This week marks 120 years since the 1906 Atlanta Race Massacre, when white mobs laid waste to Black‑owned businesses and lives. At SXSW this spring, I experienced that history through a phone‑based augmented‑reality installation. Standing on a downtown sidewalk, I watched a true-to-life hologram of an actor portraying Black journalist Jesse Max Barber describe the violence as it occurred. The smoke and fear felt immediate, in a way no book or film could convey. It reminded me that immersive media, used with care, can turn cold facts into felt experience.
We’re rightfully wary of technology. Algorithms feed us outrage; screens swallow our evenings. Critics warn that headsets will lure us into isolation. (WALL‑E, anyone?) That risk is real.
But by focusing only on the dangers, are we missing the other side of the story? Immersive tools can also cut through the noise, slow us down, and connect us to truths we cannot grasp on a flat screen.
Evidence for that power is growing. Researchers found that participants who navigated a 360‑degree video simulating violent intergroup conflict became less likely to demonize the opposing side and more open to compromise. The Messy Truth, a virtual-reality series that places viewers in scenarios like racial profiling, was shown at the Conservative Political Action Conference; police officers who experienced being a Black teenager pulled over by a cop said they saw the world differently.
These projects hint at how immersive media might help us reclaim attention and rebuild connection in an age of lies and fragmentation. When you inhabit someone else’s perspective, or even something’s perspective — a kid with ADHD, a farmer in the Himalayas, or a spore in a mycelial network — abstract issues become personal. At a time when climate change is reduced to statistics and racism to slogans, the chance to feel another life for a few minutes can seed empathy and action. I’ve been surprised at how often these experiences slow me down. They’re not adrenaline rides. They’re invitations to linger and listen.
For immersive media to meet its promise, we need more than experiments. We need institutions, artists, and community groups to build with these tools — and to do so thoughtfully. That’s why I cofounded Agog, a philanthropic institute dedicated to using emerging media to cultivate empathy and connection, and inspire action. Projects like Kinfolk Tech, which uses AR to surface hidden Black and Brown histories in public spaces and prompts 91 percent of users to share what they learn, and Electric South’s New Dimensions Lab, which supports African creators making nonfiction XR, show what’s possible. Yet most nonprofits still view XR as costly or difficult to wield. Meanwhile, tech giants are racing ahead. Meta’s Ray‑Ban Display glasses — smart frames with an AI‑powered screen that debut next week — signal that mainstream spatial computing is near. Apple’s new “Liquid Glass” design language, which uses translucent layers and parallax on phones and tablets, trains us for interfaces that live in three dimensions. If the mission-based world doesn’t join this conversation, the commercial players will set the terms.
I get the skepticism. Immersive media could be used to manipulate, to addict, to surveil. It could lull us into passivity or feed unhealthy impulses. The antidote is intention. We must ask: Does this experience reconnect us to reality or replace it? Does it foster empathy, or does it sensationalize suffering? Does it create new ways in, or push people to the margins? For example, new features in smart glasses, like real-time captions for people who are deaf or hard of hearing, or instant text-to-speech for those with visual impairments, can expand participation. That’s momentum we can build on.
As the National Center for Civil and Human Rights Museum reopens in Atlanta, and features the 1906 Race Massacre AR experience this weekend, we have a choice. We can treat immersive tech as another entertainment toy, or we can harness it to reclaim attention, relay truth, slow us down, and build connections across divides. I remain agog at the possibilities. With curiosity and care, we can ensure that immersive media doesn’t usher in a dystopia, but helps us imagine and build a better reality.
Chip Giller, along with Wendy Schmidt, is co-founder of Agog: The Immersive Media Institute, a philanthropic organization that helps people use emerging media like virtual and augmented reality tocreate human connection, cultivate empathy, and inspire action toward a brighter future for all.
This column reflects the opinions of the writer.
