History is written not just by those in power but by those who dare to observe, question, and document events as they unfold. Writers, like Orwell, act as both record keepers and truth tellers — capturing moments that might otherwise be lost to manipulation and distortion. But what happens when the truth itself becomes a battleground? In an era where deception is refined into an art form, the role of the writer has never been more crucial.
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Writers, in Orwell’s view, are also historians. They record what happens—not just political events, but social realities, cultural shifts, and personal experiences. Even fiction, at its core, reflects and preserves aspects of the world in which it was written.
Orwell himself was deeply committed to this idea. In Homage to Catalonia, he documented his experience in the Spanish Civil War—not as a neutral observer, but as someone who felt an obligation to tell the truth.
Today, this role remains critical. Writers record history as it happens: through books, essays, journalism, and personal diaries. They provide context, preserve memory, and ensure that important voices are heard. In an age of subversive and misleading ideas, the writer’s role as a recorder of truth is more vital than ever.
When the events of 9/11 unfolded, it was something of a phenomenon. I had no idea that I would live through such an event, its repercussions, and then spend years writing about it in various forms, in an effort to “awaken the masses” to the fakery, fraud, deception, and lies surrounding this singular, staged, planned, and expertly executed script.
I was furious. Confused. Frustrated, again, for all the suffering being needlessly thrust upon humanity at large. In my mind, I was already sure of exactly who the central players involved were, but I didn’t at the time know just how muddled and obfuscated the narratives surrounding the alleged attack would be. In that light, it was rather impressive — the sheer scale of the most obvious lies, the aggressiveness and omnipresence of propaganda. It was far more complex than I had first assumed, but in the ensuing years, the results were the same, as predictable as any historical stage play. I’d just witnessed the false and fabricated justifications for “a just war” and “spreading freedom and democracy.”
I was not surprised by how structured and swift the blanket reactions were — how suddenly new, sweeping laws and widespread restrictions were put into place, and how yet another false flag event was unfolding in real time, implemented efficiently, systematically, and used to trigger all manner of retaliatory and murderous outcomes. One fake event, broadcast for days, weeks, and months to the whole world — causing very few, if any, fatalities “over here” — led to millions of deaths “over there,” for fabricated reasons, based on misleading information, disinformation, and, as usual, entirely for the benefit of banks, corporations, and the insatiable parasitic class.
As you can imagine, my perspective on these things differed from the majority, though not so much from many of my closest friends and a few family members. We all knew something was up — nothing in the mainstream narrative even remotely resembled the truth.
But what could we do about it? Whine and complain, name names, write angry and conspiratorial songs, blog posts, or books? These things happen, just as they did in Orwell’s time during the Spanish Civil War. Those of us alive in the moment have few outlets through which to cope with the massive overwhelm of seeing one story while knowing better. All we can do is continue as we always have, and for a short while, with more intensity, passion, and purpose. But, ultimately, it solves nothing. The grand script proceeds as it always does, regardless of any and all political discourse, posturing, or pandering. Perhaps that is the most frustrating aspect of this earthly life — at least, for those who are like me.
Years passed. Other smaller events played out, perpetuating the slow-drip physical, psychological, and emotional poisoning of the general population — ensuring they remained weakened, worried, afraid, anxious, accepting of restrictions, and swallowing the bitter pills of their eroding rights and freedoms. This reality was obscured and rebranded in the public forum, propagated through the mainstream media, painting the “Holy and Beautiful” Western world as reluctant saviors — heroes and warriors who must adamantly and aggressively police, culturally inculcate, and conform the whole world into their self-serving image of remarkable delusion and asinine grandeur.
Then it happened again.
In 2020, those of us in the know were once again shocked, awed, and shaken by the sheer magnitude of disruption, distortion, destruction, and widespread harm these parasitic, self-professed “elite” forces were capable of. A non-existent contagion was thrust into the spotlight, echoed on every screen and endlessly repeated in every media feed — all day, every day, everywhere, all at once. Once again, a fabricated emergency, in this case a pandemic, was unfolding. Numerous smaller events of the kind had come and gone since 9/11 — though the machinations of this method of malevolence stretch back centuries. But in 2020, it became clearer than ever that this was part of the long game.
To me, now in 2025, it is still astonishing how rapidly and effectively this script played out — how they shut down the world overnight, and how many hearts and minds were so effortlessly captured by the false and life-destroying narratives.
Across civilization, the waves washed over modernity. Technologies, infrastructures, and institutions meant to uplift, educate, protect, and empower were weaponized and repurposed — again — for crowd control, population control, mind control, fearmongering, and massive wealth transfers.
So, in my short lifetime, I can say: I was there. I couldn’t help anyone, influence anyone enough, or save anyone from harm — be it friends, family, or casual acquaintances. The emotions were intense and often overwhelming, made worse by the fact that those who dared to speak the truth were summarily shut down, erased, canceled, ostracized — or even murdered for their troubles. Their characters were assassinated in public, their careers destroyed.
Eventually, “freedom convoys” emerged — contrarians, truth-seekers, and so-called conspiratorial collaborators daring to protest against ongoing socioeconomic oppression and absurd, authoritarian restrictions and mandates. The result? Bank accounts frozen. Bureaucratic actors swiftly implemented yet more “emergency measures,” inflicting further harm upon their own citizenry while their bought-and-paid-for media spun blatant fiction and reality distortions — propagandized ad nauseam.
Perhaps, like Orwell, I absorbed as much information as I could from alternative and counter-narrative sources — to get to the bottom of things I didn’t yet understand. What was a virus? What was contagion? Did they exist? Who was flat-out lying? Could they be exposed for their crimes against humanity? Would there be any accountability?
Well, no. That’s not how this reality works. Sure, there will be a few scapegoats sacrificed, but the real perpetrators remain hidden in the shadows, already playing a dozen moves ahead on a vast, age-old playing surface — a grand arena of impressive illusions that most aren’t even aware exists. The “elected representatives” are well protected, expertly guided to operate within the rules of games their masters devised. They will avoid the fallout as a brutalized, exhausted, and misled society begins to piece things together — too late, as always.
Throughout much of this epochal episode of modern history, I wrote furiously, sharing articles, essays, videos, and interviews — truth bombs, as best as I could discern. A few of my accounts were hacked and disappeared. No surprise there. The algorithm was triggered, and things moved swiftly, just as they did for countless others trying to disseminate the real against the fabricated.
“Fact-checking” became an impressive — if not entirely misleading — institutionally orchestrated trend, favoring the grand narrative manipulators, much to the detriment of researchers and seekers of truth, verifiable facts, or real, documented history. This trend, too, would prove false and fabricated — merely another tool in the arsenal of mind control and societal coercion.
I was there. You were there. Most will never know the whole story — if it can ever truly be known.
Ultimately, this short life will likely leave us wanting — wishing we had more time, that we had been more courageous, confident, daring, and determined. Amid the madness of the mainstream, we are expected to carve out a life aligned with our soul’s purpose, and yet, how many will squander it in blind pursuits of restitution, retribution, or the illusive notions of fairness and justice?
How many of us will lose ourselves in the fruitless pursuit of saving ourselves — or worse, trying to save the world? How many, in desperation, will seek saviors, authorities, masters, and mentors in all the wrong places? How many will fall for the tricks of religion, cults, planned communities, or other entities that will, in some way or form, be corrupted, repurposed, or weaponized against us? How many will be consumed by hatred, anger, or irreconcilable fear — subsumed by ideas and narratives built on false premises, enforced by vaunted institutions, and proliferated ceaselessly by the media and entertainment industries?
Would it not be wiser to rise above the clamor and recognize the grand illusion for what it is? Yes, we have these powerful, loving, and potentially uplifting impulses. We are capable of drawing from within ourselves far more than we could ever expend energetically or creatively, and yet, we suffer. The more we learn, the more we come to know, the more we realize that — throughout the thousands of years of recorded history we are aware of — we are not the first to step up and start swinging. We are not the first to be disparaged, suppressed, historically revised, misrepresented, misunderstood, and maligned in the public sphere. All stories, whether heroic or diabolical, are fictitious in part — if not entirely fabricated. We are not the first to be disappointed by the complacency, ignorance, gullibility, and the combined intellectual poverty and material greed of our brethren.
It is hard not to argue that there are flaws in the design — whether in this endlessly contradictory, anti-humanistic realm we operate within, or in the fragile, manipulable, and short-lived human avatars we inhabit, embody, and experience earthbound life through.
Orwell’s four motives explain why writing is more than just a profession or hobby, but a fundamental act of shaping yourself and the world around you.
Some write to be remembered, some write for the love of language, some write to preserve history, and some write to influence others. Most write for a combination of all these reasons, and whatever yours is, it’s valuable.
The world will always need writers. So if you love the power of words, care about truth, and have something important to say, then there is only one answer:
Pick up the pen and write.
— Culture Critic
I can’t say for certain what the point of it all is. But I will continue to write, as that is simply in line with the spirit of my fundamental and transient existence — what it is driven, inspired, and motivated to pursue and produce. I will seek the true and the real as best I can and share what minor morsels of wisdom I accrue along the road. Perhaps it will serve some purpose beyond me and my time.
Regardless, I was there.
Solvitur ambulando