There is no thought so aberrant, no proposal so repugnant, that it cannot be washed, combed, and presented in polite society. There exists a process, a social technology, for transforming the obscene into dogma. It is the gauntlet every idea must run to pass from the filthy basement of taboo to the gilded drawing rooms of the law. An escalator that carries the unthinkable to the summit and, once consumed, sends it back into oblivion, but only after it has been made common sense.

In the beginning, there is only darkness. The idea is a monster, an outcast. To speak of it in public means professional isolation, ridicule. It is the stage of harmless madness, of crime only imagined. Then comes the courage of some organic intellectual, some well-funded foundation. The unthinkable becomes radical. It is still poison, but now it is discussed, its name whispered in the corridors of think tanks. It is defined as “courageous,” “uncomfortable.” It is the first, decisive, step.

From radical, one slips into acceptable. The idea loses its fangs. It is debated no longer as a threat, but as an interesting provocation. Progressive media dedicate balanced features to it, complete with an opposing view for journalistic balance. The monster has its first tie. Then, it becomes sensible. Even reasonable. Its adversaries are no longer champions of good, but obtuse conservatives who do not understand the complexity of modern times. The establishment, which once mocked it, now courts it.

The peak is popularity. The idea is on everyone’s lips, sponsored by movie stars and singers. It is the new frontier of humanity. Those who oppose it are bums out of touch with the world. At this point, legalization is a wax seal on an already full vase. It becomes norm, law, duty. And here the cycle, in a way, is complete. Because once that same idea, now tired and institutionalized, begins to show its cracks, its failure, it is in turn placed on the bench of the condemned. The same machine that elevated it reduces it to dust, making it slip down step by step, from popular to sensible, from acceptable to radical, until one day, perhaps, it returns to being unthinkable. A shameful memory no one will want to speak of again.

This is not a sociological theory. It is the power’s instruction manual. The priests of this technique ferociously deny it, just as a magician denies his trick. And they accuse those who reveal its mechanisms of being conspiracy theorists, plague-spreaders, lepers to be quarantined. The dissenter is not an interlocutor: he is a symptom to be eradicated. A reactionary clinging to a dying world, a denialist of the splendid, progressive, inevitable new normal.

And so, before our eyes, the miracle takes place. What was yesterday an unspeakable horror, pedophilia as “intergenerational love,” medical mandate as an “act of love,” the replacement of peoples as “enrichment,” today flies the white flag of surrender over reason. The Window is not a metaphor. It is the raw account of how a species is domesticated, how a mental cage is forged so vast that those inside no longer see the bars, but only the sky.

           — ✦ —

🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿

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