Views /Opinion

Under the algorithm’s skin: Who creates us on the screens?

The modern self is no longer a unified entity growing within a single space. It has morphed into a multi-armed creature living in parallel worlds—each with its own rules and conditions. This digital dispersion of identity is not merely a multiplication of social roles, as experienced by previous generations; it is a radical deconstruction of the very notion of the “I.” On every digital platform, the self is reshaped from scratch: a new language, different aesthetic values, shifting standards of acceptance, and an ever-changing audience. The self here is not merely a speaker or participant, but a product—crafted according to the specifications of algorithms and the economies of attention.

Sociologist Zygmunt Bauman noted that liquid modernity transformed identity from a “fixed given” into an “ongoing task.” Yet digitization has pushed this notion to its extreme: identity is no longer rebuilt slowly over time, but exists as a series of disconnected moments, each demanding a different performance. A girl who takes a selfie ten minutes after crying, or a teenager who tweets something witty while drowning in loneliness—these are new archetypes of a profound split: the separation between inner experience and outward representation, where digital performance becomes an end in itself, rather than an expression of authentic emotion.

In this context, neuroscience research shows that intensive use of multitasking applications weakens the neural pathways responsible for long-term memory formation. In other words, the more “digital versions” of the self exist, the less capable the brain becomes of weaving a coherent narrative of identity. This is not just an identity crisis—it is an existential rupture: without an inner narrative, the human being loses the sense of continuity and becomes nothing more than a series of fragmented moments, devoid of any unifying story or meaningful thread.

-Voluntary Servitude: The Economy of Exposure and Self-Surveillance

What’s striking about this transformation is that it isn’t imposed from above, but emerges from the dynamics of desire. Users are not forced to participate; they are enticed—through likes, comments, and feedback mechanisms that satisfy a deep psychological craving for social recognition. Yet this desire for digital presence becomes a trap: the more we expose, the more we feel compelled to expose, in a vicious cycle that erodes the boundary between the desire to be seen and the existential need to appear. As South Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han puts it, we live in a “society of transparency,” where self-surveillance becomes a more effective tool of control than any authoritarian regime.

This dynamic produces a new form of alienation: people live their experiences through the gaze of others, not through their own inner sense. The photo selected for display, the carefully worded tweet, even the emotions we share—are all filtered through the lens of shareability. Thus, the self is no longer lived, but branded—constructed according to the symbolic marketplace, not the depth of human experience.

-From organic formation to algorithmic construction

This phenomenon isn’t limited to Millennials or Gen Z; it reaches its peak with Generation Alpha, who encounter the world first through screens—before touching grass or feeling a mother’s warmth. These children learn that the “self” is something built through gestures and filters, not through organic interaction with the world. Studies show that heavy screen exposure alters brain structure, reducing the capacity for empathy and reflection. But the deeper danger is that they may grow up without ever experiencing the old moments that once shaped identity: long boredom, quiet conversations with oneself, or the slow discovery of the world without digital mediation.

-The Way Out: Reframing Our Relationship with Technology

The way out of this digital fragmentation is not to reject technology, but to redefine our relationship with it—in a way that restores cohesion to the self and depth to our being. Rather than dissolving into the logic of endless performance and representation, we must pause—and reclaim the distinction between authentic expression and curated display. We must recover slow time, where meaning is made away from the tyranny of immediacy and instant feedback. And we must cultivate critical digital literacy, teaching future generations that algorithms are tools—not existential environments that mold them unconsciously.

As Martin Heidegger insightfully warned, “the danger is not in technology itself, but in seeing it as neutral.” The distributed self is not an inevitable fate—it is the result of cultural and economic choices that can be critiqued and reimagined. The fundamental question today is no longer: How many digital versions of myself exist? But rather: Where is the real “me” among all these versions?