by Chris Zelglia

We live in a time in which collapse is signaled.

The planet burns, but the finger moves. With each motion, the algorithm offers a new form of distraction, a new way to anesthetize us.

The neoliberal individual, trained to compete and to stand out, has learned to process the apocalypse as content — as just another spectacle that demands an opinion instead of action.

The awareness of the end does not produce urgency, but digital boredom.

We know a lot, but we feel very little.

And between knowing and feeling, there is an emotional void where indifference grows.

Environmental collapse is not denied — it is consumed, like after like, until it becomes entertainment.

The neoliberal subject is the result of a culture that commodifies everything, even catastrophes. Anxiety, fear, and the feeling of powerlessness are manipulated as fuel for engagement. Pain becomes content; collapse becomes an aesthetic. The planet stops being a reality and becomes a backdrop for motivational campaigns.

In this landscape, information becomes anesthesia. The more we know, the less we mobilize. The flood of data and images about the ecological crisis creates sensory saturation: there is no room for feeling, only for scrolling. Knowledge becomes a form of escape — a collective act of “scrolling the feed” in the face of extinction.

The emotional economy of neoliberalism teaches that each individual is responsible only for themselves. Thus, even the environmental crisis is seen individually: “recycle more,” “buy less,” “be conscious.” The global problem is reduced to a moral dilemma. And political engagement dissolves into self-improvement, reinforcing the very structure that brought us here.

To break this cycle, we must relearn how to feel together.

We must disrupt the logic of performance and make room for affection, grief, and care.

The climate crisis will not be solved with green filters or hashtags, but through the reconstruction of the common, the sensitive, the political, and the collective.

Disconnecting from the feed, even for a moment, may be the first act of resistance.