Nothing Makes Sense: Fragmenting Society

Think of society as a giant machine. When some parts start to fail—jobs disappear, institutions stop working, shared beliefs fall apart—the whole system begins to feel unstable. Sociologist Émile Durkheim called this: anomie—the unsettling feeling when the normal rules that guided our lives suddenly don't make sense anymore. When everyone goes rogue.

Along comes philosopher Albert Camus saying this is exactly when we should see how truly fucked up life really is. Maybe he wouldn't say it in those words. We could guess he would say that this unsettled state certainly highlights life's absurdity—amplifying those moments when nothing seems to connect, when nothing makes sense. We're left wondering what it all means.

Spoiler alert: We still don’t know. But the not knowing is getting more pronounced.

Are you feeling it? I sure am. I too have lost faith in just about everything. Our social institutions—religion, education, government, economy, even family—are no longer viable, distrusted by most, hated by many. Everything is splintering. Everything. You don't even have to be paying attention to see it, feel it, experience it.

Nation's, communities, individuals, we're just kind of floundering, not sure when the other shoe will drop.

All to say that, when you know the social mechanisms driving our accelerating societal collapse, you may feel a little better recognizing patterns and adjusting to incoming shit storms. At least it makes me feel better. Kinda.

As you may know, for my sanity’s sake, such as it is, I write fiction stuff too. For those who enjoy a short story rather than an explanation, here’s just a very short not-so-fictional snapshot of our shifting interpersonal and intrapersonal landscapes. Being caught in that moment where the Durkheim hits the Camus, so to speak:

The Waiting Room

Maria stared at her phone, the battery at 3%. Another notification—another mass layoff, another climate warning, another political scandal. The waiting room of the community health center was a perfect microcosm of everything falling apart: mismatched chairs, peeling linoleum, a broken water fountain leaking into a bucket someone had casually placed beneath it.

An old man across from her mumbled to himself, scrolling through conspiracy theories. A young woman bounced a baby on her knee, her eyes vacant. No one spoke. No one made eye contact.

She thought about her job—gone last month. Her apartment—rent was due, savings depleted. The news cycles blurred into a constant hum of catastrophe. Climate. Politics. Economy. Pandemic. War. The animals. Fuck. Each word just another stone in her pockets, pulling her deeper into a sea without bottom.

The fluorescent light flickered. The leak from the water fountain grew louder.

"Next," called a voice that didn't sound human.

Maria realized she had forgotten why she was here.

She stood, but didn't move.

The room kept going on... waiting.