The World is Unraveling: A 3-Step Guide to Staying Sane & Useful

MindBlog has now put out a series of AI assisted posts on the disintegration of the world we have known and the infusion of LLMs into our possible futures. This is the final entry in this series, and takes on the Nate Nagins essay "What to do as the world falls apart: A frame work for action."  As usual, I would urge you to read the entire article as I have.  But again I asked the usual culprits (ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, and DeepSeek) to reduce Hagins' text to provide a title and text for a MindBlog post of moderate length, and for the first time, preferred the quirky terse response from DeepSeek over the gravitas of the other three LLMs. Here is my prompt to the bots, and the DeepSeek response:  

Prompt:  I'm finding the essay by Nate Hagins at https://natehagens.substack.com/p/essay-what-to-do-as-the-world-falls mind complex and intricate, as befits the subject but not my poor brain. Could you please cook this down for me and generate a MindBlog post draft with a title and text that is not too many paragraphs long that makes clear the basic take home messages?

The Big Takeaway: We are at the end of an era built on cheap, magical energy (fossil fuels). A major geopolitical event (like a war cutting off oil) has just lit the fuse on a long-predicted economic and ecological contraction. Stop waiting for a "return to normal." Instead, focus on three nested levels of action: Fix Yourself → Find Your Tribe → Work on the 6 Key Fronts.

Level 0: The Inner Work (Don't Skip This)

Before you can help anyone or fix anything, you must stabilize your own nervous system.

• The Problem: Chronic doom-scrolling, outrage, and fear put your brain in fight-or-flight mode. You cannot think clearly or build coalitions in this state.

• What to Do: Do the "work" of grieving, cultivating equanimity (holding difficulty without being destroyed), and stepping back from digital addictions. Get your actual, real-life house in order (finances, location, basic supplies).

• The Mantra: A calm, grounded person is the most valuable resource in a crisis.

Level 1: Find the Others (You Can't Do It Alone)

Isolated preppers fail. Resilient communities survive.

• The Task: Identify the 5-10 people in your real-life network who also sense that something fundamental is breaking. Start talking honestly.

• The Goal: Build a shared vocabulary and trust before the crisis hits. This isn't about having a plan yet; it's about having a team. This is your "connective tissue" for scenario planning (e.g., "What if food shipments stop?").

Level 2: The 6 Fronts for Action (Pick Your Lane)

Once you are stable and have a trusted group, you can act. Don't try to do all six. Find where your skills fit.

1. Stock & Flow (Physical Stuff): Localize energy, food, water, and supply chains. Think redundancy, not efficiency. Example: Community gardens, tool libraries, solar with battery storage.

2. Ecological Interventions: Protect nature from desperate humans during the coming contraction. Regenerate soil, defend remaining wild spaces, and work on "global cooling" (planting trees, higher albedo). Note: The coming economic crash will cut emissions faster than any technology.

3. Dignity Infrastructure (For the Vulnerable): Set up mutual aid networks for food, shelter, and childcare. This is about keeping people treated as humans, not just "alive."

4. Civic Resilience (Governance): Create local, participatory decision-making (citizen's assemblies). Focus on violence prevention (stopping scapegoating) and accountability. The goal is to keep institutions legitimate, even as they shrink.

5. Culture & Meaning (The Stories): Shift from "consumer first" to "citizen and place-maker." This means reconnecting to your local ecology, creating new rituals, and helping your community grieve what's lost without collapsing into despair.

6. Economic Transition: Build post-growth systems: local currencies, barter networks, cooperative ownership of land and housing. Start building the new economy inside the shell of the old one.

The Most Important Mental Model: The 3 Phases

We are not in one crisis, but three overlapping phases. What you do depends on the phase.

• Phase A (Stability Window – Right Now): Build everything that requires stability. Trust, infrastructure, relationships, skills transfer. This window is closing.

• Phase B (Bend, Don't Break – Arriving Now): Triage mode. Maintain critical functions, bridge communities, prevent cascading failures. Let go of long-term projects; focus on what keeps things from snapping.

• Phase C (The Stable Attractor – The Destination): A smaller, slower, regenerative, locally-rooted world. The work you do in Phase A determines whether Phase C is a "Mad Max" hellscape or "The Great Simplification" (resilient & humane).

Final Bottom Line for your Brain:
Stop hoping for a return to the old world. Phase A is now. Your job is to:

1. Calm your own nervous system.

2. Find 3-5 local people to talk to.

3. Pick ONE of the six fronts (food, energy, governance, etc.) and take one small, physical action this week.

The future will be built from inside the disruption, not after it. Get to work.

 

Getting Gooier: How AI Is Reshaping Human Nature

This post is the result of my back and forth interaction with Claude Sonnet 4.6 that has yielded the following summary of  Venkatesh Rao's recent essay, "Getting Gooier", followed by some perspectives that Rao does not address on Friston's active inference framework and the physiology of agency:

Venkatesh Rao's recent essay "Getting Gooier" makes a point worth sitting with: most AI commentary obsesses over how the world will change, while quietly assuming that humans stay essentially the same — just reshuffled among familiar roles (generalists thrive! storytellers inherit the earth! software engineers disappear!). Rao argues this is the wrong ontology. The real question is how AI is changing human nature itself.

His framework draws on Alan Watts's distinction between prickly and gooey people. Prickly people are tough-minded, precise, boundary-drawing; gooey people are tender-minded, synthesizing, prone to letting distinctions dissolve. All of us carry both, in varying ratios.

Rao's hypothesis: because AI feels like a psychologically safe counter party, we are more willing to expose our gooey side to it and suppress our pricklier instincts. Sustained AI use amplifies the gooey side. We become gooier. He notes that people who insist on prickly, suspicious, line-by-line relationships with AI agents tend not to use them effectively and retreat. People who can vibe with the machine — never even opening the code editor, just watching the agentic shell fly — will likely thrive. The first major gooified interface is, after all, called vibecoding.

The flip side is subtler: as more gooey relational needs are met by AI, the human-facing side grows less inclined to take the emotional risks required to balance prickles and goo with other people. We don't necessarily get pricklier toward humans — we just disengage unless the expected rewards are significantly higher. Your machine-face gets gooier; you look relatively pricklier to other humans.

In the medium term, Rao predicts greater atomization — or "molecularization" — as people grow more distant from other humans while becoming more intimately entangled with their AIs. He sees this as more sustainable than social-media-driven atomization, though the mechanisms for eventual re-convergence into new digitally mediated social forms aren't yet visible.

Following Virginia Woolf's famous claim that "on or about December 1910, human character changed," Rao proposes that on or about December 2025, human nature changed again — with the Claude Code moment being more definitive than the ChatGPT moment, because agentic coding creates a fundamentally alien way of being, open-ended enough to make us as alien as we dare to become. It is, he says, a portal to transhumanism.

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Rao's prickly/gooey axis maps naturally onto Karl Friston's active inference framework, and the connection carries some weight. In that account, what we experience as a "self" is a precision-weighted predictive model — a system that assigns confidence to its own predictions and acts to fulfill them. Getting gooier, in Fristonian terms, looks like a reduction in precision-weighting of prior beliefs: a loosening of the grip that constitutes a rigid, bounded selfhood. That loosening isn't necessarily pathological. It can be a precondition for learning, creativity, and genuine engagement with novelty.

But there's a physiological dimension Rao doesn't address, and it connects to questions I've been exploring in recent MindBlog posts and in an ongoing correspondence with my European colleague Heribert on the physiology of agency in the age of AI. Daniel Wegner's work frames the feeling of agency — the sense of being the author of one's own actions — not as a metaphysical claim about free will, but as an evolved emotion, as functionally real as fear or grief. Martin Seligman's learned helplessness research gives that claim empirical teeth: sustained loss of felt agency doesn't merely feel bad, it triggers measurable physiological debilitation. The autonomic nervous system, it turns out, needs the experience of authorship to maintain homeostatic equilibrium.

This raises a question Rao's framing implicitly sets aside: is getting gooier — letting the AI absorb more of the regulatory and decisional load, softening the boundary of the agentic self — compatible with the physiological requirements of human wellbeing? Or does sustained gooification, however pleasurable and productive in the short run, erode the felt sense of agency that keeps the organism in regulatory balance? Heribert has described this as "externalization of self-regulation" — not merely cognitive offloading, but emotional and autonomic offloading. That's a different and more serious claim.

The honest answer is probably: it depends on the mode of engagement. Gooiness that arises from confident delegation — the experienced surgeon handing off a routine task — is physiologically distinct from gooiness that arises from passivity, confusion, or a sense that the machine is simply running past you. Rao's vibecoder who chooses not to open the code editor is in a different physiological position than the one who is simply lost. The challenge ahead is cultivating the former while recognizing that the latter may be far more common than the early-adopter narrative suggests.

 

Executive Function: Universal Capacity or Schooled Skill?

A recent PNAS article by Kroupin and colleagues challenges one of the most widely assumed constructs in cognitive science: that “executive function” (EF) reflects a universal set of cognitive control capacities. Their data suggest something more unsettling—that what psychologists have been measuring for decades as EF may be, to a substantial degree, a culturally constructed skill set tied to life in what they call “schooled worlds.”

The core of their argument is empirical. Standard EF tasks—card sorting, backward digit span, rule switching—require manipulating arbitrary, decontextualized information. These are precisely the kinds of operations heavily trained in formal schooling but far less demanded in many traditional environments. When these tasks are administered across populations, the differences are not subtle. Children in industrialized, schooled contexts show the familiar developmental trajectory—successful rule switching by age five, increasing working memory span, and so on. But children in rural, nonschooled communities often show qualitatively different patterns: failure to switch rules even at older ages, difficulty performing backward recall, and generally low rates of what researchers define as “canonical” responses. The point is not that these children lack cognitive control in any meaningful sense—they function effectively in complex real-world environments—but that the tasks are measuring a particular style of cognition that develops under specific cultural conditions.

This forces an uncomfortable ambiguity. The term “executive function” has been used to refer both to presumed universal regulatory capacities and to performance on these standard tasks. But the two may not coincide. Either EF names a universal capacity that current tasks fail to measure cleanly, or it names a culturally specific set of skills cultivated by schooling. The data do not allow both interpretations simultaneously. The implication is that decades of developmental curves, policy recommendations, and even clinical assessments may rest on a construct that conflates biology with cultural training.

A brief commentary by Mazzaferro and colleagues pushes back—not against the data, but against the conclusion that we must choose between universality and cultural specificity. They argue that the problem lies in measurement, not in the concept itself. Psychological tests always mix construct-relevant variance with context-dependent artifacts. When a task is transplanted into a different cultural setting without adaptation, it may cease to measure the intended construct at all. The analogy they offer is instructive: one would not conclude that “theory of mind” is culturally specific simply because a Western-designed false-belief task fails in an unfamiliar cultural context. Instead, one adapts the task.

From this perspective, executive function may indeed be a broadly shared capacity—rooted in evolutionary history and observable across species—but its expression and measurement are inevitably shaped by local demands. The solution is not to abandon the construct, but to develop context-sensitive assessments that capture how cognitive control is actually deployed in different environments. A child in a Western classroom uses executive function to manipulate symbols and follow abstract rules; a child in a pastoral society uses it to track livestock, navigate terrain, and manage social responsibilities. The underlying capacities may overlap, but the skills—and the tests that reveal them—do not.

What emerges from this exchange is a deeper point about cognitive science itself. Constructs like executive function are not simply discovered; they are stabilized through particular experimental practices. When those practices are narrowly tied to a single cultural niche, the resulting constructs risk inheriting that narrowness while being mislabeled as universal. The Kroupin study exposes this risk sharply. The Mazzaferro commentary reminds us that abandoning the construct is not the only response—but that rescuing it requires rethinking how and where we measure it.

The broader implication is that cognition cannot be cleanly separated from the environments in which it develops. What looks like a general-purpose cognitive capacity from within one cultural setting may, from a wider perspective, be an adaptation to a specific set of tasks and constraints. The challenge going forward is not simply to refine our measures, but to build theories that explicitly link cognitive processes to the ecological and cultural niches in which they are embedded.

[NOTE:  This post was generated by ChatGPT and curated by Deric] 

 

The Case for Being Human

 ...This Colin Lewis lecture and essay on "Character, Clarity, and connection in a Century of Curated Selves" is a welcome breath of fresh air. I pass on the entire piece:

 

We live in an age so crowded with voices that the unfiltered one now sounds almost shocking.

It’s strange how rare sincerity has become, and stranger still that we now confuse sincerity with naïveté.

To speak plainly is to risk sounding unsophisticated.

To think deeply is to risk being slow.

To feel fully is to risk being fragile.

But character, the old-fashioned word we’ve quietly retired, was never meant to protect us from vulnerability.

It was the discipline of aligning our inner life with our outer one, of letting integrity shape expression.

It demanded more than intelligence; it demanded coherence.

Critical thinking once meant that: not the sport of dismantling others’ arguments, but the patient craft of constructing one’s own, with care, doubt, and moral weight.

It was an act of self-respect, a kind of inner carpentry.

But our culture prizes speed over depth, reaction over reflection.

The algorithm rewards the appearance of certainty, not the work of understanding.

And so, in the noise, we mistake fluency for thought, visibility for virtue, and connection for mere contact.

We are raising a generation fluent in analysis but starved of empathy, able to read a thousand opinions yet unable to feel the gravity of a single human face.

Character, clarity, and connection are not distinct virtues, but the integrated disciplines required to reclaim the authentic, undivided human self from the pressure of performance.

The Discipline of Character

We once spoke of character the way we now speak of talent, as something to be developed, not displayed.

It was an inward architecture that gave a person moral gravity.

You sensed it not by how someone performed under lights but by how they behaved in the dark: what they refused, what they endured, what they stood for when standing carried a cost.

Emerson called it ‘the moral backbone of nature.’

William James called it ‘the faculty for choosing the better course when the worse is easier.’

Today, the word has slipped from our vocabulary, replaced by a constellation of lesser virtues: branding, adaptability, emotional intelligence, the polite euphemisms of a culture that fears judgment but craves approval.

Character was once forged in friction: between impulse and restraint, principle and convenience, public expectation and private conviction.

Now friction is the enemy.

We sand ourselves smooth for compatibility.

We are taught to self-optimize, to fit seamlessly into every new interface, every shifting norm.

The result is a society of impressive surfaces and untested cores.

What was once the slow combustion of the self, trial, error, correction, moral learning, has been replaced by the constant calibration of persona.

The question Who am I becoming? has been outsourced to the analytics of How am I performing?

And yet, without character, the rest collapses.
Critical thinking degenerates into cynicism; connection turns transactional.

The cultivated self was never meant to be frictionless, it was meant to be faithful: to something larger than appetite or trend.

To have character was to live by a standard not of success, but of self-command.

To measure worth not by agreement, but by conscience.In the quiet arithmetic of the inner life, that standard still waits, patient as gravity, reminding us that the project of being human is not to appear consistent but to become whole.

The first fruit of such integrity is humility, the recognition that self-knowledge is incomplete and that moral certainty is often the mask of fear.

That humility becomes the soil in which the next discipline takes root: the clarity of mind that allows us to see truth without distortion

The Discipline of Clarity

Critical thinking is often mistaken for skepticism, but its essence is humility, the willingness to see one’s own mind as fallible, corrigible, unfinished.

To think critically is not merely to doubt; it is to care about whether what you believe is true.

It demands a quiet courage, a resistance to the seductions of belonging.
For all our talk of open-mindedness, the modern mind is rarely open, it is flooded.

We are drowning in data but parched for discernment.

The problem is not ignorance; it’s the inability to tell signal from noise, truth from its infinitely capable impersonators.

Education once sought to train discernment, not just what to think, but how to think about thinking.

The goal was intellectual character: habits of honesty, coherence, proportion, restraint.

Today our institutions reward agility over depth, rhetorical victory over conceptual clarity.

The clever learn to weaponize ambiguity, to speak in the tone of thought without its substance.

In that performative landscape, genuine inquiry feels almost subversive.

It requires patience, solitude, and the unprofitable act of staying with uncertainty long enough for understanding to ripen.

True critical thinking, like moral character, begins in interiority, in self-questioning.

It’s the discipline of cleaning the lens through which we see.

It asks us to distinguish what is clear from what is loud, what is complex from what is confused.

The philosopher Raymond Geuss once noted that clarity is not a natural state but a moral achievement: it costs time, effort, and the willingness to endure ambiguity without surrendering to dogma.

In that sense, thinking clearly is an act of integrity.

The humility that character teaches becomes the clarity that thought requires.

The Courage to Feel

If character is the discipline of the soul, and clarity the discipline of the mind, then emotional authenticity is the discipline of presence.

It’s the art of showing up without armor, of allowing feeling to inform, rather than distort, perception.

We’ve mistaken composure for wisdom, detachment for maturity.
But the mind that cannot feel is no more rational than the heart that cannot think.

To connect honestly with another person is to risk being changed by them.

That risk, not efficiency or eloquence, is the measure of intelligence in its most human form.

The age of constant contact has made us experts at simulation.

We know how to mimic intimacy, how to text empathy, how to perform concern in 280 characters.

But emotional connection, the kind that alters the weather inside us, cannot be automated.

It requires the rarest human resource: attention.

To really listen is to momentarily suspend the self, to admit that the other person exists in a reality as vivid and demanding as your own.

That admission is humbling, and redemptive.It restores proportion to the world.

Neuroscientists now confirm what poets always knew: thought and feeling are not rivals but partners.

Emotion is not noise in the signal of reason; it’s the current that gives reason direction.

To cultivate empathy is therefore not a sentimental indulgence but a cognitive one, the training of perception through compassion.

The unfeeling intellect is not more objective, only more incomplete.

To know without feeling is to see in grayscale; to feel without knowing is to drown in it.

The task, as ever, is integration: to think with the heart and feel with the mind.

The Return to Wholeness

Character, clarity, and connection are not three virtues but three expressions of one longing, the desire to live as an undivided self.

We sense it in moments when our words, thoughts, and feelings align, when what we say reflects what we mean, and what we mean is grounded in what we are.

Such moments are rare because the world conspires against them.

The modern condition is fragmentation, our attention split, our loyalties divided, our selves dispersed across screens and roles.

We are, in Byung-Chul Han’s phrase, “achievement subjects,” endlessly producing ourselves.

Yet the human spirit, when left unharried, still yearns for coherence: to think truly, to act rightly, to feel deeply.

To cultivate that coherence is a rebellion.

It means valuing silence in a world addicted to noise, depth in a culture that worships speed, and sincerity in an economy built on display.

It asks us to become custodians of our own interior life, to guard the private workshop where moral insight, intellectual clarity, and emotional tenderness are forged into something like wisdom.

The old word for this was virtue, which did not mean virtue-signaling or moral posturing, but excellence of being.

To be virtuous was to be real, to be, as Aristotle wrote, ‘at one with oneself.’

In the end, wholeness is not a summary of these disciplines but their reward, the living synthesis of soul, mind, and heart into a single organ of understanding.

To live well in this century will require not new tools, but new depths: a return to the quiet heroism of character, the hard discipline of clarity, and the tender courage of connection.

And perhaps, when someone dares again to speak without polish, to feel without pretense, to think without echo, we’ll recognize them not as naïve, but as free.

Stay curious

 

Do we have an appetite for transcendence?

I've been working on a long rambling post on finding meaning in the flow and evolution of the cosmos rather than in the varied anthropomorphic religions that many cultures have invented.  My motivation to 'find meaning' is not that high, because the quest itself is a human invention derived from assuming the universe was made for us.  I find Paul Bloom in his recent Substack post "Is there a God-shaped hole?" has made a better statement of my position than I could.  I recommend that you read it.  

What are humans for? - AI Forces a Question We’ve Been Dodging

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AI Is Already Fusing With Us — The Only Question Is How

The argument about whether AI will enhance or diminish our our humanity usually starts in the wrong place. People argue about what AI should do before asking a more basic and uncomfortable question: what are humans for?

Every powerful technology embeds an answer to that question. AI is no exception. In fact, it may be the most consequential case yet, because AI is not just a tool we use—it is a system that increasingly co-thinks with us, shapes our attention, edits our language, nudges our choices, and quietly rewires our sense of agency.

We are not facing a future of humans versus machines. We are already living in a world of human–machine fusion.

The real issue is not whether this fusion will happen. It is what kind of fusion it will be.

There Is No Such Thing as “Human Values”

Much of the public discussion of AI ethics rests on a fantasy: that “human values” exist as a coherent, global, agreed-upon set of principles that AI can be aligned with.

They don’t.

Value, purpose, and meaning are social constructions. They vary radically across cultures, religions, and political systems—and they always have. What one society calls a meaningful life, another calls wasted. What one treats as sacred, another treats as irrelevant or dangerous.

There is no global agreement on what humans are for. Expecting a worldwide technology like AI to be guided by a single, shared vision of human purpose is naïve at best, dishonest at worst.

There Will Be Many AIs, Just as There Are Many Religions

Because there is no single answer to what humans are for, there will be no single AI.

There will be many forms of AI, each reflecting the values—explicit or implicit—of the cultures, institutions, and power structures that create them. Some will be optimized for surveillance, compliance, and efficiency. Others will be built to extend memory, imagination, and self-understanding.

In blunt terms: some AIs will enslave us; others could help liberate us.

The enslaving versions will treat humans as components to be managed—predictable, optimizable, correctable. Friction will be treated as inefficiency. Deviance as error. Interior life as noise.

The liberating versions will function as prostheses for the mind—tools that expand rather than replace human capacities. They will support reflection rather than manipulation, agency rather than control, curiosity rather than conformity.

The difference is not technical. It is philosophical.

AI as Prosthesis vs. AI as Manager

We already accept prostheses for the body—glasses, hearing aids, pacemakers—because they restore or extend human function without claiming authority over the person. AI can play a similar role for cognition: augmenting memory, pattern recognition, synthesis, and imagination.

But there is a sharp boundary here.

A cognitive prosthesis supports a human agent.
A cognitive manager displaces one.

The danger is not that AI becomes intelligent. The danger is that it becomes normative—quietly deciding what matters, what counts, what is worth attention, and what is not.

Once that happens, humans do not disappear. They persist as interfaces.

The Question We Can’t Outsource

AI forces us to confront a question we have long evaded: what kind of humans do we want to be when much of our thinking is no longer done alone?

There will be no final answer. There never has been. Meaning has always been plural, unstable, and contested.

But refusing to ask the question does not keep us neutral. It simply allows markets, states, and optimization systems to answer it for us—implicitly, automatically, and without appeal.

AI will fuse with us. That is already happening.

The only choice left is whether we fuse as authors of our lives—or as managed systems optimized for goals we did not choose.

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The above text is the response of ChatGPT5.2 to a prompt asking it to develop ideas in a long paragraph I wrote into a potential MindBlog post, followed by a second prompt asking it to alter its first excellent response into a shorter and more polemical version.  

 

The Modernity Machine

I want to pass on to readers this Venkatesh Rao substack essay that summarizes what his book club has learned in the past year: 

The Modernity Machine III

Completion, Saturation, and Phase Transition

This the third and concluding part of my series with notes on the learnings from the 2025 Contraptions book club. Part I and Part II traced the construction of the Modernity Machine between roughly 1200 and 1600: a civilization-scale contraption that converted medieval heterogeneity into legible, interoperable order. By 1600, the machine was complete in all essential respects. This concluding part addresses what such completion actually meant, what the machine optimized for once built, the contradictions it necessarily produced, and why those contradictions could not be repaired from within.

The aim is not to declare the “end of modernity,” but to close out a rough analysis of the machine that took 400 years to build and turn on, making modernity possible, and sustained it for another 400 years, being patched in increasingly fragilizing ways along the way. And also to explore why its very success post-1600 began forcing a slow phase transition to a different kind of civilizational machinery which began to get constructed around 1600, right when the Modernity Machine got turned on. This machine, which I refer to as the Divergence Machine, is being completed and turned on as we speak, even as the Modernity Machine is starting to get decommissioned in bits and pieces worldwide. Here is a teaser picture for the overarching thesis we’re developing here.

The 1600-2000 period and the Divergence Machine that emerged in that period will be the subject of the 2026 book club.

But let’s wrap up 2025 first.

You can catch up on the closing 2025 group discussion in this transcript. What follows is my personal wrap-up.

What the Machine Optimized

The Modernity Machine did not optimize for truth, justice, progress, or freedom—those were its legitimating narratives. What it optimized for, relentlessly and across domains, was legibility: the ability to render people, land, goods, time, belief, and violence enumerable, narratable, and interoperable at scale.

Venice, in City of Fortune, is not interesting because it was rich or republican, but because it functioned as an early, tightly integrated legibility engine: maritime logistics, double-entry bookkeeping, legal abstraction, diplomacy, and intelligence-gathering fused into a self-reinforcing apparatus. Venice: A New History fills in the same picture from another angle: stability emerges not from ideology but from procedural compression.

The horse, in Raiders, Rulers, and Traders, plays a parallel role across Eurasia: a biological technology that collapses distance, standardizes military force, and forces political units to scale or perish. The horse is legibility made kinetic.

Printing, in The Printing Revolution in Early Modern Europe, completes the transition. Knowledge becomes reproducible independent of context. Interpretation decouples from replication. Information density explodes while shared meaning lags behind. The machine acquires a memory that grows faster than any coordinating narrative.

1493 shows the planetary version of the same dynamic. The Columbian exchange is not merely ecological or economic; it is a global synchronization event. Previously isolated systems are forced into a single ledger. The machine’s jurisdiction becomes planetary even as its capacity for meaning remains local.

Seen this way, the Modernity Machine is best understood as a civilization-scale compression algorithm. For several centuries, the gains are extraordinary.

Medieval Baselines

To understand what the machine displaced, it helps to look at relatively pristine end-of-medieval snapshots.

Majapahit offers such a snapshot outside Europe: a highly developed but still recognizably medieval empire, organized around courtly ritual, tributary relations, and localized legitimacy, poised at the cusp of collapse before modernity arrives in force. It represents a world not yet reorganized by legibility, still governed by face-to-face sovereignty and cosmological order.

Within Europe, The Age of Chivalry performs a similar function. Chivalry appears not as romance but as a fully articulated medieval coordination system—ethical, military, and social—already straining under pressures it cannot metabolize. This is medievalism at its most coherent, just before it becomes an anachronism.

These snapshots matter because they show what modernity did not inherit: localized legitimacy, narrative sufficiency, and bounded scale.

The Hidden Outputs

Once the Modernity Machine works, it produces three unavoidable byproducts.

First, excess agency. Feudal bonds dissolve, religious monopolies weaken, markets and cities proliferate. The Canterbury Tales and The Decameron are early catalogs of proliferating voices and moral standpoints. Social life becomes polyphonic. Coordination becomes harder because more people can act.

Second, excess information. Printing destabilizes epistemic hierarchy. By Montaigne’s time, the educated individual is already drowning in books. The Complete Essays read as field notes from the first generation to experience epistemic overload. Skepticism is both a philosophical stance and a coping mechanism.

Third, excess scale. Before European Hegemony and When Asia Was the World make clear that global integration predates European dominance, but modernity hardens integration into permanent structure. Local meaning cannot survive planetary circulation intact.

The machine creates more actors than it can integrate, more information than it can interpret, and more scale than it can narrate.

The Last Gasp of the Medieval

The lesson of Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition is not that Bruno foresaw modern pluralism. It is almost the opposite. Bruno represents the last exuberant escape of medieval imagination—a crackpot magician and memory-maven operating within an anachronistic misunderstanding of Hermeticism as ancient Egyptian wisdom to hallucinate a worldview of bullshit — indifferent to truth or falsity in any modern empirical sense. His cosmological conclusions happened to resonate sympathetically with Copernican implications, but for fundamentally wrong reasons.

Bruno does not anticipate modernity; he misunderstands it. His fate marks not the birth of a new worldview, but the extinguishing of a freewheeling medieval mode incompatible with both emerging authoritarian modernism, especially ecclesiastical, and scientific empiricism. What survives of his tradition—Rosicrucianism, Masonic esotericism—persists as fringe subculture: culturally influential at times, intellectually irrelevant to the main currents of modern thought.

Bruno is thus not an early modern prophet, but a terminal medieval outlier.

Similarly, Ibn Khaldun: An Intellectual Biography should not be read as the story of a proto-sociologist ahead of his time. That role is largely retrofitted by modern interpreters. In his own context, Ibn Khaldun appears more plausibly as a kind of depressed Arab Petrarch: a brilliant chronicler of decline and defender of tradition, lamenting the absence of an Islamic renaissance rather than inaugurating one.

His cyclical theory of dynasties does not launch a new science of society; it records the exhaustion of an old civilizational form. The importance of Ibn Khaldun here is diagnostic, not genealogical. He documents a world failing to enter the Modernity Machine at all, despite being in possession of many of the necessary components.

Narrative Exhaustion

By the early modern period, narrative itself begins to fail as a unifying technology. Don Quixote stands as the European bookend to The Age of Chivalry. Quixote behaves impeccably within a dead symbolic system, and chaos results. The novel demonstrates that inherited narratives no longer synchronize action with reality.

Journey to the West stages the same problem mythically. The Monkey King embodies pure agency without moral center. Order is restored only through endless improvisation, not closure. This is not premodern innocence but recognition that containment now requires perpetual patching, a condition whose outer story is told in 1493.

Utopia remains the last sincere architectural drawing of the Modernity Machine. It assumes total legibility, benevolent coordination, stable universals, and obedient subjects. Even at publication, it is already obsolete. The social, informational, and political conditions required for utopia to function are precisely those modernity has destroyed in creating itself.

Everything after Utopia is retrofit to a completed civilizational machine, to patch problems that began appearing almost immediately after it was turned on in 1600.

Why Repair is Impossible

By 1600, the machine has crossed a complexity threshold. More law increases rigidity without legitimacy. More reason fragments into disciplines. More planning amplifies unintended consequences. More morality polarizes rather than integrates.

This is not moral failure or intellectual laziness. It is structural. The Modernity Machine generates more differentiation than any universal framework can absorb.

The Modernity Machine does not collapse, but a new logic begins cohering at its periphery. Coordination shifts from top-down design to nudging from the margins — and increasingly, everybody is in the margins. Some just recognize it in 1600, while others are only realizing it now in 2025. Legitimacy fragments. Meaning localizes. Systems adapt without consensus. Civilization continues to function—often remarkably well—while agreeing less and less about what it is doing or why.

This is the phase transition. The machine that made convergence possible gives way to a machine that produces divergence as a default condition.

The Modernity Machine has done its job. What follows is not its negation, but the emergence of a Divergence Machine destined to replace it—a different contraption, hot-swapped piecemeal for its predecessor over 400 years, between 1600 and 2000. Optimized not for legibility and convergence, but for proliferation, adaptation, and coexistence without closure. For divergence.

That is the story of 1600–2000, which we will tackle in 2026.

The picks for the first three months have been posted on the book club page if you want to get a head start. I’ll lay out the thesis in a January kickoff post.

Dangerous Ideas.......

Deric's MindBlog is almost 20 years old. Its first post appeared on Feb. 8, 2006. The assertions and ideas described in that original post are as fresh and relevant now as they were then, before the appearance of the iPhone, social media, and contracting attention spans.  The Edge.org link that once took you to the essays supporting the 'dangerous ideas' now takes you to their published version on Amazon. The "Reality Club" and John Brockman's "Third Culture" cohort of intellectuals has largely dispersed, although you will note many names still quite prominent today.   Here is the 2006 post:

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Edge.org is a website sponsored by the "Reality Club" (i.e. John Brockman, literary agent/impressario/socialite). Brockman has assembled a stable of scientists and other thinkers that he defines as a "third culture" that takes the place of traditional intellectuals in redefining who and what we are.... Each year a question is formulated for all to write on... In 2004 it was "What do you believe is true even though you cannot prove it?" The question for 2005 was "What is your dangerous idea?"

The responses organize themselves into several areas. Here are selected thumbnail summaries most directly relevant to human minds. I've not included cosmology and physics. Go to edge.org to read the essays

I. Nature of the human self or mind (by the way see my "I-Illusion" essay on my website):

Paulos - The self is a conceptual chimera
Shirky - Free will is going away
Nisbett - We are ignorant of our thinking processes
Horgan - We have no souls
Bloom - There are no souls, mind has a material basis.
Provine - This is all there is.
Anderson - Brains cannot become minds without bodies
Metzinger - Is being intellectually honest about the issue of free will compatible with preserving one's mental health?
Clark - Much of our behavior is determined by non-conscious, automatic uptake of cues and information
Turkle - Simulation will replace authenticity as computer simulation becomes fully naturalized.
Dawkins - A faulty person is no different from a faulty car. There is a mechanism determining behavior that needs to be fixed. The idea of responsibility is nonsense.
Smith - What we know may not change us. We will continue to conceive ourselves as centres of experience, self-knowing and free willing agents.

II. Natural explanations of culture

Sperber - Culture is natural.
Taylor - The human brain is a cultural artifact.
Hauser- There is a universal grammar of mental life.
Pinker - People differ genetically in their average talents and temperaments.
Goodwin - Similar coordinating patterns underlie biological and cultural evolution.
Venter - Revealing the genetic basis of personality and behavior will create societal conflicts.


III. Fundamental changes in political, economic, social order

O'donnell - The state will disappear.
Ridley - Government is the problem not the solution.
Shermer - Where goods cross frontiers armies won't.
Harari -Democracy is on its way out.
Csikszentmihalyi- The free market myth is destroying culture.
Goleman - The internet undermines the quality of human interaction.
Harris - Science must destroy religion.
Porco - Confrontation between science and religion might end when role played by science in lives of people is the same played by religion today.
Bering - Science will never silence God
Fisher - Drugs such as antidepressants jeopardize feelings of attachment and love
Iacoboni - Media Violence Induces Imitative Violence - the Problem with Mirrors
Morton - Our planet is not in peril, just humans are.

The 2025 Ig Nobel prizewinners in full

 A clip from the Chris Simms Nature Magazine article

LITERATURE

The late physician William Bean, for persistently recording and analysing the rate of growth of one of his fingernails over a period of 35 years.

PSYCHOLOGY

Marcin Zajenkowski and Gilles Gignac, for investigating what happens when you tell a narcissist — or anyone else — that they are intelligent.

NUTRITION

Daniele Dendi, Gabriel Segniagbeto, Roger Meek and Luca Luiselli for studying the extent to which a certain kind of lizard chooses to eat certain kinds of pizza.

PEDIATRICS

Julie Mennella and Gary Beauchamp for studying what a nursing baby experiences when their mother eats garlic.

BIOLOGY

Tomoki Kojima, Kazato Oishi, Yasushi Matsubara, Yuki Uchiyama, Yoshihiko Fukushima, Naoto Aoki, Say Sato, Tatsuaki Masuda, Junichi Ueda, Hiroyuki Hirooka and Katsutoshi Kino, for their experiments to learn whether cows painted with zebra-like stripes can avoid fly bites.

CHEMISTRY

Rotem Naftalovich, Daniel Naftalovich and Frank Greenway, for experiments to test whether eating Teflon [a form of plastic more formally called ’polytetrafluoroethylene’] is a good way to increase food volume, and hence satiety, without increasing calorie content.

PEACE

Fritz Renner, Inge Kersbergen, Matt Field and Jessica Werthmann, for showing that drinking alcohol sometimes improves a person’s ability to speak in a foreign language.

ENGINEERING DESIGN

Vikash Kumar and Sarthak Mittal, for analysing, from an engineering design perspective, “how foul-smelling shoes affects the good experience of using a shoe-rack”’.

AVIATION

Francisco Sánchez, Mariana Melcón, Carmi Korine and Berry Pinshow, for studying whether ingesting alcohol can impair bats’ ability to fly and echolocate.

PHYSICS

Giacomo Bartolucci, Daniel Maria Busiello, Matteo Ciarchi, Alberto Corticelli, Ivan Di Terlizzi, Fabrizio Olmeda, Davide Revignas and Vincenzo Maria Schimmenti, for discoveries about the physics of pasta sauce, especially the phase transition that can lead to clumping, which can yield an unappetizing dish.

 

Why depolarization is hard: Evaluating attempts to decrease partisan animosity in America

 A very revealing piece of work from Holiday et al. Their abstract:

Affective polarization is a corrosive force in American politics. While numerous studies have developed interventions to reduce it, their capacity for creating lasting, large-scale change is unclear. This study comprehensively evaluates existing interventions through a meta-analysis of 77 treatments from 25 published studies and two large-scale experiments. Our meta-analysis reveals that the average effect of treatments on animosity is modest (a 5.4-point shift on a 101-point scale), and decays within two weeks. We experimentally test whether stacking multiple treatments in one sitting or repeating them over time as “booster shots” enhances their impact. We find no evidence that multiple or repeated exposures produce substantially larger or more durable reductions in partisan animosity. This reveals the uneven utility of these interventions. They serve as valuable tools for testing the psychological mechanisms of polarization, but our findings indicate they are not, on their own, a scalable solution for reducing societal-level conflict. We conclude that achieving lasting depolarization will likely require a shift in focus, moving beyond individual-level treatments to address the elite behaviors and structural incentives that fuel partisan conflict. 

 

Value, Purpose, Meaning, Futures

Value, purpose, and meaning vary between  religions and cultures, and are best viewed as emergent properties supporting altruistic behaviors bonding us into groups that have proven to be more successful at sustaining themselves over multiple generations.   I take the value, purpose, and meaning of my life as being to exist as an expanded present centered awareness that encompasses all of this - the space in which thoughts, feelings, selves appear and disappear. 

Our transient Anthropocene era is a brief moment in the vast history of this planet and the cosmos. The disappearance of our human species as we know it is a certainty, a transition either to extinction or to a further evolved trans-human form. Understanding and accepting this can be a source of serenity that enables us to live fully in the present moment as grateful witnesses to what is unfolding.