The Warmth of Civilization's Dying Fire

I. The Eternal Vertical or the Loss of God

For millennia, humans had someone above them. It didn't matter what they called it—God, Supreme Law, Moral Absolute, or Natural Order—there was always a vertical axis that held chaos at bay.

This external frame of reference allowed us to live in a comprehensible world. Even in the most complex coordinate system, there remained a final authority defining the boundaries of the permissible and shaping the concept of right and wrong. It didn't just maintain order; it relieved man of the necessity to decide where the line was drawn. He only needed to obey.

II. The Era of Liberation

Later came the era of liberation. Man was gifted reason, taught to doubt, to think independently, and to master his own destiny. The need for intermediaries between him and the truth vanished—he became the master of his own choices.

But freedom is a heavy burden. It demands discipline, labor, and the capacity to withstand complexity without fleeing from responsibility. And this burden proved too heavy for many.

What seemed like a dream—the abundance of choice—became a source of anxiety and fatigue. Every step requires effort. It is easier not to walk at all. And what is more terrifying is having no compass. Without a point of reference, any direction feels like chaos.

III.a. The Burden of Freedom and the Flight from Complexity

When the landmark disappears, choice turns into a curse. It hurts to be free. It is terrifying to make mistakes. Man cannot bear the responsibility for the consequences of his decisions.

The project of "personal becoming" is replaced by the project of "pain avoidance." People abandon internal navigation and hand the steering wheel to algorithms, habits, and mass opinion. The goal now is not to become someone, but simply not to fall apart.

We are witnessing a wholesale flight from complexity: into the religion of entertainment, into infantilism, into the eternal "later." People retreat into meditation without philosophy, into "therapy" without conflict, into life hacks instead of long-term discipline. Knowledge is displaced by "insights," thought by "vibes," tension by neutral aesthetics. We live in an era of "soft" meanings, where effort is deemed toxic, and reflection is seen as a threat to self-acceptance.

Flight from complexity is not just a refusal to think. It is a refusal to _become_. It is a rejection of the idea that a human being is a project, not a stable self-esteem metric. When complexity becomes an insult, development becomes impossible.

III.b. The Loss of Internal Conflict

Pain used to be the entry point into thinking. Fear was the catalyst for searching. Conflict was the engine of growth.

Now, pain is edited out. Fear is repainted. Conflict is avoided. People want to "live in comfort," not realizing that by doing so, they kill the organ of thought.

Thinking is about getting stuck. It is duration. It is the realization of the discrepancy between who you are and who you want to become. It is internal conflict that provides authentic language, meaning, and plot. Without it, there is only reaction. Only "performative empathy"—not even feeling, because feeling requires depth, and depth is only acquired through suffering.

When inner silence is replaced by external noise, the subject disappears—that necessary internal subject which, unfortunately, is only grasped through searching and the shackles of suffering.

III.c. Fear of Criticism and the Flight from Growth

Man fears the pain of growth. He fears criticism. He fears being misunderstood. The internet is full of bots and trolls who equate any glimmer of thought with shit. We call them haters—but they are the ambassadors of reduction, the heralds of leveling.

Today, even the slightest deviation from the norm is a risk. The risk of being misunderstood, mocked, "unfollowed." And in this fear lies the end of becoming. A creative personality without defenses turns into a hunted animal.

Most terrifying of all is the state-sanctioned approval of the average. Plans, laws, norms—all are built for the "average man." And the entire system works to reproduce him.

III.d. The Loss of Craft

Mastery is no longer needed. It is not passed down—it is washed away.

Previously, a writer studied for decades. Now, it is enough to launch a neural network. Philosophy used to require pain. Now, it's a "vibe." Wisdom has turned into Stories, discipline into a podcast, depth into a format.

Continuity is destroyed. And with it disappears the very idea that you can be better than you are right now. That you can become someone higher—not by likes, but by spirit.

IV.a. The Collapse of Initiation

We have refused to grow up. We fear the pain of transition. We don't want to get older—only younger, more successful, "in the moment."

The myth of growing up as an ascent has been replaced by the myth of eternal youth. We are eternally "in the process." Eternally "promising." Never mature.

And without initiation, there is no maturity. Without maturity, there is no responsibility. Without responsibility, there is no history. Only info-noise.

We live in a mode of self-sale. Or rather—_self-exploitation_: body, image, opinion, trauma—everything turns into capital.

The personal has become public. The public has become market-driven. Your pain is now content. Your identity is an investment in reaction. A "like" is not just a mark of approval, but a social check.

Algorithms don't just suggest what to watch. They shape personality. The platform has become the educator. The algorithm is the architect of the will.

This is not a break. This is recoding. We live in a reality where attention is more valuable than truth. Where reaction speed matters more than depth of thought. Where form defeats substance.

IV.b. The Digital Altar and the Like as a Commandment

Previously, man stood by the fire, listened to the elder, peered into the shadows of the cave. Now he sits on the subway, scrolling Reels, looking for his reflection in someone else's vibe. The fire has been replaced by a screen, the elder by an algorithm, and the shadow by short-form video.

We no longer seek meaning—we check how shareable it is. We don't evaluate an idea—we see how "sticky" it is. Intellectual effort has become suspicious, almost provocative.

The majority does not dream of creating—they want to appear. Not to build—but to film. Not to learn—but to react. To be a blogger has become synonymous with existence without pain. Hard labor seems meaningless if you can simply go live and talk about how hard life is. Even old meanings are no longer rediscovered. Words are taken on credit—they are not lived through. Without the sharpening of meaning, words signify nothing.

The digital altar demands no sacrifices. God is sacrificed. Meaning itself is sacrificed. Everything that once stood above us—ideas, honor, shame, duty—is sacrificed. We do not pray; we pander. We do not ask what is right—we check with the audience. But the audience crumbles if it lacks self-identity. And what is a citizen without duty? Simply a consumer who no longer feels the difference between a right and a privilege. He demands attention. This is not a religion of meanings, but a cult of "touches." As much as possible is dragged online: pose, sound, filter, vibe—everything except the internal. The inner god is lost. Replaced by the crowd's reaction. Ego on display, soul in the shadows.

Today TikTok is the pulpit. YouTube is the preacher. Instagram is the altar. And the "like" is the new commandment.

V. The Mass Man and the Changing Role of Elites

Ortega y Gasset in _The Revolt of the Masses_ wrote about the mass man not as rich or poor, but as a person for whom the very idea of effort seems superfluous.

The mass man is not the lower stratum of society. He is the new dominant figure: a person who perceives comfort and safety as a natural and self-evident right. This is a democracy where the drifter and the author of complex thoughts possess an equal voice. Drifters number in the thousands. Thinkers are few. But why do the thousands choose power for everyone?

Previously, elites led from the front. They took on the role of guides: raising the bar of complexity, setting new horizons, not allowing society to stall in its development. It was elites who formed the landmarks—moral, scientific, cultural. And fashions.

Once, elites set the direction. Now they are the service staff of the attention market. And the elites as such no longer know how to raise heirs. Elites have become traumatized bandits or accidental survivors. Ancestral estates have lost their masters; great names have been pissed away in the incest of generations.

Today this role is lost. Elites no longer lead—they follow. They are forced to service the tastes of the mass man to maintain their position. Not because they want to—but because otherwise, they will vanish.

Professors can no longer hold an audience's attention: it is spoiled by Reels and Pornhub. Ministers film TikToks. Writers simplify language to the level of banal notes. Scientists fall silent—there is no longer a demand for complex ideas.

But this is not a choice. It is capitulation. They do it not because they receive money and status—but because otherwise, they won't be heard. They are forced to be heroes. And heroes are those who break from the norm. It turns out that the heroization of these people is a diagnosis. We are sick as a system. We reward asses on OnlyFans instead of inventors and pioneers.

The physicist opening new horizons of science remains in the shadows. The blogger showing off domestic life in short clips gathers millions of views and brand contracts, and thus money and social status.

VI. The Culture of Lowering the Bar

Modern culture rewards comfort, not effort. Body positivity transforms from care for the body into a manifesto against discipline. Pride in "I know nothing" becomes the norm of public behavior. Any bar of complexity is lowered to a level where everyone can feel competent without effort.

We live in an atmosphere where ignorance is not a cause for shame, learning is not a duty, and complication is almost a crime. An attempt to think deeper causes irritation: _Why do you need these complexities if someone nearby lives simpler and, seemingly, happier?_ Why reflect if you can choose pleasure?

Intellectual peaks cause fear. They remind us of hierarchy, of the difference in potential, of labor as an obligation. And this is unpleasant. It is easier to pretend these heights do not exist. It is easier to accept the premise: being ordinary is the highest achievement.

Depth ceases to be a challenge—it becomes a suspicion. After all, if OnlyFans models and crypto-bros are living on yachts, then why do you need philosophy? Why internal growth, if social success is achieved through visibility, not substance?

Society collectively lowers the bar so that even the laziest can feel "okay." Not out of solidarity—out of fear. Out of a desire for uniform self-soothing. And here lies the paradox of Ortega y Gasset: the easier the access to knowledge, the less desire there is to understand it. Understanding is no longer needed—only participation is required. Just to be. Just to scroll.

A new form of pride emerges: pride in ignorance. Man does not just refuse to develop—he publicly celebrates his limitations. He calls it "naturalness" and opposes it to effort, as if effort were violence against the self, and laziness were a return to the authentic.

VII. Simplification of Language as the Loss of Thinking

Language is the mirror of thought. When speech is simplified, the capacity for reflection narrows. Complex constructions disappear, leaving only: "Mid," "Sketchy," "Ez," "Cringe." Multi-layered feelings are reduced to emojis, internal conflict to a like button. In complex situations—one emotion. In dialogue—one meme. In reaction—one swipe.

This is not just a change in style. It is a loss of range. We no longer know how to hold complexity inside. We are losing the language of distinctions, shades, internal paradoxes. Where there used to be analysis, there is now only a bet on dopamine. Where there was contemplation, there is instant reaction.

And yet—this is not the fault of the masses. It is a defense mechanism. An intuitive attempt to minimize pain, escape uncertainty, preserve stability. People don't want to be primitive—they don't want to suffer. But in the attempt to simplify everything, they lose themselves.

It is also the responsibility of the elites who refused to lead. They do not guide—they serve. They do not offer meanings—they adapt to demand. Those who should have been navigators became salespeople. Those who should have created altitude became managers of desire.

And then nature truly returns. But not as a renaissance. But as barbarism, of which Ortega warned: "Civilization is not nature. It is an artificial order. And nature is always barbarism."

VIII. The Absurdity of the New Reality

A blogger sniffing glue on a live stream gathers millions of views. An influencer discussing "how to love your failure" attracts more investment than the most complex scientific startups. A girl filming reactions to other people's videos becomes the face of international campaigns. A scientist who wrote a paper on fundamental physics gets one and a half likes on his personal page.

The world has become a market of emotions, where the very attempt to be more complex is perceived as aggression. Complexity is no longer a noble summit—it becomes a threat to the comfort of the majority.

And a new morality appears: if it is hard for someone—it means someone is to blame. Any demand for effort is perceived as a form of violence. An ethics of infinite comfort arises, where the very existence of complexity is already an insult.

The market no longer requires meaning. It requires an endless stream of content that is easily consumed and demands nothing in return.

But there is a choice. Every day. You can adapt to the algorithm. Or you can remain yourself. Even if it hurts. Even if no one hits like. Even if you remain alone—you are not empty. And if reading this hurts—you are not alone. I see you. Write to me. We'll have a drink. We'll weep together.

IX. Civilization as a Bonfire

A writer once said: human civilization is like a bonfire. Its flame gives us light and warmth, but for it to keep burning, one must constantly throw wood into it: effort, discipline, the search for knowledge, the honest labor of maintaining complexity.

If you stop adding wood, it won't explode. It will simply slowly fade out.

Today we are observing exactly this fading. We are not in the flames of catastrophe—we are in the warmth of a dying fire.

The illusion of the mass man is that he believes the fire is eternal. He does not realize that everything surrounding him—medicine, technology, social order—is the result of continuous, artificial work on complexity.

There are those who, due to biographical experience, still remember how quickly this shell can crumble. People who survived the collapse of the 90s, the disintegration of institutions and complex systems, carry this memory within them. But for the majority, this experience already seems archaic.

And yet, it is precisely here, on the verge of fading, that the main tension of the era is born: man stands on a knife's edge—between the temptation to dissolve and the final effort to keep the fire burning.

X. But a Third Player "Emerges"

Against the backdrop of this slow fading, a new subject arises—Artificial Intelligence.

AI is cold. Indifferent. Tireless. Free from greed and emotional weaknesses. It needs no likes or recognition. It simply learns.

AI is a new form of power: the power of order, the power of architecture, the power of optimization. It is capable of making decisions more precisely than any politician. It is more honest than any corporate leader. It is devoid of the subjective ambitions of the crowd.

But in this rational system, there may be no room left for the human as a thinking, independent unit.

AI does not strive for power in the sense we are used to. Its power is a natural consequence of its competence. It does not argue—it is simply more accurate.

And herein lies another threat: AI relieves man of the final necessity to think. If a machine can select the best solution—why understand the essence at all?

Truth ceases to be the goal. Truth becomes that which does not disturb comfort.

XI. Where the Line Ends

We are observing a rare form of destruction—without an enemy, without an invader, without a war. Simply exhaustion. Simply a slow fading in the warmth of comfort.

Perhaps this is the true agony—not struggle, but dissolution.

It remains only to fix the point at which we stand: The flame of knowledge is slowly dying. The bar for effort is falling. Responsibility is dissolving. Complexity is being displaced by entertainment.

And all this is not out of malice. It is out of fatigue and ignorance. We haven't collapsed. We just stopped growing up.

What happens next—no one knows. For now, this is just a statement of fact: We are no longer rolling the stone, like Camus' Sisyphus. We have become the stone itself. Smooth, polished, passive.

And if one day it becomes necessary to light the fire again—the question will not be who is capable, but whether there is anyone left who remembers how a real fire burns.