Summary

The author of the open letter expresses frustration with the prevalent pessimism and fatalism in discussions about the future, particularly those that romanticize dystopian scenarios and contribute to a self-fulfilling prophecy of despair.

Abstract

In an open letter addressed to "Writers & Connoisseurs of Dystopian Porn," the author criticizes the glorification of doomsday prepping and the spread of hopeless narratives about the world's future. These narratives, often found in editorial pieces and comments on platforms like Medium, are seen as contributing to a collective sense of despair and a resignation to a dystopian fate. The author, who identifies as having autism and high anxiety, feels personally affected by this pervasive negativity, which exacerbates their own fears and hinders constructive action. The letter calls for a shift away from fatalistic language and towards proactive, solution-oriented discourse that promotes intelligence, tenacity, mindfulness, ingenuity, and benevolence to create a better world. The author emphasizes the need for accountability, hopeful visions, and actionable blueprints to counteract the inertia of lawmakers and the allure of learned helplessness.

Opinions

The author believes that the fetishization of dystopian futures is detrimental to collective morale and hinders efforts to improve the world.
There is a critique of those who take pleasure in predicting and preparing for societal collapse, suggesting they do not understand human nature or are tempting fate.
The author accuses some writers of peddling a misanthropic narrative of inevitable doom, which is both unhelpful and harmful to those who are already prone to anxiety and paranoia.
The letter suggests that the constant focus on dystopian outcomes may be a form of self-fulfilling prophecy, leading society to accept a fate it could otherwise work to avoid.
The author calls for the removal of fatalistic phrases like "We are all doomed!" and "The world is fucked beyond repair" from public discourse.
There is a call to action for using platforms to demand accountability and to paint a hopeful picture of the future, rather than indulging in what is termed "digital fearmongering."
The author implies that some individuals may be profiting from spreading despair and that this financial incentive could be driving the perpetuation of negative narratives.
The letter emphasizes that a better future requires hard work, intelligence, tenacity, mindfulness, ingenuity, and benevolence, rather than surrender to a dystopian destiny.

OPEN LETTERS

An Open Letter to Self-Loathing Humans

Your “Dystopian Porn” fetish is bringing all of us down, collectively…

Dear Writers & Connoisseurs of Dystopian Porn,

You know who you are.

You’re the ones stocking your doomsday bunkers with crappy canned goods, water filtration systems, and iodine capsules. Meghan McCain lowkey praised you while sulking on national daytime television as she shed Blonde Conservative White Female Tears about how Dr. Fauci ruined her COVID-19 experience.

You want the Democrats to lose badly in 2022 so you can gloat about how the rest of us all should have blindly followed Bernie Sanders. Or Hillary Clinton. Or Al Gore. Or whatever other savior you were counting on to rescue us with their squinty face and arms-folded-at-their-bosom.

You think that any progress on food sovereignty will be made primarily at the local level…clearly unaware of all the Phil Robertson clones who want to get their hands on a limited amount of regional food supplies so they can control them as a tool of extortion to make you succumb to their religious fundamentalism.

Locally, of course.

How’s that for “getting local”…???

Your Medium Queen Bee recently blocked me, after I called her out on peddling this very misanthropic narrative of unstoppable hell that’s headed our way.

I see you. I see you all. And y’all make me want to gouge my eyes out. Literally.

Look, I know there are a handful of you who romanticize the idea of “starting the world from scratch.” Living off the land while covered by the same amount of minimal animal-skin that Charlton Heston wore in Planet of the Apes. Or believing that you can design your own little oasis of bliss in the middle of nowhere, while you assume there’s a very low likelihood that Max Rockatansky’s gang would invade your sanctuary and pillage you down to skeleton bones.

If you’re seriously this deluded, you don’t understand human nature.

Or, if you’re seriously this despondent, then you are practically tempting fate.

Ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecies?

You may accuse me of “hate-reading” these editorial pieces and comments. You might say I’m allowing the algorithm to lead me to places I don’t want to consider.

Well, most social media algorithms are mysterious and nontransparent. Those are also the same algorithms giving YOU the eyeballs that you so obviously crave.

But, yes, I do HATE the experience of reading editorial pieces that are so hopeless and fatalistic that such content makes me want to just drive a wooden stake through my heart, Buffy-style, and get it all over with.

I have autism and high anxiety. I exist in a daily state of feeling triggered, paranoid, and ominous about the world’s future. There’s not an hour that goes by where I don’t ruminate, even if only momentarily, on the bleak premonition you are illustrating for us — which also happens to be my own worst-case scenario fear.

So forgive me if I don’t respond well to absorbing those confirmation biases when my purpose on Medium is to gain more insight as to how I can be useful enough to help make the world a better place.

Because I would NOT survive in a Mad Max-style dystopia.

If the fortune-telling from you and your ilk happens to be an accurate premonition into humanity’s destiny, then I might as well just chomp down on some of those cyanide pills right now and be done with it.

If you seriously want to make a difference and prevent people from accepting such a fate, here are some phrases you should try expunging from your glossary:

“We are all doomed!”

“The world is fucked beyond repair.”

“We deserve the government we get…”

“This is why we can’t have nice things…”

“I wish the aliens would just beam themselves down here and kick our evil asses!”

“Humanity must pay the piper.”

I say we don’t have to bow down to this Magic 8 Ball of Misery. But the hard work that will bring about the better world that we all can live with is going to take intelligence, tenacity, mindfulness, ingenuity, and benevolence. It’s going to require us to use our platforms to demand accountability, paint a hopeful picture, and put forth many of the vivid blueprints that our dear lawmakers seem too cowardly to construct.

Just because D.C. cronies have rejected these policies so far, it doesn’t mean we should let them keep dragging us toward disaster.

You’ll probably insist that your sycophants “draw inspiration” from your nexus of gloom. And you’ll praise the algorithm for leading them to your holy words.

Whatever. Not everyone who wanders across your babble is a loyal, adoring devotee of yours who happens to be on the same telepathic wavelength. For most people, the takeaway from reading your Dystopian Porn is that we are headed for a post-apocalyptic nightmare, globally — and there’s nothing we can do to prevent it.

So, apparently, in your minds, we should surrender to that eventuality.

Many of us want a game plan for agitating necessary change. We aren’t content to just pout in our cauldrons of liquified weeping willow leaves.

But, clearly, if any of us tell you how your own brand of learned helplessness (which, ironically, you proceed to accuse us of harboring) is oppressive and counterproductive…you just sneer with moral superiority at those of us who desire solutions and action.

By the way — are you, by any chance, making money off of your digital fearmongering?

Robin DiAngelo…is that you?!?!

Perhaps you’ve convinced yourselves that you gain (and disperse) inspiration from drowning yourselves in visions of apocalypse. By drowning yourselves in a self-flagellating sea of martyrdom, bleakness, and mediocrity.

Well…it makes others of us just want to drown ourselves, period.

Go to hell — the same one to which you seem so readily willing to glumly relent.

love,

— Eichy