For anyone seeking to understand today’s society, there is now an undeniable reality: Human beings do not exist merely as physical beings; they also exist as representations that are constantly circulated. Relationships, political stances, moral attitudes, and even the most intimate psychological needs have long since been transferred to the screen. The pulse of society no longer beats in public squares but in the stream. While this may appear on the surface to be a simple technological transformation, at its core it points to one of the most profound ruptures of the modern era.
For it is not merely the medium that has changed here; the way in which humans construct themselves, their relationship with truth, and the nature of the political have undergone a fundamental transformation. This transformation is reshaping not only individual behavioral patterns but also the production of social consciousness, mechanisms of legitimacy, and the meaning of political representation. Reality is now less about what is experienced and more about what is circulated. And everything that enters circulation undergoes a process of selection.
Social media is still often described as a means of easy communication. This description almost deliberately downplays the issue. In reality, however, this structure is a sphere of power where contemporary individuals both construct and reveal themselves. Here, the individual does not merely speak; they constantly produce, organize, and circulate themselves. Identity is no longer a fixed entity; it is a constantly updated performance shaped by the reactions rewarded by the algorithm. People become less what they are and more what they make visible.
For this reason, social media is not a public sphere in the traditional sense. On the surface, there is a space of freedom where everyone can speak and express their opinions. However, this freedom is not bound by vague limits; on the contrary, it is subject to an extremely finely tuned mechanism of selectivity. Anyone can speak, but not everyone is heard. And this distinction gives rise to one of the most critical inequalities of the modern age. This inequality is not economic, but rather directly algorithmic...; that is, it is established through visibility distribution.
Today’s system of power takes shape precisely at this point. Repression no longer operates through direct bans or the use of force; it operates through the distribution of visibility. Your post isn’t deleted, but it never appears in anyone’s feed. What you say isn’t banned, but it’s rendered ineffective. This is a far more refined form of control than classic censorship. Because the individual doesn’t realize they’ve been silenced; they simply think they “aren’t effective enough.” In this way, the system internalizes the oppression rather than externalizing it.
People are compelled to produce more, to be more striking, and to attract more attention. This compulsion is not felt as external pressure; rather, it is experienced as the individual’s own desire. This is the most powerful form of modern domination: control that operates without coercion and is internalized as desire. People discipline themselves while believing they are free.
One of the most visible consequences of this system is that performance has taken the place of truth. Intelligence tests, personality inventories, posts asking “what score did I get?”, or the constant circulation of intellectual snippets do not constitute a space for intellectual production. Instead, they generate status signals. People speak not to deepen their thoughts, but to position themselves. Even intellectualism is reduced to a content category within this system.
Books are read, but they are read to be shared. Ideas are defended, but only as long as they spark interaction. Truth ceases to be a value in and of itself; it gains meaning based on its potential for visibility. Thus, thought is severed from its depth and becomes a display piece. At this point, intellectual production ceases to be the production of knowledge; it becomes the production of attention.
The same mechanism at work with emotions. Hospital photos, vague posts about crises, dramatic situations that are hinted at but not explained… These are not merely a sharing of experiences; they are tools that function within the attention economy. Even pain is presented in a controlled manner. How much to show, how much to hide, and how much to arouse curiosity—all of this is calculated. There is visibility, but no transparency. This indicates that we have entered a phase where the modern individual manages not only their happiness but even their pain.
Relationships are perhaps one of the most striking reflections of this system. Love is no longer an experience shared between two people; it becomes a performance staged for a third party. People perform not for each other, but for the audience. Happiness is displayed, breakups are dramatized, and emotions are constantly put on display. This is not merely the expression of emotions, but their commodification. Even love is competitive; whoever is more visible is considered more “real.”.
Even the ordinary actions of daily life take on a different meaning in this context. A cup of coffee, a new outfit, a clean house, or a simple self-care ritual are no longer special. Everything is made public. Because in this system, what isn’t shared is considered not to have happened. This is the most invisible yet most effective imposition of the neoliberal conception of the individual: constantly produce yourself, constantly update yourself, constantly present yourself.
In this way, the individual does not become free; rather, he or she becomes his or her own publicist. He or she ceases to be the subject of his or her own life and becomes the content creator of his or her own life.
The picture that emerges at this point is not merely a cultural issue, but also a political one. This is because this structure fundamentally transforms the very nature of politics. Politics was once a realm where specific demands took concrete form—a realm of risk-taking and sacrifice. Today, however, it has largely been reduced to the management of visibility. Politics is no longer a practice of producing truth; it is a strategy for attracting attention and staying on the agenda.
This situation is extremely advantageous for those in power, because they have the ability to set the agenda and change it rapidly. One crisis overshadows another; one debate gets lost beneath another. This pace prevents society from delving deeply into any single issue. When there is no depth, there is no memory. And without memory, the possibility of holding anyone accountable disappears.
However, the real shift occurs within the opposition. This is because the opposition, too, is increasingly drawn into this digital logic. Reactions cease to be principled and become reflexive. Statements are not strategic but focused on engagement. Even harsh outbursts are often made not to establish a political line, but simply to stay in the public eye.
What emerges as a result is not a genuine opposition, but a sense of opposition.
People get angry, share their feelings, and react. However, this energy is not channeled, does not become sustained, and lacks direction. Directionless anger, however, is not a threat to the system; it is a kind of safety valve. Society vents its anger, and then the focus shifts.
Thus, politics ceases to be a practice of transformation; it becomes a realm of emotion management. Anger is circulated, hope is packaged, and fear is organized. But no emotion is ever transformed into concrete political action.
For this reason, political participation in the digital sphere has also become symbolic. Sharing a hashtag, writing a comment, reacting to a post… These actions give individuals a sense of participation. However, this sense often does not yield any real results. People do not engage in politics; they merely feel as though they are engaging in politics.
This is the most sophisticated form of passivity.
The resulting picture is crystal clear: Everyone talks, but no one really says anything. Everyone is visible, but no one is truly known. Everyone reacts, but no one takes responsibility.
The ruling party governs through algorithms. The opposition reacts to the algorithms. Society, meanwhile, is tossed about within the algorithms.
And everyone calls that politics.
Yet this amounts to the elimination of politics. Or rather, it is the stripping of politics of its substance and its transformation into a spectacle. The real struggle is lost beneath these games of visibility.
Perhaps the most unsettling thing is this: This system is not forced upon anyone. People enter this structure of their own free will; they create themselves here, consume here, and find meaning here. They expose their own privacy and cover their own loneliness with the crowd.
That is why the problem isn't just social media.
The problem is that people have begun to accept this artificial order as reality.
And perhaps the real issue is this:
On this grand stage where everyone is watching everyone else, no one is really looking at themselves anymore.