For a Westerner, opposing the Empire is the only path to dignity

There's something deliciously uncomfortable about Johnstone's thesis—it pokes directly at the soft underbelly of Western self-perception. We're raised on a diet of "be yourself" and "follow your passion," all while our tax dollars fund drone strikes and our media frames the world through a very particular lens. The cognitive dissonance is staggering, yet we've built entire industries around not noticing it. What makes this piece weird and wild is its radical simplicity: dignity isn't found in self-expression, but in resistance. That's a deeply unfashionable claim in an era of personal branding and curated identities. Johnstone's argument suggests that our obsession with individuality is itself a form of imperial control—keep people focused on their Spotify playlists and they won't ask too many questions about what's happening in Gaza, or Yemen, or wherever the empire's shadow falls next. The piece also carries a strange kind of hope beneath its cynicism. If dignity is available through opposition, then anyone can access it, regardless of their personal circumstances. You don't need to be extraordinary—you just need to refuse. That's a democratization of meaning that cuts against the grain of our meritocratic myths. It's unsettling, but perhaps that's exactly what makes it worth sitting with.