An easy choice

Democritus, by Johannes Moreelse

The short text that follows is an adaptation of a post I made on social media — specifically, one I wrote for Instagram Stories. What a time to be alive, my friends! But I found it interesting and decided to share it here, even if hardly anyone will read it.

──────── ❡ ────────

For those who didn't understand why I find certain individuals laughable: I've spent the last many months of my life being harassed and insulted by a group of moronic incels and redpillers, guys who fancy themselves "Knights Templar," "Viking warriors," or "Stoic businessmen." This happened even though I've barely touched upon their worldview in my writing and videos — aside from a few isolated instances. Perhaps that's exactly why they got so worked up. They are insignificant individuals with insignificant worldviews, the sort I don't normally give a second thought to in my life. Yet, for some reason, they sought me out and decided I owed them something, which is hilarious. After months of being verbally abused for no reason, I decided to state my opinion of them a bit more directly in my essay Misanthropy and Compassion, seizing the opportunity provided by the fact that the word "misanthropy" is currently a hot topic in Brazil.

The essay, of course, is not about redpillers and incels. I would never waste time writing anything even remotely elaborate about them because, again, they are insignificant people with insignificant ideas. The essay is actually about how Schopenhauerian misanthropy coexists with an ethic of compassion. In that text, I draw a distinction between that type of misanthropist who feels compassion despite their weariness and desire to turn their back on humanity, and the "misanthropes" found among incels, redpillers, and other such types that have been harassing me in recent months: the "misanthropes" of social media and obscure internet forums who spend their days masturbating and admiring the flags of fictional fascist countries.

Obviously, neither those incels and redpillers, nor the people not far removed from them, liked the essay Misanthropy and Compassion. I'm sorry. Actually, no, fuck them. The humor, the reason I laughed in the Instagram post where I shared the Misanthropy and Compassion essay for the second time, comes precisely from seeing people who are supposedly so "tough," so "Stoic," getting so triggered by a guy like me, a nobody. It shows that these people have never read a single line of Epictetus. They don't even know who he is. At most, they've heard superficial mentions to Marcus Aurelius and Seneca, and thus believe they have profound knowledge of the subject. On Spotify, one of these "Stoic businessmen" types tried to "teach" me that Stoics weren't determinists — even though they have defined themselves as causal determinists since the very inception of the Stoic school, a period that modern Stoic businessmen types ignore. Again, these are people who don't read anything. They don't have the slightest understanding of the worldviews they claim to follow.

These are people who have commented on my videos calling me weak, while claiming they're strong because, and I quote: "what we do in life echoes in eternity." That line was spoken by Russell Crowe's character in the movie Gladiator. You can't help but laugh at these guys, you know? They're pathetic lowlifes. They'd be cute if they didn't spread so much hate, but since they do, I call them pathetic lowlifes. I have called them, and will keep calling them, virgins. They are virgins, even the ones among them who aren't actual virgins. Their brains are virgins. Maybe the only significance they could possibly have is that of a court jester. That's it. But I think I'm insulting court jesters. I apologize. I saw Gladiator in the movie theater when it came out in 2000. It's wonderful. It's the last truly great movie by Ridley Scott. But it's just a movie. And the redpill keyboard warriors who keep pestering me write lines from that movie to me, thinking they're doing something fantastic, thinking they're true "alphas", or whatever bullshit slang these people use.

One of them — or someone who, even if not one of them, didn't appreciate me making fun of them — came to question me quite aggressively on Instagram. He said I wasn't being serious, whereas "before" I had been serious. I blocked the guy. I "lost a fan," basically. But what you have to understand is this: I write what I write to get my thoughts out into the world. It's great when people relate to it. It's gratifying, especially regarding themes like pessimism, the viewing of the world as a vale of tears, and the idea that it would have been better if nothing had ever existed; I know few people think that way, and it's very common to feel alone in such thoughts. But I will never, ever write my texts with the sole intention of pleasing others, let alone in order to please a group of people with whom I share no affinity or goodwill, given the hatred and discord they spread so widely. It isn't going to happen, ever.

If the entire world demanded that I show reverence to a bunch of people who have Ramen noodles for brains, or else never have anyone read my writings again, I would end up with no readers at all. It would be an easy choice. I have no desire to be read by people who have an aversion to culture and whose motivation in life is to have as little compassion as possible.

by Fernando Olszewski