Writing When You Feel Helpless At World Events.

I’m keeping my head down and counting my blessings right now. Which might seem like a cop-out given the state of affairs right now. But I try to keep my head away from affairs of State. Bipolar brain gets too obsessed with it. Most of what is reported in the news both at home and abroad seems plain outrageous or hints or gestures at mankind’s insanity.

I’m not disengaged exactly. But I keep some distance out of a sense of self-preservation. I do my part when it comes to helping people and standing up for worker’s rights, through trade unionism. I’m more effective where I can be up close, supporting somebody having a difficult time at work. One person at a time. Sometimes by taking group action. But that doesn’t happen often.

When it comes to world events what is there to do? Sign petitions. Go on marches? The great collective efforts of the powerless.

One way people try to gain some power back is through venting their rage and opinion through social media. I’ve mostly removed myself from that scene. It is a minefield full of people bollocksing on about issues that they knew nothing about and cared not a jot for the week before. Outrage and argument pulls people in, and wars generate a good profit for twitter, and facebook. War is exceptionally profitable for these companies. There is a lot of money to be made. Even tiktok is profiting. My last foray on there which is pretty randomised and short subjected me to several videos on the bounce all involving some kind of war theme.

Fake news travels six times faster on social media then real news, and outrage and violence keeps us locked onto our screens scrolling and absorbing more and more opinions that are always polarised and pretty much always surface views. The algorithms adjust to more of the same to keep. If you are interested in these issues you might want to read Stolen Focus, by Johann Hari. He goes into these things in detail.

I’m realistic that my sphere of influence is tiny. It basically extends to conversations with family and friends. I don’t kid myself. I haven’t the power of intellect, or the massiveness of scope to pretend to know what to do about the screaming issues of this world. It is enough to make you feel insane just contemplating the scope of the wholesale systemic crisis. It isn’t too difficult to imagine how hellish it would feel to be going to sleep knowing you might be woken to the sound of sirens wailing, and explosions in your neighbourhood. Hell, in a world where work stress keeps most of us awake at times, vicious the horror of conflict puts things in perspective.

Of course there is something of a bias at play too. We are too used to seeing distress in other parts of the world. I marched in the anti-war protests when we invaded Iraq, and had severe depression when I realised to our own government in the UK, the rule of law, and a million protesting meant absolutely fuck all. The consequences of that action reverberates even here. The taint of hypocrisy from nations happy to invade themselves when it suits their imperialist agendas. There’s a difference to the younger me, that was seriously pissed off back then, and the me now, who just feels sad about it all.

As usual we watch leaders on a world stage set the world on fire for whoever happens to come into the sphere of their ludicrously overpowered levels of influence. Their overarching egos wrecking the ordinary dreams of decent ordinary people.