Work in Progress

The absurdity has become so great. The madness has increased. And everyone’s gone mad in turn. Calmly mad, sanely mad. But mad nevertheless. Except our madness, which isn’t sane at all …

 

We knew that this is not reality. That something had gone wrong, and reality had been stolen from us. We still remembered something called the Old Normal.

They got away with it! They pushed it through! They erected the new reality almost overnight! They jettisoned the old world and no one noticed, not really.

People adjusted. They didn’t ask questions.

Except for us – who were only questions. Nothing but questions. Who saw through it all. Who couldn’t help but see through it.

What set us apart? What made us unable to accept orders? What made us rebels? Was it a matter of temperament? An innate mistrust of authority?

We didn’t think that, when we were tested, we’d stand up for what was right! What was good! What was real! We didn’t think that we had it in us, but we did.

We were not as mad as they were – all the others – or our madness was of a different kind. We were not as crazy.

 

Whose world is this? Who’s now in charge of the world? Who are they, at the top: the cabal, the elite, the predators, the maniacs? A single group? Many groups, like the mafia, with their own internal struggles? Sociopaths? Psychopaths?

 

Because all this was planned – it had to have been. There was a strategy. There were tactics. This wasn’t just improvised on the fly.

Setting up a kill-box is no easy thing. There were numbers of vectors of attack to coordinate.

It’s magnificent, in its way. It’s genius. Almost admirable.

There must have been years – decades of preparation! This must have been in the works for a long time. It was a multigenerational goal – no doubt. It must have been some deep plan, going back ages.

Which didn’t work on us. To which we were immune.

 

We had a pass. We didn’t believe a word of it all. We weren’t taken in. We saw through it, like the glasses wearers in They Live. Like Neo in The Matrix.

So we aren’t dupes after all. We weren’t idiots. Our perhaps it was the special nature of our dupedness that helped us. Our special idiocy.

So we were good for something, in the end. That’s what surprised us: that we were good for something. That we weren’t just dupes. That we were attuned somehow. To what was real!

That we were part of some greater plan, maybe. God’s plan. That we’re God’s people, somehow. But scarcely a people. Ragamuffins. Miscreants. Philosophical savages.

We were Cynics – new kinds of cynic. We were philosophers, of a sort … Of a new School. Of a new Kind. We were Sceptics. Of Doubters.

 

We passed the test. We made it through. We were saved, in a way. But saved for what. Put aside for what? We had instincts after all. After all, after all …

So they hit us with the Organisational Management move. Of course!

They wanted to keep an eye on us. On our kind. The enemy wanted to keep us close, Perhaps to study us. To learn more about our kind. The resistance. The underground. The freedom movement.

What kind of freedom did we seek? That our own private idiocies. Our idiosyncracies. And why not: our madnesses, each of them unique. Each of us mad, in our own way. Each of us deranged.

 

Organisational Management madness! Organisational Management insanity! Except it’s not insane. Except it was planned.

Somehow they knew about us. But how? Somehow they were listening in. They were clued up. No one was needed to grass on us. To betray us.

There was a whole new secret service out there. Staffed by AI. By algorithm-listeners. Capable of processing all the information.

It’s wasn’t some Lives of Others thing. It wasn’t a matter of them overhearing conversations we’d had in private.

There were new technologies. New listening-in devices. Implanted all over the place. Triggered by keywords. By suspect phrases.

Which is how they knew that we weren’t on side. That we weren’t with the plan. They knew something had to be done.

And that’s why Organisational Management’s been enjoined to keep a close eye upon us. To keep us on side, we troublemakers. We rebel-rousers. We natural sceptics. We cynics of the new imperium.

Don’t be tempted, postgraduates. Don’t heed the Siren call. Don’t cross over to Organisational Management.

Don’t be fooled by all this prosperity, postgraduates. Don’t be fooled by these tall buildings. Success is not for you. You’re not made for success. Success will ruin you.

Don’t let your heads be turned, postgraduates. This is a fallen world, and you, too, must remain fallen.

You belong to the wastes outside this campus, postgraduates. To the stony ground. Your lives … will not be long. Your days will probably be painful. But they will be lives of integrity. Even as they appear to be lives of dissipation.

 

Don’t believe their promises, postgraduates. Lies and more lies. And bright lies! Triumphant lies!

We have to hold on to our despair. It’s real, our despair. It’s an instinct that we have. It means we understand. Not cognitively, though we might work on that. But affectively.

*Hope … is not for you, postgraduates. And especially sham hope … Organisational Management hope.

Hope for the end. Hoping for the great full stop. Do so in resignation – infinite resignation. As knights of resignation.

 

Organisational Management is the idol, postgraduates. Organisational Management is the golden calf.

They understand what we want; what we crave: order. A structure that makes sense. Meaning.

But meaning can only be revealed through the deepest meaninglessness.

Meaning demands a trial through which you have to pass, postgraduates. A depth to which you have to sink.

 

If there’s one thing we’ve known, it’s failure, postgraduates. It’s stupidity.

And our failure hasn’t even begun! And our stupidity hasn’t fallen as far as will! We’re at the beginning, not the end!

What remains? To plumb the depths of depth. Of this world. Of this horror. Of this campus, which attempts to hide the horror. But only reveals it anew – in a new way.

Tired of life – simply of life. Tired of having to go on. Tired of thinking! Tired of having a mind at all!

Too many thoughts. Too much philosophy. We have to rest. To lie down. To sleep.

A drunken stupor – that’s what we have to attain. Sleep by normal means – impossible. We’ll have to be knocked out. Have to be brought down by drink ..

Enough of life! Enough of living! Enough of thinking! But not enough drinking, not yet. Not until we pass out. Not until we’re delivered into sweet oblivion.

 

There’s a hole down which we have to fall. It’s not enough to remain upright! There’s no excuse for uprightness!

 

Our vocation is a drunken one. It passes through drinking. And out the other side. To a new sobriety. A higher sobriety.

There is no gift of being. There can be no humble submission! No gratitude!

A horrific vision: that’s what’s required. Naked facticity. What there is. In permanent catastrophe …

Where death and destruction reign. Indifferently. Absolutely. When the absence of God is revealed as such.

We have to nihilize the world. Everything. To complete the nihlization of the world.

We have to see apocalypse always. Every day. Because only in that way will we not be fooled. Because only thus will the messianic potential be released

 

Creation must be turned against itself. There has to be a twistedness. A contorsion. We must not worship the given.

 

There can be no truce with the world as it is, we know that. The worse it gets, the more nihilized the world gets … the more dread and ruin there is … The more we’re inclined to reject it. The more we can stay with that rejection.

 

To see the world sink to its lowest level. To its perfect culpability.

 

The night of the earth, where the glory of revelation is lacking …

A dark flame. A dark whirling. Is that it. Reaching us from the mist.

 

The Umkehr, who called it that? The reversal?

A turn … that might renew revelation. That might trace it back to … what?

The divine nothingness. Is there such a thing? The nothing of the divine … The nothing of meaning …

These phrases … I don’t know what they mean anymore. I’m too drunk.

 

And the Organisational Management move is assisting in our nihilization. That’s why we should be thankful.

This is how we rise to our vocation. Or sink to it …

 

You know what we’re here to say to Organisational Management. You know the message we have to deliver to them: order cannot substitute for meaning. Order is only ever functioning. A well-ordered house is a  dangerous thing.

We need to keep drinking. Keep the faith. That’s how we awaken it: our philosophical eros. Our untrammelled desire. Our bursting of the horizons.

The desire for philosophy that is philosophy. The love of philosophy: nothing other than philosophy. Philosophy itself is love – of wisdom. We only love love and loving.

 

A drunken quest. To open the horizon before us again. To see into the future. To lay claim to the future: our future.

When we won’t become what they want of us. When we won’t be actualised as they demand. When we hold onto something, keep it. What? Ourselves?

 

The fact that we’re not even philosophers. The fact … that we pause before philosophy. That we remain with potentiality – the potentiality to think.

Which is what allows the not-even-philosopher to contemplate philosophy. Before beginning to think. Before setting forth on any actual path. Before betraying philosophy, because if we began, we would surely betray philosophy …

Staying with our … potentiality. Staying with what cannot possibly be used. For any cause! Good or evil! Just or unjust!

Poised on the brink of … everything. On the threshold, forever. Suspending the forward march. Hovering in … whatever it is.

 

Only the not-even philosopher understands this. Only the on the edge of philosophy. Only the on-the-threshold philosopher.

The derangement of the world … was done on purpose. We’re supposed to be disoriented. Reeling. Off balance. We know that.

We have to be madder than the madness of the world, that’s the thing. We have to out-mad it.

How?

We have to out-drink the world. Drink our way ahead of it. Drink ourselves into the future.

 

We have to ride the madness. Ride the Chinese dragon.

This is no time for sanity. You won’t survive, if you try to remain sane.

There’s a Greater madness. A Vaster madness.

 

A draught of madness, that’s we need. The wine of madness. We need Bacchus on fucking side. We need Dionysus as an ally.

We fall-over-drunk types. We bleary-eyed types. We drinkers-till-dawn types. It’s heroic, in its way.

We’re the last drinkers! The last drunkards on campus! Drunk before the party’s even begun!

 

Waves of alcohol crashing through us. Drunken surges. Giving way to a full alcoholic storm.

Drunken storms! We’re ready to be lairy, now. We’re all attitude, now. We need to make sure we maintain this amount of alcohol in our bloodstream. This optimum of the bloodstream.

This is us at our best. At our surliest. At our most unreformable,

This is us, free from social ties. From the usual niceities.

We’re big-personalitied! Loud-voiced! We’re impolites and ingrates! Drunken churls!

 

A flagon of wine – who the fuck drinks from a flagon of wine?

It was cheap.

It was some marketing bullshit.

And I’ll bet you have a tower of wine in your bag. This isn’t exactly Sideways is it? You’re not exactly discerning.

We have to understand the interplanetary nature of Organisational Management. Its interstellar nature.

They’ve probably made contact with technocratic entities, the Organisational Managers …. Aliens, who’ve set up something similar on their home planets … In their own dimensions, or whatever … Who are part of some whole galactic Organisational Management civilization.

Interstellar Organisational Management! Intergalactic Organisational Management! The universe in general Organisational Management!

Organisational Management thinks big. Thinks cosmically and more than cosmically. Thinks interdimensionally! Thinks multiversally!

Organisational Management is about cosmopolitanism. Universalism. About being citizens of the whole galaxy. Of the whole universe and the whole multiverse! With the prosperity of all the multiverse’s citizens as its goal …

 

Once a civilization discovers the secret of Organisational Management, the Organisational Managers of the universe reach out. It’s like when they discover warp speed or whatever in Star Trek: that’s when the Vulcans first contacted the earth.

Once you’ve achieved global governance. Once you’ve definitively clamped down on disinformation and misinformation. Once you’ve muted all the bad actors.

Once you have the NGOs in their rightful place. Once you have the right public private partnerships in place. Once you have the appropriate people in charge. A world commissioner, or whatever.

Once the world order is complete. Once you’ve done the clear and hold. Secured the territory. Put down the revolts and all possible revolt. Once the World Solution has been found.

Once the world is sane, essentially. Once chaos has been definitely held at bay.

Then what?

Then humankind can take up its place in the multiversal Organisational Management.

 

Once a single regulatory framework’s in place. Once digital IDs are secure. Digital wallets. The global health pass.

Once movement is properly controlled. Once the surveillance mechanisms are complete. When any flare-ups can be sorted out quickly. Any rebellions.

Once there’s no more carping. No more moaning. No more negativism. Once there’s nothing that gets in the way of progress.

Once we’re all thinking in the same direction. When we’re all thinking similar thoughts.

 

One the whole system’s working smoothly. Once everything’s settled down. Once people feel at home with it all. Once it isn’t new or strange anymore. Once everyone’s made the adjustment. The new world order. The new normal. Once the new whatever it is. Isn’t so new anymore.

Once they see that it isn’t so bad. Once they barely notice anymore. Once the transition’s occurred. Once people are thinking about something else. Once the leaders are in place. Once the internicene wars are over. Once the high level squabbles are resolved.  

Once everyone realises that it’s All for the Best. And that this is how it is now. And that this is how it Must Be. That this is for the Good of All. And for the Planet. Above all, for the Planet.

When our backs are completely against the wall, what then? When we’ve been utterly backed into our corner: what? What will we become?

When philosophy’s on the ropes: what then? When philosophy’s desperate? What will we become? What will we do? Something new. We’ll think something new …

Maybe this is just what we need.

 

We’re fighting, and not just for ourselves. There are other unmanagables out there – there must be. We’re not the only unbiddables – we can’t be.

Where might we find them, our fellows? Our brothers and sisters in arms? Where are they hiding? Will they be forced into the open now by the new reality? Will they be pushed blinking into the sun?

 

They’ve made a place for us here. Which really means a tomb for us. Which really means a place where we can be buried. Where we can lie down in the earth.

 

We’re outflanked.

They’ve co-opted reason. Good sense. Every move we want to make … just seems antisocial. Churlish. They’ve made us seem sulky, like petulant adolescents.

They’ve seized upon morality. Kindness. They’ve made us into haters. We can’t be anything else. There’s nowhere left to turn.

We want what isn’t good for us. For anyone. For the world. We’re positively demonic, that’s the thing. They’ve turned us negative. Perverse.

 

They’re welcoming us in. They’re throwing a party for us.

On their terms! On their campus! In Organisational Management towers!

They’re making us appear churlish. Ingrates. Nothing’s good enough for us.

 

What’s wrong with us?, we ask. Why do we reject their kindness? Why are we such cynics?

There’s no position left to us. Except refusal. Except hatred.

They’ve left us no place. They’ve turned us into adolescents. Into teenagers. Who need bringing on. Who need looking after.

 

This world is not for us: is that all we can say? This campus is false. It’s part of a false world. A fake world. It’s part of the takeover of the world.

 

The campus know what to do with us. The campus can help, in its own way.

There’s probably a screaming zone, to let us scream. Probably a desperation zone. And a perversity zone. And an ingrate zone, for people like us. A petulance zone, for our type.

 

There are others like us – there must be.

Who are they? Where are they? We need them. To send out a call.

Did they think, like us, that they could sit it out? Did they believe themselves immune?

Our kind. Our type. Cut off from the channels of communication. From self-expression. From making a call to others of our kind. From summoning them from their corners and cracks. Just as we have been called out of our corner and crack.

Did we think we’d just be able to sleep our lives away in the quiet of a philosophy department?

There’s a whole set of attitudes that are being phased out. A way of looking at the world. Which is to say: our attitude! Our way of looking at the world!

We’re the old breed, the deficient breed. People like us shouldn’t be. We’ll phase ourselves out – that’s the plan. They’ll reduce us to suicide. Or alcoholism.

 

Their plans are deep. We’re being nudged into self-destruction. It’s cunning. We’re being phased out. We have no place in the new order.

Self-elimination: that’s what they want. For us to kill ourselves, saving them the trouble. Auto-elimination … Auto-murder …

 

People like us … will not be required. And we see it! We understand it! We’re persuaded!

Our kind! The old kind! The not-with-the-new-reality kind!

Clear us out! Get rid of us! Our attitude is wrong. It’s got to be bred out of the race …

 

They can make us feel these things. They can play us. They’re cunning. It’s cunning – the whole system.

It’s so clever. The way they turn strength upon itself. Is that what we have: strength? They make strength commit suicide. They turn reason against itself. What brilliance!

 

Who thought of this? Who came up with it? What criminal mastermind? So subtle … So devious …

Some nudge unit … Some behavioural psychologist …

How easily we’re played! How readily are our buttons pushed!

herded! Shepherded! Corralled! Kettled! Forced into a corner!

It’s easy for them. They don’t need gulags anymore. They don’t need to lock us up in prison. They’ll just persuade us gently, gently, to … see ourselves as the problem. To blame ourselves.

So that it’s not the world that’s at fault. Not this world! And not the evil of this world! And not the demonism of the world!

They’ll awaken our internal demons. Our internal division. Turn us against ourselves. Make us declare war on ourselves.

 

Our self harm. Our automutilation. We’ll do it to ourselves. That’s the genius. No need to send in the police. The troops. No need to lock us up, No need to monitor us, even.

Sow the seeds of self-destruction.. Create the conditions for the seeds to grow.