Some books enter the design debate initially as symptoms rather than proposals. The current theoretical landscape is dominated by serial diagnoses, manifestos, and lamentations: some strive to reshape practice frameworks, while others highlight their decline. Occasionally, a work isn’t about introducing something new but about capturing a shared mood — an atmosphere. Within this mood, the fatigue of a generation, precariousness as a condition, and irony as a refuge are apparent. The usual response is enthusiasm: readers relate to, cite, and share the book, making it a mirror of disillusionment.

Within this framework, I suggest a provocative exercise: critiquing a work without ever revealing its actual title or author’s name. Although this approach is covert and somewhat malicious, it proves to be quite productive. My goal is to explore how much of a thought’s core can survive once it is detached from its author, and to examine how much interpretation relies on its contextual reputation. To do this, I create a fictional author and a pseudonymous title: Cornélio Vazio and his imaginary book, The Glories of Impotence. This act is deliberately ironic, and it is this cynicism that allows criticism to free itself from traditional reverence.

The Glories of Impotence presents itself as a manifesto of a defeated discipline. The narrative is straightforward: design has lost both utopia and efficacy; the practice has been consumed by precariousness, the automatism of platforms, and the saturation of digital tools. The act of designing no longer transforms; it merely manages frustrations. The thesis is seductive because it speaks closely to those who inhabit this malaise. The problem arises when this localized diagnosis is turned into a universal destiny.

The Methodological Gesture

The Glories of Impotence appears as an essay but mainly functions as a collage of images, slogans, and light diagnoses. Cornélio Vazio favors catchy phrases over analytical categories that could support deeper thought. For example, he states, “the designer is an entrepreneur by necessity, not by vocation,” which immediately evokes the irony of a worker compelled to sell himself as a startup. However, this statement ends in a rhetorical flourish: it does not analyze the economic system that creates this “necessity” or engage with existing discussions on precarious entrepreneurship studied by sociologists of labor. It remains a slogan rather than a meaningful category.

A similar issue arises when he states that “the professional identity of the designer is a precarious identity.” In this case, tautology takes the place of analysis: precariousness is self-defining, lacking empirical examples of careers, statistics, or maps of working conditions. The reader agrees without question but is left without concrete tools to understand what precariousness signifies in practical or political contexts.

When he states that “design is a field permanently living in beta mode,” the digital metaphor immediately signals to everyone that “beta” signifies ongoing instability. However, this phrase does not link to historical lineages that have always regarded design as an unfinished practice (such as Flusser’s discussion in The Shape of Things), nor does it offer concrete project examples that illustrate this state. It remains merely an appealing image, lacking both theoretical depth and empirical evidence.

These sentences function as soundbites, making them perfect for conference slides or academic Twitter posts, as they distill atmospheres into memorable formulas. However, this also means they are disconnected from historical genealogies or empirical evidence. They spread quickly but lack depth for sustained reflection.

The same approach recurs in melancholic metaphors: design is depicted as “a field in ruins, held together by precariousness and sarcasm.” The designer is portrayed as “an acrobat of the attention economy, always losing balance.” The allure of the images is clear, but the literary tone makes analysis difficult. The diagnosis shrinks to statements like “the contemporary designer is a tired subject, ironically aware of his own irrelevance” or “the profession is a succession of gig tasks that leave no time to think.”

Unlike Bruno Latour’s An Inquiry into Modes of Existence, which constructs intricate conceptual frameworks through detailed methodology, Donna Haraway’s Modest_Witness@Second_Millennium offers genealogies that animate her critique. Cornélio Vazio favors slogans over complex ideas, punchlines over thorough analysis, and uses melancholic collages rather than strict arguments. The book resembles a theatrical performance more than a scholarly work. 

Generational Narcissism

The “common practitioner” described in The Glories of Impotence does not represent any universal condition. Instead, it caricatures a melancholic image of an urban, Western, highly educated, semi-privileged generation. Cornélio Vazio depicts him as “the intermittent creative worker, always between temporary contracts and freelance projects,” someone who “does not work in a job, but in a series of gig tasks,” and who “lives in beta mode, without a stable horizon.” The practitioner also is portrayed as “a tired figure, ironically aware of his irrelevance,” and as “an entrepreneur by necessity, not vocation.” 

These portraits resonate with their audience by reflecting their generation: design school graduates, users of platform software, and familiar with a rhetoric of stylized precariousness see themselves reflected and view the book as a form of catechism. However, what appears universal is actually a niche experience. 

This image lacks collective design practices from peripheral communities, feminist movements, decolonial efforts, and ecological or popular experiments. Sara Ahmed, in Living a Feminist Life, emphasizes that all theory originates from a specific context. Cornélio Vazio generalizes his own social stance, transforming it into a universal model. The outcome is a form of generational narcissism: a theory that vividly captures the issues within its own bubble but neglects everything outside that reflection. 

The Aestheticization of Impotence

In The Glories of Impotence, Cornélio Vazio reimagines precariousness as a spectacle. The designer is depicted not merely as a tired worker but as a tragic, almost heroic figure caught in melancholy. He characterizes the modern designer as “a tightrope walker between deadlines and invoices, condemned to fall but stylish in the fall,” and posits that “the profession is a performative fatigue, a form of embodied irony.” Consequently, impotence is portrayed as an elegant condition, narrated with a literary tone that magnifies defeat. 

The reader identifies with this portrait and feels uplifted through recognizing their own failure. The overall effect is aesthetic: feelings of powerlessness transform into an aura. Susan Sontag, in Regarding the Pain of Others, showed how aestheticizing pain can inspire fascination. Vazio embodies this precisely: a form of critical joy that allows one to find pleasure in embracing their disillusionment. 

This aestheticization shifts the focus from political drive to aesthetic experience. Melancholy is no longer seen as a symptom to be changed but as an ambiance to be appreciated. Impotence transforms into identity, and abdication into style. The book captivates not by proposing solutions but by dressing defeat in the glamour of literature. 

Critical Commodity

The Glories of Impotence flows smoothly like a product aimed at the cultural market. Cornélio Vazio observes that “design is a profession that self-helps,” or that “the designer has learned to talk about burnout as casually as branding.” He also mentions: “precariousness is our true platform,” and again: “the profession exists in beta mode, eternally incomplete.” These statements are frequently repeated in lectures, shared on social networks, and cited as if they provide definitive insights. 

The fragmentary structure of the book reinforces this effect. Each chapter is filled with brief slogans that can stand alone outside their context. For example, the designer is called “an entrepreneur by necessity, not by vocation,” practice is described as “a succession of gig tasks,” and professional identity is termed “a precarious identity.” These formulas serve as recognizable capsules, easily circulated in presentations or seminars. 

Critique becomes a commodified tool because it offers a portable arsenal of phrases. The book doesn’t require slow reading or deep analysis; it provides concise, pocket-sized expressions. David Graeber, in Bullshit Jobs, highlights the absurdity of labor and uses it to inspire political thought. In contrast, Cornélio Vazio converts that absurdity into shareable content. This act doesn’t prompt action but instead produces quotable material. 

The value of the work is mainly determined by its circulation. Rather than proposing reconfiguration, it offers symbolic support for an academic-cultural market that commodities diagnoses. The Glories of Impotence aligns perfectly with the logic it appears to critique: critique designed for slides, social media, and soundbites. 

The Erasure of the Body and Materiality

Cornélio Vazio depicts precariousness as if it were a form of software: “precariousness is the true interface of contemporary design,” he states. He considers the designer a “nomad of the digital economy,” always “moving between projects and applications,” and points out that the profession has become “a state of structural instability.” These images create a mood but hide the physical body behind them. The tireless clicking hands, dry eyes glued to the screen, and sore backs after nights of assembling mock-ups are never seen. Fatigue is viewed as an idea rather than a tangible sensation. The discussion around precariousness seems elegant and abstract, but the bodies dealing with it remain invisible. In The Cultural Politics of Emotion, Sara Ahmed describes how affects and bodies produce and sustain social structures. Fatigue isn’t just a metaphor; it’s physical flesh. Vazio tends to focus on style: perceiving precariousness as a shimmering concept detached from materiality. This results in a disembodied theory where lived experience dissolves into digital metaphors.

This erasure carries political significance. By removing the body, the opportunity for true solidarity is also lost: only shared rhetoric persists, not shared pain. The reader is invited to see themselves in an aesthetic portrayal of disillusionment but not to feel the weight of the working body. Cornélio Vazio critiques without flesh, conveying melancholy without muscle. 

Complicity with the Regime it Denounces

Cornélio Vazio argues that “the designer is both entrepreneur and employee, boss and exploited,” emphasizing that “precariousness underpins design.” He also notes: “the designer handles personal hardships as they do their portfolio,” and suggests: “burnout has become a professional badge, nearly a symbol of belonging.” These remarks, though framed as critique, largely aestheticize submission. 

The outcome is paradoxical: while the book claims to critique the exploitation regime, it also transforms exhaustion into an ontological condition, making it an accepted identity. Readers view themselves as a ‘manager of their own precariousness,” which brings relief by validating their discomfort as a shared experience. Instead of encouraging resistance, it provides recognition. 

Cornélio Vazio suggests that “irony is the only critical tool we have left,” and he advocates for “precariousness as a lifestyle.” This underscores a complicity: precariousness transforms from just a challenge into an aesthetic choice. As a result, docility gains intellectual significance. 

Platform capitalism benefits from our acceptance. Designers who embrace this idea continue engaging with the platforms that exploit them, now with a clearer understanding of their own powerlessness. Disillusionment then becomes motivation to persist. As Boris Groys notes in On the New, regression can be a political act when it reveals the brutality behind relentless innovation. Vazio uses a form of decorative regression: he provides critical language that actually amplifies the attention economy he criticizes. 

Ultimately, The Glories of Impotence reveals what it claims to oppose. The critique adds credibility, yet the final work seamlessly integrates into the cultural system that maintains precariousness. Complicity is not an accident; it is a deliberate part of the book’s editorial strategy. 

The Absence of Proposals

Cornélio Vazio contends that “the future of design involves accepting its own limitations” and underscores that “clarity arises from acknowledging boundaries and abandoning the illusion of change.” He further notes: “We do not need alternatives, but rather an awareness of failure.” Essentially, his core message is clear: it is not necessary to propose solutions to demonstrate critical insight. 

This is more than just modest; it is methodical. The book portrays abdication as a plausible choice, proposing emptiness as a cure. Melancholy gains an ontological, almost metaphysical significance: it is no longer merely an economic outcome, but a core, inevitable essence. While its clarity is convincing, the act itself remains essentially sterile. 

Hal Foster, in Design and Crime, questions the dominance of corporate design and proposes hypotheses for alternative, rebellious practices. Bruno Latour emphasizes the importance of recomposition, even in difficult situations. Federico Campagna, in Technic and Magic, explores various cosmologies. Donna Haraway develops multispecies narratives to establish frameworks for collective futures. Ivan Illich, in Tools for Conviviality, presents categories that still support community practices today. Cornélio Vazio uniquely reinterprets emptiness as a guiding principle. 

The lack of proposals isn’t just silence; it turns abdication into an aesthetic statement. The book feels like an anti-manifesto that claims to desire nothing. Vazio’s distinctiveness lies precisely in this act: turning the absence of choices into new possibilities. 

Ritualistic Reception

The reception of The Glories of Impotence says more about its readers than about the book itself. In seminars, phrases like “precariousness is our true platform” are often repeated as if they are unquestionable truths. On social media, excerpts of the book are shared as eye-catching cards, shared with excitement. Quoting has become a way to show membership.

This ritualistic approach turns the book into a symbol of identity. Reading Vazio becomes an act of joining a brotherhood of the disillusioned. Readers find comfort in seeing their own exhaustion reflected: “we are not alone, we are all precarious.” Instead of inspiring political solidarity, it creates an aesthetic community grounded in melancholy. 

Sara Ahmed, in Living a Feminist Life, emphasizes that critical writings serve as guides—they shape practices, inspire actions, and create new opportunities. Conversely, Cornélio Vazio’s book focuses only inward, limiting readers to a shared experience of discomfort. Rather than expanding understanding, it constrains it. Critique becomes a repetitive chant, which transforms into a dogma. 

The outcome is narcissistic: readers feel enlightened as they recognize their own powerlessness, yet they also stay stuck. Melancholy shifts into a sense of belonging, which becomes integrated into their identity. This identity then serves as an obstacle. Ritualistic interaction with the material ensures continuous circulation but inhibits genuine debate. 

Editorial Opportunism

The success of The Glories of Impotence stems from both its thesis and presentation. The book employs brief chapters, catchy titles, and phrases highlighted in graphic boxes — perfect for sharing on academic Instagram. Its editorial design is focused on capturing attention, with each page featuring a quote with potential. 

Cornélio Vazio observes that “the designer has learned to speak of burnout as he speaks of branding,” a statement isolated on a page, ready for photography. Furthermore, the phrase “the identity of the designer is a precarious identity” is highlighted with larger font. These editorial choices are deliberate and serve as circulation strategies. 

The core opportunism consists of turning critique into a cultural product targeted at a niche audience. While the book claims to be radical, it mostly offers comfort; it seems rebellious but ultimately reassures. Its strength lies not in taking bold risks but in presenting criticisms in a polished way. 

Unlike dense texts such as Jameson’s Postmodernism or Fisher’s Capitalist Realism, The Glories of Impotence offers accessible radical ideas that readers can critically analyze without requiring complex thinking. The cultural market prefers this approach: disillusionment is profitable when delivered in a professional manner. 

The Historical Position

The Glories of Impotence aligns with postmodern critique but also reflects its fatigue. Jameson examined late capitalism as a form of cultural logic. Fisher discussed capitalist realism and looked for creative breaks. Cornélio Vazio only retained the melancholic surface, without any genealogy or solution.

Historically, the book aims to create an atmosphere: that of a generation exhausted, insecure, and self-ironic. It functions as a portrait but lacks substance as a theory. It captures a moment of fatigue but solidifies it into identity. Design stops being a practice of recombination and becomes a landscape of defeat. 

Compared to authors like Haraway, Campagna, Latour, and Illich who dare to imagine, Vazio simply shows fatigue. His main contribution is turning impotence into an aestheticized doctrine. Instead of opening new horizons, he stabilizes atmospheres. He avoids risk and instead confirms what is. 

In this sense, the book symbolizes the culmination of a postmodern critique that can no longer reinvent itself: a critique that favors lamentation over the exploration of new alternatives. Its historical stance is clear: it marks the final breath of a tradition that sacrificed imagination for polished melancholy. 

Closing

The Glories of Impotence presents itself as a diagnosis but functions as a catechism. Cornélio Vazio poses as a critic but acts as a supplier of consolation. His most remarkable talent is not thinking but packaging slogans. The book turns precariousness into an aesthetic, exhaustion into style, and abdication into a commodity.

The real problem isn’t with the author but with his readers. They turn him into a liturgy, reciting phrases as if they were revelations, sharing excerpts as if they were weapons, and citing Cornélio Vazio to show membership in the club of the lucid-melancholic. It’s easier for them: they can claim critical awareness while remaining still, protected by their style of impotence. 

The author offers a graceful portrayal of failure; they respond with commitment. The agreement is clear: instead of resisting, they accept exhaustion; instead of arguing, they share posts; instead of dreaming, they create irony. Cultural capitalism values this: a book sells, a community unites, and a style spreads. 

Cornélio Vazio’s enduring contribution is creating the ultimate guide to turning defeat into a way of life. It functions as a melancholic ritual for a generation that chooses selfies showcasing their helplessness instead of embracing the risk of new opportunities. The real victory of impotence lies in the comforting triumph of those who confuse critique with just decorating emptiness. 

Not everything in The Glories of Impotence is worthless; some readers might find sentences worth highlighting. Personally, I consider that detail insignificant. The book’s value lies in its ability to serve as a focus for a subtle critique—one that rejects melancholic comfort and ruthlessly exposes the complacent ritual of impotence. 

And if anyone wishes to shift the attack onto me — accusing me of slogans, sarcasm, pamphleteering — let them. Such accusations are already part of the gesture. The main difference is that, here, style isn’t an excuse but a weapon. If this essay also serves as a soundbite, so much the better: its goal is to create friction, not comfort. Cornélio Vazio aestheticizes impotence to commodify it; I aestheticize critique to cause harm. I mention this also in light of my other writings. I have explored melancholy in an essay titled Design of Melancholy, recognizing how alluring and seductive melancholy can be through the use of language. However, in that essay, I regarded melancholy as a challenge rather than an unavoidable fate. In contrast, in Cornélio Vazio, melancholy is transformed into a doctrine, an identity, and a commodity. Knowing this temptation, I choose not to indulge it here. I see this book as a target for critique, not a mirror