Drowning in a Neon Flood

Preserving Humanity and Reality in the Digital Revolution

A little over a year ago,

Paul Kingsnorth

wrote about The Neon God. In that essay, he talked about various things that deeply unsettled me. One in particular was the robo-priests popping up in various places in the world. He suggested that we need to begin viewing the digital revolution in spiritual rather than materialist terms, and as we continue to live through this progressing revolution, I’m coming to realize more and more that this principle is spot on.

Yesterday, while on the way to our daughter’s softball practice, I stumbled upon a song called "Neon Tide" by Boi What. As we listened to it during the drive, I suddenly felt compelled to write an essay about it. I told my wife that this song encapsulates something I’ve been contemplating for a long time: we are witnessing the end of an age and the breakdown of meaning. This song serves as a cultural artifact, illustrating that we are experiencing a flood similar to the one in Noah’s time. However, instead of water, we are submerged in a neon flood.

Before anyone jumps to conclusions, let me clarify that I am a Postmillennialist. I do not believe we are approaching the end of the world. However, it is evident to me that we are witnessing the end of a particular age — the world as it existed before the digital revolution. This was a world where clear distinctions existed between humans and machines, nations, cultures, and languages. All of these boundaries are now becoming increasingly blurred. That’s what happens when the flood comes, all meaning, order, and differentiation is washed away.

And what follows is a convergence into a monoculture, reminiscent of Babel.

With that clarification out of the way, the song "Neon Tide" is a fascinating piece. It’s a metal conglomerate SpongeBob-AI track, featuring the character Plankton as the lead AI-singer. The song is intentionally ironic, created by AI and discussing the perils of AI, likening it to a "neon tide."

The lyrics poignantly capture the breakdown of meaning and order that I’m talking about, saying:

“Cuz now the Neon Tide
Is breaking like the waves tonight.
What’s real and what’s fake
Will be left up to fate.
No love, no truth, no lies.
Just Neon Tide.”

It also touches on the spiritual dimension of this Neon Flood, albeit in a goofy SpongeBob way:

“When the smoke rolls in and the light falls out
Don’t you be surprised.
You’re the demand, so I’ll supply
The Neon Tide.
What’s your final wish?
You chose convenience over Neptune’s Gift.
Your time is up.
The Neon Tide is here to call your bluff.”

I really don’t know how much better it could be said. When we choose convenience over the gift of God, we are left with a collapse of meaning. No love, no ability to discern truth from lies — and ultimately, no humanness. Just Neon Tide.

While I don’t believe we can return to the world as it once was (Even Kingsnorth admits we’re stuck), here’s what we must do. We must vehemently resist becoming techno-Nephilim, integrating technology and humanity to the point of losing our essence.

A techno-Nephilim is a modern counterpart to the giants of old. The ancient giants were born from the union of two entities that were never meant to merge (the sons of God and the daughters of men), resulting in beings of extraordinary size and power. Similarly, a techno-Nephilim is a person who has amalgamated technology and humanity to an unnatural extent. Like the giants, they have expanded their presence in ways that are inherently inhuman.

We must become champions of meaning, order, humanness, and reality — which is ultimately what the Ark is about. In a world where chaos, non-differentiation, and death reigned, Noah built an ark that preserved order, differentiation, and life. We must do the same.

This means advocating for human writing, art, and music. Attend a real church with a human pastor instead of relying on robo-pastors or livestreams. Take walks with your family in real places instead of using VR. Have face-to-face conversations with real people instead of using Zoom or listening to podcasts. Work the land with your hands and grow real food instead of playing farming games. Engage in real intimacy with your spouse instead of watching porn. Play with your real children instead of watching Bluey. Pray real prayers to God and wait instead of asking ChatGPT for answers.

Mordor employs many strategies to ensnare you with its dark sorcery, one of which is making you a champion of things that aren’t real. The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities considered to be unnatural.

Instead, become a champion of reality. Should you choose to transcend your humanity by bowing before the Neon God, you’ll be washed away by the Neon Flood, much like the giants of old and the people of Tolkien’s Númenor who longed for immortality beyond their shores.