Is Groupthink Causing Society to Split in Two?

Originally published on Medium.com.

My intention with this article is to explore the existential struggles of being a centrist creative in a world increasingly dominated by groupthink, examining the potential consequences of a society that divides itself into two distinct factions: those who prioritize truth and authentic connections versus those who are swept up in consumerism and superficiality

Is anyone else struggling to create these days? Not because of writer’s block, but because of something deeper, something more existential? It feels as if the act of creating, especially for a broader audience, has somehow lost its meaning. Every day, more of the world feels like it’s spiraling out of control, and each headline screams that we’re barreling toward world war. On top of that, all the revelations about Hollywood have proven the so-called “conspiracy theorists” right — it’s actually a cesspool of corruption. With more people pulled into these traps of “groupthink,” I’ve had to step away from my passion for indie film.

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For clarity’s sake, let’s define a few words:

Groupthink: a psychological phenomenon that occurs when a group of individuals prioritizes consensus and conformity over critical thinking and independent decision-making.

Commodify: to transform an object, service, idea, or even a cultural practice into a commodity that can be bought or sold.

Producer: someone/something that creates something that can be sold to or used by others, ideally fostering authentic connections and community rather than merely contributing to a cycle of consumption.

Consumer: someone that purchases goods or services for personal use, often seeking validation or identity through material possessions rather than through meaningful relationships.

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Over this past year, I have found myself creatively burnt out. I wouldn’t say I am experiencing writer’s block, but a profound feeling that, at this moment in time, the world doesn’t need me to produce fiction. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but hopefully, a few of you understand the feeling I am trying to describe. I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on the concept of groupthink, particularly influenced by what I witnessed unraveling within my old indie film community.

(For those of you who haven’t read my pieces before, the groupthink in indie film that I am refering to is how I frequently witness project funding going to projects that push certain world views, thus encouraging other filmmakers to only produce films that push those very same world views, therefore encouraging an endless production chain of nearly identical films. This results in very few people producing anything remotely artistic — just low budget regurgitation of similar previously exposed opinions.)

In an effort to ignite a different part of my brain, I have found myself reading a lot about various religions and spirituality. These explorations often lead me back to the idea of groupthink and how it influences our choices — whether we lean towards nurturing family connections or getting lost in the consumerist mindset that prioritizes profit over people. Is it human nature? It feels parasitic. Through my random spiritual readings, I have learned how every major religion has formed by absorbing and suppressing smaller ones, just as capitalism commodifies every new subculture that dares to emerge. I keep wondering if groupthink is an inevitable part of the human condition or something we are, for lack of a better term, being propagandized to experience.

As someone who has upset more than a few people with her painfully centrist worldviews, I want to play devil’s advocate and suggest that you could argue groupthink serves a purpose — humanity’s way of crowdsourcing the truth and being more efficient. However, when you look at the state of media today, it’s hard to buy that argument.

I personally don’t consume a lot of fiction. I tend to find myself drawn to what I will refer to as “meta-art” — works that are about the creative process itself: films about filmmaking (ex. The Disaster Artist), books about the craft of writing (ex. Stephen King’s novel, “On Writing), songs about songwriting (ex. Marianas Trench’s Pop Music 101). I’m a satirist at heart, and those things tend to speak to me. There’s something pure in watching the act of creation, something honest and real in seeing how creativity expresses itself differently for each person. Maybe that’s why I resonate so deeply with Taoism — this sense of “the way.” (This isn’t a report on spirituality, so I won’t explain Taoism, but think of “the way” as when you are working on something and experience a flow state.)

Creativity, to me, is that way — truth itself. Individual expression and authenticity give life meaning. Yet so much of what makes up our modern society — corporate narratives and ideological agendas — acts to keep us from experiencing our truth. (Yes, I also roll my eyes at the phrases “our truth” or “my truth,” but I couldn’t think of a better way to put it.)

I know I am not alone in this feeling, this search for understanding and this dislike of groupthink. Through the isolation of no longer being a part of my old community of artists, I find myself constantly returning to this idea of a societal split — one side moving toward family, authenticity, real food, and truth, while the other clings to products, mass media, and an illusion of freedom. It feels like two distinct paths are forming. What happens if these paths continue to diverge?

I propose we’re in the midst of a societal split: one side rooted in authenticity and genuine connection, versus another defined by consumerism and superficiality. This split will shape future generations, influencing their identities and how they engage with the world.

So, what’s causing this split? It could be a natural reaction to an increasingly corporate world, leaving many disillusioned by a manufactured culture disconnected from our need for meaning. On one side, we find a vision of society rooted in authenticity and creativity, inspiring future generations to seek meaning and to live sustainably with integrity. It probably involves more spirituality, or dare I say, religion. On the other, we have those with their heads in the sand, clinging to old ways, believing corporations would never sell harmful products, and thinking the 100th Marvel movie is better than anything an indie filmmaker could create. This culture risks pushing individuals to seek identity and self-worth externally, falling into groupthink for the sake of safety.

The implications of this split are profound. Let’s picture two very different childhoods: one child might be home-schooled on a farm (if that’s still allowed), while another grows up immersed in consumerism, where every thought and expression is subject to judgment by peers and algorithms. A life without privacy or the freedom to fail — permanently documented — will have dire consequences for creativity. I worry about a future filled with individuals sporting extremely short attention spans. Have you seen teenagers watching a split-screen video on their phones of someone giving a lecture while some weird abstract video plays underneath just to keep their focus on the screen? It’s horrifying. (As an aside, can you imagine what it will be like to be in a seniors home in fifty years? We’re going to have nurses wearing headsets that make dings and beeps to indicate digital badges or rewards for changing our catheters.)

This split doesn’t just shape lifestyles; it influences how future generations will perceive themselves and their relationships with others, determining whether they will seek genuine connections rooted in family values or chase after the hollow promises of consumerism.

One path celebrates human potential and diverse perspectives, while the other risks leading people toward a homogeneous culture that feels spiritually empty.

But it doesn’t have to be this way; our future is not set in stone. We have the power to choose empathy over apathy, to stop consuming mindlessly, and to reject Hollywood’s manipulative narratives. We can create simply for the joy of creation, sharing our stories with those we truly care about — rather than for an audience we may never meet. In a world where corporations thrive on our divisions and fears, we must unite and confront the shadows on the cave wall, refusing to let them dictate our reality.

There is a genuine risk involved. When individuals rebel against a system that profits from them, they often become outliers — the “weirdos” who are hard to control. While I hate to mention the dark times of 2020 to 2022, the pandemic was a firsthand look at how people who don’t conform are treated. In a society that relies on compliance and consumerism, non-conformity — especially of a thoughtful, principled kind — can be upsetting to those who want you to keep mindlessly consuming. It’s no surprise that people pursuing this path of authenticity could face various forms of resistance, whether subtle or overt.

To be honest, there’s no neat conclusion to this article. I wish I had comforting words. This is just my way of expressing a gnawing feeling that something is deeply wrong with the world. The deeper I dig, the more I believe that creativity might be the only way through this corporate purgatory we call modern society.

What do you think? Is society doomed to split into two distinct factions of consumers and producers, or will empathy prevail?

Balancing Privacy and Authenticity

Originally posted on HausofFog.com

“Recently, this insecurity recently lead me down a deep dark rabbit hole… To a free trial of Masterclass where I watched Anna Wintour’s Masterclass on Creativity and Leadership. ”

Being a private person, but also having an ego that demands that you share your thoughts with the world, is a very tricky spot to be in, especially when you want people to care about what you are writing. In our society, it's not just about putting your art out there; people want to connect with the person behind the art. As a filmmaker, it's not enough to just make films; you're expected to be a "personality," to be authentic and accessible (or at least perceived that way).

Many people claim to want authenticity. If that were true though, influencers wouldn’t use filters, people would genuinely mean it when they asked strangers how their day was going, and make-up sales would plummet (not because I don’t think make-up and beauty isn’t a form of self expression, but because many people use it as a shield instead of an enhancement, but I digress…). The masses don’t want authenticity. They want authenticity-lite; an aesthetically pleasing version of what they feel to be an aspirational life.

Despite my efforts to keep my private life private, people are quick to slap labels on me based on their assumptions. Whether it's my sexuality, dietary choices, or political beliefs, strangers seem eager to categorize me without knowing the first thing about me. (If I had a dollar every time someone assumed I was a vegetarian and/or a lesbian, I’d have, well, more money than I do now.)

Recently, this insecurity recently lead me down a deep dark rabbit hole… To a free trial of Masterclass where I watched Anna Wintour’s Masterclass on Creativity and Leadership. While I admire Anna Wintour’s career, I realized that I know nothing about her: she is either a genius when it comes to personal branding, or incredibly lucky.

Wintour is a projection. With her trademarked bob, sunglasses, and unmoving face, she has become a Hunter S. Thompson-esque caricature. She publicly reveals very little about herself (next to nothing, actually) but surrounds herself with talented and influential people. Anna herself, though, is a blank slate. You can project whatever you want onto her, and in your reality, you will be right because she’s not going to argue back with you. She won’t engage online, give lengthy interviews, or ever have her own podcast. She is whatever you think she is.

Her Masterclass didn’t share a single personal anecdote or reveal anything about her as a person. Instead, it boiled down to “be born with good taste, and surround yourself with talented people.” (I’m very glad I didn’t pay for the class.) I am not sure if it is the reason for her success, or perhaps has happened in spite of her success, but Anna Wintour’s true talent lies in her ability to remain an enigma, allowing others to interpret her however they want.

While Anna Wintour’s Masterclass didn’t teach anything it actually said it would, it did, however, help me understand that being a private individual who also wants to share her thoughts with the world isn’t impossible, but it is a challenge. If you ever see me adopting a personal uniform and becoming a caricature of myself, you’ll know why.

A Rallying Cry to Shake Off Artistic Entropy

Songs resonate differently when years have passed since your last listen. What’s inspiring me to write this is my sudden desire to listen to Death Cab for Cutie’s ‘Codes and Keys’ album, which I played on repeat when it was released in 2011 but haven’t revisited much since. 2011 was a great year for me — I was newly engaged to my husband and close to graduating from college. I was also making plans to move from Kelowna, British Columbia, to the province’s capital city, Victoria. It was a time of excitement but also uncertainty.

Perhaps I find myself drawn to this album once again because, after over a decade in Victoria and a decade of marriage, my husband and I have made another major change, relocating to the outskirts of Calgary, Alberta. For anyone familiar with these cities, you know that they couldn’t be more different, and that’s precisely what I’ve been craving. Some individuals have criticized me for this move, even making unwarranted assumptions about my political views (but my annoyances with west coast politics are a topic for another article). I don’t want to carry the baggage of BC to Alberta; I want the freshness, the thrill of the unknown, and the challenge of stepping out of my comfort zone.

So, it makes sense to be drawn to music that reminds me of a time when I last felt that exciting-yet-scary feeling of the unknown. However, I can’t help but feel slightly trapped by the nostalgia of it all. It feels inescapable. My art, my writing, even the aesthetics in my films, they all draw from the past. Everything I have ever shot embraces 80s new wave vibes, 90s fashion, or the cheesy humor of 2000s comedies. No matter how hard I try, I find myself drawing on inspiration from the past rather than what is around me. It’s not just me, though; our entire society feels trapped by the warm, weighted blanket of nostalgia. For example, fashion and music trends all seem to follow a five-year cycle of the 70s being trendy, followed by the 80s, the 90s, the early 2000s, and then back again. If you listen closely, most modern pop songs are heavily inspired by disco, and peasant tops are everywhere (and yet despite this, the organ hasn’t made a comeback ala pop music in the 60s).

Why is it such a struggle to create or listen to something genuinely new? I am happy and living what many would consider to be an enviable life, and yet I can’t imagine a future that is better than how we imagined the world would be pre-9/11. I don’t want to believe that society peaked thirty years ago — I want to believe that the world can be better, even if entertaining the idea of actively making the future brighter feels exhausting, like one more thing to add to our already full plates.

Even blind people can see that the Western world isn’t faring better now than it was in the ’90s or the early 2000s. It is clear that we’re in a state of entropy. But we must hold onto hope — we need to believe that things can improve, that society can re-energize, and that inspiration can once again come from the world around us, rather than solely relying on nostalgic media. I can’t speak for everyone (obviously), but too many people seem confined by the comforting embrace of nostalgia and are too apprehensive or exhausted to pursue something new. Sure, the world is grappling with… a lot. And I can think of at least three current conflicts that could lead to World War 3. However, it’s worth noting that the arts have often thrived during much more challenging times. The Renaissance, for example, happened after the Black Death, and movements like Dadaism and Surrealism emerged around the time of the first World War. World War 2 also led to a significant surge in consumerism, a factor I would argue contributed to the development of Pop Art (though comparing Pop Art to works from the Renaissance may seem audacious 😉). It feels like something happened in the 2010s that put a damper on the creative consciousness of the Western world, as if society collectively experienced a creative burnout around the same time.

Same, same.

Perhaps if we all openly discussed what we hope for (in life, and artistically), things could improve? What if we all embraced vulnerability and put our collective cards on the table and said exactly what we wanted to see change? Or we could all go balls to the wall and create the weirdest and most nonsensical things we can imagine! Could that kickstart a creative revolution? It’s worth a shot. Even if you’re not yet ready to create, reflecting on what draws us to our old favorites is a starting point. We don’t need to completely abandon the comforts of the warm blanket of nostalgia, but we do need to understand why we’re drawn to stay in that familiar bed. We should want joy and hope for the future, damn it! If Hollywood isn’t inspiring the masses, then it’s up to us as individual artists to take the initiative.

Sure, many things have changed socially since 2011, but that shouldn’t be a reason for our culture to lose its artistic soul. We ALL possess the capability to reshape the cultural storyline and to build a world that we are excited to participate in, if only we try. Entropy doesn’t need to be inevitable.

"Running Up That Hill" and into a Cold War?

Western pop culture died in the 2000s, and online streaming killed it. It was a slow mostly unacknowledged death, sort of like an unfortunate elderly person that had been sent to live out their days in a retirement home. Those of us who came of age in the 90s and 2000s are the last to have grown up with "can't miss TV" and top 100 songs that the majority of people could actually recognize. Once this generation dies, the idea of pop culture will too (unless everyone is forced to listen to the same music in the metaverse).

While it's possible that I just have trashy tastes, one could contend that Tiger King and WAP - and the not trashy Stranger Things - are a few of the only original pieces of media in the past three years that have elicited any sort of wide scale meme worthy acceptance, outside of Marvel movies. With the majority of music available instantaneously at our finger tips, the idea of a song gaining mainstream popularity feels like an antiquated idea, which is why I suppose it makes sense that one of the biggest songs right now is actually thirty-seven years old.

First released in 1985, Kate Bush's Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)'s glassy vocals and confident yet restrained background rhythm feels perfectly reflective of 2022. Although it was featured in Netflix's Stranger Things, the show alone can't be credited for the explosion of this song. Stranger Things has also included classics by Metallica and KISS, but those bands haven't made a resurgence the way that Kate Bush has. This isn't a matter of a song being released before it's time either - I would argue that it is because of the similarities between 1985 and 2022. 1985 is now assumed to be when the Cold War entered its final stages final stages; it was a time of global uncertainty and unease.

Strauss–Howe generational theory is about the idea that there are recurring generational cycles in American and Western history. The theory is that humanity will never really learn from our mistakes and major social events will always repeat because of the way that each generation influences each other. While some say we are entering a new Cold War, to anyone that has been following politics and global trends, it feels more like we are approaching the end of something. It is as if all of the countries have put their cards on the table and we are waiting to see who wins.

With policymakers openly discussing threats of nuclear extinction, possible political upheaval in a certain behemoth country, and well, the way that every idiotic tweet that gets discussed in the walking-dead mainstream media, it is difficult to not be pessimistic. To me, that is why the beautiful yet fragile sound of Kate Bush's vocals sounds so of the moment. The world is on a prepuce of something major, just as it was in the late eighties, and yet we will all keep isolating ourselves in our bubbles of niche media, telling ourselves that every problem we face is because of the older or younger generation; we'll keep "running up that hill" all the while the world cycles through yet another upheaval. I just hope that one day in the future we are all happily humming along to a genuinely new song and not chanting along to Baby One More Time in caves.

Profitting Off Anna

When the production of INVENTING ANNA was announced, I was excited — finally, someone was going to compile all of the aspects of the Anna Delvey saga into one story. Anna Delvey, to those of you who live under a rock (or perhaps have more highbrow interests than me) is the pseudonym of Anna Sorokin, aka, The Soho Grifter: a young Russian-German woman who came from nothing yet managed to fake her way into Manhattan’s elite social circles and who came this close to securing a multi-million-dollar loan to open her dream arts centre. Some painted her as a Robin Hood for the underpaid and overworked side-hustle crowd, while others have interpreted her actions as nothing more than the desperate lies of a fame hungry millennial trying to take what they can from others more deserving (I’m sure many NYC socialites are decent people who spent lots of time taking care of their grandparents to earn their trust funds…).

From bestselling novels written by those in Anna’s circle, to the investigative journalism done by Jessica Pressler of New York Magazine, and even including first hard admissions and articles written by Anna Delvey herself, the Shonda Rhimes’ produced Netflix show had a wealth of interesting source material to draw from. And yet, the show falls flat. Rather than basing itself entirely in reality, the show is full of fake story lines and many needless additions about various social issues like sexism, ham fisted plots, and life details of characters like reporter Vivian Kent (a fictionalized version of the talented journalist Jessica Pressler), a formerly shamed writer who is determined to salvage her career before her baby is due (Vivian even crafts an ‘Anna crime web’ on her nursery wall — so quirky!).

For a show about Anna Delvey, the show actually focuses very little on, well, Anna Delvey. Rather than portraying her as an intelligent person with her own agency, the show portrays her in a passive light — as a muse for everyone else to project on to — instead of offering the audience a glimpse into her motives or letting us into her own thought process. This is similar to the way that Marilyn Monroe is depicted in every Hollywood film and book about her life. Inventing Anna is yet another example of how the mainstream media really doesn’t know how to handle complicated women.

Had the writers stuck to the true story, or as true of a story as can be presented when interviewing a con artist, they could have explored topics of wealth inequity, classism, and hell, even agism and sexism (all of the isms!) in a much more authentic light.

Full disclosure: I do not regularly review things. In fact, I hold some pretty unfavourable views about people that review others art for a living. I recognize the hypocrisy of me writing this piece. The reason that I am writing this though, is because like so many others, I find myself fascinated by the actual Anna Delvey saga. By what it says about western societies class divisions, how we value money above all else (but only if obtained the ‘right’ way — i.e., “old money” vs. “new money”), and honestly, her hustle. As an independent artist myself who did not come from money and who has zero powerful connections, there’s a part of Anna that I can’t help but respect.

By sheer moxie, this foreigner with absolutely no previous professional connections managed to find herself in the middle of one of the world’s most exclusive social circles, traveled the world, and managed to create experiences for herself that most of us could only dream of. No, I am not saying that lies should be commended and that society should reward scammers, but let’s take a step back and look at the actual fallout of Anna’s actions. With one exception, the people that experienced any sort of financial loss due to Anna’s actions were all insured businesses or incredibly rich individuals who had their funds either covered by insurance or banking loop holes (the grand total of her crimes was $275,000 USD, which has now been repaid). Unless I am missing something, the one working class individual who lost any money because of Anna was Rachel DeLoache Williams, a formerly struggling writer who now has a best-selling book and established career because of her time with Anna. Jessica Pressler’s article “Maybe She Had So Much Money She Just Lost Track of It” also lead to her selling the story to Shonda Rhimes. On a macro-level, it actually seems like everything actually worked out pretty well for everyone in Anna’s life, but Anna. Just as the upper classes always find ways to capitalise off of subcultures by commodifying literally everything that the “poors” deem cool or trendy first, a multitude of previously connected and established individuals have found themselves even richer because of the actions of Anna Delvey, while she sits in prison.

I would argue that the reason Anna was convicted for larceny wasn’t because of the actual monetary amount (there are a multitude of unprosecuted financial crimes by bigger fish than Anna that I could list here), but because she dared fool those at the top of the social and financial food chain. Her actions laid bare that all someone needed to do was to dress and sound the part in order to find a way into the Manhattan socialite’s cozy and exclusive world. That there really isn’t anything that different about those at the top and those at the bottom, except for imaginary social rules that were laid out by some old rich guys in a time long past. Anna’s real crime was that she showed that the ‘elites’ aren’t that special after all. 

It is disappointing that Inventing Anna didn’t stick to reality, but I know if Anna ever publishes her own memoir, it will be one hell of a read.