Conservatism serves two functions. Being mean to people, and avoiding complicated things by reducing them to simpler, incorrect things. The mean is the surface. The simplification is the blade. But they’re not two separate functions. They’re one weapon with two edges. The simplification enables the meanness. The meanness reinforces the simplification. Reduce a complex human being to a simple category and cruelty becomes easy. “Lazy.” “Criminal.” “Illegals.” “Welfare queens.” The label strips the humanity. The stripped humanity justifies the cruelty. The cruelty requires more labels. The cycle is the system.
The world is complicated. Poverty is systemic. Climate change is global. Racism is structural. These things require sacrifice. Require admitting you were wrong. Require changing how you live. Conservatism simplifies everything into “personal responsibility” so you never have to look at the machine.
“Just work harder.” But minimum wage hasn’t moved since 2009. Rent doubled. Healthcare costs more than rent. The system is rigged. So they say you’re lazy. The label saves the employer a raise. The label saves the politician a policy. The label saves the system from having to explain why you can work forty hours a week and still not afford to live.
“Choose a better plan.” But insurance companies deny claims to stay profitable. Drug prices are set by monopolies. Hospitals are businesses. So they say you didn’t take responsibility. The label saves the insurance executive a regulation. The label saves the pharma CEO a prison sentence. The label saves the system from having to explain why your health is a commodity.
“The weather cycles.” But fossil fuel companies knew for fifty years and lied. They spent billions on disinformation. They bought politicians. They destroyed the planet for profit. So they say it’s natural. The label saves the oil company a regulation. The label saves the shareholder a conscience. The label saves the system from having to explain why the planet is on fire.
“Just be colorblind.” But redlining still exists. Schools are funded by property taxes. Policing is targeted. The wealth gap is still racialized. So they say racism is over. The label saves the homeowner a mirror. The label saves the school board a budget. The label saves the system from having to explain why the zip code you’re born in determines the life you get to live.
And then there are the phrases. The specific language of dismissal. The words they use to make suffering small enough to ignore.
Nineteen children dead in Uvalde. “Thoughts and prayers.” “Mental health.” “The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun…” Nineteen children reduced to a slogan while the bodies were still warm. The simplification lets them keep the gun. The gun lets them keep the power. The power lets them keep the simplification.
Over a million Americans dead from COVID. “Just the flu.” “My body, my choice” about masks, not about your uterus. “We all have to die sometime.” A million people reduced to a talking point while the morgues overflowed. The simplification lets them keep the profit. The profit lets them keep the policy. The policy lets them keep the simplification.
George Floyd murdered for nine minutes and twenty-nine seconds. “He should have complied.” “He had drugs in his system.” “Blue lives matter.” A man suffocated under a knee reduced to a justification while his daughter grew up without a father. The simplification lets them keep the badge. The badge lets them keep the control. The control lets them keep the simplification.
“What was she wearing?” “Was she drinking?” “Why was she out that late?” A woman’s body violated reduced to a checklist of things she should have done differently while the rapist walked free. The simplification lets them keep the patriarchy. The patriarchy lets them keep the power. The power lets them keep the simplification.
“Personal weakness.” “They chose to use.” The Sacklers made billions. A hundred thousand overdose deaths a year. Reduced to a moral failing while the dealers in suits counted the money. The simplification lets them keep the profit. The profit lets them keep the addiction. The addiction lets them keep the simplification.
“Natural complications.” “These things happen.” Serena Williams nearly died because the doctor didn’t believe her. Black women die in childbirth at three times the rate of white women. Reduced to a statistic while the mothers went into the ground. The simplification lets them keep the bias. The bias lets them keep the death. The death lets them keep the simplification.
“They chose to be there.” “They should just get a job.” The veteran freezing on the sidewalk. The teenager kicked out for being queer. Reduced to a personal failing while the rent kept going up. The simplification lets them keep the property. The property lets them keep the exclusion. The exclusion lets them keep the simplification.
Who benefits? The rich. The corporations. The politicians. If people believe poverty is personal failure, they won’t demand living wages. If they believe climate change is natural, they won’t demand fossil fuel regulation. If they believe addiction is moral weakness, they won’t go after the Sacklers. The simplification isn’t just psychology. It’s economics. It protects profit. The label “lazy” saves the employer a raise. The label “natural” saves the oil company a regulation. The label “weak” saves the pharma executive a prison sentence. The simplification is the shield that protects the people who profit from the complexity.
This isn’t new. Every generation reduces the complex to the simple to justify the unjust. Slavery was “the natural order.” Segregation was “separate but equal.” Women’s suffrage was “against nature.” Interracial marriage was “against God’s plan.” The phrases change. The function doesn’t. The simplification is the oldest trick in the book. Call it tradition. Call it common sense. Call it the way things are. It’s none of those things. It’s the same weapon with a different handle.
While they simplify, people die. The simplification isn’t just wrong. It’s violent. It’s a way to justify suffering. It’s a way to sleep at night while the world burns. It’s a way to keep your money and your comfort and your power without having to admit that you got all three by standing on someone else’s neck.
The world is complicated. They want it simple. They want it to be about individuals. They want it to be about choice. They want it to be about tradition. They don’t want it to be about power. They don’t want it to be about profit. They don’t want it to be about the system.
Complexity is the truth. Simplicity is the lie. The truth is harder. The truth is scarier. The truth requires you to look at the machine and admit you’re part of it. The truth requires you to change.
The lie just requires you to repeat the slogan.
“Thoughts and prayers.” “Just the flu.” “He should have complied.” “What was she wearing?” “Personal weakness.” “These things happen.” “They chose to be there.”
The slogans are the simplification. The simplification is the weapon. The weapon is pointed at you.
And every time you repeat one, you’re not just using their words. You’re loading their gun. You’re sharpening their blade. You’re building their wall, brick by brick, with the bodies they told you to ignore.
The machine doesn’t need you to understand it. It just needs you to stop asking questions.
And you have stopped.
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