Chris Abraham

The modern information trick isn’t staging events outright. It’s staging discovery.

We’re encouraged to believe that if something reached our ears, we merely overheard it. That it floated organically into our awareness. But in an age of algorithms, editorial triage, coordinated messaging, and emotional incentives, if something reached you, someone ensured it did.

Wag the Dog was the movie that permanently altered my innocence. Once you internalize that spectacle can be engineered and narratives timed, you stop consuming headlines passively. You start scanning for the lighting rig.

Consider the asymmetry. People are hacked to death with machetes in parts of Africa every day and it barely dents American consciousness. Then another story becomes wall-to-wall coverage, complete with moral pageantry and global amplification. The suffering is real. But the selection, framing, and repetition are not neutral.

Think of the testimony about incubator babies during the first Gulf War. Think of the Epstein files, where the act of “panning for gold” becomes part of the persuasion. We’re given peanuts in the shell because cracking them ourselves makes the snack feel earned. ChatGPT once told me that crows prefer peanuts in the shell because the effort is half the joy. The hunt validates the reward.

News now works the same way. We’re told we wandered onto a beach and discovered beautiful shells. But maybe the hotel scattered them at sunrise so guests could feel lucky. The event may be real. The beach is real. But the arrangement of attention is curated.

My skepticism isn’t that suffering doesn’t exist. It’s that amplification isn’t accidental. If it reached me, it wasn’t random drift. It passed through gates, incentives, and hands.

The real trick isn’t fabrication. It’s convincing us that discovery was spontaneous.

There’s a national mood that doesn’t get much airtime because it isn’t loud. It isn’t ideological. It isn’t dramatic. It’s fatigue.

Over the past several years, nearly every public issue has been framed as urgent and existential.

Climate policy. Race. Immigration. Voting laws. Gender debates. DEI. Speech norms. Each arrives as a moral test. Silence is interpreted as complicity. Disagreement is treated as hostility. Even nuance can be read as weakness.

A large share of Americans are not activists or culture-war combatants. They are not organizing, marching, or building online followings around these issues. But they are constantly exposed to them. Research groups have described an “exhausted majority”—a substantial portion of the country that is not ideologically extreme and is worn down by the tone of public discourse.

These people do not agree with one another about policy. Some lean left. Some lean right. Some are genuinely moderate. What they share is not a platform, but a preference: lower the temperature.

Many of them do have opinions. They are not blank or disengaged. But they’ve learned that expressing those opinions can trigger social, professional, or relational consequences. So they calculate the cost and often decide it isn’t worth it.

“I don’t care” becomes shorthand.

Not because nothing matters.

Because everything is framed as if it matters equally and urgently.

When daily life—work, bills, family, health—already demands attention, constant cultural escalation feels unsustainable. Withdrawal becomes a coping mechanism. Not surrender. Not extremism. Just conservation of energy.

Fatigue isn’t a policy position. It’s a mood. And when enough people share that mood, it shapes behavior. They disengage. They tune out. They stop arguing. They stop performing outrage on command.

Sometimes “I don’t care” simply means: I’m done being drafted into every fight.

1 Jesus said to his disciples: “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father.

2 When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward.

3 But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, 4 so that your almsgiving may be secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.

5 When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward.

6 But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.

16 When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites. They neglect their appearance, so that they may appear to others to be fasting. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward.

17 But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face,

18 so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you.”

O Jesus, meek and humble of heart,

Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being loved,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being honored,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being praised,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being preferred to others,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being consulted,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being approved,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of being despised,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of suffering rebukes,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of being calumniated,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of being forgotten,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of being wronged,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of being suspected,

Deliver me, O Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be chosen and I set aside,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be praised and I go unnoticed,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be preferred to me in everything,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

Charity

Charity is patient, is kind; charity does not envy, is not pretentious, is not puffed up, is not ambitious, is not self-seeking, is not provoked; thinks no evil, does not rejoice over wickedness, but rejoices with the truth, bears with all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor. 13:4-7).

To have Charity is to love God above all things for Himself and be ready to renounce all created things rather than offend Him by serious sin. ( Matt. 22:36-40)

O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, Hear me. From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, O Jesus. From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, O Jesus. That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. That others may be praised and I go unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. Charity Charity is patient, is kind; charity does not envy, is not pretentious, is not puffed up, is not ambitious, is not self-seeking, is not provoked; thinks no evil, does not rejoice over wickedness, but rejoices with the truth, bears with all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor. 13:4-7). To have Charity is to love God above all things for Himself and be ready to renounce all created things rather than offend Him by serious sin. ( Matt. 22:36-40)