Bemoan not the lamentations of the latte-liberal. If ever they did leave the study hall of warped mirrors they mistake for philosophy and dare to walk outside and see politics as it is they would be better off. Here they would find the symbols they spend so much time rearranging poor facsimile of sinew and servitude that built the safe harbors from while they judge the appearance of the world, and soon they too would discover that it is not language that is arbitrary, but their politics.
Liberal political discourse has shrunk; turning inwards as starved factions cleave one another apart in a desperate attempt to excise moral blight, hoping internal redress will trigger revelation, revival, and renewal. In and amongst this cannibalism there can be found a discomforting exhibition in which white allies invoke the name and cause of the oppressed and marginalised to outflank one another in a competition for virtue and acclaim. As ventriloquists, they often employ a similar method of attach to all parties which is little more than a desire to silence others which disengaging with others, to see if there might be merit to the essential things a person might say. The lazy rituals of performative positionality corrode discourse by projecting cynicism without proof. This preference for the particular is not a frivolous matter, but one we should take seriously and fairly critique.