To bring a child into this world today is not an act of naïveté. It’s an act of courage.
Look around. The air hums with war. It’s almost 2026, and we still talk about genocides. The headlines read like prophecy. The oceans choke, the forests burn, and the algorithms whisper lullabies of distraction while quietly rewiring our minds. Politicians trade truth for followers. Corporations sell poison wrapped in promises. Their greed knows no ceiling, no shame, no consequence. Even hope feels commercialized.
And yet … somewhere… two people still hold each other, dreaming of a heartbeat that doesn’t yet exist.
That is bravery.
Because to choose life in an age that worships power and illusion is rebellion. To choose softness in a culture of cynicism is war. And to raise a child among wolves, knowing the world they’ll inherit, is one of the last sacred acts left.
We are surrounded by corruption dressed as order. By leaders who lie with conviction. They only care about themselves By companies that claim to connect us, but profit from our division. By machines that simulate empathy while learning to predict our every move. Our children are not born into innocence … they are born into the crossfire of manipulation, greed, and noise.
And yet, perhaps that’s why they’re needed most.
Because children still believe. They laugh before the world teaches them shame. They ask “why” before obedience is installed. They remind us that wonder isn’t gone.. just buried under the rubble of convenience.
To become a parent now is to stand against despair. It’s to say: You may corrupt the systems, but not the soul. It’s to protect not just a child, but the very possibility of goodness. You feed them honesty when lies are trending. You teach them love when cruelty pays better. You raise them to see through the masks of power and still choose kindness anyway.
That is not parenting. That is revolution.
There will be nights you’ll look at your sleeping child and feel fear crawl up your spine. You’ll wonder what kind of world they’ll inherit, and whether love is enough to shield them. But remember: every generation has faced darkness and maybe you still have the power to change things. What makes this one different is that the darkness now has a marketing budget.
So maybe we must raise children who cannot be bought. Who think before they follow and vote Who feel before they post. Who see the lie and dare to laugh at it.
To raise innocence among wolves is to believe, fiercely, that the story isn’t over. That maybe … just maybe.., the light we pass on will outlast the empire that tries to extinguish it. That your child’s laughter might one day echo louder than all the noise.
So to every parent and parent-to-be: You are not naïve for choosing life in an age of decay. You are the quiet revolutionaries of the human race.
Because every birth is a declaration. And every child a manifesto of hope that refuses to die.
From Your Job to Your Politicians, Welcome to the Big Con
Look around. School? Scam. Work? Scam. Democracy? Don’t get me started. From birth, you’re signed into a contract you never agreed to—and the ink’s invisible.
The Scam of Education
They told you education was freedom. Translation: a lifetime subscription to debt. In the U.S., the average graduate owes forty grand for a piece of paper that certifies one skill: obedience. You don’t buy knowledge you buy permission. Knowledge is free at a library. But you won’t get hired unless you pay six figures to prove you can sit still and take it. That’s not education. That’s extortion dressed in a cap and gown.
The Scam of Work
Welcome to the office. Eight hours of pretending to work, three hours of meetings about nothing, two hours making PowerPoints nobody reads. Economist David Graeber called it: “bullshit jobs.” Jobs that exist to justify bosses who exist to justify other bosses. And your paycheck? It’s hush money. It says: “Don’t ask if any of this matters. Just cash it.”
The Scam of Consumer Life
Your phone breaks on schedule, your clothes unravel by design, your apps charge you to exist. Even rebellion is monetized punk is a T-shirt at H&M, mindfulness is a $300 retreat. You’re not a citizen. You’re a subscriber. You’re not living. You’re leasing.
The Scam of Politics
Ah, democracy. Every four years, you pick your favorite liar. Ninety-one percent of U.S. elections and everywhere else, are won by the candidate with the most money . That’s not choice it’s an auction. Every speech is a product demo, every promise is vaporware. “Hope and Change.” “Make it Great Again.” Doesn’t matter. Different logos, same scam.
The Meta-Scam: Hope
And here’s the cruelest trick: they even scam your hope. Hustle culture says grind harder. Spirituality says manifest harder. Politicians say vote harder. It’s always on you to fix what they broke. And if it doesn’t work? They’ll sell you a premium upgrade.
So yeah. Is everything a scam? Pretty much. From your first day of school to your last ballot, life is one big pyramid scheme with better branding.
The truth? You were born into a scam. The only choice you’ve ever had is whether you sell it, buy it, or burn it down. What do you think?
We were taught that government means roads, laws, taxes. Order. But what if that was only the scaffolding? What if the true purpose of governance was not control—but connection?
Imagine a world where the state’s first question is not “How do we grow the economy?” but “How do we make people feel safe, seen, and part of something larger than themselves?”
Not as a byproduct. As the mission.
Today we have more departments, consultants, and crisis meetings than ever— and yet the feeling is clear: no one is actually governing…just see the state of our world.
The state has outsourced its soul to communication strategy. Public life has become a theater of press releases, hashtags, and carefully managed optics. Policy is shallow. Narrative is everything and they think they can fix everything by paying a few reporters to construct the truth.
The Anti-Social State
Modern governments are no longer engines of transformation. They are content machines. They do not fix root problems—they rename them. They do not act—they announce.
The social contract has been replaced by press briefings. Ministries are run like marketing departments. Pain is managed through NGO’s, not resolved. Outrage is deflected, not addressed. People are fed statements instead of real solutions.
We call this “governing.” But it is a hollow simulation.
There are ministries for defense and development but none for emotional repair. There are systems for data collection but none for trust reconstruction.
The architecture of government was designed to manage scarcity, control narratives, and neutralize dissent. It is no longer fit for a world where the deepest crisis is disconnection. Their messaging strategies seem designed for a less informed, less connected electorate than the one they actually face.
What Social-First Governance Could Look Like
A government that centers care would not rely on spin. It would build systems that don’t need apology. It would measure success not by stability in headlines but by the strength of human bonds.
It would:
Craft laws based on their relational impact, not political capital
Rebuild welfare as mutual support, not monitored dependency
Treat care work as the spine of the economy, not a budget line
Train leaders in listening, humility, and conflict transformation
Replace algorithmic outreach with in-person reweaving of civic trust
The government would no longer ask “How do we look?” It would ask “What do our people feel?” How are they living? And the answers would shape decisions, not PR responses.
The Collapse of Political Sincerity
Most modern democracies no longer lead. They react. Every crisis is a branding challenge. Every policy failure is repackaged as a new initiative. Every citizen concern is handled by a comms team before it ever reaches the cabinet.
In this world, truth is negotiable. But perception is sacred.
When governance becomes reputation management we are ruled not by leaders but by the logic of advertising.
And a state that governs like a brand cannot hold a nation together.
The Invitation
A social-first government would be unrecognizable at first. It would feel slow, quiet, unglamorous. It would build trust, not just pipelines. It would mourn with its people, not posture above them. It would measure wealth in terms of solidarity, not just stock indexes.
It would be less interested in being “right” and more committed to being in relationship.
And that, in the end, is what governance should be: A sacred act of holding the space between strangers until they remember they are kin.
Governments that do not care for the social fabric are not governments. They are stage sets. They exist to manage image, not life. And we are not actors in their performance.
We are the audience walking out.
If the state will not return to the people then the people must remember how to govern from below.
Start where you are. Speak not as a brand, but as a neighbour. Lead not with a slogan, but with presence, with core essence. Build the society they forgot was possible.
We are not witnessing the rise of artificial intelligence. We are witnessing the fall of consensus.
Around the world, governments are no longer just fighting for territory or resources. They are fighting for the monopoly on meaning. AI is not simply a new tool in their arsenal—it is the architecture of a new kind of power: one that does not silence the truth, but splits it, distorts it, and fragments it until no one knows what to believe, let alone what to do.
This is not just a war on information. It is a war on coherence. And when people cannot agree on what is happening, they cannot organize to stop it.
The Synthetic State
In the twentieth century, propaganda was about controlling the message. In the AI age, it is about controlling perception—by flooding every channel with so many versions of reality that no one can tell what is true.
Deepfakes. Synthetic audio. Fabricated news sites. Emotional testimonials from people who do not exist. All generated at scale, all designed to bypass rational thought and flood the nervous system.
During recent protests in Iran, social media was saturated with AI-generated videos depicting violent rioters. Many of them were fakes—stitched together by language models, enhanced with fake screams, deepfake faces, and captioned in five languages. Their only job was to shift the story from resistance to chaos. The real footage of peaceful protestors became just one version among many—drowned in an ocean of noise.
This is the synthetic state: a government that governs not through law or loyalty, but through simulation. It doesn’t ban the truth. It simply buries it.
When Reality Splinters, So Does Resistance
You cannot revolt against what you cannot name. You cannot join a movement if you’re not sure the movement exists. In an AI-dominated information war, the first casualty is collective awareness.
Consider:
In one feed, Ukrainians are resisting with courage.
In another, they are provocateurs orchestrated by the West.
In one, Gaza’s suffering is undeniable.
In another, it’s a manufactured narrative with staged casualties.
In one, climate protestors are trying to save the planet.
In another, they are eco-terrorists funded by foreign powers.
All these realities exist simultaneously, curated by AI systems that know what will trigger you. What makes you scroll. What will push you deeper into your tribe and further from everyone else.
This fragmentation is not collateral damage. It is the strategy.
Movements require shared truth. Shared pain. Shared goals. But when truth is endlessly personalized, no protest can scale, no uprising can unify, no revolution can speak with one voice.
And that is the point.
Digital Authoritarianism Has No Borders
Many still believe that these tactics are limited to China, Russia, Iran—places where censorship is overt. But AI-powered narrative warfare does not respect borders. And Western democracies are not immune. In fact, they are becoming incubators for more subtle forms of the same game.
Surveillance firms with predictive policing algorithms are quietly being deployed in American cities. Facial recognition systems originally sold for “public safety” are being used to monitor protests across Europe, now also in UK to access adult sites Generative AI tools that could educate or empower are being licensed to political campaigns for microtargeted psychological manipulation.
We are entering what researchers call the “liar’s dividend” era—a time when the existence of AI fakes means nothing is trusted, including the truth.
A leaked video emerges. It shows government brutality. The response? Could be a deepfake. Another video surfaces, supposedly debunking the first. Also a deepfake. Soon, the debate isn’t about justice. It’s about authenticity. And while the public debates pixels and metadata, the regime moves forward, unhindered.
This is not propaganda 2.0. This is reality denial as infrastructure. AI doesn’t need to be right. It only needs to overwhelm. And in the flood, clarity drowns.
The Slow Assassination of Consensus
In the old world, censorship looked like silence. In the new world, it looks like noise.
A thousand false versions of an event, all plausible, all designed to divide. The real one may still be there—but it has no traction, no grip. It is just one voice among many in an infinite scroll.
This is not the end of truth. It is the end of agreement.
It crafts voices that never existed. It makes crowds appear where there were none. It dissolves protests before they gather. It splits movements before they begin. It makes sure no one is ever quite sure who is fighting what.
This is not a hypothetical danger. It is happening now, and it is accelerating.
The Final Battle Is for the Commons of Truth
We once believed the internet would democratize knowledge. We did not expect it would atomize it.
Now, the challenge is not just defending facts. It is defending the very possibility of shared perception—of a baseline agreement about what we see, what we know, and what must be done.
The most revolutionary act may no longer be speaking truth to power. It may be reminding each other what truth even looks like.
Because when no one agrees on what is happening, no one will agree on how to stop it. And that, above all, is what the machine was designed to achieve.
You don’t really understand what a billion is. None of us do. Not because we’re stupid, but because we were never meant to.
The human brain evolved to keep track of faces in a village. Maybe food stores for the winter. Maybe the number of goats you own. But once you get past a few hundred, maybe a few thousand, the mental circuitry short-circuits. The numbers blur. Scale breaks.
Now think about this, which easier to understand:
A million seconds? That’s 12 days. A billion seconds? That’s 31 years.
Let it land. Not a metaphor. Not exaggeration. Just math.
So when you hear someone is worth a billion dollars, remember: That’s thirty-one years’ worth of seconds—but in money. Now imagine what one person could do with that. Now imagine ten people hoarding that. Now imagine 400 of them, and you begin to understand the spell we’re under.
We throw the word “billionaire” around like it’s a badge of genius. But it’s not genius. It’s gravitational collapse.
A billionaire isn’t just a rich person. They are a system malfunction. An organism that grew so large it began consuming everything around it—land, time, resources, attention, labor, politics, imagination.
The scale is so broken we don’t even blink anymore. We scroll past headlines that say someone made three billion this quarter, and we just keep scrolling. No alarm bell rings.
But if we could feel what a billion really is, we would riot.
Let’s break it down. Slowly.
If you spent a thousand dollars a day, every single day, it would take you 2,740 years to spend a billion.
If you gave someone one dollar every second, it would take 31 years to finish the handout.
And yet, one person can “make” that in a year and still ask their employees to skip lunch breaks.
Does that feel right to you?
We’re not talking about envy. This isn’t about “rich people are bad.” It’s about numbers that no longer belong in a sane societyand a healthy planet
A billionaire isn’t someone who worked harder. They’re someone who figured out how to bend the rules, extract value, avoid tax, and accumulate faster than time can flow.
They don’t run businesses. They run pipelines. And what flows through those pipelines is your time, your rent, your data, your exhaustion.
That’s not prosperity. That’s a pyramid. And you’re at the base.
We’ve been hypnotized. Taught to look at billionaires the way peasants once looked at kings—mystified, reverent, hopeful that maybe they’ll bless us with a job or a tweet.
But kings at least had to fake divine right. Billionaires just need a hoodie and a TED talk.
The worst part? We defend them. We say, “They earned it.” As if it’s even possible to earn a billion dollars in a world where nurses work double shifts to afford rent.
You don’t earn a billion. You extract it.
Here’s the trick: The system keeps you chasing survival so you don’t have time to question the scoreboard. But the scoreboard is rigged. And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
A billion dollars is not success. It’s the proof that the game wasn’t meant for most of us to win.
So what now?
You don’t need to hate billionaires. But you do need to stop worshipping them.
Don’t build your dreams in their image. Force governments to build systems where wealth flows instead of accumulates. Where no one hoards lifetimes. Where no one wins alone.
You are not broken for struggling. Our world is broken for making that normal.
And maybe that’s the real revolution. Not rage. Not envy. But clarity.
Clarity that starts with one strange, sticky truth:
A billion seconds is thirty-one years. Now ask yourself—how many lifetimes is one billion dollars?
Inside the Digital Illusions of the Iran–Israel War
We’re not watching a war. We’re watching a screenplay produced by empires, edited by AI, and sold as reality.
In June 2025, a now-viral image of Tel Aviv being obliterated by a swarm of missiles flooded social media. It looked real—devastating, cinematic, urgent.
But it was fake. According to BBC Verify journalist Shayan Sardarizadeh , the image was AI-generated. And yet, it ricocheted across the internet, amassing millions of impressions before truth had a chance to catch up. A second video claiming to show the aftermath of Iranian strikes on Israel was traced back to footage from entirely different conflicts. It was, quite literally, yesterday’s war dressed in today’s fear.
This is the battlefield now: Not just land. Not just air. But perception.
How the West Writes the Script
While both sides—Iran and Israel—have weaponized visuals and emotion, the West plays a more insidious role. Its manipulation wears a tie.
In The Guardian, Nesrine Malik writes that Western leaders offer calls for “diplomacy” without ever addressing the root causes. Israel’s strikes are framed as “deterrence.” Iran’s retaliation is “aggression.” Civilian suffering is background noise.
Even so-called restraint is scripted. Reuters reported that Britain, France, and Germany urged Iran to return to negotiations—yet all three simultaneously approved arms shipments to Israel. Their message is not peace. It’s obedience dressed as diplomacy. Basically, they are hypocrites
Meanwhile, editorials like this one in Time express “grave alarm” at escalating tensions. But they stop short of condemning the architects of escalation. The West has a talent for watching wars it helped create—then gasping at the fire.
So what happens when truth is no longer collateral damage, but the goal of destruction?
– A missile hits, and we ask not where, but which version. – A death toll rises, and we wonder: is it verified? real? current? – Leaders speak of peace while voting for war behind closed doors.
In this fog, apathy becomes defense. Confusion becomes allegiance. And war becomes a franchise—a story you consume with your morning scroll.
How to Reclaim Your Mind
Verify before you amplify: Use tools like reverse image search, metadata extractors, and independent fact-checkers like AFP and BBC Verify. Search multiple sources.
Ask who benefits from the narrative you’re being sold.
Notice omissions: If Gaza disappears from the map while Tel Aviv gets front-page coverage, ask why.
Resist false binaries: You can oppose both regimes and still demand truth.
We live in mad mad world
You don’t have to pick a side. You don’t have to parrot the scripts of Tehran or Tel Aviv. But you do have to stay awake.
Because if they steal your attention… They’ve already won.
