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From New Yorker

From Vox

Juarez, the popular TikToker, joined the platform during a particularly difficult period in early 2019. She was forced to drop out of college, then began suffering from depression. After that, her husband was in a bad car accident. “I needed somebody to vent to,” she says. Though she was raised in a religious household, her beliefs differ from her parents in that she feels less connected to the ideas taught by the church, and more to Jesus himself. “I’ve noticed a lot of the younger generation looking for God in a different way,” she says, “They move away from their religious background and have an actual relationship with God.”

Juarez’s TikTok comment section is proof in itself. “People have been like, ‘Yo, I can relate to this more than what I’ve been taught.’” Her approach to spirituality echoes many beliefs common in certain sects of Christianity — that occult practices shouldn’t be messed with, for instance (she doesn’t engage in manifestation because, she says, humans don’t always know what’s good for us: “I’ve dated a bunch of guys that now I know I shouldn’t have, but at the time thought they were the man of my dreams.”)

Abbie Richards is a 25-year-old disinformation researcher who creates TikToks about how conspiracy theories spread online and who regularly works with scholars to debunk and contextualize harmful myths. She’s watched how chaotic current events — the Astroworld tragedy, Covid-19, the confusing, broken job market — have driven louder conversations around spirituality from TikTokers, no matter where they fall on the ideological or political spectrum. “There’s a collective sense that the world is ending, whether it’s climate change, whether it’s the rapture, the return of Jesus, wealth inequality, Satanic worship, or whether people’s ‘vibrations are too low,’” she says. “It’s the only nonpartisan issue.”

When enormous swaths of people feel as though they have no power against evildoing, she argues, they tend to opt into narratives that provide a simple answer as to why the world is so terrifying. “With the case of Astroworld, the [organizers] didn’t do their due diligence, and they prioritized profit over the health and safety of humans. And that is a lonelier, grimmer thought to sit with than Travis Scott being a demonic villain.” It also lets us off the hook: “I totally empathize with why you would want to believe that you can fix capitalism by just wishing for money,” she says. “That’s so much easier than trying to implement taxes for the rich.”

@tofology

#astroworld

♬ original sound - Abbie Richards ⛳️

The internet offers endless answers to these kinds of questions, in part due to the way it functions. TikTok, for instance, facilitates a pipeline for viewers that begins the moment they log on, surfacing more and more content related to something they enjoyed in the past. Because of how short TikTok videos are — time is limited to three minutes but they’re often much shorter — viewers can consume 100 videos in the same time span as they could watch a single YouTube video. And naturally, the speed at which an idea travels correlates to its simplification: An exciting or provocative idea can draw someone in but not necessarily keep them around long enough to help them fully understand it.

In June, a TikToker named William Knight posted a video of himself staring intensely into the camera. “There is no such thing as a coincidence,” he says. “The fact that you’re watching this video means that you are energetically aligned with me and this message.” The bizarre video, which claimed that simply by stumbling upon the video means that you unconsciously manifested the desire to see it, quickly became the butt of a joke, but Richards says she sees this kind of content go viral all the time. “They’re using the algorithm as evidence that the universe is ‘working,’ but it’s like, no, that’s ByteDance [TikTok’s parent company]. [These creators] game the algorithm and call it destiny.”

That human beings tend to organize our uncertainties within spiritual frameworks is not an inherently bad thing; it’s just that spirituality, when stewarded by humans, is subject to human impulses. “Religions need scapegoats in order to make distinctions between what’s good and bad,” Russo says. “This utopian idea of a new techno internet religion free of hatred won’t work without someone eventually saying, ‘I’m actually in charge of this.’ These kinds of conflicts emerge just by being with people and having to get along in life. We find ways of resolving, and sometimes they’re violent. But in this virtual world where maybe this church is forming, it’s not so easy to know how or when or why things are happening. There’s an irony because people are trying to establish order — this is what you can say, this is what you can’t say — but there are so many sub-factions and so many voices in the void.”

It’s easy to point to QAnon, which some have argued is itself its own religion, as the worst-case scenario of internet spirituality. QAnon appeared to be led by a mysterious, prophetic figure, dropping vague omens and references to a coming battle of good and evil before over time becoming increasingly likely that Q, the supposed top-ranking official under President Trump, was actually just the guy running the message board. Despite the fact that none of Q’s predictions have come true, it barely matters: The roots of QAnon have already been seeded in American culture and politics; many believers now use the same fear-stoking online rumor campaigns to cast antiracism as liberal propaganda or abortion as murder and will certainly evolve to espouse the next reactionary ideology in the culture war.

But just as in mainstream religions, it’s impossible to judge a system of belief based on its most extremist or violent adherents. Believing wholeheartedly in illogical or unexplainable things is part of being a person, and not necessarily a bad one. Although it’s perfectly reasonable to view the current state of the world and remark that things do not seem to be going in a very positive direction, that total destruction is imminent whether it comes in five years or 500, many of us still cling to the arguably illogical hope that “good,” whatever your idea of it, will prevail. Prominent thinkers like Rebecca Solnit and Fareed Zakaria have advocated for optimism about the climate and American democracy, respectively, often noting that pessimism breeds apathy. “That we cannot see all the way to the transformed society we need does not mean it is impossible,” writes Solnit. “But only if we go actively towards the possibilities rather than passively into the collapse.”

One of the more unfortunate tragedies of humanity is that we don’t know everything, and we never will, and therefore are destined to be guided by imperfect and varied systems of belief. “I don’t know that we’ve escaped the religious or sacred model of how to make sense of the world,” says Russo. “The irony is that you have it being espoused by people who are anti-religious.” Though their definitions will change, we will always hold onto warring ideas of good and evil, and those ideas will always have a distinctly spiritual bent regardless of where people fall on the spectrum of religiosity because they deal with questions of why we’re all here and what life is, well, for.

“I believe there’s good and evil,” Juarez tells me when I ask whether, in her video about the satanic symbolism of Astroworld, she was speaking literally or figuratively. “If someone is hurting and as a human being you don’t take action, that means you lack empathy and that doesn’t come from a good place. That, to me, is demonic.”

“That makes sense,” I tell her, and on a level I don’t quite understand but nonetheless feel, it does.

And now the mashups are happening, one way or another.

BuzzFeed, for instance, had already acquired HuffPost, the digital publisher Peretti had co-founded before launching his own company; he and Group Nine CEO Ben Lerer had previously talked about combining their two companies. Two years ago, Vox Media bought New York Magazine, and has been periodically picking up small media companies — last month, for instance, it picked up podcast studio Criminal Productions. Vice Media CEO Nancy Dubuc, who bought Refinery 29 in 2019, has also made it clear that she thinks her industry should consolidate. And Dotdash, the digital publishing arm owned by Barry Diller’s IAC, just swallowed magazine publisher Meredith and its library of titles, including much of what used to be called Time Inc.

Wishing doesn’t make it so: The Athletic, the subscription-supported website focused on sports, has been looking for buyers for some time, but can’t find one that will pay the price it wants. Axios, the newsletter publisher created by veterans from Politico, was in talks with German publisher Axel Springer before that deal fell through.

And Group Nine itself wanted to acquire other companies. At the beginning of this year, it had created a blank-check SPAC company — the same mechanism BuzzFeed used to go public and buy Complex. Monday’s news seems to be an admission that Group Nine couldn’t find a company it wanted to buy, or that wanted to be acquired. (Now Group Nine’s ownership stake in that SPAC will transfer over to Vox Media, which could then do … something with it.)

The throughline for all these deals — real and proposed — is scale: Get big enough, the rationale goes, and it makes it easier to sell ads, or subscriptions, or both. And at this point in the pitch you’re supposed to mention the looming digital media duopoly of Google and Facebook, and argue that consolidation is an antidote to that. But to be clear: It’s not as though all of these companies combined would be actual competitors to either Google or Facebook; it’s just that having bigger audiences makes it easier to attract more ad dollars, period — or for subscription-based companies, bigger companies have more stuff to sell.

So if consolidation helps those publishers survive, then … good? Yes, consolidating publishers means that some titles and brands you like are likely to get merged out of existence. But hopefully more will survive this way than they would on their own.

As far as the announcement details go: This is an all-stock deal, meaning investors in Group Nine — which include Discovery, the cable programmer that’s trying to acquire Warner Media — will end up with a 25 percent stake in Vox Media. Vox Media, meanwhile, has already taken investment money from Comcast. So two of the biggest media companies in the world could end up with stakes in the same digital media operation — though I’m not sure either one of them cares much about that.

And while Vox Media CEO Jim Bankoff told us in a company email Monday that he has “no immediate plans to go public,” this is very much the kind of deal you make as a precursor to going public: The Wall Street Journal reports that Vox Media, if this acquisition goes through, will do $700 million in revenue next year, with $100 million in profit; BuzzFeed is projecting similar numbers for itself.

Beyond sheer bulk, the eventual pitch to investors would be the one the company wants to start making to advertisers as soon as possible: We’ve got stuff for everybody. I surveyed some of Vox’s competitors on Monday and heard more than a bit of shit-talking about the assets the company is about to acquire: “You’re buying a pet site,” sniffed one executive. But if people want to buy ads on that pet site, and that pet site’s revenues help keep me employed, I’m not going to complain.

Roman tells Kendall and Shiv about the aftermath of the water pistol incident.

So what’s the path out of this labyrinth? How do you escape a cycle of abuse so large that it seems to have swallowed society? “All the Bells Say” has an answer to that question. It just might not be where you’re looking for it.

The scene that best explains “All the Bells Say”

The core of “All the Bells Say” is a long, long scene featuring just Kendall, Roman, and Shiv. It lasts nearly nine minutes — an eternity in television, where scenes usually try to stay concise, and even an eternity on Succession, which tends to have longer scenes than most. Kendall’s near-death in the pool from the end of the previous episode has been handled mostly poorly by his siblings, who stage reluctant interventions and offer mockery. But to stop the deal their father seems to be striking with tech company Gojo, Roman and Shiv need Kendall on their side. So they approach him at their mother’s wedding to ask him for his help.

The three retreat to an area just beyond the wedding festivities, where the ground is caked in clay. Wind whips dirt into the air, and Shiv and Roman just want to talk business. When they suggest Kendall might have his own angle, though, that he might have gone around everyone to form some sort of outside deal with Gojo, Kendall just laughs. He is a man who nearly died just a couple of days ago, possibly by suicide. He is not someone who has been carrying out corporate skullduggery.

He sinks to the ground, and director Mark Mylod cuts to one of the show’s signature wide shots.

Kendall (in the foreground) sits in the dirt. Shiv stands close to him, and Roman 
(slightly out of focus) stands further away. HBO

Kendall, Shiv, and Roman have a little chat.

As the scene continues, Kendall stays rooted in place on the ground, the white clay slowly staining his dark brown pants. (The New Yorker’s Michael Schulman reports this was something actor Jeremy Strong decided to do on the spur of the moment, even though sitting on the ground ruined the continuity of nine other takes.)

But Shiv and Roman move back and forth between either crouching or sitting beside Kendall and standing. When they get on Kendall’s level, they talk to him in a way that acknowledges the dark emotions he’s experiencing; when they stand, they become more interested in their father’s business dealings. As Roman becomes more involved in Kendall’s situation, he moves closer to him, just as Shiv moves further away to take a phone call related to the deal. The scene is a master class in how to block actors to enhance a scene’s subtext.

Shiv crouches beside Kendall, as Roman 
moves out of the background. HBO

Shiv is getting down on Kendall’s level. Roman is moving closer.

Kendall and Roman stoop in the dirt. Shiv stands up on the phone. HBO

Now Roman is on Kendall’s level, while Shiv takes a call related to the deal in the background. (Note how she’s out of focus. The deal is no longer what the scene is about.)

Lots of Succession commentators — including me — speculated that “All the Bells Say” would feature Kendall coming clean about being responsible for the death of a waiter in the show’s first-season finale, something that Logan covered up for his son. But that speculation usually pegged the “coming clean” bit as involving him confessing to a journalist or true-crime podcast or something. Instead, he came clean to his siblings.

As the scene begins, it’s clear Kendall is hanging on by the slimmest of threads. He feels disconnected from his family, his work, himself. His revelation of what he did forces his siblings to stop caring so much about the deal and start relating to him on a human level. It also shifts the dramatic action of the scene. No longer is this a scene about whether Shiv, Roman, and Kendall will present a united front or whether the former two can badger their brother into backing some sort of play to stop their father selling the company. Instead, it’s a scene about whether Shiv and Roman can find a way to reach Kendall in his heightened state of depression and guilt. Ultimately, they do.

What’s notable about this scene is that what finally works has almost nothing to do with what Shiv and Roman say and everything to do with how they behave. Roman never stops making wisecracks about how Kendall isn’t as responsible as he claims he is and how everybody’s killed a kid or two and how he couldn’t get a decent gin and tonic after the waiter’s death, but those jokes only land once he physically sits down next to Kendall (and in the process gets his own pants covered in clay).

Kendall finally laughs genuinely at one of Roman’s jokes, as Roman finally sits right next to him in the dirt. HBO

Kendall can still smile!

The three of them eventually leave to try to stop their dad’s deal. They fail. Of course they fail. The odds are always against them when their father is involved. But they are, for the first time in ages and ages, together. And that’s the key to what follows.

In Succession’s third season, nothing changed. But everything changed, too.

I want to be careful in stating that the Roys are “together” and making it sound like they have suddenly become good people. What empathy they feel for each other in this episode (if any) is at least partially driven by the self-interest each has in taking over the family business. Roman correctly notes in the car ride over to where the deal is going down that if their attempted coup had been successful, they would have immediately started sniping at each other. They probably will start immediately sniping at each other the second season four begins. These are not people capable of very much growth.

What’s more, Kendall, Roman, and Shiv might finally be on the same page with each other, but they continue to casually hurt many other people. They seem taken aback by Connor’s sudden emotional outburst at the breakfast intervention the siblings hold for Kendall, when the series’ backstory includes references to Connor being their protector before becoming estranged from everyone due to Logan’s interference. Kendall’s treatment of Greg earlier in the season led to Greg returning to the warm embrace of Tom, who was about to betray his own wife. And Roman continued to send Gerri pictures of his penis after she had told him not to, which nearly resulted in her being fired.

Shiv’s treatment of Tom is particularly important in this regard. She’s spent all season avoiding his obvious anxiety over potentially having to go to prison, and her inability to have a simple conversation about why she maybe doesn’t want kids right now kept threatening to blow up into a whole thing. This arc culminated in the season’s penultimate episode, when some cruel talk in the name of (intentionally) spicing up foreplay concluded with her telling him that she doesn’t love him, something that seems true but which she brushed off as no big deal. Tom’s betrayal of Shiv is treated as a momentous act, but mostly because the show situates us in the perspective of Shiv when it happens. Seen from his point of view, it’s a rational response to a woman who takes him for granted and arguably emotionally abuses him.

Tom holds Shiv by the 
shoulders as she has a big revelation. Graeme Hunter/HBO

Tom comforts Shiv, immediately after she realizes he betrayed her.

So, no, I don’t think the Roys have empathy, nor do I think they’ve experienced much in the way of character growth. What they have found, instead, is solidarity in the face of their father’s abuses, and that might be enough to keep their fledgling alliance together.

The promotional materials for Succession’s third season were largely head fakes toward a grand war between Kendall and Logan. But that war had mostly fizzled out by the end of the season’s second episode when Kendall’s siblings refused to join his quest to take down their dad. (Go back and watch that episode. It’s remarkable just how much Kendall’s pitch for the future of Waystar-Royco matches what Mattson, the tech CEO of Gojo, pitches to Logan. Kendall really did know what he was doing.)

That head fake led to some complaints that the show was just endlessly repeating itself. To me, that was the season’s point: The Roy kids are all battling endlessly over something that ultimately doesn’t matter, because their dad likes pitting them against each other and they are too traumatized to see that. All the same, I could see the argument that the show was somehow turning itself into a fatuous sitcom where absolutely nothing mattered.

What’s notable about “All the Bells Say” is that within it, several big changes seem to occur. Logan is proceeding with the deal with Gojo, cutting his children not just out of the deal but out of the financial windfall it will afford him (and only him). The siblings’ mother betrays them. Tom betrays Shiv. Willa says she’ll marry Connor (who gets the most sincere moments of screen time he probably ever has). Greg is maybe going to become king of Luxembourg.

But the season preceding this episode underscores that none of this will ultimately matter. The logic of money means that Gojo will keep following the horrifying turn toward bigotry that Waystar’s flagship news network has undertaken. (When Gojo head Matsson says, “Some of your content is cool,” it’s hard to believe he’s talking about the company’s news division. But it makes money.) Waystar will have new people at its head, but that won’t matter. The siblings knew their mom wasn’t to be trusted. Shiv and Tom already have a tumultuous marriage. Willa doesn’t have to give up her life of leisure. And, okay, if Greg becomes king of Luxembourg, that’s a perfect premise for a sitcom spinoff.

Nothing changed in season three of Succession. Nothing will change in season four of Succession. This show has taught us how to watch it by this point.

Except everything changed in season three of Succession.

Sometimes the only way for familial abuse survivors to stand up to their abuser is to present a united front. And the subconscious strategy of the abuser is usually to turn the survivors against each other. Logan tries to do this several times in the episode’s final scene. He mocks Shiv and tries to get Roman to abandon his siblings in the name of helping Logan. But for the first time, none of the three caves. The support they extended Kendall in the clay outside their mother’s wedding ripples through all three of them, to the degree that even Roman, usually the weak link, stands strong in the face of his father’s manipulation.

Logan, finally, turns to the last tactic in his box: He yells at them. He berates them. He tries to get them so scared of him that they turn against each other. But it doesn’t work. So he reveals that his kids have no cards left to play. They’re fucked. But through it all, they’re together.

As Logan exits the scene, Roman stops him. He had hoped, he says, that maybe Logan would deal with them out of love. Logan mocks the idea. What good is love? Reality doesn’t have room for love. The world is built by people who squash those who believe love is worth anything at all.

Parents are supposed to love their children, right? It’s one of those values so hard-coded into our societies that we almost take it for granted. We know, though, how often parents don’t love their children, and we know how often parents put their own self- interest ahead of their kids’ futures. Succession’s argument extends this core sadness out to an entire species and an entire planet.

But we keep believing anyway. The children of abusers hope that, finally, their parents might see them and love them, and Succession puts us in the shoes of abuse survivors over and over again, as they hope that Logan will just turn some corner and do the right thing. But we know he won’t. He can’t. He’s too far gone. Sometimes, parents don’t love their children. This is one of those times.

So you find love elsewhere. And what changes in season three of Succession is that Kendall, Roman, and Shiv finally realize they have each other. Nothing has changed; everything has changed.

Roman puts his hands on Kendall’s shoulders, while Shiv puts her hand on his 
head. HBO

Roman and Shiv comfort Kendall after his confession of guilt …

Kendall puts his hands on Roman’s shoulders. HBO

… and Kendall comforts Roman in the same way after their father berates them.

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