Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative?

Imagine a world where the horizon itself seems to have disappeared, where the future no longer offers any promise of change or renewal. It’s easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism. This chilling observation captures the essence of what is called capitalist realism—a pervasive atmosphere where capitalism is not only the dominant economic system but also the only conceivable way of organizing society. Alternatives have become so unimaginable that even dystopian narratives no longer envision new possibilities beyond the existing order.

In this world, cultural artifacts—once vibrant symbols of resistance and innovation—are reduced to museum pieces, hanging silently on walls, devoid of their original power and context. Imagine a famous painting, once a howl of outrage against fascism, now merely a decorative relic in a refurbished power station. Culture becomes a frozen tableau, preserved but powerless, as if waiting for eyes that will never come.

The metaphor of sterility, drawn from a haunting narrative where no children have been born for a generation, speaks not only to biological barrenness but also to a profound cultural and political infertility. Without new generations to challenge, reinterpret, and innovate, the cycle of renewal breaks down. The future becomes a mere repetition of the past, a landscape of re-permutations without surprises.

This absence of futurity breeds a kind of nihilistic hedonism, a retreat into momentary pleasures that offer no real escape. The state, far from withering away as some neoliberal fantasies predicted, retracts to its core military and police functions, maintaining order in a world unraveling quietly. Public spaces are abandoned, garbage piles up, and animals roam derelict schools—symbols of a society in decay.

Yet, this is not a sudden apocalypse but a slow winking out, a fading of life’s possibilities. The cultural exhaustion is palpable, and the symbolic power of art, protest, and political imagination is drained. Capitalist realism is the system that consumes history and culture, transforming all into commodities, stripping them of their emancipatory potential.

As we reflect on this, it becomes clear that the challenge is not only economic but deeply cultural and psychological. How do we begin to imagine alternatives when even the act of imagining has been colonized? This question leads us to consider the experience of those living within this system, particularly the young, whose political disengagement and mental health struggles reveal the human cost of capitalist realism.

Let us now move from the broad cultural horizon to the intimate spaces of education and mental health, where the effects of capitalist realism take on a deeply personal and often painful form.