By TALES AB'SÁBER*

The Death of the Fragment: How Microsoft Copilot Reduced My Critique of Fascism to Democratic Clichés

One night, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I decided to write down the ideas that had come to me. With only my tablet nearby, I remembered that I should finally download the writing program that we use on all computers. It would be good to start writing here. I should have stopped living with fragments of text and clumsy writings written in inappropriate applications a long time ago.

I wanted to write a short note about the fact that magical thinking is at the heart of fascist politics, while its imaginary freedom is guaranteed by submission to the master of the ego-ideal. This is in contrast to the obsessive control of magic, typical of the political citizen, this being emptied of passions, conformed to liberal democracy. I will return to this issue later. When I downloaded the famous editing program, in the form of an application, purchased on the spot, it came attached to a small auxiliary screen at the base of the traditional screen. On it was written the name of a new and unknown machine: Copilot.

I didn't understand what it was. There was something written in the box, like "draft", and an entry arrow, which pointed to the main writing space. Since I couldn't write directly on the editor page, as I do now – the program just wouldn't free up the space… –, I decided to write in that box. The normal Word page was blocked, but the box was open for writing. I wrote a short text. I wanted it to be good for my current criteria.

When I finished, I pressed the command that should have entered the draft into the traditional text editor page. To the surprise of a huge ignoramus, my writing was not transferred. After a few seconds of work, in which the program indicated that it was thinking, my concise text, in the form of a fragment, was transformed by the program into a short dissertation, of generic journalistic communication. It was this writing, and not what I had written, that appeared in the editor.

I was astonished to read the “re-subjectification” that artificial intelligence had made of my work. It developed passages, added ideas and extended the original fragment, making it denser, more partial and concentrated, as I preferred. Everything became very clear, something of a certain poetic or style was lost, and the ideas were transformed into a kind of general current thought, which seemed to me to be of a global nature.

A demonstration, without a shadow of friction, as we wanted to demonstrate, as we want to be equal, in general language, already ready for an exhibition of power point, to any audience, anywhere in the world. There were also the inevitable democratic clichés, of a faded humanism and thanks to . Repetition of empty generic notions, whose strength lies only in their repetition in the void. I felt magically transformed, similar to those speakers we see in films and in YouTube clips, who perform at meetings of business interests disguised as cultural action, or at fairs to save the world.

In a few seconds a significant work beyond my own was accomplished. But in the opposite direction. The work of millennia of civilization and violence, of transforming us all into the equalized language of “general intelligence,” of the level of technology of the time, was imposed on my thought by the machine.

A common world, of texts with the same global style, quickly written by capturing information and the work of others, of all of us. I was introduced, even without wanting to, and having nothing to do with it, to one of the aspects of the textual apocalypse, the true end of writing that our time announces, which will be the necessary double of the already advanced end of reading.

Here is the text that my algorithmic partner Copilot decided to write about my essay fragment. After he wrote the following, I tried pressing the “recycle” button. In a few seconds, the co-author wrote a second communication about my original lines, which had lost their fiber and turned into mere arguments, reports. There is no original, there are only versions.

I pressed the recycle button again, and the program produced a third essay, evoking aspects of the original text, but now forcing a philosophical character, finally coming at least a little closer to the tension between idea and form. I imagine that if I pressed the recycle button a million times, the program would end up giving me the most perfect essay possible for an artificial intelligence: my own text.

Below are the three versions of my ideas, written in partnership with Copilot. I tried every way to find some other button that would take me back. But Microsoft decided that I should no longer remember what I actually wrote.

First version – magical thinking and political subjectivities

Magical thinking, a force that inhabits the depths of the human imagination, emerges in political subjectivities as a central gear of psychic and social dynamics. It not only shapes artistic practices, where creation springs from the intangible, but also permeates the structures that sustain phenomena such as fascism, in its most raw and paradoxical freedom of destruction.

Magical thinking: between art and politics

In the realm of artistic achievement, magical thinking is celebrated as a creative potential. It is the ability to transmute ideas, feelings and visions into concrete forms that enchant and provoke. However, when transposed to the political domain, magical thinking assumes an ambivalent position. It can be a driver for utopias and change, but also a tool for manipulation, alienation and violence.

Fascism and the Revival of the Magician

In fascism, the powers of magical thinking are reborn, but in a distorted way. The freedom invoked by the fascist is not the enlightening and emancipating freedom, but the destructive freedom that manifests itself in violence and the elimination of others. This freedom is, in reality, a masked servitude, an absolute submission to a “leader” or to an external entity that dictates the existence of the individual.

The fascist has lost the key to control the magical dimension. His obsession is, paradoxically, simple and repetitive: he seeks a leader who will determine what to do and who he is. This total surrender is not only an act of irresponsibility, but the realization of a magic of irresponsibility, where individual action is diluted in the will of the other, of the boss, of the “thing.”

The psychodynamics of submission

The fascist’s submission to the leader transcends politics; it is a psychic phenomenon. He is not limited by internal imperatives, because his limit is external, embodied in the leader. This leader is transformed into a totem of power, an object of both love and contempt. Thus, the fascist enjoys submission, finding pleasure in the abdication of his autonomy. His freedom lies in being liberated by the “master’s dream” to act without restrictions, to destroy and subvert the democratic structures that force him to recognize the other as equal.

Final considerations

The power of magical thinking, as an intrinsic element of the human psyche, can be both creative and destructive. In the political context, especially in fascist dynamics, it becomes a powerful weapon of manipulation and alienation. Breaking this logic requires the recovery of responsibility and autonomy, an antidote to the magic of submission and authoritarianism. It is a challenge that demands not only political resistance, but also a deep understanding of the psychic forces that shape our actions and subjectivities.

Second version – magical thinking and political and artistic dynamics

Exploring the psychic and social roots of fascism and art

Magical thinking, often associated with the dynamics of the human unconscious, emerges as a central element in both political subjectivities and artistic achievement. It operates as a bridge between the rational and the irrational, allowing latent ideas and desires to crystallize into actions or expressions, often with unpredictable consequences. When channeled into the realm of fascism, however, this type of thinking takes on disturbing contours, subverting creative freedom in favor of a logic of destruction, submission, and elimination.

Magical thinking and fascism

In fascism, magical thinking is reactivated and transformed. Concepts such as “freedom” are distorted to justify acts of violence and repression. Freedom, in this context, is not a search for autonomy or emancipation, but a permission to annihilate the other, seen as an enemy or threat. The fascist renounces control over what is magical, that is, the ability to imagine and construct narratives that transcend violence. Instead, he clings to a simplistic and repetitive obsession: following a leader who tells him who he is and what he should do.

This transfer of responsibility to the “ideal leader ego” creates a dynamic of depersonalization. The fascist’s “ego” is entirely projected onto the other, the leader, who becomes the center of power and authority. This magic of irresponsibility allows for unlimited action, where the most destructive impulses are legitimized by external authority. The fascist, then, finds pleasure in absolute submission, idolizing figures such as kings, popes, dictators, and pastors. He surrenders himself to the fate of others, while at the same time considering himself “free” to act according to the leader’s wishes and orders.

The pleasure in submission

The fascist experiences a peculiar form of pleasure in submission. He finds satisfaction in being simultaneously the object of the leader’s love and contempt, positioning himself as an instrument of the higher forces that personify destiny. This pleasure is rooted in the desire to abdicate individual responsibility and to be led by an authority figure. In the fascist mind, submission is not weakness but liberation: the freedom to act without moral or democratic constraints, even if this means destroying institutions, such as democracy, or attacking the rights of other citizens.

Magical thinking in art

On the other hand, magical thinking also plays a fundamental role in artistic achievement. In art, it is not a destructive force, but a creative one. It allows the artist to transcend the limits of reality, channeling human desires, fears, and hopes into symbolic forms that inspire and transform. Magical thinking in art is a manifestation of freedom, an opening to new worlds and possibilities.

While in fascism magical thinking is an instrument of control and destruction, in art it is a tool of emancipation and creation. This duality reveals the complexity of the phenomenon and highlights the importance of understanding how it operates in different contexts.

Conclusion

Magical thinking is a powerful force, capable of shaping both the best and the worst of human experience. In politics, it can be manipulated to justify acts of violence and submission, as in fascism. In art, it finds its highest expression, enabling the creation of worlds that transcend reality. Understanding these dynamics is crucial to resisting the appeals of authoritarianism and to appreciating the transformative capacities of the human imagination.

Third version – magical thinking and its political and artistic manifestations

A philosophical reflection on subjectivity and power

Magical thinking, often relegated to a primitive or infantile realm of the psyche, is in fact a force deeply rooted in the dynamics of political subjectivation and artistic achievement. It operates as an invisible fabric that connects desires, beliefs, and narratives with the acts and choices that shape both societies and works of art. In this interweaving, we find not only the creative possibilities of human beings, but also their destructive potentialities, especially when appropriated by ideologies of domination, such as fascism.

The magical dimension in art

In the artistic sphere, magical thinking transcends rationality, opening space for the creation of alternative worlds capable of redefining reality. When the artist indulges in this type of thinking, he abandons the limits of the tangible and the verifiable, allowing symbols and metaphors to become affective realities. Magic in art is not only an escape mechanism, but also a form of emancipation, enabling new ways of perceiving and experiencing the world.

This type of subjectivation, however, is a space of ambivalence. If, on the one hand, the artist is an active agent who uses magical thinking to elaborate transformative visions, on the other, he is also susceptible to the fascination of the irrational. Art can thus both subvert regimes of power and reinforce authoritarian mythologies, depending on how its magical powers are mobilized.

Magical thinking in fascism

In the political arena, fascism is perhaps the clearest manifestation of the destructive powers of magical thinking. It is structured as a theater of absolute beliefs, in which the leader embodies that which is unattainable for the individual: total control over destiny, the power to determine reality, the supreme freedom to act without consequences. The fascist, as a subject, surrenders himself to this magical structure of leadership, replacing responsibility with the comfort of being led by another.

Fascism reanimates “magical” categories like “freedom,” but in a distorted way: not as a collective project, but as a license for chaos, for destroying, violating, and eliminating the other. Fascist freedom is, paradoxically, a freedom of complete submission to the figure of the leader, who represents the only limit outside the self. This magical disempowerment allows the individual to abdicate his or her agency without facing the burden of guilt, while becoming part of a movement that externalizes violence as an expression of a “greater” destiny.

Irresponsibility and the leader's ideal

One of the central aspects of fascism is the magic of irresponsibility. The self no longer belongs to itself, but transfers its legitimacy and decisions to the figure of the leader, or the “ideal of the leader self.” This creates a dynamic in which the individual disconnects from any notion of limits or internal ethics. There are no dilemmas or internal conflicts, because all authority emanates from outside, from an other who is totalizing.

The fascist, therefore, finds pleasure in his ambivalent position: at once the object of the leader's love and contempt, and the “free” agent to carry out the desires projected by this superior figure.

The challenge of resistance

How, then, can we resist this magical force that infiltrates both artistic projects and authoritarian political regimes? The answer may lie in reclaiming magical thinking as a tool for construction, not destruction. It needs to be redirected toward practices of collective creation and plurality, removing it from the monopoly of ideologies that use it to subjugate the individual.

Democracy, with all its constraints, is perhaps the antithesis of fascism precisely because it denies the centrality of a single “magician” who dictates the rules. It demands that each person assume their share of responsibility, even in the face of uncertainty and complexity. By rejecting magical submission to the leader, the democratic citizen accepts the challenge of living with others as subjects of law, in constant negotiation and transformation.

Conclusion

Magical thinking, at its core, is neither good nor bad; it is a deeply rooted human capacity that can be mobilized for both creation and destruction. Recognizing its presence in political and artistic subjectivities is the first step toward understanding how it shapes our realities. The challenge lies in reconfiguring it as an instrument of emancipation rather than a vehicle of oppression, rediscovering its potential in collective projects that celebrate diversity and shared responsibility.

*Tales Ab'Saber He is a professor at the Department of Philosophy at Unifesp. Author, among other books, of The anthropophagic soldier (ivy) [https://amzn.to/4ay2e2g]

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