Questioning Everything Propaganda
In the chaotic arena of modern society, good-hearted people often find themselves locked in fierce battles—not against true enemies, but against each other. It's akin to a brutal dog fight, where two otherwise peaceful animals are goaded into savagery by an unseen handler wielding a stick. The dogs, blinded by pain and rage, tear at one another, oblivious to the real source of their torment. This metaphor isn't just poetic; it's a stark reflection of how commercial television programming—and its digital descendants—instills mismatched associations that pit "good cause folk" against their natural allies, all while the orchestrators pull strings from the shadows.
At the heart of this discord lies a deliberate design: media that programs us to hate through illogical conundrums. We absorb narratives that associate truth with villainy, framing those who challenge the status quo as threats. Remember the adage, "The revolution will not be televised"? Substitute "revolution" for "truth," and the picture sharpens. People glued to screens become violently opposed to unfiltered realities, marginalizing truth-tellers through pre-programmed lenses of disdain. Who to hate? It's dictated by the slime that crafts these stories—corporate interests, political puppeteers, and algorithmic overlords who thrive on our fragmentation.
This isn't accidental. It's engineered to keep the "good dogs" fighting. Environmentalists clash with workers over jobs versus sustainability; advocates for social justice splinter over tactics; communities divide along lines of identity that obscure shared struggles. The stick strikes subtly: a news segment here, a viral post there, invigorating aggression without revealing the hand behind it. We associate allies with enemies because our programming demands it, creating a self-perpetuating cycle where the real evil doers orchestrate from afar, untouched and empowered.
Exacerbating this is our artificial reconnection via technology. We've traded our innate "wifi"—the deep, consciousness-level bonds of local communities—for global networks that amplify division. In a tribal setting, without the internet's relentless hum, we'd connect face to face, hand to hand, mind to mind. Indigenous ways, often dismissed in European culture as "savage," are actually refuges of harmony and self-reliance. They remind us of roots we've forgotten: building together, growing sustenance, and fostering oversight not through surveillance, but through communal presence.
Yet, technology isn't inherently evil; it's the lack of self-oversight that corrupts it. When we commune authentically, that introspection emerges naturally—no need for external enforcers. Oversight by others? That's a slippery slope to police states and thought police, a reality that's not just looming but rapidly approaching. We must be vigilant about addressing issues in ways that don't unwittingly enable draconian controls. The very tools meant to empower us leverage power to those who wield them ruthlessly, leaving the rest grasping for social resolve.
If we shun these tools entirely, we risk losing our grip on collective action. But dependence breeds vulnerability. Great innovations may emerge from this "savage" tech-driven world, but at what cost? Abused technology overpowers, turning potential into peril. We need to rediscover our own tools for regrouping—ones that prioritize human connection over digital proxies.
Imagine if the dogs in the fight paused, turned, and saw the stick-wielder. That's the awakening we need. By questioning our programmed associations, we can redirect our energy toward the true influencers. This starts with stepping back from the screens that glue us in place, fostering environments where self-oversight thrives through genuine interaction.
In the end, we'd be better off embracing our roots: local tribes where consciousness connects us without intermediaries. Build communities that grow together, literally and figuratively. Reject the artificial web that entangles us, and reclaim the power of mind-to-mind bonds. The evil isn't in the tool—it's in our unchecked use of it. But when good people recognize the stick, the fight ends, and the real battle begins: against the handlers, not each other.
It's time to wake up, regroup, and remember: the dogs are good with each other otherwise. Let's ensure the orchestrators feel the bite next.