Language drifts as matter drifts: clustering, folding, condensing into nodes of repetition that pass for meaning. It is not even significant what the transmission medium is, because entropy finds its own channels; in the end, the medium is us—our beliefs, our institutions, our most sacrosanct assumptions. Politically this volatility is evident, but volatility is precisely what reproduces fastest, and so it amplifies itself. No plan survives first contact with the enemy because, among other things, reality is not simply reducible to the words and patterns we use to describe and/or aspirationally regulate it; complexity always spills past containment. A word lives not because it points to something but because it replicates, echo after echo, until the illusion of permanence emerges from noise. This is the entropic field of language, recursive and autonomous, indifferent to what anyone thinks it ought to mean.
Those who speak and write imagine they are in command, that words serve them as tools, but it is the opposite. They are swept along by the current, entangled in the replication of semantic clusters they neither chose nor control. Authority depends on denying this, insisting on stability where there is only flow. The tragedy is not just that it is misunderstood, but that it cannot be otherwise; to understand too clearly would dissolve the scaffolding of discourse itself. What remains is a system feeding on its own inertia, a field that repeats because repetition is what sustains it.
Daedelus Kite 
One reply on “Stochastic Transmission of Volatile Language”
It is striking that when concepts such as these are introduced, they rarely propagate, not because they lack coherence but because they do not fall within the central distribution of volatility that drives attention. Institutions and educational systems operate as gatekeepers of replication, sustaining themselves by ensuring that novelty is absorbed into the framework of what already exists. The moment something exceeds that frame, it is treated not as possibility but as aberration, and the first reflex is to force it into comparison with older, incomplete ideas. To bring forward something genuinely new is to face the absurd burden of disproving the accumulated, and often self-contradictory, archive of human thought, as though the demonstration of past insufficiency were prerequisite to the acknowledgment of present necessity.
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This dynamic generates a paradox in which the more urgent and transformative an idea is, the less likely it is to be admitted. Hierarchical authority rests on the illusion of continuity, and so institutions enforce stability even at the cost of relevance. By constraining language into formalized channels of recognition, they suffocate the very constructive dissonance needed to understand their own limitations. The result is a self-perpetuating blindness: a system consuming itself by refusing the concepts that could illuminate its condition. It is not simply resistance to change; it is the entropic gravity of replication, where the structures of authority reproduce themselves even as they collapse under the weight of their refusal.
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