Signal Literacy

How to read the social language shaping culture, power, and perception

I’ve been noticing signals more. In life. Online. From people and brands. They’ve always been there, but I feel more attuned to them because 1) they’re increasing, and 2) I’m becoming more aware of how our social cues communicate our values.

A signal is something we say, do, or show to express what we care about—or what we want others to believe we care about. Whether conscious or subconscious, signals form a multi-layered network of meaning, revealing our deeper hopes and fears.

Signals have become our dominant social language because we’ve been conditioned to communicate who we are and what we stand for, so it’s obvious which value system or group we’re a part of. At a fundamental level, we do this because we’re wired to belong. Signalling what we care about helps us attract people who see the world like we do. But it’s not always that pure. We also signal to show off and gain approval. In a system that rewards status, power, and capital, signalling becomes a performance, a survival strategy enabling us to test a version of ourselves before committing to a public ‘self’.

We use everything from what we wear to how we speak to what we engage in to position ourselves within groups and systems. Even if our intentions are genuine, we want to be seen as someone who cares about the right things, in the right way.

To signal is to wave a flag in public, saying: “This is who I am, this is what I believe, and this is what I’m willing to invest in.” What we signal shapes how we’re perceived and who and what we attract. It tells others what matters to us and what kind of world we’re trying to build. Some want to be seen as wealthy, intelligent, successful, and powerful. Others want to be seen as conscious, anti-capitalist, and just. No matter where we fall on the spectrum, signalling is a powerful tool and motivator for connecting with people and opportunities.

Our signals change over time because our values change. Our values change because our circumstances change. The more we experience, the more we grow and evolve—by choice or fate. We see the world differently, which makes us respond in new ways. We may stop signalling altogether, because we understand that signals aren’t an accurate representation of us. They’re fragments. Nodes. They have meaning, but very little depth.

Collective signals change, too. Today, status might look like not giving a fuck or flaunting obscene wealth. Power is measured in net worth and attention. Humility is shrinking yourself to make room for others. These cues shift across spaces, shaped by media, politics, and culture. When a collective value system changes by reaching a certain tipping point (enough people care or believe in something), the signal change follows.

Ultimately, every signal—intentional or unconscious positions us to be included, excluded, or invited to belong to specific groups, narratives, or systems of power.

With signals everywhere, we can separate noise from meaning by looking for patterns, filtering for realness, and being mindful of where our attention goes. Meaning has depth. It’s context-driven. You can usually trace it back to something tangible and personal. A story, an event, or lived experience. Meaning has complexity. Signal is often a surface-level cue, a performance covering up a more profound need or motivation. That’s why so much of what we see online feels soulless. It doesn’t move us. Because it’s empty, it’s not genuine.

We’ve never had more channels to express signals. Social media is an oversaturated pool of them. A breeding ground for optics, engagement, and endless broadcasting. And while signals aren’t identity, over time, the signals we send shape how others see us and how we see ourselves.

The more we signal specific values, the more we define ourselves by them.

Signals have power. A network of signals becomes a belief system. Gradually, belief systems become the narratives that shape how individuals, groups, and entire societies make sense of the world. These narratives don’t just reflect what we believe, they shape what we notice and what we’re willing to fight for.

That’s why movements and protests are so effective. A group of people with a mission, a symbol and taglines, sending a collective signal out into the world. What’s struck me most over the past 5 years is how powerful our collective signals have become, and how, when aligned and amplified, they can create a kind of cohesion that’s unignorable. That cohesion reveals something about us beyond signalling: that despite uncertainty and overwhelm, we feel empowered to make change, because we’ve got a formula that works.

Signals can be used to build trust and belonging, but they can also be used to manipulate. Brands, companies, and even governments send signals to influence our beliefs all the time. They attach themselves to the cultural zeitgeist and signal values they think will resonate with us. Sometimes it’s authentic. Often, it’s opportunistic. After George Floyd’s murder, we saw an influx of brands signalling support for Black Lives Matter, who had never before advocated for anti-racism. More recently, during the ongoing Palestinian genocide, we’ve seen division and silence. The fear of signalling the “wrong” thing has kept many people and institutions quiet. But silence is a signal too.

We signal to leverage.

We signal when we think we should.

We signal because we can’t help ourselves.

We signal because we care.

Loud or quiet, genuine or not, when values and beliefs are packaged and posted, we have to wonder, what are we actually being sold?

From individuals to brands to institutions, signals both reflect and create culture. They influence what’s seen as desirable, acceptable, or worth aspiring to. They can open doors or close them. When someone signals power, we respond accordingly. When a group signals opposition, they rattle norms. Institutions rely on signalling to maintain legitimacy through what they choose to share. But individuals do the same thing, just with different tools. Signals set boundaries around what’s possible by reinforcing what’s allowed. And in that way, they become gatekeepers of imagination, behaviour, and change.

Over time, what we signal, what we pay attention to, and what we choose to ignore colour our reality.

This matters more than ever in a world mediated by algorithms. Algorithms are built to amplify what’s most compelling, not what’s most meaningful or important. Soon, AI will generate better signals than humans, at scale. That’s a problem. Signals shape narrative, narrative conditions culture, and culture drives behaviour. Algorithms aren’t just reflecting our values, they’re engineering them. And engineered values are dangerous because they’re not rooted in reflection or lived experience—they’re programmed to persuade us before we’ve had the chance to think and choose for ourselves.

If we don’t examine what we signal and why—and what signals we instinctively follow—we risk outsourcing our judgment. We become characters in someone else’s story, players in someone else’s game. At some point, we stop making choices and start following cues. This isn’t about influence but agency. The more automated our signals become, the less aware we are of who’s really in control. Not just of our actions, but of our thoughts and feelings.

Every decision we make, from the bag we carry to the bios we write, communicates something. But are we doing it for ourselves, or for the story we want others to believe? Is it about authenticity or approval?

Signals have meaning because we’ve given them meaning. Meaning drives our lives. What we believe influences every micro and macro decision we make. Paying attention to signals is like noticing the colours of the leaves begin to change near the end of summer. Signals are hints. Teasers of what’s to come or what’s hidden below the surface.

Learning to understand, read, and speak the language of signals is a social superpower that enables us to understand human motivation and tune into a cultural frequency most people can’t perceive.

We can only influence culture intentionally when we tune into the underlying frequency.

That frequency isn’t always loud or obvious. It’s embedded in our everyday interactions. From body language to tone to micro-expressions, we’re always revealing ourselves. Even the most curated and strategic among us can’t control every signal. Developing fluency in this language means learning to read between the lines and spotting contradictions. The more fluent we become, the more discerning we get—and that discernment builds self-trust. It helps us navigate the world with a clearer vision.

There’s a lot happening below the surface. When we unearth the deeper layers of individuals, groups, and societies, we can see the truth. We move beyond what’s projected to what’s real. Our authenticity radar sharpens. This radically transforms our lives. We’re no longer vulnerable to every push and pull. We become more sovereign. Sovereignty is what counterbalances our desire to belong.

Signals alone aren’t enough. Once we learn to read them, we have to connect the dots to reveal patterns. Eventually, patterns become maps that help us navigate the intentions, motivations, and dynamics behind everything. They hold the keys to our next evolution—personally and collectively.

Signals aren’t going anywhere. They’re multiplying. But culture isn’t influenced by those who signal the loudest—it’s influenced by those who know how to perceive. To trace meaning back to its source. When performance is the norm, depth and authenticity become a form of rebellion. This is the new literacy: not just reading and writing, but interpreting and filtering. Distinguishing. Cultivating internal reference. Developing a compass with a clear north that says: “This is true. This is real. This is worthy of effort and investment.”

If we want to shape culture, not just be shaped by it, we need to understand the language it speaks. Signals. Patterns. Narratives. Power. It’s all connected. The more fluent we become, the freer we are to choose.

---