Chapotony Chatano here, internet's busiest hogposter, and it's time for another edition of "Let's Argue", where we're on the internet, we accept your hot takes, unpopular opinions, and tough questions, and we struggle sesh over all of them. Leeeeet's, GO!
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Yes. Perhaps the path is not as clear – remember that local politics affects most people more directly than the presidency, and congress + senate after that if you're still relying on electoralism. Every person you help, the homeless dude on the subway, the struggling friend – you make their life meaningfully better in the now. Mutual aid! If you're terrified about the descent into fascism, build bonds with neighbours and friends, especially with the pandemic, these matter. Local coops, unionising workplace, checking out theory initiatives, code schools what not. Keep fighting, keep posting, keep talking to your community.
I don't mean to be a read theory cunt, but reading theory will genuinely help you process these things. Studying mechanisms of change in societies will make you feel more comfortable about the path forward. Hopefully this post is not sectarian.
I honestly don't think so. The descent into fascism is too quiet and too slow for regular people to notice. They will keep funnelling us into a smaller and smaller box until it's a coffin.
Go off-grid. I'm part of the way there.
Off grid won't save you. There won't be any return to normal in our life times, climate change will squeeze more and more people and eventually soldiers will roll up to your little off grid farm, which isn't actually "off grid" because spy satellites and drones can find you any time they want, and start demanding you turn over your surplus.
"Going off grid" is just spitting in to the wind.
Better than going deeper into babylon
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.