We live in a world caught in a self-perpetuating loop of systemic collapse, driven by propaganda, technocratic overreach, and a collective failure to imagine alternatives. Every crisis—ecological, political, social, and economic—feeds into the next, creating a feedback loop that accelerates instability. The systems we’ve built are too rigid to adapt to the complexity of the chaos they’ve unleashed, and the cracks are widening. There is no individual genius who can steer us away from this path. No singular voice of reason will save us. The crash isn’t approaching—it’s here, cascading through ecosystems, economies, and lives. Even if we could delay the inevitable, it would only make the collapse deeper. I speak as one of many who see what’s unfolding—our shared reality is breaking down, and we’re left to make sense of it however we can.
On Propaganda and Algorithmic Reform: The Information Crisis Behind the Polycrisis
Propaganda’s power lies in suffocating alternatives before they can take root. It doesn’t need you to adopt a particular ideology—it just needs you to stay trapped within the familiar. Meanwhile, interconnected crises—collapsing ecosystems, rising inequality, and geopolitical instability—remain misunderstood or ignored. These crises aren’t isolated. Drought worsens food shortages, triggering price spikes and unrest. Resource scarcity drives border conflicts, while floods and fires destroy homes and infrastructure. Yet media systems, driven by algorithms that reward outrage over understanding, offer distractions instead of clarity. To resist this, the flow of information must be reimagined. If the algorithms that shape public thought prioritized facts, context, and depth over division and sensationalism, we’d have a fighting chance. This isn’t about silencing dissent—it’s about suffocating disinformation and letting reality breathe. If we, the faceless hoard, are to find our footing in this chaos, we need more than fragmented truths and weaponized opinions. Without collective clarity, there can be no collective action.
On Technocrats and Their Failure to Grasp the Limits of the Earth
Technocrats think they’re guiding us forward, but they’re only speeding up our decline. Their obsession with profit, growth, and efficiency is precisely what’s destabilizing the planet. They believe in infinite extraction on a finite world—a contradiction they refuse to confront. When ecosystems collapse, supply chains will follow. When resources become too scarce, free-market logic will do what it always does: hoard, inflate, and exclude. For those of us on the margins, survival will become a luxury. For the privileged few, it means retreating to luxury bunkers and survivalist compounds, betting on their ability to escape what the rest of us can’t. But collapse doesn’t care about privilege. The techno-elite will learn what we’ve always known: no one is exempt from the consequences of a failing system. Their fatal mistake is believing they can opt out of reality when reality catches up to everyone.
On Art as a Means of Grasping the Unthinkable
What does it mean to witness collapse, not as an abstract concept but as lived experience? To see forests burn, species disappear, and communities displaced while those in power cling to half-measures and denial? Art is how many of us confront the grief that comes with knowing. It’s not about escapism or aesthetic comfort—it’s about sitting with the weight of loss and finding a way forward. My art isn’t meant to soothe—it’s a way to process chaos and offer a space for others to do the same. I don’t create to provide answers, because I don’t have them. What I offer is connection: a recognition of shared grief, fear, and anger. The power of art lies in its ability to reach beyond words, to express what analysis cannot. If it resonates, it’s because the experience of collapse already lives within us. Art turns invisible pain into something tangible, something collective. And in that visibility, we find meaning.
On Trusting the Process When Time Feels Short
When everything feels urgent, reflection can seem like a luxury we can’t afford. But getting lost in the process isn’t failure—it’s part of the path. Collapse isn’t linear, and neither is resistance. There will be detours, failures, and moments of despair. These aren’t signs of defeat—they’re evidence that we’re still fighting. Persistence is our greatest weapon. Resistance doesn’t have to be heroic or monumental. Small, consistent actions compound, just like crises do. Each step, however small, is a refusal to accept collapse without struggle. When the path forward seems unclear, trust the process. Clarity is born from persistence.
The Final Thought: Navigating Collapse with Eyes Wide Open
The systems that govern our world aren’t designed for empathy, nuance, or critical thought. They reward profit, division, and efficiency at the expense of understanding. But it’s empathy and nuance that give us a path through the chaos. Empathy isn’t about passive compassion—it’s about understanding the roots of suffering so we can confront them. Nuance isn’t indecision—it’s the ability to see the interconnectedness of crises and reject oversimplified solutions. Together, they equip us to act meaningfully within the noise. We may not be able to stop collapse, but we can shape how we respond. Through collective action, algorithmic reform, or artistic expression, we can carve out spaces of resilience. These spaces won’t prevent the crash, but they can preserve what’s worth saving. We don’t do this because we believe we’ll win. We do it because survival is about more than resources—it’s about meaning. And meaning is what we leave behind.
