We have explored the philosophical purpose of a great story and examined how modern creators and audiences alike have betrayed this purpose through the substitution of ingredients for true, organic creation. Now we must turn to the ultimate, and most damning, consequence of this failure: the erosion of reason itself. I am not simply talking about bad writing; I am talking about a destructive impulse that, in its arrogance, mirrors some of the most dangerous movements in history.
The creators of shows like Alien: Earth are not just making bad art; they are mistaking what they think is clever with a desire to break things. They have seen the elements of great stories, the philosophical questions about what it means to be human, the deep-seated existential dread, the moral ambiguity, and believe that by simply putting them into a story, they have achieved the same effect. They are like people who, having seen a car, believe that if they simply gather all the parts together, the car will run. But they have no idea how the engine works. They did not build the system, and so they are entirely ignorant of its delicate and necessary functions.
“Over time, these bad stories have taught us to accept logical fallacies.”
This is a form of intellectual theft, made all the more cynical by the fact that they claim the mantle of those they have taken from, while denouncing them as antiquated. They take the themes, characters, and settings that were lovingly built by others and use them to serve their own shallow ideological gripes. They tell an audience: “Look, here are the themes of cosmic horror and artificial intelligence, just like in the classics. You remember them, don’t you? See how smart we are for using them?” Unfortunately, it still works on many people. Enough of the audience is so desperate for the next great story that they are willing to accept something that looks like it, even if it is a hollow, broken shell.
But the audience is not stupid. The problem is that the gradually diminishing quality of our stories, while somewhat successfully masquerading as smart, has denied them the ability to properly orient themselves. Over time, these bad stories have taught us to accept logical fallacies. When a narrative justifies the murder of a character simply because they belong to a certain archetype, it teaches the audience to accept a flawed premise without demanding a deeper explanation. When a story’s logic is sacrificed for the sake of a spectacle or an ideological message, it subtly erodes our ability to identify bad reasoning in our own lives. We become conditioned to accept falsehoods, that things happen for no reason, that characters act illogically, and that there is no consequence for a poorly constructed argument.
