In the Primitive and Human Nightmare

We did not realize when the world became an onion with superimposed layers that together form our reality — or what we could consider as reality, extending our flesh to infinity in fractal form. In the common imaginary, in the poetic and the ideological, existence has truly ceased to be one-dimensional — or rather, we do not exist in a single layer of our reality. And it is a natural consequence: existence and nothingness seem to conquer all plane to which they can lay their hands.

The human has acquired multiple metaexperiences. He lives in intangible planes that are as real as those that inhabit the flesh. And the flesh is not happy. These worlds have been shaped for a purpose — they have a purpose. It is a purpose that we, the plebeians, have not given to these experiences. It is an intrinsic and inescapable purpose from inhabiting such metaexperiences. It is always a purpose; an alienating one and, truthfully, there are not many other purposes that are not. Their existences are allowed by the status quo and they proliferate because they sustain a capitalist system that vomits immoral — for lack of a better adjective — quantities of resources to sustain and overcome the struggle against that impetus of colonization.

However, technological progress and science open new alienating possibilities regardless of the existence or not of masters and purposes; they blur and move the boundaries of the conceptualized, they redefine us. We are no longer what we were and can not be that again, it doesn’t matter when this is read.

The course is fixed and it’s not precisely forward or backward or somewhere. The struggle that capitalism has is not only against those it wants to dominate, but against its own means.

Capitalism, by its colonizing character, having conquered the space in which the flesh inhabits, created new spaces to colonize and impregnated others that, by their nature, were places of being: of being and of nothing, of their forms and their speeches. This was how it infected the Wired and stripped it from its nonsense, as has always happened in the conquests.

Capitalism, tired of its power over this world, created other worlds to conquer, like a tired and bored god, creating puppets to manipulate to their liking. That is why their own tools are intrinsically alienating: the apparent freedom. The immense possibilities erase any need for ethics or morality; they open the window so that the rules, under which the individual up to this moment in history had followed and under which they had been used as a faithful and immutable law to build their own identity, are simply a fairy tale like any other moral tale. That apparent freedom of the individual is occupied by capitalism and is real to him —it needs him to establish its supremacy.

However, the bourgeois spirit overestimated the power and control it could exert over its media and now faces a new crisis. Given the characteristics of its means (technology and science) capitalism is subject to a natural “industrial espionage” on the part of the masses: it is not only that they have alienated us in their favor, but that their own tools have alienated them back. Even ideological means, such as humanism, begin to be duly rejected.

It is not so much what the individual can endure with an induced ego death as humanism is. “Oh God Humanity, pity my unhappy soul! Free me from your hegemony!” Some cry myopically for a bit of humanity from him, but humanism is an integral part of him in this liberal version of capitalism.

I am not willing or rushed to ask for respect for my own existence or my Property for being human in the same way that it is absurd for women to ask for respect for intermediation or favor of some essence alien to them (sisters, mothers, daughters). What empowers individuals is simply a mystical characteristic, superior to ourselves, that makes us worthy of respect or of some privilege. However, there is little left of us to know or love beyond the spirit of Humanity that lives within us. As if Christianity had become humanism and now Humanity was our Holy Spirit, we are not of ourselves nor completely of the maquila, where we can produce for greater goods and people we do not know. We are children of Humanity and Capital.

That’s why I have no doubt that under no other socioeconomic system could we have escaped the apparent tragedy in which we live today. Humanism is urgent for Marx’s communism. Marxism is a secular religion that has as a central figure the Human and in that Human spirit lies all the hope and optimism of Marxism. Not seeing it coming, Marxism would also need all the means of capitalism — technique and science. From the nightmare, given the circumstances, it is unthinkable to escape.

So does it mean that reality is a nightmare?

Yes. It is so well elaborated that in most of the times the awakening from it is paid with a very high price. Living it costs even more.

Does it mean then that life does not deserve to be lived?

I do not know, I’ll leave that to the reader. I personally am not a negative utilitarian. I am not interested in diminishing pain, nor suffering.

The possibilities are growing and science and technology are advancing exponentially. They seem to go to Juggernaut’s pace and impetus: unstoppable as stampede mammoths. It is necessary then to recognize the terrain in which we walk and the topography of what we have available.

Capitalism will never let go its channels, it will never democratize its megaphone. Along the way, it has created as a by-product what could be called Wired: an interconnection of all the individuals in the system under a subtle network sometimes, others explicit, like a web with drops of dew, but completely real; where we feel a spider’s crawling from any side of the planet, in which access to tools and the possibilities granted by science and technology is limited by institutions and phantasmagoria, especially in parts that are usually rural or where individuals are more prone to be slaves to superstitions — say nationalism, patriotism, Christianity or any other — ism in the form of religion. This obstacle is insurmountable and must be solved.

Do I have any motivation then?

Yes. So, I flow with the current. Welcome is the alienation and all possibility. Under my nihilistic and selfish banner, I celebrate the disappearance of all the ancient limits that were dictated to the Unique and his Property. That it is then my need to disseminate all knowledge that allows the manipulation and transformation of all our material and immaterial significance and meaning. That the limits of the possible and the human disappear. That our understanding of the individual becomes obsolete and that it is lost forever in our creative nothing. Let it disappear in that void where we extract our ego and that our ego be a flow of its property, of everything it can lay hands on, including his own body, transforming it beyond any fascist and liberal limit. That it is necessary to push us to the abyss of nihilism and anarchism, the ultimate reflection of the indifferent and voluptuous universe in which we live.

Nothingness will be reached eventually. Our limits and our concepts will be what we want them to be. Talking about humans as a species will be absurd. The clock only moves in one direction, along with entropy, along with the possibilities. Our creative nothing will take on new meanings dreamed only by the gods. Can it be relevant to exhaust our cravings for power and our vanity in becoming pagan or material gods?

No, I’m not interested. I do not want that for myself or for anyone. I propose that our stories at that time be of indifference to meanings and secular gods, whether they are dressed in morality or ethics, or some superstition that enslaves us. I propose, instead, to enslave such superstitions in our ego and let them die if necessary, if they ask for the cry of emptiness and chaos from which we extract everything that makes us unique and what becomes our property. I propose to enslave the same ego in the nothingness and enjoy if necessary or cry, if you will, of everything we have at our disposal; that our self is not conceptualized in a unit or a collective, that the only fixed thing is the indeterminate and the elusive.

It is tempting, then, to use the same channels that have been used by entities that only live to control or serve while depriving the rest of the world of everything, or going with the optimism of Marxism. However, in these channels the means would only be means of control serving greater purposes or simply ends. It is, then, in the best interest to create our own channels and our own means.

We must — without a trace of morality — stop waiting for the coming of our Savior Holy Revolution; she will not come in favor of the interests of freedom. We must also embrace alienation in our favor, encourage it, break with all the limits that we want to impose or those that we want to strip.

It is also our need, to deprive ourselves — explicitly — of all nostalgia for the flesh and for that romantic idea of ​​the soul. Our conscience is only information that, whether our pride likes or not, can, eventually, be replicated or transferred. The person we have in front of the mirror is not just a bag of bones and guts precisely because it carries information encoded in neural networks that try to give meaning or destiny to things — first in our reptilian brain as a way of surviving, where all knowledge is not more than a tool that can be used to ensure the existence of our flesh, and then in our mammalian brain that gives us emotions and a personality marked as individuals. It is also necessary to democratize and make accessible any form of technology that we have in our power and to be trained in technology.

The possibilities flourish. We have no more use of the flesh than we have of new clothes or better glasses. Our body has no greater meaning and transcendence than it has a rock floating in the vacuum and cold universe of nothingness and existence — which I dare say are the same. It could not be otherwise: before the idiotic and the nonsense — to demand a meaning or a destiny to our own bodies made of exactly the same indifferent universe, inconsequential and devoid of all meaning — the absurd becomes even absurd to consider — Camus has died.