Pastoral Ministry and SecondLife - What's reality got to do with it?

For those who frequent and hope to minister in SecondLife, one of the underlying questions is about reality itself – how “realities” intersect and overlap, whether in a continuous or discontinuous manner. This is not a flippant question, for it has to do with how we minister.

One problem or opportunity arises when attempting to define reality, especially a physical reality vis-a-vis a computer-mediated one. (Not least among these problems is the simple experience of language, since, in American English at least, “reality” is a word that generally points to physical actuality.)

As I see it, one of the most accessible metaphors for this special problem can be described as a meeting of certain elements of two commonly-known films.

In the first film, The Matrix, the actual, physical world is one that very few human beings ever live to see, although they surely do inhabit it. They are grown, helpless, with their minds wired into a mediated reality – a highly detailed computer program that provides them with a wide, if controlled, range of experiences, emotions, and so on: enough to meet at least the most basic needs of the majority populace, but only so that the needs of the physical world (power supply for a machine-based collective) can continue to be sufficiently addressed. The human being in the virtual and supplied world of the computer overlay/program is a functional member of a collectively imagined society (you might say an intended mass hallucination), when in the world of physical reality, he is just a widget and a producer of energy.

In the second film, Being John Malkovich, the main character (a master puppeteer) discovers a hidden portal that allows him to temporarily inhabit the consciousness of another person, including all that that person feels, hears, or sees. By taking repeated trips on “the Malkovich ride,” the main character learns how not to be ejected from the experience, so that he may permanently inhabit the person; and, because of his special skills as a wirepuller, he also learns how to manipulate his host just as he would any other object at the end of his strings. The subject involuntarily speaks his words and otherwise acts as commanded.

So in the first film, physical reality is overlaid with and obscured by virtual reality, while in the second film one physical reality is abandoned for the purposes of living in another one. SecondLife and other “massively multiplayer” online experiences are a marriage of these two films in that a person occupying a physically real time and place inserts himself into a computer-mediated reality using the virtual equivalent of a marionette.

(We’d be tempted to use more of these films than we need to for the purposes of constructing our metaphor – for example, much could be made of the difference between voluntarily and involuntarily entering into a virtual world. Or that the purpose of a SecondLife type program is wildly different from the purpose of a Matrix. Or that Mr. Malkovich’s reality is still a physical one, and that being in his consciousness is merely a window into another’s actual existence. Or that Mr. Malkovich, a genuine person in himself, suffers the sublimation of his own reality for another’s, and that there are surely moral implications to that. All true. But we need some kind of an opening metaphor – a basic construct for naming intersecting realities – and hopefully this simple illustration suffices.)

Now, what might be some of the pastoral concerns for ministering in an environment where real people living in real times and places inhabit virtual puppets and interact in a computer-mediated environment?

First, there are the questions of logistics: of technology and of the interface itself. Bandwidth, lag time, and the control panes (the “strings”) are all factors that demand Christians exercise the basic virtue of patience, especially when opportunities arise to listen and understand the life of another, and possibly do or say something to positively affect a situation as the Spirit may lead us to do. Part of the irony of SecondLife is that although it directs massive amounts of information to us, we tend to be impatient with it and with others whom we meet within it. Patience increases with prayer and experience.

Second, there is moral agency and shape-shifting. The possibilities for what my avatar (“puppet”) might look like, including very basic demographics like gender, are theoretically endless and may be traded upon instantly. Attendant identities about what is “fair” or “right” may fluidly shift along with the characteristics of virtual personhood. If you’re ministering to someone who is a person in one instant and a dog in the next, can you make the fluid connections about how to compassionately continue to minister in light of those changes, yet not compromise your own sense of integrity and self?

Third, there is the question of what’s happening “on the other end.” We must always remember that an avatar is a window into another person’s real life; that no matter how hard all of us try, there’s really no way we can cover up who we are. Pure anonymity is an abstract idea and for some a goal to strive toward, just as pure objectivity might be for a journalist. But that doesn’t make it a possibility. Everything I make public about my avatar – its groups, its friends, its clothes, its hangouts – is information about me. At one level this is totally obvious, and yet there are many who choose environments such as SecondLife so that they can forget about “real life” for a while – you know, go off and fly around somewhere. The wise pastor will see the avatar and remember the reality and complexity and humanity that’s driving it.

Fourth, virtual environments call for the highest degree of self-knowledge and congruence. One fancying him- or herself a minister of the Gospel of Christ is bound by the fundamentals of that gospel narrative, which is why knowing the fundamentals is so important. If, for example, the good Lord would not have us participate in activities that test the limits of our marriage vows in the tangible world, then how could a virtual environment create conditions where it would be possible to suspend or break those same vows? It couldn’t, not even if the rules or norms of that virtual environment allow or even encourage such behaviors, because the gold standard is found in a narrative that’s already been set down.

Fifth, and finally, the overlap of the actual and the virtual demands that we see evangelism not as the simple, one-way imparting of our knowledge about the divine life and energy, but rather as capitalizing on the opportunity to partake in mutual transformation in the name of God, that the causes of God may move forward. This is true wherever you go, be it computer-mediated or physically real. Real relationships and our ability to exercise compassion and love within them are the essence of the work.

I would love to read your thoughts.