The Spinning Freedom, Unreachable Hearts

Imagine a statue in Tallinn, the capital of Estonia, where the cold winds of the Baltic Sea blow. A massive steel sculpture of a man and a woman slowly approaches each other, never stopping. Just as you expect them to embrace warmly, they pass through each other’s forms and drift apart, separated by an empty space. This eternal movement embodies both longing and loneliness.

This statue symbolizes the infinite yearning and support for ‘freedom’ that Estonians have reclaimed through song after suffering in the shadow of a massive neighbor for decades. It represents a movement that never stops and never gives up—a noble ideal in itself.

I couldn’t help but think how remarkably similar this unreachable movement is to our self-portrait today. We too once welcomed a dazzling ‘freedom’ that seemed to promise to save the world. It was the era of social media opened by Facebook and Instagram, a new world where the flow of information and thoughts transcended borders and time. We believed we would connect more broadly, understand each other more deeply, and finally become one community.

2. The First Excitement of the Digital Square

Do you remember the excitement we felt in the early 2010s? People referred to social media as the ‘digital agora.’ The cheers of citizens filling the squares in Egypt spread across the globe via Twitter, and we rejoiced that humanity had finally entered an era of true communication beyond oppression. I witnessed the miracle of a small voice from my corner reaching someone on the other side of the planet, gaining empathy, and creating a massive wave. That freedom was the embodiment of infinite possibilities.

But we didn’t know. Beneath that dazzling square, shadows were growing, gripping our ankles.

3. The Cracked Dinner Table

The story goes back to a very ordinary holiday dinner at my home. A table set with steaming galbi jjim and fragrant japchae. Laughter filled the air as family members reunited after a long time. The conversation naturally flowed to the recently announced real estate policies. Then, my usually cheerful uncle pulled out his smartphone with a serious expression.

“You kids don’t know the world well yet. Everything in the media is a lie. There’s a post in this Facebook group I joined by a real expert, and if things go on like this, we’re all heading for disaster!”

On the screen my uncle showed me were sensational headlines like ‘Shocking Exposé!’ and ‘The Truth the Government Has Hidden!’ along with a few unverified graphs. I cautiously opened my mouth based on what I had confirmed through various articles and reports.

“Uncle, but I think there are some discrepancies with that information. Official statistics suggest we can expect positive effects in the long term.”

At that moment, the warm atmosphere at the table turned cold. The smile vanished from my uncle’s face. “That’s all data created by them to brainwash you! Do you think the thousands of people in this group are all fools?” The conversation was no longer a policy discussion. It had turned into a war between ‘us who see the truth’ and ‘you who are brainwashed.’ We were in the same space, but in reality, we were living in different worlds created by our smartphones.

4. Some Landscapes That Divide Us

Not all conflicts are as dramatic as dinner with my uncle. The transparent walls created by social media quietly dismantle even our ordinary relationships in various ways. Perhaps you have experienced some familiar landscapes yourself.

• First Landscape: The ‘Like’ That Crushed a Friend’s Success
  Do you know the subtle sense of deprivation that comes when you see the SNS of a childhood best friend? Their feed is filled with ‘highlights of life’ edited with happiness—overseas trips, fine dining, promotion parties. Comparing it to my own meager reality of struggling with late-night work, I find myself feeling closer to jealousy than congratulations. I press the ’like’ button with effort, but a chill lingers in my heart. We know more about our friends than ever, yet paradoxically, we are drifting further apart in each other’s real lives.

  

• Second Landscape: Empty Comfort, Lonely Nights
  When I muster the courage to share my true feelings in a post during a tough time, I receive comments like ‘Hang in there’ and ‘I’ll pray for you,’ along with dozens of ’likes.’ But have you ever experienced the emptiness of a night without a single phone call or message? My pain is briefly consumed on my friends’ timelines, and it seems people think they’ve fulfilled their ‘duty of comfort’ with just a tap of their fingers. In the illusion of being connected, we are becoming more thoroughly alone than ever.

  

• Third Landscape: A Decade of Friendship ‘Unfollowed’
  Have you ever unfollowed a friend you’ve known for over a decade simply because of differing views on political or social issues? Once, we shared our lives late into the night, but now, the posts on their timeline make me uncomfortable and even provoke anger. Defining them as ‘an incomprehensible person’ with different thoughts, cutting off the relationship has become the easiest solution. Instead of making an effort to persuade or understand someone with different views, we simply ‘delete’ them in the digital world.

  

Behind all these landscapes lies an invisible hand called ‘algorithm.’ This friendly butler, who knows me too well, shows me only what I might like, trapping me in a comfortable ’echo chamber’ and reinforcing ‘confirmation bias.’ As a result, we tend to judge and evaluate others based on the fragmented images edited by algorithms rather than seeing their diverse lives and thoughts as they are.

5. For the ‘Noisy Dance’ of Democracy

So what should we do? Can we break down these invisible walls and approach each other again?

I believe the answer lies in ’the courage to endure discomfort’ and ’the readiness to be a traveler.’ A small inconvenience of intentionally switching to a different channel instead of the one I always watch, taking a 10-second breath before posting a rebuttal comment on a friend’s post with differing opinions, and the humility to acknowledge that I might be wrong sometimes are necessary.

Democracy is not originally a quiet and beautiful harmony. It is like a noisy and vibrant market where different voices mix, sometimes creating dissonance. Restoring that healthy noise. Refusing the fate of eternally passing each other like the statues in Tallinn, and taking a moment to stop spinning to awkwardly learn a new dance together.

Perhaps that is the only way we can preserve democracy and our broken relationships in this great era of freedom.