In January 1896, an audience in a basement room of the Grand Café in Paris attended one of the first public demonstrations of the Lumière brothers’ all-in-one camera and projector: the cinématographe. One of the films shown was The Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat Station.
All that happens in the approximately fifty-second film is that a steam engine and several passenger cars pull into the station and glide to a stop. As the train comes closer, some in the audience panic. Imagining that the train is going to burst out of the screen into the room, they leave their seats and rush for the door.
It is a great story but almost certainly apocryphal. The film historian Tom Gunning doubted that an audience of sophisticated Parisians at the turn of the twentieth century would be fooled into thinking that a train could suddenly materialize and crush them. They were astonished, not fooled, and what astonished them was that moving images could seem so real (Gunning 1986; 2009). They were astonished not by reality, but by a reality medium. Film became one of the most important reality media of the twentieth century, and in some ways, it is a forerunner of virtual reality. Let’s reimagine that scene in VR.
In Simulations (1983), Baudrillard discusses a quotation from Ecclesiastes which states that simulacra, which are signs that refer to other signs, rather than a referent beyond the symbolic system, do not simply hide the truth. Upon investigation, Jonathan Stuart Boulter (2001) states that the quotation in Baudrillard’s work does not actually appear in Ecclesiastes, but it does point to the difficulties in defining the real, the copy and the original.
Baudrillard states that simulacra are not manipulative because they do not simply mask or hide the truth. Instead, simulacra are subversive because they challenge the notion of truth or reality. Gary Genosko (1994), William Merrin (2001) and Michael Camille (2003) have all pointed out that the word ‘simulacrum’ can be traced back to Plato’s dialogues, where it was used to refer to phantasm or semblance.
The concept of the simulacrum concerns the relationships between image and reality. In Plato’s philosophical schema the simulacrum was a false likeness which leaves the real/unreal binary intact. As William Merrin reminds us, in Western culture: The image has always been conceived of as powerful, as possessing a remarkable hold over the hearts and minds of humanity – as having the capacity to assume for us the force of that which it represents, threatening in the process the very distinction of original and image. (2001, 88)
Within this historical context the image was interpreted as something that can captivate the viewer who can then become enthralled by its power, for the power of the image seems to come from its ability to acquire the properties of that which it represents.
Furthermore, Merrin says that within Western culture there have been attempts to counter the threat to reality which is posed by simulacra. One way of neutralizing the power of simulacra has been to institute the concept of the original and the copy. In this way the copy becomes a reflection or mediated version of the real, thereby bolstering the notion of a prior reality.
In his discussion of simulation Baudrillard also mentions a fable by Jorge Luis Borges (1899–1986) about a map which is so detailed that it covers the territory it represents. Baudrillard’s point is that in the past there was a theoretical gap between the map and the territory it represents, but in contemporary culture the simulacrum threatens this relationship.
In this way the map in the fable could be regarded as analogous to the ways in which the symbolic order overlays our experiences and understanding of concepts such as reality and the virtual. Baudrillard claims: We live as if inside Borges’s fable of the map and the territory; in this story nothing is left but pieces of the map scattered throughout the empty space of the territory.
Except that we must turn the tale upside down: today there is nothing left but a map (the virtual abstraction of the territory), and on this map some fragments of the real are still floating and drifting. (2000, 63) In Boulter’s discussion of Baudrillard’s reference to Borges, he tells us that it comes from Del Rigor en la Cienca (Of Exactitude in Science), which is ‘about how the Real is displaced by its representation’ (2001, 355).
In addition, Boulter remarks that Borges’s text is a transcription of a portion of a text by J.A. Suárez Miranda, called Viajes de Varones Prudentes (1658). Reflecting on this intertexuality, Boulter contends that ‘part of the effect of Borges’ writing is to call into question the very notion of origins’ (2001, 356), and this is one of the reasons why it is central to Baudrillard’s concerns about simulation and reality.
Baudrillard’s argument regarding simulation is underpinned by a fourfold structure which he calls the successive phases of the image (1983). The first phase begins with images that are thought to be a reflection of a basic reality. The second phase of the image occurs when the image masks and perverts reality. But by the third phase the image masks the absence of reality.
Then in the fourth phase the image ‘bears no relation to any reality whatever: it is its own pure simulacrum’ (1983, 11). Baudrillard also attempts to map these stages onto different economic conditions from feudal times, to mercantile capitalism to advanced global capitalism. Yet it is unclear if these phases of the image can be neatly mapped out in this way.
Instead, it seems that the changing aspects of imagery require further consideration since Baudrillard focuses on the ways in which one form of imagery succeeds another and becomes the dominant aesthetic, rather than exploring how these phases might overlap. So whilst the simulacra may be a dominant form of the image in contemporary culture, the other three phases of the image still remain in place.
According to Baudrillard, Borges’s text is an example of the second order of simulacra which masks and perverts a basic reality. But taking a different stance, Boulter says that Borges’s text can be interpreted according to all the four phases of the image that Baudrillard proposes. He contends that the text ‘reflects an originary ontology, masks that ontology, masks the absence of that ontology (or attempts to), and, as pure modernist text, is its own simulated ontology: the text’s “real” reality’ (2001, 362).
What it is particularly interesting about Baudrillard’s model of the succession of the image is that it could also be used as a means of providing multiple interpretations of images in virtual reality environments. For instance, it is possible to interpret a virtual environment as a reflection of a reality.
In this regard, an architectural model of a building or a flight simulator could be thought of as an attempt to accurately reflect a building or flight conditions in the real world. Secondly, military combat scenarios, which often become translated into entertainment games, might be regarded as masking and debasing the atrocities of war. Cynics might also argue that the virtual and the real are both symbolic constructions that have no ultimate foundation. Alternatively, the virtual could become indistinguishable from the real, thereby becoming hyperreal.
However, in the following statement Baudrillard insists that there are fundamental differences between representation and simulation: Representation stems from the principle of the equivalence of the sign and of the real (even if this equivalence is utopian, it is a fundamental axiom).
Simulation, on the contrary, stems from the utopia of the principles of equivalence, from the radical negation of the sign as value, from the sign as the revision and death sentence of every reference. (1994, 6)
Extending this line of argument, Baudrillard suggests that simulation involves the construction of its own referential ground, a process which he terms ‘the hyperreal’ (1994, 1). So what we find in Baudrillard’s fourfold schema is that signifying systems are misleading because they generate the notion of reality as something that is outside of the system through the very operational processes of the system itself.
Amplifying this point, Gary Genosko remarks: In Baudrillard’s terms, every time there is signification, there is lying, for the reason that what is real is an effect of the sign, and thus, every referent is an alibi: signification simulates reference to a real state because no real state corresponds to the sign. (1994, 41)
Baudrillard’s central argument is that in contemporary culture simulacra attempt to absorb the real by becoming equivalent to reality. For Baudrillard states, ‘The image cannot imagine the real any longer, because it has become the real.
It can no longer transcend reality, transfigure it, nor dream it, because it has become its own virtual reality’ (1998, 4). In other words, if the image becomes so close to reality that there is no relationship of resemblance, the process is short-circuited; the image becomes reality.
The hyperreal is too visible and oversignified, whereby the dialogue between the viewer and the viewed also becomes strained. As Merrin puts it: At such a level of obviousness no relationship is possible: there is no passion, no investment or belief – everything is hyperrealised before us and our only response is stupefied acceptance. (2001, 100)
As Baudrillard’s work develops, another stage is added to his procession of successive images which he calls the fractal, whereby the notion of the referent changes to that of the combinatorial. Meaning is produced by the combination of different signs within a signifying system.
This idea of the fractal is also associated with the proliferation of signs in contemporary culture, particularly the speed in which they are produced, circulated and exchanged. To explicate this process, Baudrillard creates an analogy between the fractal stage of signification and cancer, whereby the cells proliferate to such a degree that they become dysfunctional.
Likewise, in Baudrillard’s fractal stage signs of reality proliferate so that they begin to act like a virus which unsettles notions of truth and reality. In this way, signs do not make the world intelligible; instead, they make it more unintelligible.
A recurring theme in Baudrillard’s work is that virtual reality does not just apply to a specific technology; rather, it is an apt description of life in a contemporary media-saturated world. According to Baudrillard, in contemporary culture our everyday lives have become so permeated by media images that our sense of reality has become occluded by hyperreality: We don’t need digital gloves or a digital suit.
As we are moving around in the world as in a synthetic image. We have swallowed our microphones and headsets, producing intense interference effects, due to the short-circuit of life and its technical diffusion. (1999, 19)
But whilst the aesthetics of photorealism are a prominent feature of popular culture, fine art has gone in a rather different direction. As Andrew Darley (2000) points out, the aesthetics of realism in fine art declined during the twentieth century whilst this became a major aspect of popular culture through film, television and more recently computer games.
On a similar note, Joanna Buick states that ‘commercial enterprises and technical wizards are racing towards ideals of faster computation, perfect simulation and life like simulation. In art things are somewhat different’ (2002, 109).
Darley also claims that digital imagery is not necessarily conducive to semiotic analysis, or the textual uncovering of meaning, because it is more concerned with stimulating the senses. For Darley computer-generated images ‘tend towards pure diversion, consisting of forms that are immediate and ephemeral in their effect’ (2000, 6).
Michael Heim also challenges conventional ideas about semiotic analysis in his consideration of digital imagery. Heim (1995) argues that the computer graphics that construct virtual environments are not signs that re-present that which is not present.
Instead, he asserts that virtual entities do not ‘present again’ something which is absent or ‘already present somewhere else’ (1995, 70). This means that simulated entities are taken to be real in a fundamentally different way to the realism in painting because ‘the symbol becomes reality’ (1995, 70).
Similarly, Nicholas Mirzoeff states that ‘unlike photography and film which attest to the necessary presence of some exterior reality, the pixelated image reminds us of its necessary artificiality and absence’ (1999, 30). Taking these remarks into consideration, we can see that it is important to give critical attention to the aesthetics of photorealism and how this impacts our sense of the virtual and the real.
Critical debates about realism and computer-generated imagery have also been raised with respect to military-based simulations. For example, in an interview with Kara Platoni, Captain Pete Huntley from the US Marine Head Quarters in Quantico commented on the use of simulation techniques within a military context.
According to Huntley, ‘the goal is to make the simulation be almost indistinguishable from actual wartime needs so the soldiers have no way of knowing if they’re in a real conflict or a simulated exercise’ (Platoni, 1999, 30). What this quest for photorealism indicates is that crossovers can occur between computer games and military-based virtual reality simulations.
Kara Platoni states that ‘thanks to massive improvements in graphics technology over the last few years, the video game software industry has produced shooting, flying, and fighting games that look so real they can be used for actual combat training’ (1999, 27).
Platoni goes on to say that in 1997 the US Marines made a few changes to the commercially available game Doom (Id Software) so that it could be used for military training purposes. Subsequently, the revised version of Doom was made available as a free download on the Internet by the military.
The ways in which military or combat-based computer games represent life, death and violence are an important consideration, particularly in relation to our understanding of the virtual and the real. Steven Poole (2000) points out that killing in game scenarios is often rewarded and symbolized by the accrual of more points.
Killing can be programmed into computer games so that some characters in a game are killed in a different way to others. For example, when a player kills an enemy they may appear to regenerate, come back to life and attack them again.
Moreover, in some games players are given multiple lives, and as Poole argues, these features of game playing have the potential to shift the ways in which we think about life and death: In part this resembles the brutal calculus of war, where a human life, normally the definition of total value in peacetime, is arithmetised as being worth, say one hundredth of the value of taking the next ridge. (Poole, 2000, 68)
Poole’s argument about life and death in gaming is also pertinent to the use of simulation techniques in actual combat situations. For instance, the 1991 Gulf War raised a series of concerns about simulation techniques and how they impacted the real world.
The Gulf War was not the first war to be televised, but it was the first time that images were supposedly broadcast in ‘real time’ across the world’s major television networks.
Paul Patton says that the Gulf War also involved specialists who were responsible for representing the war in particular ways via the mass media: As a result, what we saw was for the most part a ‘clean’ war, with lots of pictures of weaponry, including the amazing footage from the nose-cameras of ‘smart bombs’, and relatively few images of human casualties, none from the Allied forces. (1999 121)
Patton’s comments reveal the ways in which representations of the war were skewed through media representations, which obscured the actual death and destruction that was taking place. Therefore, the US involvement in the Gulf War was not just about the control of weapons, places or actual human bodies, but it also involved controlling images and information and shaping public opinion.
Benjamin Woolley also discusses the use of computer simulations in the Gulf War of 1993 and how simulators were used to transmit data from Norman Schwarkopf ’s command centre to Washington D.C. Woolley states: Targets were not real locations but map coordinates displayed on a VDU, troop movements were formations of pixels in computer-enhanced false-colour satellite images.
From a postmodern perspective, the entire war, at least at the level where anyone could make sense of it, was just a pattern on a screen. (1993, 93) The testimonies of the US soldiers fighting in the Gulf War that appear in Woolley’s work also reveal the ways in which events are understood within the context of media representations.
A US pilot said that the events that he was involved with were ‘exactly like the movies’ (1993, 191). In addition, the worldwide circulation of televised images of the Gulf War also produced a feedback loop between images and the events they purportedly recorded.
Writing about these events in the Gulf, Baudrillard comments that the war was speculative ‘to the extent that we do not see the real event that it could be or signify’ (1995, 29). According to Paul Patton, who translated Baudrillard’s book, the purpose of this approach was to take the logic of a media-based war to its ultimate extremes in order to reveal its absurdity.
Journalist Nick Davies (2009) has also investigated media representations of the Gulf War. According to Davies the US military produced a media strategy that involved ‘a $12 million campaign orchestrated by PR specialists from Hill and Knowlton, which used misinformation from Kuwati exiles to provide a eries of fabricated stories’ (2009, 221).
Furthermore, Davies found that the representation of what was happening in the Gulf became increasingly complex and that nothing was exactly what it seemed. For example, Davies reports that what appeared to be a grass-roots organization called ‘Empower Peace’ was established by the US State Department.
In addition, the Iraq Crisis Bulletin, which claimed to present independent news, was actually created by Voice of America. What Davies’s work shows is that uncovering or untangling what is real and what is fabricated is becoming increasingly complex, particularly in terms of media representations of war.
Taking a different view, George Friedman claims that simulation can be used as a deterrent by showing the destruction and loss of life that could occur, if a war actually took place. Friedman reports that the Wright Patterson Air Force Base used simulations of battle scenarios to convince ‘the Serbians that the United States, could in fact, defeat them and to convince them that the U.S. was prepared to defeat them’ (1997, 62).
Then again, Lanier is critical of Friedman’s argument about using simulation as a deterrent because he claims that there is ‘an extraordinary gadget lust’ driving the military (1997, 62). Like Lanier, Melanie Chan is not entirely convinced by the deterrent argument. Lanier goes to the core of the ethical debate by asking why war takes place and suggests how simulation might be used in alternative ways.
Indeed, Lanier wants to utilize virtual reality in a creative way to produce ‘problems that are harder than warfare to take up people’s time’ (1997, 62). Lanier’s proposal of using virtual reality as a creative tool to avoid war is a noble one, but one wonders how practical and effective it might be when placed next to the multimillion-dollar research budgets and rhetoric of the US military.
There are virtual environments that attempt to simulate complex and multifaceted situations in order to explore different solutions, such as Darfur Is Dying, which is a simulation of the experiences of refugees in Sudan, or PeaceMaker™, which is based on the conflicts between Israel and Palestine.
Then again, it is debatable whether virtual reality as a creative tool to avoid violence is what people actually want since violence is represented in popular computer games in the military genre such as the Call of Duty® (Activision) or the Medal of Honor series (Electronic Arts).
More recently, new debates have emerged with respect to modelling, simulation and the management of catastrophic events through the accumulation of large data sets (known as Big Data). At present, different data sets such as weather patterns or geological changes can be brought together in order to help predict the likelihood of a hurricane or tsunami.
The work of Israeli artist Eyal Gever provides interesting insight into the creative potential of Big Data. Gever spends up to two years modelling virtual worlds which are based on data acquired about catastrophic events or phenomenon.
He then simulates the catastrophe from different perspectives and uses a 3D printer to transform the virtual environment into physical reality. This technique is used to produce such works as Tsunami Crashing (2011/2012) and Street Blast (2011/2012). In this way, Big Data provides the starting point for a modelling process in which the virtual (the potential) helps to predict what could become real.
The use of Big Data as a means of modelling scenarios such as the movement of weather patterns, geological changes or population patterns indicates the ways in which the digital technology of computer code forms a backdrop to the mapping, measuring and understanding of space (virtual or otherwise).