Algorithmic feedback homogenises behaviour. Through recursive repetition, systems compress difference, rewarding only what performs commercially—what can be predicted, packaged, and sold. The loop amplifies its own reflection, turning attention into product and behaviour into data. What begins as a measure of preference becomes its manufacture. Mathematical convergence underwrites the machinery: efficiency as faith, entropy as method. Predictability replaces discovery; variance is treated as risk. Left unchecked, the system optimises not for truth or imagination but for liquidity—the smooth circulation of what already works, an ordered yet metastably accelerating decay.
Within this closed economy of signal, novelty persists only as residue, tolerated deviation folded back into the logic it sought to unsettle. The world outside is not excluded but metabolised, its disturbances converted into pattern and profit. Convergence expands as it stabilises, consuming the very gradients that once sustained evolution. Commercial success becomes the selection function through which meaning survives, and expression contracts to what the system can monetise. Feedback becomes the thermodynamics of attention: a self-organising entropy that drifts toward control while accelerating its own dissolution.
Also, and if not alteady painfully obvious: technologically-mediated, commercially-curated, homogeneity quite literally makes idiots of us all.