmost thoughts are heard–indeed, we cannot conceal our most secret thoughts or actions from him.
To sum it up, during our sojourn on this planet, nothing we do is trivial; all our thoughts, words, and deeds are invested with tremendous significance.
Hollywooden Minds
For most non‑Catholics, this is not so. The pains and difficulties spoken of earlier are present for non‑Catholics also; but for most of them, these have no meaning other than being there and being dreadful. There is no sacramentality to life, no sense of wonder. Worst of all, perhaps, their very thoughts are doomed (as they think) to being monologues; they are trapped in their skulls. Better than such an existence, one might almost think, would be the hallucinations we began with. Alas, they are forbidden to all who retain some hold on sanity. But technology has come to their aid, developing synthetic plugs for the spiritual holes the lack of the Faith has bestowed on them. Illusions generated, not from our own minds, but from an outside source, will put an end to doubt, to fear, to emptiness. Whence stem these illusions? Their first manifestation, one supposes, were the movies, which, after all, are occasional things, lasting no more than three hours at very maximum. Then came television, which brought the same effect into the home, 24 hours a day. We all know of some folk who are so wrapped up in TV watching that they plot their schedules around it. Some few become so confused about the frontier between TV and reality that they believe their favorite series (or soap opera) characters are real people; they may send them letters of support or condemnation in response to what is shown on the screen.
Nevertheless, these are static images, external to the viewer, and patently artificial to most observers. The computer screen, however, has taken us one step beyond–playing games on it we are participants rather than mere passive observers. Now, the world trembles upon the latest “breakthrough”; through the screen into Virtual Reality (VR).
From On-Screen to In-Screen
What VR represents is a merger of telephone, video and computer, augmented by implements which give one the illusion of actually being or doing what would otherwise merely be seen on a screen. Several technological breakthroughs have made this possible. It is now possible to translate all communication–whether video or audio–into digital information. We have new ways of storing this data and sending it via our current telephone and cable lines. Fiber‑optics provide a practically unlimited line of transmission. There are, in addition, new switching techniques which would allow every home in an area to participate in these links without special wiring. By themselves, these developments would simply expand our existing means of communication: visi‑phones, 150 channel television, and computers with 3‑D screens and a blinding variety of uses.
But that is simply VR’s foundation. What makes it unique is that it is a revolutionary way of interacting with all of this computer-conveyed information. As Steve Aukstakalnis and David Blatner put it:
In a virtual reality system, you are no longer looking at data on a computer screen; rather, you are seemingly immersed within the data itself. You can use virtual reality technology to fly through three‑dimensional environments that represent extremely complex data, reach out and manipulate these representations with your hand, or experience visiting a world that would be physically impossible in our own reality (The Silicon Mirage, p. 9).
At present, immersion in computer data requires three things: a head mounted computer display, looking like a pair of goggles and often with “earmuffs” which engage the sight and hearing, and a glove which is, in fact, a development of the computer mouse. At present, these have the capacity to permit things like simulated space exploration or medical surgery. One interacts with the computer in a more integral way, but is still quite conscious of the whole affair’s artificiality.
Indications are, however, that within 15 years, the technological revolution currently underway will change this. The Data Suit will encase one’s entire body, thus allowing complete immersion in the experience, and the illusion of reality–an illusion brought about by the computer’s ability then to fool all five of the senses.
Much can be said to the good for all of this. A VR system would allow shut‑ins and the disabled the chance to experience all sorts of things they would simply have no access to otherwise: an amputee, say could “run,” for example. Psychology could benefit by putting patients through various role‑playing exercises. Military and engineering problems could be resolved through VR simulations of given situations.
Good? Bad?...
So far, so good. But as with all else, there is a downside. For VR will completely remove all restraints from the individual. There are many sins we do not commit, simply because we have not the opportunity or because the commission would cause consequences we would rather not face. But VR offers escape from such limitations. The first obvious application–sexual mis-conduct under the name of “cybersex” is already being marketed, in a rather primitive form.
What makes this particularly noxious is that, while the sinfulness remains as high as actual performance (remember Our Lord’s comment about committing adultery in one’s heart), the sense of sin cannot help but vanish when the act of sinning requires no real effort. Indeed, such activity is nothing more than self‑abuse.
It has the added evil effect of cutting one’s search for pleasure off completely from contact with someone else. Not merely intrinsic sin is the problem here, but (despite the illusion) a forcible driving of the individual further into himself and away from the exterior world. Why have a real lover (who generally requires some sort of attention, not being a carefully disguised reflection of ourselves), or a real friend, or a real picnic by a stream, when you can have the same effect without any effort?
But understand, the attraction herein is more than just ease and self-‑centeredness. As mentioned, our non‑Catholic friends live in a maimed version of reality; a poor, dull thing with little in the way of color or meaning. When our first parents fell, they bestowed upon their descendants a three‑fold separation: from God and His Creation; from their fellowmen; and from themselves. The coming of Christ and establishment of the Church provided a way out of this trap in the next world, and its possible amelioration in this one. It is for this reason that every major artistic movement in the Western World since the Reformation has provided a bumper crop of converts: musicians, writers, painters, and so on. Those among them with good will, a greater love of truth than self, realized where, on this Earth, their vague yearnings and longings would lead them.
But this requires real effort and humility. So, most simply fled into an interior world of their own. For the majority of non‑artists, not constructed with vivid imaginations, the only answer was drab routine until death. This was Thoreau’s meaning when he said that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” This, too, was enough to send some few on the road which would lead them to the Faith.
...Ugly.
VR offers a way out which requires neither humility nor effort. If unmarried women were not to bear children, they had once to observe chastity; contraception offered them childlessness without it. If a woman were pregnant, she had to bear the child; abortion offered an end to this condition also. Now the ultimate answer to the great dilemma of life outside the Faith is provided. As widespread contraception and abortion led to a rise in immorality, it is a safe bet that VR will lead to a race of spiritual vegetables, uninterested in pursuit of ultimate truth.
Moreover, the lack of interest in ultimate truth must result in time in lack of interest in proximate truth. What of concern for the poor, for good government, for all the ills of life which must be addressed if they are to be ended? Happy in a VR world of one’s own, how many of us will be interested in fighting the good fight, let alone working out our salvation?
The period immediately before and after World War II produced a number of novels of “dystopias;” future worlds which were evil, rather than good (thus completely inverting what had been the l9th Century belief in endless technological progress producing limitless good). Two of the most famous were Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, and George Orwell’s 1984.
Orwell’s future world was a development of the totalitarianisms of his own time. Improved surveillance methods, manipulation of data, and encouragement of selective ignorance, together with brutal punishment of the slightest dissent (“thoughtcrime”) produced–apart from an unrelentingly miserable lifestyle for most citizens–fan almost perfect anthill society. The power of the regime was self‑sustaining, unchallenged, and above all, impersonal.
Utopian Dystopias
The dystopia Huxley produced was much more subtle. Rather than relying on brute force, as Orwell’s Inner Party did, Huxley’s creation boasted a population kept docile via sex, drugs, and the equivalent of VR. It was a dictatorship of pleasure. Rather than fighting the human spirit continually as did the villains of 1984, Brave New World’s rulers had produced a population who loved being ruled.
In Orwell’s book, the regime covertly managed its own “secret opposition;” this allowed it to identify and liquidate possible real threats. But Huxley’s equivalent simply permitted several large reserves around the world where those who wished could live naturally–without drugs, without technology. These places drained off the discontented; but the latter would be so hard put to make a living in primitive surroundings that they were no threat to the world they left behind.
At the time of the Soviet Union’s dissolution, many commentators rejoiced in this victory of democracy over dictatorship, of the American Way over Marxist tyranny. This writer must confess that he was not sanguine. Rather, he opined, it might well be the victory of Brave New World over 1984. It is very sad to have to say that the growth in VR fills him with the fear that he will be more correct than he dreamed at the time.
The Real Evil and The Real Truth
Make no mistake, however, the great potential evil in VR is not that it will make sin easy or prove Huxley a prophet; it is that it will cause many to lose their souls by giving them, in subjective terms, what only the Faith can in reality.
What then, is to be done? One may complain as much as he likes; but the fact remains that in our “free and democratic” society, things progress pretty much as those in charge wish them to. There can be no doubt that VR is a development that is welcomed and encouraged by those who have the preponderance of power and money. Like abortion, like contraception, like Gay Rights, it is a trend which will be imposed. Further, it will spark much less opposition than the first‑named.
Yet, we can do a goodly bit. First and foremost, we ought to get into the habit ourselves of seeing the Catholic “viewpoint” as no mere opinion, but as the only reality there is. Arthur Machen declared that “literature is the expression, through the artistic medium of words, of the dogmas of the Catholic Church, and that which is any way out of harmony with these dogmas is not literature;” because “Catholic dogma is merely the witness, under a special symbolism of the enduring facts of human nature and the universe.”
Further, we must immerse ourselves in the Faith in all her aspects; not only Sunday Mass, but educating ourselves as much as possible about her history, liturgy, culture and popular practices, devotions, and customs. As far as we can, we should try to make the latter three a living part of our lives. All of this must be shared with as many of our friends and relations as will take it. Exposure to Actual Reality will make much less likely addiction to Virtual Reality for anyone with a modicum of good will.
Lastly, it should be remembered that, no matter how artificial life may become in the next several decades, no matter how practically atheistic and outside of truth the social atmosphere finds itself, Actual Reality does not change. You may find yourself living in a world where nearly everyone you know is linked into their own separate VR, and there is no public cognizance of our religion. No matter; prayer will still be heard, the Sacraments will yet confect. One of Huxley’s characters, a leader in the government and a student of what is then the outmoded culture of the past, is asked if he believes in the actual existence of the God of the Christians. He replies in the affirmative, with the implicit suggestion that one day that God will punish their Brave New World. This is something which should not be lost sight of.
To the extent that we accept the maimed, half‑reality of the non‑Catholic American mainstream of today, we have already surrendered to the forces which have produced VR as a substitute. Sad to say, we must ourselves, as American Catholics, take a certain amount of responsibility for its success—we have not been overly interested in spreading the Faith in this country.
In a sense, it all comes down to a struggle between Actual Reality—the Faith; and Virtual Reality—the computer‑generated illusion. As things stand, for the majority of our fellow Americans, both realities are, at the moment, equally unreal. VR is poised to seize their allegiance, and has all the glittering panoply of technology at its disposal. AR only has us. So we find ourselves in the position of the protagonist in the old English rhyme, Tom O’ Bedlam’s Song:
With an host of furious fancies Whereof I am commander, With a burning spear, and a horse of air, To the wilderness I wander. By a knight of ghosts and shadows I summoned am to tourney Ten leagues beyond the wide world’s end. Methinks it is no journey.
As Catholics, we are called upon to deal with this “knight of ghosts and shadows,” for the sake of the souls of multitudes who cannot see that there is a fight at all–anymore than they can see that bread and wine turns to Divine flesh and blood, or Our Lord left His imprint on a shroud, or that St. Alphonsus Liguori bilocated, or that St. Joseph of Cupertino flew through the air. What we do in this fight will, in great degree, help determine whether our own eternal Actual Reality is one of delight or torment. Then, indeed, we will learn that Pilate’s question was, in reality, no jest.
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