We've lost our sense of outrage, our anger, and our grief about what's going on in our culture right now, what's going on in our country, the atrocities that are being committed in our names around the world. They've gone missing; these feelings have gone missing.
In this quote, Chris Jordan laments the loss of collective outrage, anger, and grief regarding the social and political issues facing society. He suggests that, as a culture, people have become numb or apathetic to the atrocities and injustices happening both domestically and abroad, often in their own name. Jordan argues that these powerful emotions—historically catalysts for change and activism—have "gone missing" from public discourse and action, implying that there is a widespread disconnection from the urgency of addressing these issues.
The quote reflects a criticism of societal complacency and the desensitization that can occur when people become overwhelmed or disconnected from the gravity of ongoing problems. Jordan is calling attention to the need to rekindle these emotions—outrage, anger, and grief—in order to reignite a sense of responsibility and activism. By reclaiming these emotions, Jordan suggests that society can become more aware and responsive to the injustices and atrocities being perpetuated, whether through government actions, corporate behavior, or societal apathy.
The origin of this quote comes from Jordan's work as an artist and activist, where he often explores themes of social responsibility, environmental degradation, and human impact on the world. His art, such as the Running the Numbers series, has focused on visualizing the scale of societal and environmental problems, using powerful imagery to provoke thought and emotional response. This quote reflects his belief in the need for public outcry and awareness in the face of global crises.
Ultimately, Jordan's statement is a call to action, urging people to reconnect with their outraged and grief-stricken emotions. These feelings are not just signs of weakness or negativity, but vital motivators that can drive change and social progress. By acknowledging and channeling these emotions, individuals and communities can confront the issues that have been allowed to fester and work towards meaningful solutions.
Chris Jordan’s words make me reflect on how outrage fatigue might be a real phenomenon. It’s not that people don’t care—it’s that they don’t know how to hold so much pain and keep functioning. But what’s the solution? Do we need better emotional education? More effective activism? Or a cultural reset that reconnects people to their values? The absence of outrage may be one of the scariest signs of all.
MTMinh Thao
Reading this, I feel called out. There are definitely times I’ve tuned out from the news just to cope, but is that a form of privilege? The quote raises a tough question: when atrocities happen in our name, are we morally obligated to feel something—or to act? And if we don’t, does that say something about who we’ve become as a society?
GDGold D.dragon
What really strikes me about this quote is the idea that outrage and grief are necessary emotions, not just reactions. Without them, do we become complicit through silence? I think there’s a cultural shift needed—one that reclaims these emotions as signs of humanity, not instability. But how do we create space for that in a society that often prioritizes productivity over emotional reckoning?
CLChi Lan
I find this quote deeply unsettling, because it’s hard not to agree with it. There’s so much happening—violence, corruption, environmental destruction—and yet so many people seem indifferent. Have we traded our capacity for outrage for comfort and convenience? I wonder if constant digital exposure has dulled our emotional response, making it harder to truly feel or act. Can art, like Jordan's own, help restore that emotional clarity?
OKOanh Kieu
This quote hits hard. It really makes me ask—have we become numb to injustice because we’re overwhelmed, or because we’re desensitized by the constant flood of news? I worry that apathy has become a defense mechanism. How do we reignite empathy and moral responsibility without feeling paralyzed by the sheer scale of the problems? Is it even possible to stay outraged and emotionally functional at the same time?