Won’t Help, But Here You Go
(Working title. Proto-version. A concept)
I am not a sociologist. I am worse. I am an observer.
Book four. The cycle’s finale. This is neither manifesto nor instruction manual. This is the final point. The last step in a series of observations, conclusions, and dissections of what we call civilization.
If the previous books were devoted to social primates, reflexes, instincts, and the state as a new form of alpha male, now we turn to the most crucial matter – the human who has realized all this. His place, choice, path, and meaning.
At this book’s center lies the question of purpose. Not in an esoteric sense, but in a sober, detached, almost biological one: why does a specimen live when it has lost clear hierarchies, goals, clan belonging, and built-in routes? What drives a being severed from tribe yet tethered to credit, status, and an endless feed of distractions?
There exists a law too often ignored in naive political discourse: masses are governed not through reason but through emotion. First fear. Then resentment. Then pride. And only then – if it comes to that at all – argument. It has always been thus. This is not democracy’s distortion; it is its foundation.
Romans called this lepsum – influence over crowds through the language of passions. Not arguments, not calculation, but slogans, tears, and the enemy’s image. The governance system dreamed of by medieval idealists presupposed rational civic discourse and measured decisions. A republic of philosophers with voters in togas. But this project died before it could be born.
The problem is singular – the crowd. The mass. A biological collective with average intelligence and instant excitability. It does not think. It reacts. Democracy initially tried to keep masses at distance – voting rights for property owners, white men, the educated. But this was temporary. Then came expanded access – and the need arose to explain to the crowd what it was voting for.
Here emerged a fork in the road: either educate mass-man to the level of rational participant, or learn to manipulate him subtly. The first path – utopia. The second – technology. The bet was placed.
The political system began gradually discarding rationality and mastering instruments of emotional control. First through print and radio, then through television and cinema, now through internet and social networks. All these are not merely channels – they are neural interfaces for accessing the collective unconscious.
The mechanism works simply: emotion → reaction → behavior. No thought, no reflection – only impulse.
First fear of the enemy. Then pride in nation. Then pain for the wronged. Then hatred for dissenters. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Even politics has transformed into a form of show business. A deputy on TikTok is not an accident but a necessity. Not because he’s an idiot, but because his electorate lives on TikTok and thinks in memes. The rule is simple: if you want to control a monkey – go into its forest.
Against this backdrop, rational discussions about society’s good, values, or social contract sound like a quantum mechanics lecture in kindergarten. Mass man doesn’t want to understand – he wants to feel. And politicians and big business grasp this, giving him precisely what works: pain, ecstasy, rage, empathy. Not an idea – a dose. Not an argument – a trigger.
Politics has definitively ceased being a craft and become emotional conditioning.
Conclusion: in a world of managed emotional conditioning, choice is the sole act of freedom.
The fourth book draws the final line: if everything around us is a game of instincts, fears, and false alternatives, then the only way not to dissolve is to cultivate self-awareness.
Not to be an object of control – but a subject of choice.
While the majority leaps after slogans and hashtags, after broadcasts of pain or imagined triumph, your task is to exit the auditorium. Not to applaud, not to believe, not to participate. But to observe. To doubt. To seek your vector – not among the imposed, but among the hard-won. Because in a world where truth is a commodity, sincerity becomes an act of resistance.
The world will continue crumbling in emotional chaos. And the further it goes – the louder this hysterical chorus. But man always possesses one truly inalienable instrument – the choice to be himself. Not a repost, not a carbon copy, not a convenient cog. But an independent point of reference.
And in this, strangely enough, lies today’s genuine audacity.
Here, in this new book, much will be told about motivation and purpose in a world where expediency has displaced morality, and imposed meanings have become commodities.
About self-awareness and the attempt to preserve the human within oneself rather than transform into a protocol or role.
About life strategies – from choosing a profession to constructing personal philosophy in a world where even values are variables used in advertising campaigns.
In focus – the following zones of meaning:
- Ikigai as an adaptive balance model – without Eastern exoticism, but with pragmatic clarity;
- Navigation through post-truth – how to live in a space where everything is possible but nothing carries weight;
- Motivation and will in an era of burnout, emotional parasitism, and cultural fatigue;
- Purpose, not as myth or fetish, but as an instrument of survival and meaning-assembly;
- Philosophy of action – how to make decisions in a reality where external landmarks have ceased functioning.
Yes, this will be philosophy – but living, without dust and academicism. Yes, this will be behavioral psychology – but not clinical, rather applied. Yes, this will be narrative – but not invented, rather carved from observations.
The fourth book completes the cycle. Here everything leads to the main question: what to do with oneself in a world where one can no longer hide behind system, role model, or ready-made script?
This is not religion, not coaching, not consolation. This is an instrument for self-assembly. Piece by piece. Accounting for context, environment, and reality where even self-awareness has become a marketing object.
For those who have reached this point – the book will be a test. And an opportunity. An opportunity not merely to understand what’s happening, but to make from this understanding – a foundation, not a diagnosis.
