Censorship is Absurd

Bonus: an Armenian song

The story is about censorship and … love. There is also an Armenian song at the end that completely fascinated me by the fact that the Armenian word for “boot” is evidently the same as the Russian word.

Anyway, back to the part about censorship.

This past week on the freshly launched Notes has been a blast. The experience of censorship-free social media posting feels unexpectedly shocking and wild. And the shock I experienced over not being shadow-banned on Notes made me realize just how absurd and—I am going to use use the emotional word—traumatizing, it had been to be treated like an enemy of the people on the internet for the past few years.

And for what, let me ask—for what have the masters turned thinkers into black sheep? For using our brains?

Censorship as a pacifier

But, of course, on the very first day of Notes’ existence, a group of people with mainstream persuasions started bullying the founders for censorship because without being able to silence diseenters with impunity moderation, they don’t feel safe.

An important side note here: I am convinced that wokism is a successful brain child of the alphabets, and that the poor souls who fall for it had been played. I am also convinced that the attack on natural human ability is by design.

Now, I am loving and confident in being loving. Those terrified of uncensored speech make me think of castrated pets. They evoke primarily compassion in me. They are clearly not okay, clearly not themselves, possessd by ideas, and it’s not a good thing at all.

I do not necessarily seek to hang out with them to say the least but I am not scared. We are here. We are here for a reason. We are here to bring love.

Where I am at is curbing the impact of their madness as much as I can while loving their eternal soul. They are like children with a bad case of arrested development and an axe in their hands. I don’t hate them. I feel sorry for them, and I want them to get back to love. But I am aware of what they can do with that axe, and so I am very keen on taking it away.

(Also this)

A Philosophical Boo to Political Correctness: People Are Not Machines

Viewing other people’s differing experiences as an insult

This analogy came to my mind. Thanks to the alphabets, they got used to screaming, “Mr. Teacher, that person over there just said the word that you banned, so we would like you to deplatform him, cancel him, and preferably also fire him from his job. That’s the least you can do, Mr. Teacher, please! Otherwise, we aren’t safe!”

The interesting bit is that underneath the insanity, there is a real psychological fact. They are pointing at the assumption that the people who have never experienced abuse have their senses in a different state than the ones who have.

Is this true? To a large degree, yes. It is expressed more succinctly in a folk Russian saying: “The one whose tummy is full doesn’t ‘get’ the hungry one.”

However, from that real psychological fact we are ushered toward the logical fallacy land, presuming that,

• It is necessary for everyone to be in the same exact phase of life at all times

• It is necessary to talk at all times as if your audience consists of people on the brink of a serious nervous breakdown

• The relationship to abuse is strictly collective and determined primarily by one’s demographic group

This is obviously absurd on its face. And since I am really writing this story about love, I would like to zoom in on how we are all in different phases—and draw an arc of a human journey on Earth.

The developmental arc

A pure child who has never experienced abuse —>

a child who is experiencing abuse for the first time —>

a former pure child who has completely forgotten what if feels like to not be abused and who has internalized abuse as the norm (a very broken former pure child) —>

a former pure child who is finding out that there is no end to abuse, that it keeps coming and coming, and all attempts to appease the abuser for good are in vain —>

a former pure child and a totally desperate adult who can’t take things anymore —>

an adult who is doing things to push back in the moment, simply to eliminate the immediate pain —>

a former pure child and an increasingly decisive adult who is starting to figure things out —>

an adult who keeps trying different things, getting some of them right and some of them wrong, determined to figure things out =>

more or that —>

more more more of that —>

oh crap, still more of that —>

wait a second, all of this was for LOVE!!!!!

(The adult has now completed that particular part of the journey. He is both the always-pure child who has never, never deserved to be abused and a warrior for all the good things, a warrior without fear because where there is love, fear retreats.)

And all this time, all of this, ALL OF THIS was for love.

The end? No, love has no end.

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