The Manifesto of Pragmatic Cynicism

life is a hierarchy of power. The strong dominate, the clever manipulate, and the rich control. The rest? They’re pacified by lies, entertained by distractions, and conditioned to obey. Rebellion is punished, dissidents are marginalized, and the system perpetuates itself—sheep, wolves, and outcasts.

Justice doesn’t exist; it’s a convenient myth. Society is built on force, and those in power dictate right and wrong. The difference between a criminal and a politician is honesty. The criminal makes no pretense, while the politician cloaks their corruption in the guise of virtue. It’s all the same game, played by the same rules—power, manipulation, control.

Strip away the art, music, and stories, and humanity is no more than animals in suits, driven by the same primal needs. We eat, breed, and die. The rest is window dressing, a fleeting blip in the universe. There’s no greater purpose, no cosmic justice. Either we fade into nothing, or we cling to the comforting illusions of religion, which sells salvation like a product.

Evil? Just another label used by the state to brand its enemies. The real predators sit in positions of authority, justifying their cruelty with moral righteousness. The world is a stage for exploitation, where symbols and slogans manipulate the masses into compliance.

Politics is a joke, a circus act where people pledge allegiance to ideologies they don’t understand, waving flags like puppets on strings. Leaders tell them they’re under threat, and they march willingly into oblivion, believing in the lie of protection.

We live in a world of delusions, reformed sinners peddling their stories of redemption while society worships its own chains. People fear freedom because they’ve grown too comfortable in their cages. In the end, the only truth is power. The lion eats the lamb, and if the lamb ever eats the lion, it’s not justice—just a rare shift in the balance.

And that shift in balance? It’s temporary, always. Power flows like water, filling the cracks left by weakness, fear, and indecision. Today’s revolutionaries are tomorrow’s tyrants, and the cycle repeats itself, endlessly. Everyone wants to be free, but few realize that freedom is just another kind of prison—one where you’re the warden, constantly guarding yourself from a world that doesn't care.

In a society where everything is transactional, even morality becomes currency. Charity is bought for likes, empathy sold for status. We perform our goodness for the audience, crafting the illusion of integrity. But beneath the surface, every act of kindness has a selfish root—an investment in social capital, a bid to feel superior. The truly selfless are crushed underfoot, dismissed as naive or irrelevant, while the manipulators wear halos they didn’t earn.

Control is the goal of every interaction, every relationship. Even love, the so-called highest human emotion, is just another transaction—an exchange of needs, expectations, and leverage. People don’t fall in love; they fall into contracts, negotiating terms of affection, silently keeping score. And when the balance tips, when the terms are no longer favorable, it dissolves into resentment and betrayal. The idea of unconditional love? That’s another lie, sold to us in fairy tales and movies to keep us docile, hopeful, tethered to the system.

Technology, too, is just a new leash. We think we’re more connected than ever, but in reality, we’re more isolated, more distracted. The screens feed us the illusion of choice, while our thoughts are shaped by algorithms and our desires programmed by corporate interests. Freedom of thought? Only within the confines of acceptable discourse, where deviation is punished, not with violence but with silence, exclusion, and invisibility.

In the end, all that’s left is survival. Not in some grand, noble sense, but the quiet, everyday struggle to keep going, to find meaning in a meaningless world. The strong will continue to rise, the weak will continue to fall, and the rest will watch, believing that somehow, they are the exception—that their suffering has a purpose, that their obedience will be rewarded. But the truth is, there is no reward. There is only the game, and in this game, the house always wins.

You can fight, you can resist, but understand that the rules are set, and they aren’t in your favor. True power isn’t in overthrowing the system; it’s in mastering it, exploiting it, bending it to your will without letting it break you. And if you can’t do that? You’re just another pawn, waiting to be sacrificed.

The Manifesto of Pragmatic Cynicism