Joan Westenberg

July 30, 2025

Rage Fatigue

I used to think rage was a civic duty. 

I knew the stakes. I followed the right people. I knew who was problematic this week and why. But over time the feed grew louder, faster, and strangely emptier. Like shouting into a canyon full of echoes.

The left moves like an autoimmune disorder. Surveillance masquerades as solidarity. Nuance is cowardice. Every misstep is evidence of rot. It’s not just that people are afraid to speak; it’s that silence is no longer an option. You must perform, endlessly, or risk suspicion.

Why did this happen? The incentives aren’t subtle. Attention goes to whoever can turn moral discomfort into a spectacle. But unlike earlier generations of political theater - say, Abbie Hoffman throwing dollar bills on the stock exchange floor - this theater has no script, no ending, and no offstage.

History doesn’t repeat, but it does plagiarize. During the French Revolution, Robespierre declared terror to be an emanation of virtue. By the time he was guillotined, the revolution had devoured most of its architects. But the mechanics are worth noting: the purity spiral, the performative denunciations, the recursive fear. You didn’t need to believe in anything. You just needed to denounce early and often.

Sound familiar?

It’s tempting to say this is just a social media phenomenon, but the boundaries have blurred. The logic of the feed leaks into institutions, into art, into how people read each other’s faces in meetings. It creates a culture where earnestness is policed, irony is mistrusted. 

Even forgiveness is off the table.

Are there still brilliant minds on the left?

Of course. 

There are still people doing hard, unglamorous work that doesn't trend. 

But they’re increasingly drowned out by professional arsonists whose clout depends on the perpetual identification of enemies - real, imagined, or insufficiently enthusiastic.

Maybe this is just the fatigue of someone aging out of a certain metabolism. Maybe this is what disillusionment looks like when you still care. But I find myself wanting slower politics. Less reactive, more reflective. I want to build something instead of only dismantling. I want space to breathe.

Does that make me a traitor now?

About Joan Westenberg

I write about tech + humans.