For the first time in some while, we've been busier at the Substack than the daily emails.
Expect regular Substack columns on Tuesday and Saturdays. Like in the last week, “bonus” material may pop up here and there. For instance, we have a couple more podcasts that will come out soon.
Yet, the plan for these daily emails remains to deliver—several times per week—practical material that you can use.
Here we are.
Yesterday’s Substack column struck a bigger nerve than I would have thought, particularly since it was probably the least controversial and most straightforward of the articles, emails, and columns I’ve written as of late.
A reader asked for “action items” based on yesterday’s column. I thought it was a good idea, as it is my mission to whittle everything down each day into “actionable steps,” both for myself and for our readers here.
For yesterday’s column,
The summer of manufactured outrage: How ‘rage farming’ monetizes anger and what we can do to fight back:
What follows is a bit of a summary and development on that commentary and, at the end, an actionable list to take with you…
The digital puppeteers count upon your anger. Every manufactured controversy that explodes across your timeline represents cold calculation, not spontaneous outrage. While most “online people” reflexively react to the latest artificial crisis, a growing minority recognizes the game and refuses to play.
This summer’s predictable parade of rage-inducing stories will inevitably follow the same profitable playbook. Minor incidents get stripped of context, amplified by algorithm-driven feeds, and weaponized into culture war battles.
The mechanics are disturbingly simple: content that provokes anger receives far more engagement than measured discourse, keeping users glued to screens while advertising revenue flows to platform owners.
Research has confirmed what rage farmers already know—the reward systems built into these platforms train users to express ever more extreme moral outrage, creating a feedback loop that radicalizes discourse and makes reasoned debate nearly impossible.
The biological cost of this manipulation extends far beyond hurt feelings. Repeated exposure to inflammatory content physically rewires the brain, enlarging the amygdala while regions responsible for empathy and rational deliberation atrophy.
The result? A population that becomes primed for conflict, less capable of compromise, and more likely to view political opponents as enemies rather than fellow citizens.
But here’s what the rage merchants don’t want you to discover: their power evaporates the moment you stop participating.
This will take some practice for me, no doubt. As Bruce Springsteen sang in “One Step Up”:
We’ve given each other some hard lessons lately/
But we ain’t learnin’/
We’re the same sad story that’s a fact/
One step up and two steps back
The first step in solving a problem, however, is to recognize it. There is no doubt that I’ve been caught up in the rage machine over the years.
No longer shall I backslide—one step up and two backwards.
While The Boss’s narrator is a sad sack who lets life happen to him, my mission is to take the bull by the horns and take action. Only control what is controllable.
In that light, every angry comment, share, or heated response feeds the machine, regardless of whether your engagement supports or criticizes the original content. The most effective resistance isn’t counter-outrage—it is principled disengagement coupled with deliberate action.
For me, this doesn’t mean I won’t still speak (and write) my mind. To the contrary. My mission, however, is not to get caught up in that feedback loop which serves no positive end.
Over the course of the last few weeks and months, smart folks, like our dear readers, have helped me identify and craft five specific tactics to break free from this manipulation and reclaim mental clarity. That’s what I wrote about yesterday.
What actions do smart folks take?
First, they implement the 24-hour rule before reacting to any trending controversy. This simple discipline creates space for reasoned judgment while often revealing stories as exaggerated or misleading once initial emotions subside.
Second, they consistently ask “Cui bono?” —who benefits from this outrage? Following the money from advertising revenue to fundraising appeals exposes most viral controversies as artificial constructs designed to serve commercial or political interests rather than the common good.
Third, they actively withdraw from the outrage economy by refusing to engage with, share, or amplify artificial controversies. This doesn’t require abandoning technology but demands technological sovereignty. Use digital tools on your terms rather than being used by them.
Fourth, they prioritize building authentic local communities through volunteer organizations, small businesses, and face-to-face initiatives. Real relationships provide immunity against digital hysteria because outrage thrives in the absence of genuine human connection.
Fifth, they focus relentlessly on things like family, faith, work, and local community and refuse to be consumed by manufactured drama. This aligns with age-old wisdom about investing time and energy in pursuits that create lasting value rather than temporary emotional gratification.
The consequences of chronic outrage extend beyond individual psychology into economic reality. Companies have seen their reputations and stock prices battered by fleeting but intense digital controversies, diverting resources from innovation to crisis management. Meanwhile, there exist some institutions that once fostered community understanding that have been hollowed out and repurposed as culture war battlegrounds.
The regime of manufactured outrage persists only because people participate in it. By withdrawing consent and modeling restraint, you undermine its power while demonstrating an alternative rooted in perspective and authentic engagement. Every minute spent consumed by artificial controversy represents time not invested in productive activity, personal growth, or community service.
The opportunity costs are enormous.
What will you choose in the coming months? Will you let digital puppeteers monetize your anger, or will you join the growing number of Americans who refuse to be played?
The rage machine needs your participation to survive. If you withdraw consent, you’ll witness its inevitable collapse.
Action Items:
Adopt the 24-hour rule: Wait one full day before reacting to any trending controversy
Ask “Cui bono?”: Investigate who profits from manufactured outrage before engaging
Practice digital sovereignty: Refuse to share, comment on, or amplify artificial controversies
Build authentic communities: Invest time in local organizations and face-to-face relationships
Focus on permanent things: Prioritize family, faith, work, and community over temporary drama
For more of our longer form commentary, sign up for free at:
As always,
Brian
P.S. – For a graphic of the above checklist, go to our post on 𝕏–Twitter and download it there:
