Contents
Introduction: One Nature, Two Masks
There are people who have long since betrayed themselves, but hide it behind masks. Some hide behind blatant lies: “Everyone does it,” “What’s the big deal?” Others shield themselves with the armor of rationality: “I’m just practical,” “That’s how the world works.” But the essence is the same: they have capitulated to something greater than themselves.
Imagine a person who puts on a mask every day: in the morning — a smile for colleagues, in the afternoon — cynical rationality for the boss, in the evening — lies to themselves and/or to loved ones in order to fall asleep. These aren’t just masks — this is armor behind which betrayal of one’s own soul is hidden.
Level One: Every Day — Lying as a Reflex
They lie to everyone — family, friends, themselves. “Everything’s fine,” they say to their wife, hiding debts or anxiety. “I’m trying,” they assure their children, though inside there’s been nothing but emptiness for a long time. Their lies are armor: beautiful and impenetrable, so that no one sees their weaknesses. Lying is easier than answering or changing.
Or catch them at something unflattering: they’re late because of laziness, but say “there was traffic.” They hurt a friend but will swear, “I didn’t say anything.” Caught in a lie, they don’t give in. “That’s not true,” they insist, even when the truth is obvious. For them, not confessing means remaining innocent. Lies are their refuge, where guilt does not exist until it is admitted.
Ask them, “Why are you lying?” or “Where is your truth?” — and they bristle. “Who doesn’t lie?” they deflect. “Everyone’s like that,” “That’s life.” The crowd is their shield, excuses are their armor. For them, lying isn’t deception but a way to survive in a world where truth is too heavy. But behind this armor lies self-betrayal, hidden under the mask of “just living like everyone else.”
This is quite capitulation, a refusal to stand out and take responsibility for one’s actions.
Level Two: Intellectual — Capitulation Behind a Mask of Rationality
Then there are those who seem successful, confident, sometimes even generous. They have yachts, KPIs, and business plans. They say the right things: “I’m just being rational,” “I’m not a fanatic,” “I rely on facts.” But scratch the surface — and you’ll find not reason, but a façade. They’ve sold themselves to the system, accepted its rules, where a person is a function, a cog, a biorobot. Where there is no morality, only calculation.
They cling to a scientific sheen to justify their choices. And the moment awkward questions arise, they immediately invoke Marxism. It’s the perfect cover: no need for meaning, no need for a soul, no need for freedom — everything is explained by classes, interests, and historical necessity. This is a universal moral excuse: he’s not greedy, history demands it; he’s not broken, he simply “understood how the world works.” But behind this “rationality” is the same numb emptiness: no joy, no spark, only cynicism. He didn’t betray — he’s “just rational.”
Any attempt to criticize the cult of KPIs, the career rat race, or the suppression of the soul for corporate success is immediately dismissed as weakness — you’re assigned a motive: “you just didn’t succeed.”
As if all reality is an endless competition for resources, with no other language possible.
Speak of meaning — and you’ll be accused of greed. Mention justice — you’re instantly put in the camp of those who “want to take and redistribute.” Try to talk about the soul — and you’ll hear a reply about mortgages and market mechanisms. Anything that can’t be put in Excel is called “esotericism”, “nonsense”, “fanaticism”, or just “the whining of the poor.”
They don’t realize that their “rationality” has become faith in the absence of faith, and “science” — a dogma of materialism that they don’t verify but rather profess.
Herein lies the irony: the most “anti-dogmatic” person turns out to be a hostage of the most rigid dogma — and doesn’t even realize it.
They build a box for themselves — a world where there is no meaning, only data, goals, and reports. Everything must be measurable, predictable, and safe. They think it’s easier that way: to hide from meaning as from chaos, to tame pain with formulas and charts. There is no fear there, because there is no life. But once the box is built, they forget it even has walls. And they pretend there is nothing outside. Because if they admit the world is bigger, they’ll have to admit that all this time they’ve been living inside their own fear.
The Common Root: Fear of Authenticity
Both levels — everyday and intellectual — are united by one thing: the fear of the truth about oneself. Both the blunt liar and the “rational” careerist build their lives on surrender. One hides behind the crowd, the other behind KPIs and “science.” They brand meaning as fanaticism, shout about metrics, all to drown out the silence.
They laugh at Popper, but their worldview is unfalsifiable:
- Any value choice is interpreted as “masking self-interest” (as if you’re pretending for personal gain);
- Any sacrifice for meaning, as stupidity or “brainwashing”;
- Any faith, as “compensation for fear” or a result of childhood upbringing;
- And any disagreement with their position, as a lack of education or critical thinking.
It’s a closed, self-defending system where any observation is interpreted through the same filter, and as a result, it is invulnerable to refutation, which means — outside science, outside true rationality, and closer to religious dogma than to science.
Yet inside, there is pain, which they hide behind schemes. Because to admit that a person has a soul, and the world has meaning, would be to admit: at some point, you yourself sold your soul.
Conclusion: Why This Matters and Why It’s Dangerous
We don’t want their yachts. We don’t want to play their game. We are those who reject the very logic where the soul is a cost, and meaning is a redundant function. And that makes us dangerous — because if we’re heard, their success will turn out to be an empty façade.
That’s why they fear us. That’s why they call us romantics, losers, fanatics. Because if it’s admitted that a person has the right to live for meaning, not for metrics or profit, the entire pyramid collapses.
The system will break. Form is a shadow, and meaning is eternal.
And then comes the only question they fear more than anything:
“So what are you really living for?”
