In the middle of the 19th century, Friedrich Nietchze assassinated God. There were no direct witnesses, but it is what we can read in philosophy textbooks.

Incredulity was the first reaction of the masses. They first acted as if nothing had happened, continuing to visit the deceased, speaking as if he was still among us and paying him homage at every opportunity. As time passed, they eventually had to admit that he wasn’t answering, that an absence was felt. It was no small treachery from the one who promised immortality to disappear so discreetly, progressively erasing himself from consciousness, until there was nothing left. They accepted what was now evident: God was actually dead. Time to move onto something else. His homes were sold, his belongings distributed. We always want so badly for the dead to stay with us, but every time life goes on.
The irreducibility of passing time.

At this point, it is ok to make fun of old fogeys who still go to church or to laugh when someone remembers why bells ring at 12 or 6 o’clock. We draw a clear line in the course of history: intellectual obscurity ends in 1960. Before, it was the reign of the clergy. After, light, modernity, progress. We pat ourselves on the back for believing in nothing, for having emancipated ourselves from every form of spiritual control; we sit back, hands resting on a belly satiated with the self-satisfaction of having succeeded in life.

However, it is not without astonishment that we note that this difficult passage of humanity, or rather a part of it, towards a supposed moral and spiritual emancipation – in short, its path towards freedom – has been made without the expected benefits. Put differently, progress, in terms of freedom, is nil. Indeed, our contemporaries, if we watch them live for only a short moment, act in every way as if God was still among us. The idiocy of their lifestyle is confusing. They consume impulsively as if accumulation made Sense. They chain themselves to their work as if there was life after death and their sufferings were going to be bought back and even rewarded. They demonstrate a perfect selfishness, exploiting their fellow man with every last ounce of energy, mediated by commodities, as if they were the chosen ones. Vanity doesn’t disgust them: didn’t one man let himself be crucified to take the evil of the world on his shoulders? Thus, they stroll about this world as in a man-made paradise, without protest, innocently, even joyously. Life is beautiful.

Manifestly, the mourning is not over.

Our contemporary has displaced his need for meaning into commodities and the ritualized nature of the spectacle. Idiots who boast of believing in nothing are the most enthusiastic adepts of advertising’s gadgets. Their discourse is upsetting, their assurance is aggressive. We must immediately promote polyatheism and decimate all contemporary deities. We must push the need to believe into its last refuges, until it has no escape.

You must not believe.

You must not believe what you hear. You must not believe your coworkers. Nor the chap on the street. You must not believe Denise Bombardier. Stupid cow.

You must not believe in Canada, in Quebec, in nationalism, in the ideas of a nation that, in the best case is nothing but a consortium of fur-traders, and in the worst case, an association of psychopaths and cavernous, empty heads.

You must not believe the newspapers. Too awful. You must not believe the radio. Too demagogical. Even their music is demagogical. You must not believe the TV. Reality TV has excellent educational value, despite what is said about it. We now know that everything that passes through the shit-box is fictitious, even the news, even the hosts. You must not believe editorialists. You must not believe intellectuals, especially on TV: dangerous tautology! You must not believe Serge Bouchard, nor the other “thinkers” of his ilk. It’s not all to bite the hand that feeds; you still need teeth, and to not waste the strength of your hunger with the stupid habit of eating.

You must not believe in intellectual property. In fact, you must not believe in property. You must not believe in cars, highways, the culture industry. You must not believe in what the liberals say. Nous sommes prêts, they said. So are we. For anything.

You must not believe in buildings. The city isn’t as it is, but as it should be. No respect is due to contemporary ugliness, banks, McDonalds, or hotels. Gravel gas rag bottle: speak your mind!

You must not believe in tourism. You must not believe in job creation. Scarcity, minimum wage, seasonal labor, sorrow. You must not believe that the State’s debt is a problem for society. You must not believe in societal ills except this one: you are not free. No Stephane Bureau, no Inconvenient, no false problem can hide that fact.

You must not believe in your roles. You aren’t a consumer who deals rationally with a more or less abstract company. Everything is real. Spare the clerk at the gas station, respect him: hold-ups are reversible. Same goes for the girl at the restaurant, the cornerstore, the library. Beware. You must not believe them when they smile. It’s maybe a tactic.

You must not believe that school emancipates. It is at best, at earlier levels, an good daycare, at its worst, later on, an instrument of reproduction of elites. All in all, it is the efficient allocator of the division of labor, and a necessary mould for elements at risk of becoming independent, in every sense of the word.

From all sides, people “encourage” us (“it’s to encourage you…”), by asking in the same breath to renounce our nihilism. We would like to renounce our nihilism. But not before everyone goes through it.