Hypernormalisation and the Fractured State of Humanity

Is it me, or is this latest energy shift giving ‘end-of-the-frickin-world’ vibes? 😳

“We all knew the system was failing, but we didn’t know what to do. So we just carried on as if everything was normal. Everyone knew it was a lie, but no one could imagine an alternative.” – Alexei Yurchak

This is the essence of hypernormalisation, a concept coined by Yurchak to describe the late Soviet Union, but resonates sharply with the world we live in today. It is a condition where systems fail in plain sight, but the façade of normality is maintained through denial perpetuated by our daily demands and, in my case, the “keep calm and carry on” BS plaguing British soil. We are now living through a hypernormalised reality—a crumbling world dressed up as functioning, where chaos beneath the surface is ignored for the sake of stability.

We were born into a world of peaks and troughs—familiar with war, famine, economic crisis, and climate disaster. These are not new struggles. Yet there’s an undeniable sense that something has shifted—something darker, more insidious. The apocalyptic warnings of religious and cultish zealots, long dismissed as extremism, now feel less like fantasy and more like uncomfortable premonitions. Even for the sceptics, the growing feeling that we are collectively hurtling towards collapse cannot be ignored.

The Lingering Shadow of Lockdown

Coming out of lockdown, we emerged like scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, unsure of how to fit back together. What should have been a moment for collective rebuilding instead left many of us feeling more fragmented than ever. The long-term effects of isolation are undeniable—lost time, unhealed grief, and a gnawing uncertainty that we could be forced back into that reality again at any moment. We entered this “post-pandemic” world with more questions than answers, yet the systems meant to support us seem to laugh in our faces.

Evangelicals, Zealots, and the Misplaced Gloating

In this time of upheaval, there’s a noticeable and deeply unsettling smugness emanating from certain religious and cultish quarters. For decades, evangelical and fundamentalist groups have preached the “end times” as though it were an exclusive competition only they could win. They revel in the current chaos as though it proves their doctrines, treating the world’s decline as vindication rather than tragedy.

But this pride—the very arrogance they claim to warn against—is why so many couldn’t, and still can’t, take them seriously. They have, ironically, become the modern-day Pharisees they so often preach against. The pride that comes before the fall is the same arrogance that has turned their warnings into noise. Instead of stepping into the crisis with humility, grace, and action, many are flailing about, shouting “I told you so,” as if that absolves them of responsibility.

“By their fruit you will recognise them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?” – Matthew 7:16. Gotta admit, the man had bars!

Speaking as someone who grew up under the weight of Bible-thumping rhetoric, manipulation disguised as salvation, and an institution that thrived on silencing questions—especially from little melanated girls with loud East-End twangs and hella energy—I know this behaviour too well. I had to leave to find truth because what was preached did not align with what was practised.

Words screamed through a tANNOY (yes, I meant to spell it that way), while people minding their business wade through the high street on a Saturday, don’t feed the hungry or house the displace don’t. And to those who take this as a call to be louder, let me remind you: the quieter you are, the more productive you might actually be.

The Weight of Knowing

This isn’t just about recognising the cracks in the system—it’s about living with the weight of that knowledge. Knowing how much worse it can get. Knowing how little those in power seem to care. Knowing that, despite it all, we still have to carry on.

America on the Brink

It feels like the United States is teetering on the edge of something transformative, though it’s unclear whether it will be revolution or ruin. Crises of leadership, healthcare, infrastructure, and compassion have left the country in a fragile state. And when America sneezes, the rest of the world catches a cold.

The way people are questioning the fundamentals of healthcare, emergency services, and systemic racism points to an unraveling of the status quo. When weather disasters hit and the powerful show no compassion, when police brutality goes unchecked, and when basic human rights are debated like theoretical concepts, how can the country not be on the brink of something? Europe is watching, fearful of the ripple effects—shaking at the prospect of being held to account for centuries of colonial brutality. Oh welp 🤷‍♀️

Literature Didn’t Lie

For decades, authors have been sounding the alarm through their fiction, showing us glimpses of worlds that felt distant but now feel uncomfortably close. Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower didn’t just predict our struggles—it mapped them. Her prophetic timeline eerily mirrors ours, capturing the dread, decay, and faint hope of survival.

Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale was similarly prophetic. The world she envisioned—a society built on the subjugation of women, justified through warped religious and patriarchal ideals—feels eerily familiar today. Men with twitchy little fingers, hiding behind screens, advocate for the sexual violence and imprisonment of women who wouldn’t have given them a second glance. Worse still, their ideologies are upheld by women who seek to appease these men, securing their place as the “Olofs” of society.

One example that springs to mind is a woman who has built her platform by echoing conservative ideals, positioning herself as one of the “good ones” to justify the status quo. She frequently criticises women she deems to be “hoes,” but her energy is rarely directed at the systems and men who exploit these women.

Her eloquence masks a lack of authenticity, and her use of the “it’s okay to change your mind” argument as a get-out clause is telling. Yes, people are allowed to grow, but accountability is required when using a platform to misinform and judge harshly.

I’m reminded of when comedian Dave Chappelle criticised her for poorly timed comments that derailed the movement against police brutality. Her takeaway? “Dave Chappelle knows my name.” This performance-over-truth mentality is alarming and reflects how fame can overshadow substance.

Comedy is a Trojan Horse for Truth

Comedians like Dave Chappelle use humour as a Trojan horse for truth, smuggling in uncomfortable realities beneath the guise of laughter. Laughter breaks down barriers, allowing people to confront truths they might otherwise avoid. Comedy becomes a bridge between the absurdity of our times and the harsh truths we need to reckon with. Hence why George Carlin, Bill Burr, Hannah Gadsby, Josh Johnson and Nish Kumar (to name a few), have gone from being entertainers we recommend, to truth tellers we deem an essential part of our daily consumption (one of five a day and all that).

Music as a Soundtrack to Awareness

In addition, music remains one of the most effective tools for raising vibrations. Artists like Lowkey, Akala, Green Tea Peng, India Aire, KRS One, (I’m suddenly inspired to write a separate piece on this, and I will) use their lyrics and their platforms to educate and raise awareness, while award-winning ensembles like Ezra Collective demonstrate the power of community and creativity. The jazz renaissance happening in London over the past decade has provided a powerful, evolving soundtrack to resistance, joy, and hope.

So, What’s Next?

I was once asked to describe humanity in one word, and without hesitation, I said pendulous. We swing between progress and regression, with each swing becoming more extreme. Technology has intensified this—exposing truths while also exacerbating division.

And speaking of bot-power, I have my thought on the possible TikTok ban: Do I believe it’s happening to protect our youth or preserve humanity? Nope. I’m confident it’s an attempt by the powers that be to regain control of a narrative they feel is slipping from their grip. As we’ve collectively stopped buying into mainstream media fables and have started using our phones as our own journalistic tools, it’s scared them. It’s less about safeguarding the vulnerable and more about silencing the disruptors. It will be interesting to see how this unfolds and what the conversations and landscape will look like a few months from now if we’re forced to return to sources we thought were now obsolete.

In a world of Olofs, incels, and Orwellian politicians, there are also Camila Batmanghelidjhs, Corbyns, Atwoods, Zephaniahs, Marleys, and countless unnamed heroes—teachers who stay behind to give a quiet word of encouragement to the boy who ‘wasn’t quite himself that lesson’ , social workers who despite the lack of resources will go to lengths to make sure every kid on their books gets fed, nurses who really care about their patients and offer premium-quality bedside manners, even to the grumpy gits who, ‘don’t want a black or brown one changing their catheter’, church volunteers who take time out of their week to run a food bank (I may not be a fan of the politics of the institution but I am totally here for the sincere folk who evidence their faith through kindness and grace), and even miscellaneous aunties at bus stops who despite their exhaustion, find the strength to acknowledge you with a smile. These people, whether with us or with the ancestors, make the world a little less cruel.

It’s about choosing who we want to be and what legacy we want to leave behind.

So, my fellow looney-left-snowflakes (yes, someone called me that and didn’t stutter), this article is my 2 a.m. productivity, but it’s also my way of telling you—I see it too. You’re not dreaming.

Until the next one, stay the wokest of woke!

Big hugs,🤗

N xx