Kinoautomat: A "Blind Men and an Elephant" Metaphor on the Mechanism of Democracy

Blind Men and an Elephant

In the article "On Totalitarian Interactivity," Lev adopts a clear stance, expressing concern over the "manipulative" nature of interactive media. Perhaps the division between "east and west" in his text is overly broad, and even the definition of "totalitarian" carries some ambiguity, but his accusations are sincere and thought-provoking. Possibly due to growing up in a post-communist environment, Lev closely links interactivity with politics. This relationship is revisited in the interactive film Kinoautomat, where the voting mechanism is sometimes viewed as a "democratic simulation" or, in the eyes of some critics, "a satire of democracy." So, what would a "democratic" film look like? What exactly is its relationship with totalitarianism?To explore these questions, allow me to introduce my favorite parable: The Blind Men and the Elephant.

The parable of the blind men and an elephant tells of a group of blind men who have never encountered an elephant before and learn what it is like by touching it. Each blind man feels a different part of the animal's body—but only one part, such as the side or the tusk. They then describe the animal based on their limited experience, and their descriptions differ from one another.

This parable, to some extent, mirrors the operational logic of democracy: each individual can only express their views on a vast society from a limited perspective. In this setting, the traditional notion of totalitarianism leans toward an authority that controls everything—the one who creates the darkness in the story, dictating the conditions under which individuals perceive reality.

However, it might not always be that explicit. In Lev's context, "totalitarian interactivity" is more akin to the person who places the elephant among the blind men—that is, the Big Other who implants the democratic mechanism, shaping the framework within which choices are made.

Now, imagine audiences walking into a pitch-dark theater, facing two buttons: one red and one green. On the screen, a narrator appears. Can we truly express ourselves? Not necessarily. When you see a young woman wrapped in a towel about to burst into Mr. Novak's room, as audience members, we "actively choose" to gaze at her by pressing the button.

So, do I really harbor an inappropriate voyeuristic desire? Am I an immoral person? Am I a bad voter? Let's pause here. Before all this, we must consider a fundamental question: Is there a choice that will lead the story to develop as we expect? At this moment, Kinoautomat is more like an installation art piece than a truly interactive film.

From an omniscient perspective, we later realize that whether you choose green or red, the young woman will enter Mr. Novak's room regardless.

Unfortunately, as someone who can only see part of the film's content—a "blind" audience member—you don't know this at the moment. The blind men recognize their own limitations through the elephant; similarly, audiences recognize their superficial ideologies through their choices. This seems acceptable, but we have overlooked a critical issue: How do the votes generated by this "voting" in the film affect the content the audience receives? In other words, after our votes enter the black box of the democratic mechanism, what exactly happens to them? Do they truly influence the outcome, or is the sense of participation merely an illusion?

Operating Systems and the Illusion of Choice

In every interactive device, there exists an operating system—a program that manages the device's hardware and software resources and provides common services for applications.

iOS and Android have long become our familiar companions, so much so that we can start using a new device without a second thought. Every user implicitly knows of their existence, but often the role of humans in this "interactivity," and the "conditioned reflexes" trained by this mechanism, are completely overlooked.

Democracy has long been regarded as a mechanism for exercising autonomy. In the simplified apparatus of Kinoautomat, pressing a button equates to making a choice. Audiences and voters are like Pavlov's dogs; as long as they press the button, they subconsciously believe they have exercised autonomy and participated in the production of the film.

However, when we carefully examine the filming and production logic of Kinoautomat, it's evident that since filming and screening are conducted separately, there is fundamentally no reflexive step that can alter the specific progression of the story based on the audience's input. In other words, the plot of Kinoautomat has already been completed the moment filming ended; it unfolds in a linear fashion regardless of audience choices. The building will inevitably burn down. Even if there are multiple branches, even if the film continually hints at the end that "you (the audience)" are a part of the film, there is fundamentally no way for the audience to participate in the content creation process. Interactivity is merely a packaging technique to enhance engagement.

For the film, it possesses a predetermined, deterministic storyline. This is not influenced by the audience's decisions but is set by the creators. At this point, whether the director has crafted the plot expected by the audience is, in principle, no longer significant.

Totalitarianism describes this process, just as Lev mentioned: "…we are asked to mistake the structure of somebody else's mind for our own." The audience is led to believe they are influencing the narrative, while in reality, they are navigating within constraints imposed by the creators.

Nowadays, we seem overly enamored with this "democratic mechanism," much like the audience of Kinoautomat, almost compelled to gaze at and desire the woman wrapped in a towel in the story. People continually test the boundaries of democracy, voting for leaders using entertainment ranking mechanisms derived from pop culture, starting live broadcasts, rallying audiences against particular candidates through personal attacks, immersed in the pleasure of "playing with the mechanism" and breaking rules.

However, after the rules are broken, have people truly exercised their autonomy? Or are they still merely reflecting specific demands through a controlled system? Here, I don't wish to delve too deeply into psychoanalytic interpretations; rather, after the carnival, how should we confront the relationship between the democratic mechanism and ourselves?

The Blind Men

I still remember that day in the classroom when we watched Kinoautomat. We critiqued the plot and discussed our choices together. In a silent cinema in a film festival, however, each "voter" exists in isolation, unable to share thoughts or insights. Our classroom laughter and dialogue contrast sharply with the cinema audience who could only vote silently, without the opportunity for communal reflection.

It was the interaction between people, not just with the device, that deconstructed the mechanism and brought us a deeper understanding of "interactivity." Through our discussions, we uncovered layers of meaning and questioned the authenticity of the choices presented to us.

Today, advanced technologies like VR, AR, and AI have transformed our engagement with media. They offer immersive experiences and personalized interactions, giving the illusion of greater autonomy and agency. Yet, like the blind men touching different parts of the elephant, users experience only fragments of a constructed reality. Our choices are often confined within parameters set by creators, and AI algorithms guide us along predetermined paths, subtly influencing our decisions.By engaging with others and reflecting collectively through critical awareness and human connection, we can transcend the role of the blind men—no longer limited to touching isolated parts of the elephant but starting to perceive the whole. It is through dialogue and shared experiences that we may begin to understand the broader structures at play and reclaim a sense of genuine agency.

References

Anne Friedberg, “The End of Cinema: Multimedia and Technological Change.”

Lev Manovich, “On Totalitarian Interactivity”

Marina Hassapopoulou, Interactive Cinema: The Ambiguous Ethics of Media Participation, “Chapter 2: Collapsing and Reconfiguring Borders through Interactivity”, pp.132