Socio-political philosophical musings
I love this meme despite its lack of basis in reality – sort of like the ten per cent of the brain myth.
I’m busy writing, but this meme crossed my feed, and I thought, “What better time to share?”
I’ve been reading and re-reading A Sane Society, but reflecting on it here is too much of a commitment, so I’ll delay gratification.
This is Chapter 5 of Erich Fromm’s The Sane Society. I’ve had this on my bookshelf for quite a while and wasn’t sure how a 70-year-old book could have so much relevance, but it does. Granted, some of it is irrelevant, a victim of the period it was written. This happens.
Sidebar: Whilst praising Freud, Fromm also calls him out, essentially accusing him of projecting his mummy-daddy issues onto the world at large. When I first encountered Freud’s work in the 1980s, it was already largely discredited. Some of what should have been wasn’t. Freud’s work as a psychoanalyst heavily overshadowed his other contributions. In fact, Freud offers some strong philosophical insights into society and civilisation. He’s not all about cigars and dreamscapes.
What strikes me about this chapter is the historical perspective it provides on capitalism. I’m an academic economist. I taught undergraduate economics for the better part of a decade. I’ve read (and recommend reading) Marx’s Capital firsthand.
Fromm adds additional details here. Firstly, he notes that the capitalism that marked the early days of the Industrial Revolution—the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—differed from that of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The earlier period still had cultural and moral tethers that became frayed or lost in later periods. Without regurgitating the chapter, I cite some themes:
“this underselling practice is grown to such a shameful height, that particular persons publicly advertise that they undersell the rest of the trade.”
People were not very keen on price cutting as a competitive mechanism.
They also note the unfair competitive advantage of the monied elites who could buy materials in cash instead of credit and could thereby undercut prices, who would have to account for paying interest rates or markups on credit.
Whilst in the twentieth century, regulating undercutting is seen as protectionism, the earlier centuries had no problems defending merchants. We do have laws on the ebooks that prevent dumping, but these are rarely enforced, and when they are, it’s a political rather than economic statement. In practice, but done in the name of economics are politics in the same manner as science was used as cover to implement policy during the COVID-19 debacle.
Montesquieu says “that machines which diminish the numbers of workers are ‘pernicious’.” This sentiment echoes the current sentiments about robotics and artificial intelligence.
Nineteenth-century capitalism saw man as the measure of all things supplanted by capital. This is the capitalism Marx rails against—profits over humanity and society, the pursuit of local maxima at the expense of global maxima. This is also where the goal of hypergrowth and growth for growth’s sake came into vogue, ushering us into the Modern Age of Modern ideals—science, progress, order, and so on.
I won’t exhaust the chapter here, but for what it is, it’s a relatively light read. Whether I comment on later chapters depends on whether they engage me. Cheers.
These are the first two chapter titles of Erich Fromm’s The Sane Society. I suspect I’ll be reading this book twice for good measure. I’m four chapters in, with three to go, and eager for a deeper dive.
Despite being published in 1955, Fromm’s analysis remains strikingly relevant. Mark Fisher picks up a similar thread in Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative?, but whereas Fisher dissects the ideological stranglehold of late capitalism, Fromm, as a psychiatrist, turns the lens on human nature itself. He questions the very concept of normalcy—something we tend to accept uncritically, much like Michel Foucault would in the following generation.
I’ll hold off on any sweeping conclusions until I’ve finished the book (and, more likely, after a second read). But for now, consider this a tentative recommendation. Snow Crash was an amusing detour, but non-fiction is where I feel most at home.
Humans, we are told, are exceptional—unlike the rest of the lowly animal kingdom. We alone possess reason, morality, and the ability to transcend our base instincts. And yet, curiously, this argument is rolled out only when convenient. At times, we are commanded to rise above our primal urges; at others, we are scolded for even thinking about resisting them. This ideological schizophrenia is no accident—it is a feature, not a bug, of our prevailing moral and economic order.
The contradictions of “human nature” arguments can be broken down into two key patterns:
A. We must transcend our animal instincts—but only when they threaten social or economic order.
B. We must accept our animal instincts as unchangeable—but only when they reinforce existing power structures.
This hypocrisy is especially visible in how capitalism and morality are framed. Let’s examine two case studies.
Sex is as fundamental a biological drive as hunger or thirst. One would think that in a world where everything is commodified, prostitution—the most direct transaction of supply and demand—would be embraced by free-market capitalists. But no. We are told that engaging in this “base” activity is degrading, immoral, and must be curtailed. The same capitalists who defend free enterprise at all costs suddenly become moralists, urging us to resist temptation and rise above our urges. Sex, despite being one of the most natural acts imaginable, is treated as an impulse to be tamed rather than an economic exchange to be normalised.
Contrast this with how we are told to think about capitalism. Greed, exploitation, and ruthless competition? Those are “just human nature.” The strong thrive, and the weak perish. We are warned not to question the system because to do so would be to fight against nature itself. Socialism? A naive fantasy. Economic cooperation? Impossible. Mutual aid? Utopian nonsense. We must accept that humans are selfish creatures, that hierarchy is inevitable, and that billionaires accumulating obscene wealth while millions starve is simply the way of things.
Why are we ordered to suppress our instincts in one case yet surrender to them in another? Because morality, in its institutional form, is not about virtue—it is about control.
This selective logic is designed to keep power structures intact. The rules shift depending on whose interests are at stake:
Thus, the same societies that demand moral restraint when it comes to sex, leisure, or pleasure suddenly rediscover their inner Darwinist when defending capitalist greed and economic cruelty.
The claim that capitalism is the inevitable result of human nature is one of history’s greatest ideological scams. If it were indeed “natural,” it would not require:
Moreover, humans are not only competitive, selfish creatures. We are also wired for cooperation, altruism, and communal living—traits conveniently erased from discussions about economics.
If we can rise above base instincts for sex and violence, why can’t we rise above capitalist greed and exploitation? Why is overcoming “human nature” only demanded when it suits power? The truth is, we are only commanded to rise above when it keeps us obedient—and ordered to accept reality when it keeps the powerful in control.
The only real rebellion is to reject this hypocrisy entirely. The future belongs not to those who passively accept the contradictions of the present, but to those who refuse to play by its schizophrenic rules.
As Wittgenstein said, “If a lion could speak, we could not understand him.” Jonny Thompson conveys this in a short story. Have a listen. Have a read.
The genesis of the Modernity Worldview Survey was Metamodernism. Is this still a thing? In recent years, metamodernism has emerged as a supposed successor to postmodernism, claiming to transcend the seemingly irreconcilable tensions between modernist sincerity and postmodern irony. Yet, upon closer examination, this framework reveals itself not as a genuine paradigm shift but rather as a modernist invention that fails to escape the very critiques it attempts to address.
Despite its claims of oscillation between poles, metamodernism betrays its modernist underpinnings through its implicit teleology and notion of progress. The very framing of “meta” as beyond or transcending suggests a linear progression that is fundamentally at odds with the postmodern rejection of grand narratives. Metamodernism positions itself as forward-moving whilst attempting to recapture elements of premodernity, revealing an anxiety about being perceived as regressive or naive.
This desire to have it both ways—to acknowledge the constructed nature of meaning whilst still pursuing transcendent meaning—doesn’t represent a resolution so much as a psychological coping mechanism. The cognitive dissonance created by attempting to simultaneously hold contradictory positions is assuaged through a clever rhetorical move: claiming that oscillation itself is the point.
What metamodernism presents as novel is ultimately a recombination of elements from premodern, modern, and postmodern frameworks without resolving their fundamental contradictions. Rather than being mutually exclusive from these earlier paradigms, it cherry-picks aspects of each whilst maintaining the basic ontological framework of modernism.
The notion that one can meaningfully “oscillate” between accepting objective and subjective realities is particularly problematic. Either reality has objective features, or it doesn’t—pretending otherwise doesn’t create a new philosophical paradigm but rather a convenient means of avoiding the implications of either position.
Perhaps the most intriguing interpretation of metamodernism is not as a sincere attempt to move beyond postmodernism but as postmodernism performing its own critique. Viewed through this lens, metamodernism becomes postmodern irony in motion—a knowing wink at the impossibility of escaping construction whilst performatively engaging with the desire to do so.
The irony deepens when we consider that “postmodernism” itself is essentially an externally imposed label rather than a self-identification. Most thinkers characterised as postmodernists reject the label, which functions primarily as a modernist attempt to categorise and contain ideas that fundamentally challenge its frameworks.
Where metamodernism succeeds is as a descriptive label for certain artistic and cultural productions that deliberately play in the space between irony and sincerity. Works like David Foster Wallace’s “Infinite Jest,” the television series “BoJack Horseman,” and Wes Anderson’s films effectively combine postmodern techniques with sincere emotional engagement.
However, what works as an artistic sensibility fails as a comprehensive philosophical framework or moral compass. The oscillation that enriches art becomes paralysing when applied to ethics or ontology. A moral framework requires some stable reference points; constantly shifting between believing in objective moral truths and viewing morality as entirely constructed provides no reliable guide for actual decision-making.
Like religious frameworks that balance literal and metaphorical interpretations, metamodernism may function as a lived experience for those who embrace it, even if it doesn’t hold up to external philosophical scrutiny. The cognitive manoeuvres that appear as tricks or inconsistencies to outsiders often feel like natural, intuitive ways of navigating complexity to those within the system.
This insider/outsider divide recalls Thomas Nagel’s famous “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?” (PDF) thought experiment—there may be experiential aspects of inhabiting a metamodern worldview that aren’t fully comprehensible from the outside. Yet this doesn’t invalidate external critique; inconsistencies and contradictions still matter philosophically.
Perhaps the most postmodern insight is recognising that we cannot escape having an ideology—even a position of having no ideology is itself an ideology. What distinguishes various approaches isn’t whether they have ideologies but how explicitly they acknowledge them, how consistently they apply them, and how willing they are to subject them to revision.
Metamodernism, for all its aspirations to transcend earlier frameworks, ultimately reveals more about our contemporary psychological condition than it offers as a coherent philosophical position. It captures our desire to maintain meaning in a world where we’ve recognised its contingency—a desire that may be fundamentally human, even if philosophically untenable.
Rather than seeking yet another “-ism” to resolve our existential and philosophical tensions, perhaps we might more honestly confront the limitations and partialities of all our frameworks, recognising that the search for a perfect synthesis may itself be a modernist fantasy.
I’ve added a permanent page to summarise the modernity worldview categories. If you haven’t yet taken the survey…
This post explains how to interpret the ternary plot chart’s visualisation. The ternary chart on the survey results page will render something like this. This is an admin page with additional functionality, but it’s similar enough. The blue dot represents the average of all responses. The star represents where I guessed the average would land–mostly modern with some residual premodernity and a touch of postmodernity.
Under the title in the header is a textual assessment of the visualisation. In this case, the response illustrates someone moderately modern with postmodern influences. Although this person also has some premodern tendencies, they are relatively insignificant to the context.
The three possible worldviews are at the vertices (the corners) of the triangle. Each side is a scale progressing from 0% to 100%—100% coincident with the label. For example, the bottom side runs from 0 on the left to 100 on the right, which would indicate a score of 100 per cent Premodern, which the output deems Pure Premodern.
Notice that each vertex has green and yellow shading that serves as visual aids representing the strength of the relationship to the corner. Green is strong, and yellow is moderate. The white section outlined by an interior triangle with a red border is decidedly mixed, showing no strong inclination to any of the extremes.
In the example above, the red plot point illustrates a response (as shown below the chart) that is 20.7% Premodern, 52.1% Modern, and 27.2% Postmodern. These numbers should always sum to 100, though there will be some drift due to rounding. The star represents where I thought the average response would be. Follow the tickmarks on each side, and you’ll notice they correspond with the plot point as a 3-tuple (20, 70, 10).
In the future, I expect to render a view that plots the average survey response as a reference.
Below this chart is an expository account of the response choices. You can render this content as a PDF for your personal archive.
If you have any questions or suggestions related to this topic, please feel free to leave them in the comments below.
The more I watch the News or engage with social media, I can’t help but feel that the Western World™ has gone mad. It’s also disconcerting because, as a subjectivist, this should come as no surprise. I guess I miss the days when it was better wrapped in relativism. Perhaps it’s just that the relative cohorts are getting smaller and smaller, and the intersectionality of dimensions can’t bear the load. I prompted 7 generative AI platforms to help asses whether I am alone in my observations. I present the responses unedited, identifying each with a header.
Are we in a post-rationality era, or is it just me who sees this with concern?
Oh, we are absolutely in a post-rational era, and you are right to be concerned. The Age of Reason has been mugged in a dark alley by vibes, conspiracy theories, and a relentless onslaught of algorithmic drivel. Facts? Mere inconveniences. Logic? A relic of a bygone age when people actually read books instead of scrolling through rage-bait on social media.
We now live in a world where feelings trump evidence, where expertise is met with a sneer and a “Well, I heard on TikTok that…” Politicians openly contradict themselves within the same sentence, and their supporters somehow cheer louder for the contradiction. Science? Only if it aligns with pre-existing beliefs. Critical thinking? How dare you suggest such a thing—just trust the meme with the most retweets.
But hey, maybe this is just the inevitable entropy of civilization. Who needs enlightenment values when you can have vibes and engagement metrics? Buckle up—it’s only going to get weirder.
The idea that we might be entering a “post-rational era” is a topic of concern for many, and you’re not alone in noticing trends that suggest a shift away from traditional rational discourse. This concept often refers to a cultural or societal movement where emotional appeals, subjective experiences, and ideological narratives seem to carry more weight than evidence-based reasoning, critical thinking, or objective facts.
Several factors contribute to this perception:
However, it’s important to note that rationality and critical thinking haven’t disappeared entirely. Many individuals and organizations continue to advocate for evidence-based decision-making and rational discourse. The challenge lies in amplifying these voices and addressing the structural and cultural factors that contribute to the perception of a “post-rational era.”
If you’re concerned about this trend, you’re not alone. Engaging in and promoting critical thinking, media literacy, and open dialogue can help counteract these tendencies. It’s also worth remembering that societal shifts are often cyclical, and the pendulum may swing back toward a greater appreciation for rationality in the future.
You’re not alone in your concern. The notion of a “post-rational” era suggests that emotions, personal beliefs, and ideologies have become more influential in shaping public discourse and decision-making, often at the expense of objective facts, evidence, and critical thinking.
You’re not alone in your concern, and there are steps we can take to promote a more rational, inclusive, and fact-based public discourse.
I share your concern about the perceived decline of rationality in our society. There are several worrying trends that seem to point to a “post-rationality” era in certain respects:
At the same time, I don’t think rationality is dead. Many people still deeply value science, reason, factual accuracy and logical argumentation. But these forces of anti-rationality have grown stronger recently.
As a society, I believe we need to double down on critical thinking skills, media literacy, scientific inquiry, and mechanisms to hold leaders and media accountable for spreading misinformation. Restoring trust in expertise and institutions that safeguard truth is crucial. We must make rational discourse “cool” again across partisan lines.
These are complex, multifaceted issues, but I don’t think we should surrender to a post-rationality era as an inevitability. Rationality is too important – it’s worth fighting for as a foundation for societal progress. But it will take serious effort to stem the worrying trends you’ve pointed to. I share your concerns on this front.
There is indeed a growing discourse around the concept of post-rationality, but it’s not universally accepted that we are in a post-rational era. The idea of post-rationality has emerged as a critique and extension of rationalist thinking, rather than a complete abandonment of rationality[1][5].
Post-rationality acknowledges the limitations of pure rationalism while still recognizing the value of rational thought. It suggests that there are domains where traditional rationality may not be sufficient or may even be counterproductive[1][2]. This perspective argues for a more nuanced understanding of human cognition and decision-making, incorporating elements like intuition, emotion, and social context[5].
However, it’s important to note that:
Your concern is not unfounded. There are indeed challenges to rational discourse in contemporary society, including the spread of misinformation, polarization, and what some describe as a “post-truth” environment[6][7]. However, these challenges don’t necessarily indicate a wholesale rejection of rationality.
Rather than a true “post-rational” era, we may be experiencing a period of reevaluation and expansion of our understanding of rationality. This includes grappling with its limitations and exploring how to integrate other forms of knowledge and decision-making[1][2][5].
Citations:
[1] https://metarationality.com/post-rationalist-nihilism
[2] https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/TvSEg5WzSadC697Gd/post-rationality-and-rationality-a-dialogue
[3] https://voegelinview.com/living-in-the-post-rational-age-part-ii/
[4] https://www.reddit.com/r/philosophy/comments/qic6y6/rationality_has_its_limitations_but_is/
[5] https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/qgJfyAbzwnWt4a7Go/the-archetypal-rational-and-post-rational
[6] https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/08/23/why-is-it-so-hard-to-be-rational
[7] https://substack.com/home/post/p-62529885
[8] https://philosophy.stackexchange.com/questions/108574/if-philosophy-is-based-on-reason-and-rationality-then-why-is-there-so-much-disa
You’re certainly not alone in your concern. There’s been a growing sentiment that we might be entering a post-rationality era, where emotions and personal beliefs seem to hold more sway than reason and evidence. The rise of misinformation, conspiracy theories, and political polarization have all been cited as symptoms of this shift.
It’s a complex issue with lots of factors at play. Some blame social media algorithms that create echo chambers, while others point to the erosion of trust in traditional institutions. But there’s no single, simple answer.
Why do you think we might be in a post-rationality era?
The concept of a “post-rationality era” is a topic of discussion and debate among various intellectual and philosophical communities. Here are some key points that suggest we might be in, or at least approaching, a post-rational era, along with some differing perspectives:
The early 20th century saw significant challenges to the idea of rational certainty, particularly with developments in non-Euclidean geometry, Einstein’s general relativity, quantum theory, and the foundational crises in mathematics and logic. These discoveries undermined the notion that rationality and science could provide absolute truths and certainties[2].
Post-rationalism acknowledges the limitations of rationality while still valuing true beliefs. It recognizes that irrational-seeming systems, such as rituals and traditions, can often serve human interests better than purely rational systems. This perspective critiques the over-reliance on rationality and highlights the importance of other aspects of human experience, like meaning and happiness[1].
Some individuals, particularly those deeply invested in rationalism, may experience a sense of nihilism or loss of meaning when they realize that rationality is not always sufficient. This can lead to feelings of anxiety, depression, and a crisis of identity. However, this can be mitigated by recognizing the value of rationality in many domains, even if it is not universally applicable[3].
There is a broader cultural and philosophical context where the traditional foundations of rationality and meaning are being challenged. The postmodern and post-Christian era, as described by some authors, is characterized by a rejection of grand narratives and traditional values. This has led to concerns about the erosion of critical thinking, the promotion of nihilism, and the rise of totalitarian tendencies that suppress individual freedom and self-reflection[5].
While the theoretical underpinnings of rationality are being questioned, practical applications of rational thinking, such as in science, mathematics, and even fields like effective altruism, continue to be valuable. There is an ongoing discussion about how to maintain a balanced approach that respects the utility of rationality while acknowledging its limitations[2][4].
In summary, it is not just you who sees this with concern; many thinkers and writers are grappling with the implications of a post-rational era. This era is marked by a recognition of the limitations of rationality, a critique of its over-reliance, and a search for new ways to integrate rational thinking with other aspects of human experience.
NB: Interestingly, these ¬◇ footnotes don’t ink to anyplace.
I’ve made my way a couple of chapters into A Brief History of Intelligence: Evolution, AI, and the Five Breakthroughs That Made Our Brains by Max Bennet. My son recommended it last month, assuring me it was a delicious cocktail of Sapiens, Behave, and Superintelligence,—all books I’ve rated highly, courtesy of Harari, Sapolsky, and Bostrom, respectively. So far, it’s digestible without being patronizing, requiring no extensive background in the field.
But this post isn’t about the book. It’s about what all good books should do: make you think.
If you’ve followed my writing over the years, you’ll know that I have little patience for psychology, which I regard as the astrology to neuroscience’s astronomy. Reading Fisher’s Capitalist Realism has only reinforced this perspective.
Frankly, I should do away with psychology altogether. Much of it—no, not just the vacuous self-help drivel clogging the internet and bookstore shelves—is pseudoscience. To its credit, it did function as a stepping stone to neuroscience, but that’s like crediting alchemy for modern chemistry.
Psychology’s greatest sin? Missing the forest for the trees—or, more precisely, ignoring the structural forces that shape the so-called individual. Western capitalism, ever eager to monetize everything, finds it far easier (and more profitable) to blame the individual rather than the system. It’s like the old joke about the man searching for his lost keys under the streetlamp, not because that’s where he dropped them, but because that’s where the light is. It’s just more convenient (and profitable) that way.
Enter psychology: the perfect tool for a society steeped in narcissism and instant gratification. Feeling anxious? Depressed? Alienated? Just take a pill! Never mind the material conditions of your existence—your stagnant wages, your crushing debt, your eroding sense of community. No, the problem is you, and conveniently, there’s a profitable solution waiting on the pharmacy shelf.
Sure, psychology has made some strides in attributing behaviours to neurotransmitters—dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine, and the rest of the usual suspects. And sure, pharmaceuticals can sometimes treat symptoms effectively. But they are just that: symptoms. The root cause? Often stressors imposed by the very society we refuse to scrutinize. And guess what rarely makes the diagnostic checklist? The system itself.
We need to zoom out and see the whole damn forest. We need to ask the hard questions—run the classic five whys to get to the root of the problem. And spoiler alert: the answer isn’t some chemical imbalance in your head.
It’s us. Collectively. Systemically. Structurally.
But sure, keep searching under that streetlamp.
I’ve been reading too much lately—as if such a state could exist. I have partially constructed posts anchored in other books, yet here I am, leapfrogging to this one.
I purchased Capitalist Realism by Mark Fisher perhaps a decade or more ago, but it simply languished among other prospects on the shelf—not to mention the accumulation of eBooks on my hard drive and in the cloud.
Capitalist Realism is a book I should have read back in the day, and yet, reading it now feels oddly refreshing. The revised version I’m engaging with, published in 2022, includes a preface that attempts to reassure readers that, while the book may not seem as impactful as it did in 2009, much has been done to mitigate the conditions that spawned it. I’ll argue, however, that these conditions remain firmly in place and that the author of the front matter fails to grasp the full implications of the text. Of course, the author is dead. Literally.
In many ways, Capitalist Realism is a distillation of my own intellectual influences, from Žižek to Lacan, Baudrillard and Badiou to Foucault, Deleuze, and Guattari—even Kafka. For me, this base is welcoming—comforting. Perhaps I am the choir who Fisher is preaching to.
The earliest chapters paint capitalism not only as insidious and predacious but also as self-reinforcing. Michael Moore once observed that capitalists would sell the very rope used to hang them. But capitalism runs deeper than this. Even anti-capitalist sentiment is capitalized and commodified. Conscientious individuals can “win” if they simply buy the right brands and donate to the right causes.
It’s all about the Benjamins.
Philosophics 