Some people see society as locked in a struggle between a progressive majority and moral minorities. But this perception is false. The true conflict I perceive in today’s public space has taken the form of a digitally constructed hive mind—the opinion algorithm—competing with the last remnants of moral minorities who are subject to a non-negotiable authority: the authority of conscience or of revelation. Here, clashes between public opinion and moral minorities are not primarily political but ontological.
In this new reality, public opinion is no longer primarily shaped through debate, mass media, or even polls. It is literally constructed in real time through the closed loop of billions of digital platform users’ micro-behaviors with algorithmic amplification of majority sentiment, media organizations that align with viral trends, and political leaders who govern in anticipation of the next wave of digital outrage.
This mechanism produces a “pure opinion” that is disembodied, instantaneous, and self-referential. It has no need for truth; it requires only internal consistency and speed, and it reigns supreme.
The opinion algorithm is faster than parliament, more legitimate than real people, and more punitive than any court of justice. Confronted with the opinion algorithm, moral minorities appear as the last subjects of a competing authority. An authority measured not in “likes,” but in absolute fidelity to a law that precedes the algorithm.
The opinion algorithm by its nature is majoritarian and performative. It brings into existence as true whatever it elevates to majority status. Moral conscience, accordingly, is by its nature a minority—a constative minority. It observes a truth that exists prior to any “upvote” or “like.” The discord between public opinion and the moral minority manifests not as a cultural conflict, but a metaphysical one.
The opinion algorithm functions as a gnostic deity, immanent to the network; omniscient with the mind of Big Data; omnipresent in every pocket or hand; wrathful, instantly punishing and rewarding through ratings, doxxing, and social death; and totalizing, demanding total adherence of heart and mind. The moral minority, on the other hand, remains faithful to a deity that transcends the network: “You shall not follow a crowd to do evil” (Exodus 23:2); “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29).
In this context, political forms of algorithmic excommunication have emerged, according to technological “dogmas” that bear no relation to any moral framework:
- Shadowbanning, where your posts still exist but no one sees them anymore; you are a digital stillborn.
- Horde-banning–gettingratioed or canceled: you are overwhelmed by hundreds of thousands of coordinated hate messages; your name becomes synonymous with infamy for 48 hours, the seeming lifespan of the average controversy.
- Deplatforming—your account is gone, your bank is gone, PayPal is gone, Airbnb is gone, LinkedIn is gone—you become a digital non-citizen for “hate speech” or “moral disinformation.” The opinion algorithm does not tolerate persistent disagreement. It knows only heresy.
Shadowbanning, where your posts still exist but no one sees them anymore; you are a digital stillborn. Horde-banning–gettingratioed or canceled: you are overwhelmed by hundreds of thousands of coordinated hate messages; your name becomes synonymous with infamy for 48 hours, the seeming lifespan of the average controversy. Deplatforming—your account is gone, your bank is gone, PayPal is gone, Airbnb is gone, LinkedIn is gone—you become a digital non-citizen for “hate speech” or “moral disinformation.” The opinion algorithm does not tolerate persistent disagreement. It knows only heresy.
This is why the clash between the opinion algorithm and the moral minority is ontologically necessary; it is impossible for the algorithm to be converted to transcendence, just as it is impossible for moral conscience to be converted to total immanence. And so a modus vivendi between two heterogeneous orders has begun to be codified at the margins of the system, in the political language of rights:
- The right to a parallel economy. Local currencies, short supply chains, family businesses unlisted on Google Maps have formed an economy that lives beneath the radar of the opinion algorithm.
- The right to education outside the network. Hundreds of thousands of children are already excluded from compulsory digital schooling, and their numbers are growing.
- The right to long-term memory. Smaller communities preserve their physical archives such as books, microfilm, and servers with spare capacity. They are the only ones who remember that today’s opinion was not yesterday’s.
- The right to voluntary martyrdom. Some accept total social death rather than submit. Their sacrifice becomes evidence that the algorithm is not omnipotent.
What we are witnessing is the reemergence, in an unexpected form, of the Augustinian distinction between the Earthly City and the Heavenly City. The opinion algorithm is the most perfect Earthly City ever built—total, instantaneous, emotional, and self-justifying.
Moral minorities are the last citizens of the Heavenly City who still consent to live in exile in Babylon, without pledging it their allegiance. Their opposition is not a victory. It is an armistice between two irreconcilable orders. It is ugly, precarious, and silent. But it is perhaps the last form of freedom still left to us. As long as there are men and women capable of saying, when confronted with the all-encompassing screen, “No, not this, never,” then transcendence will not have entirely disappeared, and the algorithm, however powerful, will remain a lesser god.
