Baudrillard would offer a snort of his laughter:
The dialectic stage, the critical stage is empty… there is no more stage. The masses themselves are caught up in a gigantic process of inertia through acceleration. They are this excrescent, devouring, process that annihilates all growth and all surplus meaning. They are this circuit short-circuited by this monstrous finality. (Baudrillard, 1994: 161)
The irony of this is now apparent, Baudrillard’s time has past, we remain… yet, in the aftermath of the apocalypse we surmise retroactively the future that never will be, a future that seems more a slow erosion of our present into the abyss of climatic catastrophe. Day by day we watch the nihilist circus of our later day Rome’s, our political sham games of corporate thugs, whether of the Left or Right – it no longer matters, their all in the pocket of someone’s corporate niche… the Left follows in the hoof beat of the Koch or Soros clans; while the Right follows the Hunts or other clans… Here in America doom is spelled with greenbacks, while the abyss is nothing but the end of currency rather than the sinking of New York City into the Atlantic.
The global mediatainment system filters the game as one of ethical responsibility, while the snickers off-stage collapse onto the floor of political subterfuge and the boys in the high offices chant money, money, money to their hearts content. Inevitably we root on our favorite candidate as if Representation were the last crime of a pulp novel no longer bound to the wheel of fate. But in the back of our mind we know better, we know that our votes mean nothing, the game is rigged, and we are not even victims anymore… it was all foreseen, planned, marketed to just ring a little more surplus value from your pockets into the Big Bozo’s on Wall-Street or some other HiveWorld.
We tweet, we FB, we churn the daily quota of radical thought… radical? The image of radicalism is not radicalism… just the simulate simulacrum which keeps the narcissistic music and sound bytes flipping through the demos… no, our world is slow diving into chaos and we continue to measure our revolution in spoons of memes and viral chants.
The real problem is most people want someone else to fix things, they want to believe that if we follow the rules, elect the correct public servant, believe in liberalism, believe in democracy, believe in life… that everything will turn out alright, that in the end someone will come along an save the day. As if we all lived in a comic book world, with super-heroes who can perform miracles, do for us what we want do for ourselves.
Problem is that works great on the Big Screen in Hollywood, but in life things just go from bad to worse… and we keep on keeping on, talking, talking, talking… we love to play the blame game, and accuse the Other… always the Other… someone always has to be the fall guy for our problems, never us, never the way we live or think. No. We’re the good, the true, the beautiful… even if down deep we no our lives are a complete sham. We keep up the appearances. Keep telling ourselves we can get better, that we can become collective citizens of a bright future if we will only… it’s always if… if we will do this, or do that… it’s never just “do it”… it’s always the con job of … yes, but… but we have to have others on board, we can’t do this all by ourselves, can we?
Oh… so we convince ourselves the problems are just too big for us as individuals to do anything… our leaders must do it for us. So we keep on keeping on… believing in the miracle of the liberal order, the symbolic order of lies and sweets that keep us fed and happy; or, not so happy, but at least fed… or, if not fed, at least we have each other… oh, maybe not each other… but … yes, you are alone in your own world of shit. Isn’t it about time to climb out of that shit-hole?
Maybe, we need to Forget Baudrillard, return to Nietzsche – seek out that destructive energia, the active nihilism that no longer sits back passively waiting for the end, but rather seeks its own way actively destroying the symbolic illusions that bind it to a dead culture and symbolic order. A time of the new completed nihilism would entail overcoming it… in a post-nihilist exit from the dormant logics of a philosophy of closure and sociopathic pulsions. Maybe the future is full of seeds waiting for us to emerge from the traumatic world of postmodern mourning, and once again to light up the fires of a new world shriven of the ghosts that suck us dry; and, instead seek those ‘lines of flight’ into alternate zones of immanent alterity. Dirty our hands with life itself, get a little muddy with doing things, acting, rather than being acted upon. A time of active participation in change and metamorphosis… time to become monstrous and mutant.