Digital gods and the envied intimacy

Last weekend, I watched Ahmet Adnan Saygun’s opera "Gilgamesh," performed by the Istanbul State Opera and Ballet at the Atatürk Cultural Center. It was a very successful performance. 

The Epic of Gilgamesh is one of the oldest known narratives in human history, and it is not merely a heroic tale but a profound inquiry into power, humanity, and death. Gilgamesh, the king of Uruk, possesses extraordinary power thanks to his semi-divine identity. However, this power turns into oppression rather than producing justice. He is a ruler who pushes his people, ignores boundaries, and uses his power for his own pleasure.

The gods want to create a balance against this excess of Gilgamesh and bring Enkidu before him. Enkidu is a pure human. A being intertwined with nature, living by his instincts, and not yet acquainted with the corrupting influence of power. Initially, the two figures are enemies. Power and humanity are face to face. However, over time, this conflict gives way to sharing. They hunt together, struggle together, and transform together. In this process, not just a friendship but a genuine bond is born between them. This is where the most striking point of the epic lies. This real bond does not please the gods. Because the relationship between Gilgamesh and Enkidu is woven with human experience, not power. This closeness is seen as a threat to the absolute order of the gods, and Enkidu is punished with death. For Gilgamesh, this situation opens the door to confronting death and mortality for the first time.

This story, told thousands of years ago, reappears today in the digital age in a different form.

Perhaps there are no gods anymore, but there are new power centers that have taken their place. Digital platforms, algorithms, data companies, and invisible management systems. These are the new gods of the digital universe. They determine what we see and what we do not, what becomes visible, and what is driven into evasion. The concept of artificial intimacy gains meaning at exactly this point. Although people seem to be in more contact with each other in the digital world, a large part of this contact is not a genuine closeness but a form of relationship based on performance. A stage of emotional display built with likes, comments, and heart emojis.

The bond between Gilgamesh and Enkidu was shaped by shared experience, face-to-face encounters, and shared dangers. In the digital environment, intimacy is often built through selected frames, filtered faces, and narrated selves. It is not reality, but an aestheticized representation of reality that is put into circulation.

From a sociological perspective, this situation can be read as the commodification of intimacy. Closeness is no longer an internal feeling but turns into a measurable and consumable value. Interaction numbers, watch times, and share rates take precedence over the content of the relationship. For digital platforms, genuine intimacy is problematic. Because a real bond cannot be controlled. It cannot be measured. It can escape the algorithm. However, artificial intimacy is under control. It can be directed. It can be optimized. For this reason, the system encourages connections that are in constant contact but remain on the surface, rather than deep relationships.

In other words, today's digital order does not love Enkidu, but rather the old version of Gilgamesh. The one that is powerful, visible, and controllable. A real bond is too human. Too free. And for this reason, it is seen as a potential threat. At this point, one must ask: If a genuine relationship blossoms between two people, do the digital gods make room for it? Or is this bond, just like Enkidu, cast aside with the silent approval of the system?

Perhaps the greatest illusion of the digital age is this: We think we are close, but in reality, we are only reachable. We think we are intimate, but most of the time, we are only visible.

The Epic of Gilgamesh whispers this to us: A real bond always disturbs power. Because what makes a human being human is their uncontrollable emotions. And perhaps the most striking question of today is this: Is real intimacy still possible in the digital world, or is it now only as much as the algorithm allows? Perhaps the tragedy of the modern age is not in man's loneliness, but in his belief that he is not alone.