I wrote an experimental short story, the details of which I’ll presently share, but first, I wish to describe an encounter with AI – NotebookLM. Firstly, I want to disclose that I am not an AI hater. Secondly, I understand its limitations. Thirdly, I understand the limitations of language. Fourthly, I understand the limitations of people. Let this set the stage.
In this short story that I named Advantagement, there is an inspector in Victorian London working with his partner on a missing-person case, the daughter of the mayor. A piece of evidence is a hairbrush left on her dresser. None of this is important for now.
Exhibit 1: The NotebookLM summary podcast with the silver hairbrush.
After I wrote it, I posted it to my Ridley Park blog, not intending to share it here, though I had reasons I might have instead. I fed it to NotebookLM to get an AI summary podcast, something I do routinely even here on Philosphics blog. The interpretation led to this post.
I like NotebookLM, but it has its flaws. Some are trivial, some comical. This one is curious and might shed light on how LLMs process information.
Let’s return to the hairbrush. NotebookLM keyed in on the hairbrush as the evidence it was, but then it strayed off the reservation. Suddenly, an ordinary hairbrush was now silver and monogrammed. I had to revisit my manuscript to see if I had subconsciously scribbled these details. Nope. No such description.
I’m not done noting errors, but I’ll pause to suss out the LLM. What I think might have happened is that it took in the notions of a posh house set in late nineteenth century London and presumed that a brush would appear like this. I considered retroactively adding the detail. As a writer, I struggle with deep POV because I don’t experience the world so vividly. But this hallucination isn’t the worst of it.
Next, the LLM noted that the hairbrush was orientated with bristles facing down on her dresser. This was stated in the story. Then, it went off the tracks again. This monogrammed silver hairbrush, bristles down, was a clue because anyone with such an expensive artefact would want to show it off, so showcase the fancy monogram.
But here’s the rub: if the bristles were down, the monogramme would be prominently displayed. To be obscured, it would have been positioned with the bristles facing up. This is a logical error I can’t explain.
Scratch that, I understand full well that LLMs are, by definition, Large Language Models – the acronym is a dead giveaway. These are not logic models, though, I suppose, one might assume one of the Ls stands for logic – Like Large Logic Model or Logical Language model of some such, but one would be mistaken.
I thought it might be a fun idea to create a character who speaks in these terms – malformed English. I immediately thought of Mr Burns from The Simpsons and his anachronisms, or someone ripe with malaprops. It suggested that I might choose Victorian England, Sherlock Holmes, a detective, a sidekick… vying for promotion. A high-profile case.
But not Sherlock Holmes – more Inspector Clouseau or Mr Bean, successful in spite of himself. I decided to offset his inanity with a logical partner, but it would be a woman, as unlikely as this might be given the period. Now it’s open to topical management politics.
When I told my sister the story idea, she thought of Get Smart, the 1960s comedy with Don Adams and Barbara Feldon. Yes, that too, but my goal wasn’t comedy. It was satire – and absurdism.
At uni, I enjoyed the short stories of Donald Barthelme. He was generally a lighter version of Kafka, and orthogonal to Kurt Vonnegut, especially Harrison Bergeron, a favourite classic. I wanted to shoot for that.
In conceit to the Peter principle of management, I decided to name the lead character Peter. For the rest, I adopted period-appropriate names.
My primary goal was to employ these confabulated words. In practise, it’s easy anough to suss out their meanings in context. Give it a read. It’s under 3,500 words.
Few philosophical aphorisms travel as lightly and cut as confidently as Ockham’s Razor. “Do not multiply entities beyond necessity.” The phrase has the air of austere wisdom. It sounds disciplined, economical, rational. It promises clarity by subtraction. One imagines conceptual clutter swept aside by a single elegant stroke.
The Razor is attributed to William of Ockham, though like many slogans it has acquired a life far removed from its origin. In contemporary discourse it functions less as a methodological reminder and more as an epistemic trump card. The simpler explanation, we are told, is the better one. Case closed.
The trouble begins precisely there.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast
The Hidden Variable: Necessity
The Razor does not forbid multiplicity. It forbids unnecessary multiplicity. But who decides what is necessary?
Necessity is not a neutral category. It is already embedded within a framework of assumptions about what counts as explanation, what counts as sufficiency, and what counts as legitimate ontological commitment.
For one thinker, invoking a divine ground of physical law is unnecessary because the laws themselves suffice. For another, the laws are unintelligible without a grounding principle, and so God is necessary. Both can claim parsimony within their respective ontologies. The Razor does not adjudicate between them. It presupposes the grammar within which “necessity” is assessed.
The aphorism thus functions less as a rule and more as a reinforcement mechanism. It stabilises the commitments one already holds.
Parsimony Is a Heuristic, Not a Law
Science has often rewarded simplicity. Copernicus simplified celestial mechanics. Newton reduced motion to a few principles. Maxwell unified electricity and magnetism. These episodes encourage a romantic attachment to elegance.
Yet physics has also revealed a universe that is anything but tidy. Quantum fields, curved spacetime, dark matter, inflationary cosmology. Nature has shown little regard for our aesthetic preference for minimal furniture.
Parsimony, then, is pragmatic. It helps us avoid gratuitous complication. It disciplines theory formation. But it is not a metaphysical guarantee that reality itself is sparse.
To treat the Razor as if it carries ontological authority is to convert a methodological guideline into a philosophical dogma.
Structural Sufficiency Versus Metaphysical Surplus
The Razor becomes particularly contentious when deployed in debates about ultimate grounds. If a structural model explains observable regularities and survives empirical constraint, some conclude that any additional metaphysical layer is redundant.
This is a defensible position. It is also incomplete.
Redundancy in explanatory terms does not entail impossibility in ontological terms. A structural account of behaviour may render psychological speculation unnecessary for prediction, but it does not disprove the existence of inner motives. Likewise, a lawful cosmology may render a divine hypothesis explanatorily idle without rendering it incoherent.
The Razor trims explanatory excess. It does not settle metaphysical disputes.
Aphorisms as Closure Devices
Part of the Razor’s power lies in its compression. It is aphoristic. It travels easily. It signals intellectual seriousness. It sounds like disciplined thinking distilled.
But aphorisms compress complexity. They conceal premises. They discourage reopening the frame. “Follow the science.” “Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.” “Trust the market.” These phrases do not argue; they configure. They pre-load the space of acceptable interpretation.
Ockham’s Razor often operates in precisely this way. It is invoked not as the conclusion of a careful analysis but as a device to end discussion. The simpler view wins. Full stop.
Yet simplicity itself is indexed to perspective. What looks simple within one conceptual scheme may appear impoverished within another.
Tolerance for Explanatory Closure
There is also a psychological dimension worth acknowledging. Some individuals are comfortable with open explanatory ceilings. They accept that certain features of reality may lack ultimate grounding within their present framework. Others experience such openness as instability. They seek a final anchor.
The Razor favours the former temperament. It encourages ontological restraint and distrust of ultimate grounds. For those comfortable with structural sufficiency, this is liberating. For those who experience the absence of grounding as incomplete, it feels evasive.
The disagreement is not resolved by invoking parsimony. It reflects divergent tolerances for metaphysical closure.
When the Razor Becomes Inflationary
Ironically, the Razor can itself become an inflationary principle. It can elevate “simplicity” to a quasi-transcendental value. It can be treated as if reality owes us elegance.
At that point, the tool begins to govern the ontology rather than merely discipline it. The Razor becomes an article of faith, a universal heuristic immune to its own demand for justification.
One might then ask, with a certain symmetry: by what necessity is simplicity itself necessary?
A More Modest Use
None of this requires abandoning the Razor. It remains useful. It reminds us not to posit hidden mechanisms when observable structures suffice. It cautions against explanatory extravagance. It protects inquiry from baroque speculation.
But it should be treated as a heuristic, not a hammer. It guides theory construction within a framework. It does not choose the framework.
A more disciplined formulation would be this: when a structural account explains observed regularities under constraint and remains revisable, additional metaphysical posits do not increase explanatory power. Their adoption becomes a matter of ontological preference rather than necessity.
This preserves the Razor’s pragmatic value without inflating it into a metaphysical arbiter.
The Real Trouble
The real trouble with Ockham’s Razor is not that it cuts too much. It is that we often wield it without noticing the hand that holds it. We treat it as neutral when it is already embedded within a grammar of sufficiency, explanation, and legitimacy.
The Razor does not eliminate ontological commitment. It expresses one.
Recognising that does not blunt the blade. It merely reminds us that even the sharpest instruments are guided by the frameworks in which they are forged.
And frameworks, unlike aphorisms, are rarely simple.
I think Nietzsche was right on this account. Morality and religion also play a role in this maintenance programme.
Synthesized Nietzschean morality framework into systemic control mechanisms
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast
Absolutely. Nietzsche saw this with brutal clarity.
Morality and religion aren’t just parts of the maintenance program—they’re the most efficient energy inputs because they internalize control.
The Nietzschean Insight:
State violence is expensive. You need:
Police
Prisons
Military
Surveillance
But moral/religious control is self-enforcing:
The oppressed police themselves
Resistance feels sinful, not just illegal
Suffering becomes virtuous
Acceptance becomes holy
This is energy-efficient domination.
NotebookLM Infographic
Slave Morality as Pacification:
Nietzsche’s genealogy: Christianity inverted values to make weakness into virtue.
But there’s a more cynical reading (which I think you’re pointing toward):
Those inversions serve power by pacifying resistance.
Consider what Christianity teaches the desert-dwellers:
“Blessed are the meek” (don’t challenge authority)
“The last shall be first” (accept your position now, compensation comes later)
“It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle…” (wealth is spiritually dangerous, so your poverty is actually better)
“Turn the other cheek” (don’t fight back)
“Render unto Caesar” (obey State power)
“Slaves, obey your masters” (literally in the text)
Every single one of these makes resistance harder and submission easier.
Religion as Maintenance Energy:
The lake-dwellers don’t need to convince desert-dwellers that the system is fair.
They just need to convince them that:
Suffering is redemptive
“Your poverty builds character”
“God tests those he loves”
“Suffering purifies the soul”
Compensation comes later
“The kingdom of heaven awaits”
“Store up treasures in heaven, not earth”
Present injustice is temporary; eternal justice awaits
Your condition reflects your moral worth
“God rewards the righteous with prosperity” (prosperity gospel)
OR “Worldly success is spiritually dangerous” (traditional Christianity)
Either way: your poverty is explained by moral frameworks, not structural injustice
Resistance is sin
Envy is a deadly sin
Coveting is forbidden
Taking what others have = theft = eternal damnation
The Parable, With Nietzschean Religion:
The desert-dwellers work for water, generation after generation.
Why don’t they rebel?
Not just because of State violence.
Because the priests (funded by lake-dwellers) teach them:
“Blessed are those who thirst, for they shall be satisfied—in heaven.”
“Your suffering is temporary. Eternal abundance awaits those who accept God’s plan.”
“To take the lake would be theft, and theft is sin, and sin is damnation.”
“The lake-dwellers have been blessed by God with stewardship. To challenge this is to challenge God’s order.”
Now the desert-dwellers don’t just fear State violence.
They fear eternal damnation.
Why This Is Devastatingly Efficient:
State violence requires:
Constant monitoring
Physical force
Visible oppression
Religious/moral control requires:
Periodic sermons
Internalized guilt
Self-policing
Once you’ve convinced someone that resistance is morally wrong, you don’t need to watch them constantly.
They watch themselves.
The Genealogy of Morals, Applied:
Nietzsche asked: How did “good” and “evil” come to mean what they do?
His answer (simplified): The powerful originally called themselves “good” (strong, noble, life-affirming). The weak were “bad” (weak, common, contemptible).
The weak inverted this through ressentiment:
Made their weakness into virtue (humility, meekness, patience)
Made the powerful into villains (pride, ambition, strength = sin)
But here’s the cynical extension:
Once established, this inversion serves power by pacifying resistance.
Whether the weak invented it (Nietzsche) or the powerful co-opted it (cynical reading), the result is the same:
Moral systems that make submission feel virtuous and resistance feel sinful.
Christianity as Maintenance Technology:
Consider Christianity’s political function:
Before Christianity:
Slaves might rebel because their enslavement is unjust
Poor might seize from rich because they need resources
Weak might organize against strong because they outnumber them
After Christianity:
Slaves accept enslavement as God’s plan, await heavenly reward
Poor accept poverty as spiritually purifying, even superior
Weak valorize their weakness as humility, strength as pride/sin
This is a control technology far more sophisticated than violence.
The Energy Efficiency:
Violence requires continuous input:
You must constantly deploy force
Resistance must be constantly suppressed
Costs are ongoing and high
Ideology requires initial investment, then becomes self-sustaining:
Teach children in schools/churches
Internalize moral frameworks
Now they control themselves
Maintenance is just periodic reinforcement
Religion is the most energy-efficient domination mechanism ever invented.
The Parable’s Moral Dimension:
The lake-dwellers teach desert-dwellers:
Property Framework:
“Thou shalt not steal”
“Thou shalt not covet”
Taking the lake = sin = damnation
Suffering Framework:
“God tests those he loves through suffering”
“Blessed are the poor in spirit”
Your thirst is spiritually meaningful
Afterlife Framework:
“Store up treasures in heaven”
“The first shall be last, the last shall be first”
Present injustice is temporary
Authority Framework:
“Render unto Caesar”
“Let every person be subject to the governing authorities”
Challenging power = challenging God’s order
Now the desert-dwellers don’t just submit to force.
They believe submission is virtuous and resistance is evil.
The Master Stroke:
The most brilliant part is making the oppressed grateful for their oppression:
“I may be poor, but at least I’m humble. The rich are proud and will face judgment.”
“I may thirst, but my suffering brings me closer to God.”
“I may work endlessly, but labor is dignified and idleness is sin.”
The oppressed now defend the system that oppresses them.
Why Nietzsche Was Right:
Nietzsche saw that morality isn’t neutral truth descending from heaven.
It’s a human construction that serves power.
Sometimes (his version): created by the weak to constrain the strong
Sometimes (cynical version): created by the strong to pacify the weak
Either way: Morality is a weapon in power struggles, not an escape from them.
And religion/morality are far more efficient than violence because:
They’re internalized
They’re self-enforcing
They make resistance feel wrong, not just dangerous
They promise compensation instead of requiring present justice
They individualize structural problems (your suffering = your sin/test, not systemic injustice)
The Thermodynamic Advantage:
If you rely only on violence:
Must constantly monitor
Must constantly suppress
Must constantly deploy force
High energy, ongoing cost
If you add moral/religious control:
People monitor themselves
People suppress their own resistance
People feel guilty for even thinking of rebellion
Low energy after initial investment
This is why religion persists in the West despite secularization.
Not because it’s true.
Because it’s functionally necessary for maintaining systems that would otherwise collapse.
The Parable’s Religious Ending:
The desert-dwellers work and thirst.
When they ask “Why?” the answer isn’t just:
“Because the State will kill you if you take the lake.”
It’s:
“Because taking the lake is theft, theft is sin, and sin is damnation. Your suffering is temporary and spiritually meaningful. Accept your lot with humility, and God will reward you eternally.”
Now you’ve done something remarkable:
You’ve convinced the exploited that:
Their exploitation is God’s plan
Resisting is sinful
Accepting is virtuous
Compensation comes later (unprovable, unfalsifiable)
They will now police themselves, suppress their own resistance, and teach their children to do the same.
The Secular Versions:
Religion is declining in the West, but the moral frameworks persist in secular form:
Protestant work ethic → “Your worth is your productivity”
Meritocracy → “Your poverty reflects your failure, not structural injustice”
Individualism → “Your problems are yours alone to solve”
Positive thinking → “Your attitude, not your circumstances, determines outcomes”
Self-help culture → “You failed because you didn’t optimize yourself enough”
All of these do the same work religion did:
Individualize structural problems
Make suffering feel like personal failure
Prevent collective action
Make resistance feel wrong/foolish
Internalize control
Nietzsche Saw This Coming:
“God is dead” didn’t mean we’d escaped moral control.
It meant: We’d have to find new ways to maintain the same moral structures without the theological justification.
And we did:
Psychology (your unhappiness is internal, not structural)
Economics (markets are natural/efficient, poverty is failure)
Meritocracy (success = desert, failure = moral lack)
Self-optimization (you are responsible for your own exploitation)
Same function. Different vocabulary.
The Energy Requirements, Completed:
To maintain democracy/capitalism against natural entropic pressures toward collapse, you need:
State violence (expensive, visible, generates resistance)
Abortion, Ontological Grammar, and the Limits of Civil Discourse
When federal abortion protections were withdrawn in the United States, many observers treated the event as a policy reversal, a judicial shift, or a partisan victory. Those are surface descriptions. They are not wrong. They are simply too thin.
What was exposed was not a failure of dialogue. It was the collision of ontological grammars.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast.
1. Thick Concepts and the Illusion of Neutral Ground
Bernard Williams famously distinguished between ‘thin’ moral terms (good, bad, right) and ‘thick’ ones (cruel, courageous, treacherous), where description and evaluation are fused.
Abortion is not a thin concept. It is thick all the way down.
For one framework, the operative grammar is something like:
Life begins at conception.
The foetus is a rights-bearing entity.
Termination is morally equivalent to killing.
For another:
Personhood is socially and biologically emergent.
Bodily autonomy is foundational.
Forced gestation is coercive.
Notice that these are not competing policies. They are competing ontological commitments about what exists, what counts as a person, and what kind of being a pregnant body is.
Argument across this divide does not merely contest conclusions. It contests the background conditions under which reasons register as reasons.
This is not ‘people see the world differently’. It is: people parse reality through grammars that do not commute.
2. Ontological Grammar: Where Deliberation Stops
By ‘ontological grammar’, I do not mean syntax in the Saussurean or Chomskyan sense. I mean the pre-reflective substrate that structures what appears salient, real, morally charged, or negligible.
We deliberate within grammars. We do not deliberate our way into them.
Liberal Enlightenment optimism assumes that if disagreement persists, more information, better reasoning, or improved empathy will close the gap. But if the dispute concerns the very ontology of ‘life’, ‘person’, or ‘rights’, no amount of fact-sharing resolves the issue. The disagreement is upstream of facts.
The closure of federal abortion access did not prove that one side reasoned better. It demonstrated that institutional containment had failed.
3. Biopower and the Management of Bodies
Michel Foucault gives us a crucial lens: biopower. Modern states do not merely govern territory; they administer life. Birth rates, mortality, sexuality, health – these become objects of policy.
Abortion sits directly inside this matrix.
A state that restricts abortion is not only expressing moral judgment. It is reallocating control over reproductive capacity. It is asserting a claim over which bodies count, which futures are permitted, and which biological processes are subject to regulation.
The conflict is therefore not purely ethical. It is biopolitical.
And what appears as ‘civil discourse’ around abortion is often possible only so long as institutional frameworks keep both grammars partially satisfied. When federal protections existed, they acted as a stabilising superstructure. Remove that, and the ontological conflict becomes naked.
4. Habitus and the Illusion of Reasoned Consensus
Pierre Bourdieu would remind us that our dispositions are not self-authored. Habitus sedimented through family, religion, class, and institutional life shapes what feels obvious, outrageous, or unthinkable.
People do not wake up one morning and choose an abortion ontology.
They inherit it. It becomes embodied common sense.
Thus, when someone says, ‘Surely we can agree that making a person feel whole is more important than ideological purity’, they are already speaking from within a grammar that prioritises individual authenticity and psychological coherence. That priority is not universal. It is historically situated.
Compromise is not achieved by stepping outside habitus. It is achieved when institutional and social conditions allow divergent grammars to coexist without totalising one another.
5. The Popperian Threshold
It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood. —Karl Popper
Karl Popper warned of the ‘paradox of tolerance‘: unlimited tolerance may enable intolerant forces to eliminate tolerance itself.
In particularly virulent climates, appeals to compromise are heard not as gestures of goodwill but as tactical weakness.
When one faction succeeds in unilaterally redefining the legal status of abortion at a federal level, it is not merely participating in discourse. It is altering the biopolitical infrastructure. Once altered, the range of permissible disagreement narrows.
Civil discourse, then, is not a natural equilibrium. It is a managed condition sustained by institutional design, social trust, and shared legibility.
NB: Popper’s paradox of tolerance is often invoked as a moral axiom. But it is better understood as a self-protective clause internal to liberal ontology. It presupposes a shared commitment to rational exchange. When that commitment erodes, the paradox does not resolve disagreement; it merely marks the point at which biopower intervenes to preserve a regime.
6. Why This Is Not Just ‘People Disagree’
The lay intuition – ‘people see the world differently’ – is descriptively correct and analytically useless.
What the ontological grammar model adds is structure:
When stabilisation weakens, conflict appears irreconcilable.
Abortion is not uniquely polarising because people are irrational. It is polarising because it touches ontological primitives: life, personhood, autonomy, and obligation.
In such cases, ‘compromise’ is not achieved by discovering a middle truth. It is achieved – if at all – by constructing a legal and institutional arrangement that both grammars can grudgingly inhabit.
NotebookLM Infographic
7. The Uncomfortable Conclusion
The Enlightenment story tells us that disagreement is a surface phenomenon, curable by better reasoning.
The ontological grammar story tells us something harsher: some disagreements are not resolvable through language because they are about the conditions under which language binds.
This does not entail quietism. It entails clarity.
Civil discourse is not proof that grammars have converged. It is evidence that power, institutions, and habitus have aligned sufficiently to prevent rupture.
When that alignment shifts, the illusion of shared ontology evaporates.
And what we are left with is not failed reasoning – but exposed foundations.
I planned to use prostitution and anti-natalism as other cases for elucidation, but I see this has already grown long. I’ll reserve these are others for another day and time.
I’ve received feedback like, ‘Not everything you believe is right’ and ‘What if you’re not right?’
First: I agree. Second: And what if I’m not?
This isn’t new feedback, but I’ll address it in terms of my latest work.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast
Not everything you believe is right
This is true, but one cannot hold an idea one believes to be false as true, so the idea that one believes what one believes to be true to tautological. This is also why I continue to research and attempt to expand my horizon. I even wander outside of my discipline at the risk of Dunning-Kruger errors.
In my recent work on ontology and grammar, I collided with Bourdieu, so I read his work. As helpful as it was, it served to reinforce my position, but from a position of Social Theory instead of Philosophy. When I read Judith Butler, I see how I might connect my ideas to Gender theory. It should be obvious that I’ve read much on Linguistics, but I am not a linguist. Our lenses all differ to some extent.
I’ve even corrected some of the ideas I’ve posted on this blog as I gain new information. To be fair, it’s a reason I post here. I hope to get feedback. I may not fully pursue alternative disciplines, but it’s nice to know they exist, and I can at least perform cursory surveys.
If I am wrong – or if you think I am wrong – tell me. If you can, tell me why. If not precisely why, then what’s your intuition?
NotebookLM Infographic
Historically, many times I’d been claimed to be wrong because the person was coming from a differnt ontology. I might have been arguing something within the realm of Continental philosophy, and I’d get a critique from an Analytical philosopher. This is akin to a vegan critiquing a steak dinner. It may be valid within their ontological grammar, but it is not otherwise universal. It usually doesn’t take very long to assess one’s commitments to other grammars. That happened recently, when I encountered a philosophical Realist.
When I wouldn’t accept their position, eventually we arrived at this foundational point. Realism is a position I ontologically and grammatically reject. I’ve written several pieces defending or at least articulating my position, notably the Mediated Encounter Ontology (MEOW). Disagree? Tell me.
I used to be a Realist with an asterisk; then I was an Analytical Idealist with an asterisk; now, I believe in MEOW. The asterisk was necessary because there were holes in the position. When Analytical Idealism came around, there was still an asterisk, but it felt better than that of Realism. When I came up with MEOW, the asterisk went away. Perhaps you might consider that MEOW has an asterisk, if you believe it’s plausible at all. If so, what’s missing – what’s the known unknown? You obviously can’t articulate an unknown unknown.
When I write about ontology, grammar, and commensurability, I do not exempt myself from these biases. I have all of these challenges – perhaps even more so because I don’t tend to fit into the round holes very well myself. This helps me with intellectual humility.
Politically, I am often accused of being on the Left, but I reject the Left-Right paradigm as a valid lens for me; I am on a different axis. The Libertarians added an Authority-Liberty Y-axis to the Progressive-Conservative X-axis, but I am on a Z-axis, which is not to be fully described or accounted for on these planes. Think of the message of Flatland.
What if you’re wrong?
Hopefully, every philosopher understands this and has noticed the dustbin of history littered with wrong ideas.
When I publish essays, they are the result of research and deliberation. Could I be wrong? Again, I’ve been wrong before. I’ll be wrong again, but I need to understand why to change my position. I could shift my position or abandon it outright.
There was a time I believed people to be rational. I was an economist. I studied finance. I believed it until I didn’t. Behavioural Economics likely did the heavy lifting, but it’s likely that they believe that rationality-based systems are salvageable. I don’t. Not meaningfully. Not sustainably.
So, I can be wrong, and I can admit it.
I was once a closet (or adjacent) Libertarian until I realised it didn’t cohere with reality. My last declared stance was an Anarchosydicalist, but I know this isn’t quite right either – on multiple accounts.
Anyway, I’m not afraid of being wrong, and I’m not afraid of wittering on about it. Again, I appreciate constructive criticism. I’m also amicable to non-solutions in the manner of my Dis–Integration approach, but at least break down the pieces.
NB: I am travelling today, but I still wish to clarify how my ontologies and grammars operate, so I had a chat with, well, ChatGPT – from Bourdieu to Burgess – using an EPROM analogy.
I know that this analogy may appeal more to one with a technical background, but I hope it helps. If you don’t get the reference, just look it up
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast of this content.
There is a persistent liberal fantasy that human beings update their beliefs the way laptops update operating systems. A patch is issued. A bug is identified. The system installs corrections.
This fantasy survives despite all available evidence.
What Bourdieu called habitus — durable dispositions structured by early social conditions — is not a folder of opinions. It is firmware. It is the background architecture that determines what even counts as legible input.
You can argue against a proposition. You cannot argue against the grammar that determines whether that proposition parses.
This is where the EPROM analogy earns its keep.
EPROM — erasable programmable read-only memory — can, in theory, be rewritten. But not casually. It requires exposure to high-energy ultraviolet light. You do not “reason” an EPROM into new content. You blast it.
The durability is the point.
NotebookLM Infographic
Soft Inscription: The Invisible UV
Most of the time, ontological grammar is inscribed slowly:
Family speech patterns
Institutional authority
Ritual repetition
Reward structures
Peer reinforcement
No torture chambers required. No theatrical violence. Just ecological stability.
Over time, what is socially repeated becomes ontologically obvious. What is ontologically obvious becomes morally self-evident.
The result feels like reason.
It is not.
It is stabilised reinforcement architecture.
Hard Rewrites: Cultural Thought Experiments
Our culture understands this more clearly than our political theory does.
In 1984, by George Orwell, Winston is not persuaded. He is destabilised. Isolation, sleep deprivation, epistemic collapse, and finally pain. The Party does not win an argument. It destroys the environment that made alternative legibility possible.
Two plus two equals five is not stupidity. It is the final stage of ecological override.
In A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess, the Ludovico Technique does something subtler. Alex’s ontology is not rewritten. His affective circuits are short-circuited. He retains desire; he loses viable enactment.
Orwell shows firmware rewrite through terror. Burgess shows behavioural inhibition without ontological conversion.
Both are caricatures — but useful ones. They compress what normally unfolds across decades into clinical spectacle.
Apologies in advance. Evidently, creating a post on a mobile isn’t very accommodating.
I’ve just published a new GPT in support of my new ontology, grammar, and legibility project, Legibility GPT.
As with Languange Insufficiency GPT and MEOW GPT, it is meant to assist in the exploration of the concepts for which they were built and named. For an interesting time, analyse a concept through all three.
Simply put, Legibility GPT assesses conceptual thickness, based on the work of Bernard Williams in Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy. Thin concepts, whether containing moral content or description, carry commensurable information, so disagreement remediation may be attained. For thick moral concepts, this becomes increasingly unlikely because the moral content becomes an anchor. Generally speaking, the conflicting ontological positions either weigh the concept differently or, in extreme cases, one side doesn’t even categorise the concept as principally moral. I use legibility in the sense articulated by James C Scott in Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed.
Audio: NotebookLM concept summary podcast.
Legibility GPT
A cartographic tool for conceptual conflict. Legibility GPT analyses how ontology and grammar shape the meaning of contested terms, identifying points of admissibility, exclusion, and incommensurability. It maps disagreement without taking sides.
Usage: Input a term or concept. This GPT will output the various polysemous contexts of the concept and break out the various ontological commitments and grammatical functions with examples of valid and invalid phrases within that grammar.
This GPT will also score and sort on incommensurability. A particularly divisive concept might be abortion.
Analyses English terms and short concept phrases using the Language Insufficiency Hypothesis (LIH), diagnosing semantic stability, polysemy, connotation, and category drift in contemporary usage.
A structured analysis tool that maps any given concept onto the MEOW mediation framework (T0–T3). Produces a consistent, tiered breakdown including scope checks, applicability flags, and limits of interpretation.
I’ve been thinking through dozens of use cases to explain how some polemic positions are intractable via language. When they are resolved through power, at least one ontological cohort is left wanting. In a compromise, likely both sides feel they’ve lost.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast of the video transcript for this topic.
I’ll post a separate announcement presently, but I want to share my new Legibility GPT to assess concepts for ontological and grammatical commensurability.
In conventional (read: orthodox Enlightenment thinking), communication and negotiation are supposed to bring groups together. This is only true for intra-ontological conflict; it’s never been true for inter-ontological issues. There are edge cases where differing ontologies might be satisfied with an inter-ontological agreement, but this is likely accidental and certainly differently motivated. Not all such disagreements can be mediated, and this is where power politics steps in – not to ameliorate but to force the matter. This happens in politics, law, and many other power-oriented domains.
NotebookLM Infographic: No idea why this is formatted like this.
These two words qualify as my words of the month: legibility and ontology.
I’ve been using them as lenses.
I picked up legibility from James C. Scott’s Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed, which is really a book about how well-intentioned schemes fail once reality is forced to become administrable. Ontology is an older philosophical workhorse, usually paired with epistemology, but I’m using it here in a looser, more pragmatic sense.
When I write, I write through lenses. Everyone does. Writing requires a point of view, even when we pretend otherwise.
In this post, I want to talk more informally about my recent essay, Grammatical Failure. I usually summarise my work elsewhere, but here I want to think out loud about it, particularly in relation to social ontology and epistemology. I won’t linger on definitions. They’re a search away. But a little framing helps.
Epistemology: how knowledge is justified within that parsing.
Audio: NotebookLM summary of this post.
Much of my recent work sits downstream of thinkers like Thomas Sowell, George Lakoff, Jonathan Haidt, Kurt Gray, and Joshua Greene. Despite their differences, they converge on a shared insight: human cognition is largely motivated preverbally. As a philosopher of language, that pre-language layer is where my interest sharpens.
I explored this in earlier work, including a diptych titled The Grammar of Impasse – Conceptual Exhaustion and Causal Mislocation. Writing is how I gel these ideas. There are several related pieces still in the pipeline.
When I talk about grammar, I don’t mean Saussure or Chomsky. I mean something deeper: the ontological substrate beneath belief. Grammar, in this sense, is how reality gets parsed before beliefs ever form. It filters what can count as real, salient, or intelligible.
Let’s use a deliberately simplified example.
Imagine two ontological orientations. Call them Ont-C and Ont-L. This isn’t to say there are only two, but much of Western political discourse collapses into a binary anyway.
Ont-C tends to experience people as inherently bad, dangerous, or morally suspect. Ont-L tends to experience people as inherently good or at least corrigible. These aren’t opinions in the usual sense. They sit beneath belief, closer to affect and moral orientation.
Now consider retributive justice, setting aside the fact that justice itself is a thick concept.
From Ont-C, punishment teaches a lesson. It deters. It disciplines. From Ont-L, punishment without rehabilitation looks cruel or counterproductive, and the transgression itself may be read as downstream of systemic injustice.
Each position can acknowledge exceptions. Ont-L knows there are genuinely broken people. Ont-C knows there are saints. But those are edge cases, not defaults.
Now ask Ont-C and Ont-L to design a criminal justice system together. The result will feel intolerable to both. Too lenient. Too harsh. The disagreement isn’t over policy details. It’s over how reality is carved up in the first place.
And this is only one dimension.
Add others. Bring in Ont-V and Ont-M if you like, for vegan and meat-based ontologies. Suddenly, you have Ont-CV, Ont-CM, Ont-LV, and Ont-LM. Then add class, religion, gender, authority, harm, and whatever. Intersectionality stops looking like a solution and starts looking like a combinatorial explosion.
The Ont-Vs can share a meal, so long as they don’t talk politics.
The structure isn’t just unstable. It was never stable to begin with. We imagine foundations because legibility demands them.
Grammatical Failure is an attempt to explain why this instability isn’t a bug in liberal epistemology but a structural feature. The grammar does the sorting long before deliberation begins.
More on that soon.
In any case, once you start applying this ontological lens to other supposedly intractable disputes, you quickly realise that their intractability is not accidental.
Take abortion.
If we view the issue through the lenses of Ont-A (anti-abortion) and Ont-C (maternal choice), we might as well be peering through Ont-Oil and Ont-Water. The disagreement does not occur at the level of policy preferences or competing values. It occurs at the level of what counts as morally salient in the first place.
There is no middle ground here. No middle path. No synthesis waiting to be negotiated into existence.
That is not because the participants lack goodwill, intelligence, or empathy. It is because the ontological primitives are incommensurate. Each side experiences the other not as mistaken but as unintelligible.
We can will compromise all we like. The grammar does not comply.
Contemporary discourse often insists otherwise. It tells us that better arguments, clearer framing, or more dialogue will eventually converge. From this perspective, that insistence is not hopeful. It is confused. It mistakes a grammatical fracture for a deliberative failure.
You might try to consider other polemic topics and notice the same interplay.
I’ve been wittering on about social ontological positions and legibility for a few months now. I’ve been writing a book and several essays, but this is the first to be published. In it, I not only counter Ranalli – not personally; his adopted belief – I also counter Thomas Sowell, George Lakoff, Jonathan Haidt, Kurt Gray, and Joshua Green. (Counter might be a little harsh; I agree with their conclusions, but I remain on the path they stray from.)
Audio: NotebookLM summary of the essay: Grammatical Failure
There is a strange faith circulating in contemporary culture: the belief that disagreement persists because someone, somewhere, hasn’t been taught how to think properly.
The prescription is always the same. Teach critical thinking. Encourage openness. Expose people to alternatives. If they would only slow down, examine the evidence, and reflect honestly, the right conclusions would present themselves.
When this doesn’t work, the explanation is equally ready to hand. The person must be biased. Indoctrinated. Captured by ideology. Reason-resistant.
What’s rarely considered is a simpler possibility: nothing has gone wrong.
Most of our public arguments assume that we are all operating inside the same conceptual space, disagreeing only about how to populate it. We imagine a shared menu of reasons, facts, and values, from which different people select poorly. On that picture, better reasoning should fix things.
But what if the menu itself isn’t shared?
What if what counts as a ‘reason’, what qualifies as ‘evidence’, or what even registers as a meaningful alternative is already structured differently before any deliberation begins?
At that point, telling someone to ‘think critically’ is like asking them to optimise a system they cannot see, using criteria they do not recognise. The instruction is not offensive. It’s unintelligible. This is why so many contemporary disputes feel immune to argument. Not merely heated, but strangely orthogonal. You aren’t rebutted so much as translated into something else entirely: naïve, immoral, dangerous, unserious. And you do the same in return.
Liberal epistemology has a neat explanation for this. It treats these failures as agent-level defects: insufficient openness, motivated reasoning, epistemic irresponsibility. The problem is always how people reason. The argument of Grammatical Failure is that this diagnosis is systematically misplaced. The real constraint, in many cases, lies upstream of reasoning itself. It lies in the semantic frameworks that determine what can count as a reason in the first place. When those frameworks diverge, deliberation doesn’t fail heroically. It fails grammatically.
This doesn’t mean people lack agency. It means agency operates within a grammar, not over it. We choose, revise, and reflect inside spaces of intelligibility we did not author. Asking deliberation to rewrite its own conditions is like asking a sentence to revise its own syntax mid-utterance. The result is a familiar pathology. Disagreement across frameworks is redescribed as epistemic vice. Category rejection is mistaken for weak endorsement. Indoctrination becomes a label we apply whenever persuasion fails. Not because anyone is lying, but because our diagnostic tools cannot represent what they are encountering.
The paper itself is not a manifesto or a programme. It doesn’t tell you what to believe, how to educate, or which politics to adopt. It does something more modest and more uncomfortable. It draws a boundary around what liberal epistemology can coherently explain – and shows what happens when that boundary is ignored.
Sometimes the problem isn’t that people won’t think.
It’s that they are already thinking in a grammar that your advice cannot reach.
Philosophics 