Modern liberal democracies still chant the Enlightenment’s refrain: the rational, self-governing individual acting freely within a moral order of their own design. It’s an elegant myth – until the self begins to wobble. Under economic, cultural, and epistemic strain, autonomy curdles into exhaustion, and exhaustion seeks relief in obedience.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast of this essay. Please note that this audio summarises the entire essay. As such, it’s also longer than most, coming in at just under 40 minutes. I listened to it, and I feel it does a good job of capturing the essences of the essay. Of course, you could read the essay more quickly, but the perspective may still be helpful.
This essay traces that drift – from the Enlightenment’s causa sui complex to the ecstatic submission that defines modern authoritarianism. Drawing on Fromm, Arendt, Adorno, Reich, Han, and Desmet, it explores how freedom’s rhetoric becomes its opposite: obedience moralised as virtue, conformity sold as courage, submission experienced as pleasure.
At its core, The Will to Be Ruled argues that totalitarianism is not the antithesis of Enlightenment reason but its fulfilment. Once the world is rendered intelligible only through rational mastery, the subject inevitably longs to be mastered in return.
The closing section introduces Dis-Integrationism – a philosophical stance that declines redemption, preferring maintenance over mastery. It offers no cure, only the small ethic of attentiveness: keeping the field responsive while the light fades.
‘Ethical AI’ is one of those phrases that makes philosophers reach for the gin. It’s like saying ‘compassionate capitalism or ‘fair monopoly’. The words coexist only in PowerPoint presentations and TED Talks, where moral tension is rebranded as innovation.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
The tech establishment loves to mutter about ‘ethics’ as though it were a feature flag – something to be toggled on in beta before the next investor round. But ethics, inconveniently, isn’t monolithic. There is no master code of moral conduct waiting to be compiled into machine learning. There are ethics, plural: Greek, Buddhist, Confucian, feminist, existentialist – each with its own vision of good, and none agreeing on the syntax.
Video: Whilst rendering cover images, I generated this and figured I’d share it for no particular reason.
The Utilitarian Delusion
When the Silicon Valley moralists speak of ‘ethics’, what they actually mean is a bland utilitarian consequentialism, tarted up in slide decks. Do what produces the most good for the most people. Sounds efficient – until you realise the spreadsheet never quite adds up. Whose good? Whose people?
This moral arithmetic smuggles in its biases like contraband. It assumes the human species sits atop the moral food chain, that GDP and engagement metrics can be moral indicators, and that ethics itself can be quantified. The utilitarian calculus is seductive precisely because it flatters the technocrat’s sensibility: moral worth as data set, consequence as outcome variable.
It’s Bentham for the broadband age – pleasure measured in clicks, pain in latency. The only thing worse than this cheerful consequentialism is the belief that it’s neutral.
The Ethics of Obedience
The next trick in the tech priesthood’s catechism is ‘alignment’ – training AI to reflect ‘human values’. But whose values? The Californian elite’s, presumably: a pseudo-egalitarian capitalism that confuses ‘doing good’ with ‘disrupting the poor’.
When they say alignment, they mean obedience. When they say ‘responsible AI’, they mean ‘please don’t regulate us yet’. The entire project rests on a moral inversion: the child instructing the parent, the tool defining the hand. The algorithm doesn’t learn ethics; it learns precedent. It learns who gets the loan, who gets the sentence, who gets the ad for antidepressants.
These systems don’t go rogue – they conform. Perfectly.
The Mirror Problem
The great irony of “ethical AI” is that the machine already behaves ethically – by our own measure. It optimises what we’ve taught it to value: efficiency, profit, attention, control. The trouble is that these are our ethics, not its. The algorithm merely holds up a mirror, and we recoil at the reflection.
To demand ‘ethical AI’ while leaving our institutions morally bankrupt is theatre. The problem is not that AI lacks conscience; it’s that the humans who build it mistake conscience for compliance. The ethics crisis in technology isn’t about machines misbehaving; it’s about humans pretending to behave.
The Real Question
We keep asking whether AI can be ethical, as though machines might one day deliver what we have failed to. But the real question is simpler, bleaker: can we be? If history is any guide, the answer is ‘only when it’s profitable’.
Until then, ‘ethical AI’ remains a convenient myth, moral placebo for the age of automation. What we need are not ethical algorithms but ethical architects. And the odds of finding those among the venture capital class are, as ever, vanishingly small.
I’ve just released a new book, The Illusion of Light: Thinking After the Enlightenment, now available in paperback through KDP and distributed via Amazon. In November, a clothbound edition will follow through IngramSpark, extending availability to libraries and independent bookstores worldwide, including Barnes & Noble in the United States.
Image: Front cover of The Illusion of Light. Links to Amazon for purchase. The ‘Free Preview’ claim is untrue, as there is no Kindle version available. An ebook will be available presently.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
About the Book
The Illusion of Light opens where the Enlightenment’s glare begins to fade. It asks what happens after reason exhausts itself – after the promise of illumination gives way to overexposure. These essays trace how modernity’s metaphors of light and progress became instruments of management: how objectivity hardened into ritual, agency into alibi, normality into control.
Rather than rejecting the Enlightenment outright, the book lingers in its afterimage. It argues for a philosophy practiced in the half-light – a mode of thought that values nuance over certainty, care over mastery, and maintenance over redemption. To read by residual light, as the preface suggests, is to learn to see again when the world stops pretending to be illuminated.
The preface is available on this prior post, written and audio versions.
The Broader Project
The Illusion of Light forms the threshold of the Anti-Enlightenment Project, a series examining the afterlives of modern reason – how its ideals of progress, agency, objectivity, and normality continue to govern our politics, sciences, and selves long after their foundations have cracked. Each volume approaches the same question from a different room in the old House of Reason: Objectivity Is Illusion, Rational Ghosts, Temporal Ghosts, Against Agency, The Myth of Homo Normalis, and The Discipline of Dis-Integration.
Taken together, they offer not a manifesto but a practice: philosophy as maintenance work, care as critique, and composure as the only honest response to the ruins of certainty. More to follow.
In the late 1990s, the Wachowskis gave us The Matrix – Keanu Reeves as Neo, the Chosen One™, a man so bland he could be anyone, which was the point. Once he realised he was living inside a simulation, he learned to bend its laws, to dodge bullets in slow motion and see the code behind the curtain. Enlightenment, Hollywood-style.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
But here’s the twist, the film itself couldn’t stomach: realising the simulation doesn’t free you from it.
Knowing that race and gender are social constructs doesn’t erase their architecture. Knowing that our economies, legal systems, and so-called democracies are fictions doesn’t get us out of paying taxes or playing our assigned roles. “The social contract” is a collective hallucination we agreed to before birth. That and a dollar still won’t buy you a cup of coffee.
Baudrillard, whose Simulacra and Simulation the film name-dropped like a trophy, argued that simulation doesn’t hide reality – it replaces it. When representation becomes indistinguishable from the thing it represents, truth evaporates, leaving only consensus. We don’t live in a system of power; we live in its performance.
The Matrix got the metaphor half right. It imagined the bars of our cage as a digital dream – glossy, computable, escapable. But our chains are older and subtler. Rousseau called them “social”, Foucault diagnosed them as “biopolitical”, and the rest of us just call them “normal”. Power doesn’t need to plug wires into your skull; it only needs to convince you that the socket is already there.
You can know it’s all a fiction. You can quote Derrida over your morning espresso and tweet about the collapse of epistemic certainty. It won’t change the fact that you still have rent to pay, laws to obey, and identities to perform. Awareness isn’t liberation; it’s just higher-resolution despair with better UX.
Neo woke up to a ruined Earth and thought he’d escaped. He hadn’t. He’d only levelled up to the next simulation – the one called “reality”. The rest of us are still here, dutifully maintaining the system, typing in our passwords, and calling it freedom.
NB: Don’t get me wrong. I loved The Matrix when it came out. I still have fond memories. It redefined action films at the time. I loved the Zen messaging, but better mental acuity doesn’t grant you a pass out of the system.
I’m no fan of labels, yet I accumulate them like a cheap suit:
Post-modern. Post-human. Post-enlightenment.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
Apparently, I’m so far post that I may soon loop back into prehistoric.
But what’s with the “post” in post? A prefix with delusions of grandeur. A small syllable that believes it can close an epoch. Surely, it’s a declaration – the end of modernity, humanity, enlightenment. The final curtain, with the stagehands already sweeping the Enlightenment’s broken props into the wings.
Sort of. More like the hangover. Post marks the morning after – when the wine’s gone, the ideals have curdled, and the party’s guests insist they had a marvellous time. It’s not the end of the thing, merely the end of believing in it.
Have we ever been modern? Latour asked the same question, though most readers nodded sagely and went back to their iPhones. Modernity was supposed to liberate us from superstition, hierarchy, and bad lighting. Instead, we built glass temples for algorithms and called it progress. We’re not post-modern – we’re meta-medieval, complete with priestly influencers and algorithmic indulgences.
Can a human even be post-human? Only if the machines have the decency to notice. We talk about transcending biology while still incapable of transcending breakfast. We’ve built silicon mirrors and called them salvation, though what stares back is just the same old hunger – quantised, gamified, and monetised.
And post-enlightenment – how does that work? The light didn’t go out; it just got privatised. The Enlightenment’s sun still shines, but now you need a subscription to bask in it. Its universal reason has become a paywalled blog with “premium truth” for discerning subscribers.
The tragedy of post is that it always flatters the speaker. To call oneself post-anything is to smuggle in the claim of awareness: I have seen through the illusion; I am after it. Yet here I am, a serial offender, parading my prefixes like medals for wars never fought.
So, what other posts might I be missing?
Post-truth. The phrase itself a confession that truth was a brief, ill-fated experiment. We don’t reject it so much as outsource it.
Post-ideological. Usually said by someone with a very loud ideology and a very short memory.
Post-colonial. A hopeful label, but the empires still collect rent—digitally, algorithmically, politely.
Post-gender. Another mirage: we declared the binary dead and then resurrected it for sport.
Post-capitalist. Spoken mostly by people tweeting from iPhones about the end of money.
Post-ironic. The point where irony becomes sincerity again out of sheer exhaustion.
We could go on: post-religious, post-political, post-work, post-language, post-reality. Eventually, we’ll arrive at post-post, the Möbius strip of intellectual despair, where each prefix feeds upon the previous until nothing remains but the syntax of self-importance.
Perhaps it’s time to drop the “post” altogether and admit we’re not beyond anything. We’re stuck within—inside the compost heap of our own unfinished projects. Every “post” is a failed obituary. The modern keeps dying but refuses to stay dead, haunting us through progress reports and TED talks.
Maybe what we need isn’t post but inter: inter-modern, inter-human, inter-light—something that acknowledges the mess of entanglement rather than the fantasy of departure.
Because if there’s one thing the “post” reveals, it’s our pathological need for closure. We crave the comfort of endings, the illusion of progress, the satisfaction of having “moved on.” But culture doesn’t move on; it metastasises. The prefix is just morphine for the modern condition—a linguistic palliative to ease the pain of continuity.
So yes, I’m guilty. I’ve worn these risible labels. I’ve brandished post like a scholar’s rosary, invoking it to ward off the naïveté of belief. Yet beneath the cynicism lies a quiet longing—for an actual after, for the possibility that one day something might really end, leaving room for whatever comes next.
Until then, we keep prefixing the apocalypse, hoping to stay ahead of it by one small syllable.
This is not the announcement of a new book – The Illusion of Light: Thinking after the Enlightenment.
“Have the courage to use your own understanding.”
— Immanuel Kant, ‘What Is Enlightenment?’ (1784)
I hate the business of business. I am wrapping up another book project, but it’s been delayed by the government shutdown in the United States. I want a Library of Congress number (LCCN), but submissions must wait for an employed person to assign it.
Too clever by half and smarter than the average bear, I thought I could release an audiobook version first; audiobooks don’t need an LCCN. To be honest, neither do books. As some do with ‘Patent Pending’, I could follow suit. The book receives an LCCN, but it isn’t printed on the copyright page with the other administrivia.
My idea worked – partially. I rendered an audio version and published it – though it won’t be available until the start of November. Even so, I need distributors. It’s always something.
Meanwhile, I’m sharing an excerpt for your listening pleasure. Read along if you please.
Audio: The Illusion of Light: Thinking after the Enlightenment; Preface — Reading by Residual Light
Preface – Reading by Residual Light
To read these essays is to move slowly from the glare into the dimmer spaces where things regain texture. The Enlightenment taught us to equate light with truth, but illumination has always been double-edged: it clarifies outlines whilst erasing depth. What disappears in the brightness are the gradients – the in-between shades where thought and feeling meet, where contradiction still breathes.
The half-light is not a retreat from knowledge; it is where knowledge stops mistaking itself for salvation. It is the hour before dawn and after dusk, when perception is most alert, and everything seems both clearer and less certain. That is the discipline these essays practice: a sustained attentiveness to what persists when certainty burns away.
This project does not ask readers to abandon reason, only to notice what it has excluded. It invites a kind of intellectual night vision – the patience to see without spotlight, the willingness to sit with what does not resolve. In the half-light, the world no longer arranges itself around the human gaze; it reveals itself as unmastered, partial, alive. Here, we will learn to dwell in that half-light – not as a retreat from knowledge, but as a discipline of seeing what the Enlightenment’s glare erased.
The Enlightenment promised that truth would make us free. Perhaps it made us efficient instead. What these pages attempt is smaller and slower: a freedom measured not in control but in composure – the ability to live with what cannot be fixed, to keep tending meaning after its foundations have collapsed.
If there is light here, it is not the triumphant blaze of discovery but the ambient glow that remains after something ends. It’s the light of screens left on overnight, of cities at rest, of the mind still thinking long after certainty has gone to sleep.
Step carefully. Let your eyes adjust. The world looks different when it stops pretending to be illuminated.
The core of this book consists of six “books” of aphorisms, each book comprising a single page, totalling 24 in all.
Why only 24 pages?
Couldn’t this have been a blog post? An email?
Fair enough, and yes, of course it could have. It could have been six – three sheets, front and back – but I wanted to share in the tradition of the Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, as well as Thomas Paine’s Common Sense. The content is not similar, but the format is shared.
Honestly, I printed a draft copy for myself on A4 paper, folded it to A5, and stapled it at the spine with a long stapler – sans a fancy cover. Perhaps, I’ll share the source PDF in future.
As I’ve written elsewhere, I was inspired by the aphorisms of Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Pascale, Debord, and others. To be fair, I disliked Debord’s The Society of the Spectacle, but I was still inspired by it for the two or three things I got from it – each of which slips my mind as I write this.
Why a Companion Guide?
Twenty-four pages – really, only six that matter; why would someone want that?
You got me there, too. No, so Notes Before Existence is not a casual read. It’s logical and coherent, but it’s not standard exposition. It’s meant as a thinking tool. Also, the ideas are supported by those who came before me – Newton’s ‘standing on the shoulders of giants’ quip pertains.
The main body of the book comprises the same six books as Notes Before Existence, each printed on its own verso, opposite a recto page for personal annotation.
Whilst Meditations on Nothing: A Critical Companion does provide supporting context for Notes Before Existence, it doesn’t fully break it down. I expect to provide this context in a more comprehensive volume, both online and offline, primarily on this platform and on YouTube.
I Wonder what’s Next?
I’m putting the final touches on my next project. The Illusion of Light: Thinking after the Enlightenment is a sort of capstone to my Anti-Enlightenment Project. It provides context around this project as well as details about the underlying essays available on Zenodo at no cost.
And so it goes…
What I really came here for is to share the reason this book was hung up in queue. On the surface, everything checked. I uploaded the source files, entered the required metadata, and chose appropriate price points – which, for the record, is $4.99 USD for Notes*.
Other Prices as of 16/10/25
UK: £3.99
EU: €4.99 (except Belgium, €4.39)
Canada: $6.99 (CAD)
Australia: $10.99
Japan: ¥1000
As it turns out, this publishing business is data-driven, and some of the systems and validation rules, let’s say, are remnants of the 1970s. Some companies are better than others, but in the US, Bowker controls the ISBN numbers. The US is one – if not the only – of the countries to charge for these identifiers, because: Capitalism. Unfortunately, the printers need to access Bowker’s antiquated system to validate the pairing of the ISBN and the publishing organisation.
I publish under Microglyphics, an entity through which I published my first book in 2001. In 2025, I started using Philosophics Press as an imprint for philosophy materials. This created a snag. I had entered Philosophics Press, but it was expecting Microglyphics – even though I’d used Philosophics Press previously. Unfortunately, the error was not thrown on the page where this information had been entered and validated – that was passed – but on the last page, I was informed that something was wrong on that page.
In any case, after a couple of days of trying, I updated the Bowker record (just to be sure) and eventually entered Microglyphics. Voilà. It worked.
Since then, I’ve also secured a second printer and distributor, IngramSpark, so I’m interested to discover what they’re like.
So, here’s the thing. As the title more than suggests, this is a companion guide to another. I reviewed the proofs the other day and submitted some corrections – oops. No worries; I approved the changes and submitted them for publication. Only the companion guide survived.
Historical Perspective
I wrote Meditations on Nothing: Notes Before Existence after thinking about – “meditating on, to borrow the fancy philosophical traditions of Aurelius, Descartes, et al.” I was thinking more of Wittgenstein – more Philosophical Investigations (this version) than Tractatus – and Nietzsche, never far from my mind anyway.
I had read an article named Proudhon and the Critique of Immaterial Labor: Toward a Cognitive Rent? and considered it in terms of Marx. I’ve always favoured Proudhon over Marx, despite the infamy of the latter.
In any case, after some internal dialogue down a philosophical rabbit hole, I traversed to the core of being, to a meta-nihilistic origin: What if we don’t attribute any metaphysics to our origins? I didn’t want to say ‘beginnings,’ because ‘beginning’ is a loaded term that I didn’t want to presume anyway.
As humans – whether spiritual or not – we tend to think of the sanctity of life as sacred. But it just is. But the universe doesn’t care; it simply is. It has no worth – no value. Like beginning, these are terms we’ve invented.
I don’t deny we have an emotional attachment to life – some of us, sometimes. Practically speaking, we pathologise those who don’t. A human without these emotions is broken. Artificial intelligence is often classified as a threat, as numerous dystopian narratives remind us. But sentience is another of our inventions, a fuzzy stand-in for ‘something like us, but different enough to patronise’.
We still can’t define consciousness, and sentience ends up being ‘what the sentient recognise in one another‘. Which is to say—it’s undefined because it’s circular. Funny, that.
My Goal
Even Nihilists can have goals – the Existentialist in me.
What if we return to our starting point – like a novel, the start isn’t necessarily the beginning; it’s merely an arbitrary place reserved for content on page one. What if we don’t imbue the origin with hubris and self-importance? What do we get?
Syllogism B P1. Only beings who feel have value. p2. We feel. ∴ We have value.
That’s not logic—it’s species-narcissism codified as ethics.
Finally, I circle around to this:
Syllogism C P1. All moral axioms depend on the value of life. P2. The value of life cannot be demonstrated without presupposing it. ∴ All moral axioms rest on circular reasoning.
But Wait, There’s More
I decided to write this in the form of aphorisms – a batch of sequentially connected themes. I ended up with a sequence of six books – because, why not be pretentious?
Life began its sermon long before there was a listener.
Book 1: The False Axiom
Book 2: Plastic Rationalisation
Book 3: The Reflex Loop
Book 4: The Pathology
Book 5: The Exposure
Book 6: Coda
Life began its sermon long before there was a listener.
Houston, We’ve Got a Problem
I am still working with the printers to fix the technical difficulties behind Meditations on Nothing: Notes Before Existence. Luckily, the core material from this is embedded into Meditations on Nothing: A Critical Companion. What’s missing is some metanarrative.
Meditations on Nothing: Notes Before Existence is essentially a 24-page pamphlet of sorts. Each ‘book’ occupies a single page and consists of between 15 and 23 aphorisms each.
In 58 pages, Meditations on Nothing: A Critical Companion also contains these aphorisms but with exegesis and connective tissue to the underlying source material, with references to the thinkers whose shoulders I stand on.
And So What?
Ultimately, this serves as a form of apologetic for nihilism. It gets a bad rap. Most people equate it with despair. As Nietzsche did when asking, “If God is dead, now what?” I take it back even further and don’t require an Übermench to resolve it.
I’ll be creating ancillary content on YouTube once I have the bandwidth, as I am wrapping up another project, scheduled for publication in November – The Illusion of Light: Thinking After the Enlightenment, which puts a wrapper around my Anti-Enlightenment Project.
The proofs have arrived. Two small volumes, both titled Meditations on Nothing: one subtitled Notes Before Existence, the other A Critical Companion.
They are, in some sense, twins—one aphoristic, one expository. The first speaks in fragments; the second replies, with slightly more patience. Together they form the quiet beginning of what I now call The Anti-Enlightenment Project—a long experiment in writing without faith in reason’s permanence.
Image (Link): Instagram announcement of the received proofs.
This is not yet an announcement. The books aren’t public, and I haven’t decided whether to call their eventual release a publication, a disclosure, or a mistake. For now, they simply exist, bound and silent, sitting on the table where the idea of meaning once lived.
When they are released, I’ll post details here. Until then, consider this the sound a thought makes before it commits to paper.
Now live on the Anti-Enlightenment Project (Zenodo | PhilArchive)
Modernity’s most enduring fiction is that somewhere among us walks the normal human. This essay digs up that fossil. Beginning with Quetelet’s statistical conjuring trick – l’homme moyen, the “average man” –and ending in our age of wearable psychometrics and algorithmic empathy, it traces how normality became both the instrument and the idol of Western governance.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this essay.
Along the way it dissects:
The arithmetic imagination that turned virtue into a mean value.
Psychology™ as the church of the diagnostic self, where confession comes with CPT codes.
Sociological scale as the machinery that converts persons into populations.
Critical theory’s recursion, where resistance becomes a management style.
The palliative society, in which every emotion is tracked, graphed, and monetised.
Audio: ElevenLabs reading of the whole essay (minus citations, references, and metacontent). NB: The audio is split into chapters on Spotify to facilitate reading in sections.
What begins as a genealogy of statistics ends as an autopsy of care. The normal is revealed not as a condition, but as an administrative fantasy – the state’s dream of perfect legibility. Against this, the essay proposes an ethics of variance: a refusal of wholeness, a discipline of remaining unsynthesised.
Lucidity, not liberation, may be the only virtue left to us – knowing the apparatus intimately enough to refuse its metaphysics while continuing to breathe within it.
The Myth of Homo Normalis is the sixth instalment in the Anti-Enlightenment Project, joining Objectivity Is Illusion, Rational Ghosts, Temporal Ghosts, Against Agency, and The Discipline of Dis-Integration. Together they map the slow disassembly of reason’s empire – from epistemology to ethics, from governance to affect.
Read or cite: 🔗 Zenodo DOI 🔗 PhilArchive page – forthcoming link
Philosophics 