hobbesian anxiety isn’t about monsters under the bed—it’s about the creeping dread that the systems we rely on are unknowable and indifferent. in a world where algorithms dictate our choices and ai operates beyond our comprehension, we’re not just afraid of what we see, but of what we can’t even begin to understand. it’s the fear of the unseen forces shaping our reality, leaving us questioning who—or what—is truly in control.
hobbes argued that fear isn’t just a reaction to a clear threat, like a bear charging at you or a shady dude in a parking lot. it’s more slippery, more existential. it’s the unease of not knowing what’s out there, the suspicion that the world is rigged against you in ways you can’t quite grasp. for hobbes, this wasn’t about psychology in the freudian sense—no couch, no cigar. it was about how our minds wrestle with a universe that doesn’t bother to explain itself. we’re born into a reality we didn’t build, surrounded by forces we can’t fully control or understand. sound familiar? swap “nature” for “big tech,” and you’ve got the 21st-century remix. we’re not just scared of hackers or cancel culture; we’re spooked by the opacity of the systems that run our lives. who’s got my data? why’s my feed pushing this ad? what’s the algorithm hiding? it’s hobbesian fear with a silicon valley glow-up.
the unknown in the cloud
hobbes’s big idea was that our deepest anxiety stems from ignorance—not the “i forgot my lines” kind, but the cosmic kind. we’re stuck in a world where our senses lie to us. colors, sounds, even light itself? all fakes, says hobbes, just our brains painting over a universe of cold, aimless motion. imagine him as the original matrix guy, telling us the world we see is a glitchy simulation. now, fast-forward to today. we don’t need to squint at the stars to feel that disconnect; it’s baked into our digital lives. every click, every swipe, feeds a machine we can’t see, running on code we don’t understand. the cloud isn’t some fluffy haven—it’s a black box, and we’re all groping in the dark.
take social media. it’s not just a platform; it’s a hobbesian nightmare dressed in pastel filters. you post a photo, and suddenly the algorithm’s got you pegged: your likes, your fears, your late-night snack habits. it’s not personal, but it feels like it is. the fear isn’t just that someone’s watching; it’s that you don’t know who, or why, or what they’ll do with the info. hobbes would nod knowingly here. he’d say this isn’t new—it’s just the old fear of the unknown, now with better graphics. we’re not scared of the void because it’s empty; we’re scared because we can’t map it. back in his day, people invented gods to fill that void, to give a face to the faceless. today, we’ve got conspiracy theories, qanon rabbit holes, and tiktok “hacks” that promise to crack the algorithm’s code. same vibe, different costume.
and it’s not just social media. think about ai, the shiny new kid on the block. it’s everywhere—curating your netflix queue, deciding your loan approval, maybe even writing this blog post (kidding… or am i?). but ai’s a black box too. even the coders don’t always know how it spits out its answers. it’s like hobbes’s universe: all motion, no meaning. we’re drawn to it because it promises control—predict the market, nail the perfect selfie filter—but it also freaks us out because it’s a power we can’t grasp. hobbes would call this our “perpetual solicitude of the time to come,” that nagging worry about what’s next when you can’t see the script. we’re not just users; we’re subjects in a digital state of nature, scrambling to secure ourselves against threats we can’t name.
from gods to gifs: redirecting fear
here’s where hobbes gets sneaky. he didn’t just diagnose fear; he had a plan to manage it. since we’re doomed to be spooked by the unknown, the trick is to channel that fear into something tangible, something we can fight or flee. for hobbes, that meant politics. get people to fear the sovereign more than each other, and you’ve got a shot at peace. it’s not about eliminating fear—that’s a pipe dream—but about pointing it at the right target. in his world, the fear of invisible spirits (gods, ghosts, the whole spooky crew) was the problem. it made people loyal to priests over kings, which was a no-go for civil order. so hobbes pushed for enlightenment, a materialist vibe check to strip the world of its mystical fog. forget the soul, he said; focus on the body, the stuff you can touch.
now, let’s bring that to 2025. our “invisible spirits” aren’t angels or demons; they’re data brokers, shadow profiles, deepfakes. the fear of these digital phantoms pulls us away from trusting institutions, just like hobbes’s religious fears undermined the state. but here’s the rub: our enlightenment isn’t about debunking ghosts; it’s about navigating a world where the line between real and fake is blurrier than a 90s vhs tape. we’re not swapping faith for reason; we’re swapping one set of myths for another. instead of praying to gods, we’re worshipping “transparency” and “privacy,” buzzwords that sound nice but don’t quite fill the void. hobbes would chuckle at our naivety. he’d say we’re still inventing objects for our fears, just calling them “terms of service” instead of “scripture.”
so how do we redirect this fear? hobbes’s answer was to make the state the big bad wolf, the one fear that trumps all others. but in our world, the state’s just one player in a crowded arena of tech giants, influencers, and rogue coders. maybe the modern equivalent is collective action—not a king, but a shared push for accountability. think open-source movements, data co-ops, or even memes that roast bad privacy policies. it’s not perfect, but it’s hobbesian in spirit: take the shapeless dread and give it a face, whether it’s a shady ceo or a glitchy app. the goal isn’t to banish fear but to make it work for us, to turn anxiety into agency. easier said than done, sure, but hobbes wasn’t exactly handing out participation trophies either.
the cost of clarity
here’s the kicker, and where hobbes gets real with us. enlightenment doesn’t make the fear go away; it just changes its flavor. strip away the gods, and you’re left staring at a universe that’s still dark, still unknowable. hobbes’s materialism didn’t cozy up the world; it made it colder, more alien. you gain security by fearing the right things—other people, not ghosts—but you lose something too: a sense of belonging, a place in the cosmic order. fast-forward to now, and our digital enlightenment does the same. we demand transparency, we audit the algorithms, but the more we learn, the more we realize how little we control. every “gotcha” moment—every leaked memo or exposed data grab—makes us safer but also more adrift. it’s like cleaning your glasses only to see the void more clearly.
this is where hobbes’s ghost high-fives the existentialists. kierkegaard and heidegger would vibe with his take: the human condition is being stuck in a world that doesn’t care about you, where fear is less about monsters and more about meaninglessness. our digital age amplifies this. every notification, every trending hashtag, is a reminder that we’re floating in a sea of data with no shore in sight. we’re not just scared of doxxing or identity theft; we’re scared of being reduced to a profile, a stat, a blip in the algorithm’s eye. hobbes would say that’s the deal: you trade one fear for another. the political win—stability, order—comes at a psychological cost—alienation, rootlessness. in our case, the digital win—connectivity, convenience—comes with a side of existential dread.
so where does that leave us? not with answers, because hobbes wasn’t big on those. he was more about laying out the problem and letting you squirm. my take? we’re stuck with this fear, same as his folks were. but we’ve got tools they didn’t—code, communities, a knack for turning anxiety into snarky memes. maybe the hobbesian move isn’t to build a digital leviathan but to lean into the chaos, to hack the fear instead of fleeing it. call it pragmatic paranoia: stay sharp, stay skeptical, but don’t let the unknown paralyze you. hobbes would probably roll his eyes at the optimism, but i like to think he’d respect the hustle.
references
blits, jan h. “hobbesian fear.” political theory 17, no. 3 (august 1989): 417–31. https://doi.org/10.2307/191224.
