A Colossal Pretense !



'discover your own identity' 

As he took his first step into the horizontal capitalistic society, he confronted a serious flaw in his own existence. His thoughts were invisible here. He belonged to no groups, no normalization, no stereotypes, and no revolution. Philosophy was a constant incessant irony. From where he came, knowledge was not to think but to see. Here, even the possibility of thinking was un-reflective, vision was a rare commodity. The traditional culture portrayed this land as a land of individuality, democracy and freedom. But he found very less humans, conspired oligarchy and slavery.  Was this to be the new Atlantis, he wondered. Kierkegaard was very right, humans are condemned to freedom. But no one wants to be free. This place seems to be what Huxley tried to explain, that dysfunctional society. Where the choice of leadership is between a cruel thief and a xenophobe. Both scared of change and unity. 

This place also has another face, hidden, unseen, almost masonic, ancient. When one is seeking for eternal validity, he forgets that he is validating himself in the sensuous experience of perpendicular actuality.  His valor is his own boredom. Hence boredom is intelligence. It has to take the shape of intelligence. In that nihilistic romanticism is a sophisticated seducer, that makes us crave for this mechanistic engineering. Where technology is not a friend but a foe. Where spontaneity has been quantified inside the dullness of a voyeuristic mind, where you cannot reflect on willful imagination. It has to be filled in you by a collective dream process called television. That dragon is not an irony of inner fantasies but the artifice used to emptily and willingly serve the faith, the politics or even the enemy of soul. The equilibrium is not between love and hate. But hate and hate with a smile. And this is the exemplary land of modernization and achievements. A colossal pretense. 

'this place is a delicious deception sold by multinationals as virtuous dreams, those dreams written with the blood of children's in a closed factory or an open playground somewhere in China, or Bangladesh, or Nigeria, or Palestine ' 

'discover your own identity' 

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