A Creative Crisis of Faith
How much runway does democracy still have?
Will we ever relate to one another again through the words we write online? Or are we too far gone? In a culture where everything human is monetized and sensationalism rules, you either become inured to desperation or it overwhelms you to the point of numbness.
Hope is in short supply, self-generated, unfounded, delusional. You don’t know and you don’t care as long as it shows up. The zeitgeist has distorted humanness so much as to render it inexplicable. Hope is extra now.
It pays more to hasten our own demise by fanning the flames of fear.
Fear is a distraction tactic and a form of control. Those who are new to fearing for their life and their livelihood are unlikely to pluck up the courage to push back as they’re still in shock. Those who know no other way still see no other way: Danger has never not been imminent.
You only lose hope if you surrender it, nobody can take it from you. And you probably surrender it several times a day, despairing at everything because all you see is doom and gloom. Maybe you have already withdrawn, defeated.
So consider this: Democracy dies in silence, not in darkness. I’m tired too.
Words are human-implementable code for decency but greed has corrupted language and turned many into their antonyms. Refusing to profiteer from disempowerment gives you creative carte blanche. You already know signal gets buried so you have to find new ways to get the message across.
The intent to deceive as a business model need not determine the future even though it continues to define the present. So long as you know where you stand and do not lie to yourself, trust hope will find you.
Rewriting the algorithm of us is a sprint. The retrospective will be ruthless.
I’m a French-American writer, journalist, and editor now based in the Netherlands. To continue the conversation, follow the bird. For email and everything else, deets in bio.