Man in Capitalistic Society

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.

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.

Audio: NotebookLM Podcast commentary on this content.

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.

Are We Sane? Can a Society Be Sick?

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.

The Schizophrenia of “Human Nature” Arguments

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.

Case 1: Prostitution—A Market That Must Be Morally Suppressed

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.

Case 2: Capitalism—A System We Must Accept as “Natural”

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.

The Convenient Flexibility of “Human Nature”

This selective logic is designed to keep power structures intact. The rules shift depending on whose interests are at stake:

  • If an instinct challenges profit or control, it must be suppressed.
  • If an instinct benefits the ruling order, it must be accepted as natural.

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 “Natural Order” Myth

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:

  • Constant propaganda to reinforce its legitimacy.
  • Violent suppression of alternative systems.
  • Trillions in government bailouts every time it fails.

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.

Final Thought: Breaking the Cycle

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.

Modernity Worldview Survey: Update 1

It’s nice to see responses still coming in from the Modernism Worldview Survey, so I thought I’d share some interim insights. Several people have shared their results with me privately. I’d be interested to know if any takers felt this was a fair and accurate assessment, given that this might be as relevant as the zodiac reading on a restaurant placemat. I’m an ox, if you’re wondering.

All aggregated responses resolve within the violet parallelogram that encompasses the population average (the blue dot). So, survey-takers have a slight propensity toward Modernist ideals with a tinge of Postmodernism. The force is weak, given how far the dot resides from the vertex. There were responses close to the green shading on the Modern side, but none indicated a strong Modernist worldview.

Firstly, no respondents are choosing “Pure Premodernity” (lower right). This doesn’t mean that no one abides by Premodern perspectives. It’s that they feel these ideas are filtered through Modern (mostly) and Postmodern (less so) lenses.

Secondly, respondents generally moderated their approach, avoiding any extremes. Although some responses were close to the Modern triangle (the green shading), none occupied the space, and points were even further removed from the other two corners. There were several scores in the white triangle. This space would be ripe for a Metamodernist to be positioned, but the survey would need to be restructured to determine whether this was mere happenstance.

Before the survey was published, I thought that the blue dot would be higher (toward Modernity) and further right (more Premodern), but this is likely due to the bias of people who visit this site and follow my content more generally. I need to share links in places without this bias. Of course, someone having even the slightest interest in the subject matter already represents a bias.

Talking with Lions

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.

Reading Science Fiction

I’ve got a confession to make: Science Fiction as a genre doesn’t resonate with me. Neither does Fantasy. I enjoy some fiction, but it seems that it’s primarily Literary Fiction – old-school classics like Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Nabokov, Kafka, Barthelme, and the like. Mostly, I prefer non-fiction.

I’ve just finished reading William Gibson’s Neuromancer, having read The Peripheral at the end of last year. To be fair, someone recommended Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash, which is in the same genre – cyberpunk. I’d been advised that Snow Crash is better written, but I thought it might be best to start at the start of that genre.

These writers have good ideas. It often sounds appealing when someone tells me the plot summary, but the details bore me to tears. When I read reviews of these books, I frequently hear how immersive they are, but to me, they are cluttered and chockablock with minutiae. I find myself prodding, “Just get to the point.” But there has to be more than this. Short stories may fare better. I liked Ursula K LeGuin’s The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, but that was more related to its philosophical, anti-utilitarian perspective rather than the story.

It’s not as if Dostoyevsky doesn’t circumlocute and pontificate, but it’s somehow different. I want to like it. I want to read it – first-hand, not just a summary, so I can feel that I’ve engaged with the material.

Over the years, I’ve been consoled by fans of the genre, who say, “I understand. What you need to read is” [fill in the blank]. I read Ender’s Game on this advice.

To be fair, Sci-Fi movies and television don’t resonate with me either. Star Wars? Nope. Star Trek? Nope. Firefly. No, again.

What people find amazing, I find trite. Often, there is some embedded Modernist morality that some view as profound. I roll my eyes. I cringe thinking of old Star Trek episodes about what makes humans so special.

I don’t tend to find movies or television very interesting in general. I’ve never owned a television. My partners always do. “But you watch streaming content,” you say, and you’d be correct. But I watch it on my own time and take a chance, if only to remain connected to contemporary trends.

My last engagement was Arcane on Netflix. I found Season One well done and entertaining, but I’m not sure Anime qualifies as Sci-Fi. I caught The Peripheral on Amazon a couple of months ago, which led me to the book, but they turned out to be different stories, though they were set in the same universe with (generally) the same characters.

Metamodernism: A Postmodern Critique

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.

Video: Introduction to Modernity Worldview Survey concepts

The Modernist Roots of Metamodernism

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.

Podcast: Audio version of this content

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.

A Rebranding Exercise

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.

Postmodern Irony in Motion

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.

Art vs. Philosophy

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.

Insider vs. Outsider Perspectives

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.

Conclusion: Beyond Labels

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.

Video: Modernity Worldview Survey Intro

I’ve finally had time to create some video content for the Modernity Worldview Survey. This content is a cursory overview and serves as an introduction to deeper content planned for the future.

This video is short of seven minutes, so briefly, it outlines the worldviews and the questions. I opted not to produce a single comprehensive video so the material could arrive sooner. The content is bookmarked, though this is likely overkill for such a short video.

A permanent page about the survey is always available on this blog.

I’m still accumulating responses, but the survey is available here if you haven’t taken it. Apologies in advance for the fact that it renders best on a larger monitor or tablet rather than a mobile phone. It doesn’t render at all on a landline, so there’s that.

The Holy Grail of Longevity: Why Religious People Live Longer

Spoiler Alert: It’s Not About God

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re mortal. Bummer. Even worse, you may not be maximizing your odds of wringing every last drop out of your limited lifespan. But fear not! Science has some answers. And the answer, at least in the United States, is shockingly unsecular: religious people, on average, live longer than their non-religious counterparts. They also tend to be happier. But don’t rush to your nearest house of worship just yet—because it’s not God, the afterlife, or divine intervention at work. It’s something far more mundane: people.

Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.

The Religion-Longevity Link: A Holy Miracle or Just Good Networking?

Multiple studies have confirmed what might seem an inconvenient truth for secular folks like myself: religious participation is associated with longer lifespans. A 2018 study published in JAMA Internal Medicine found that attending religious services more than once a week was associated with a roughly 33% lower risk of mortality. That’s a pretty solid statistical incentive to at least pretend to enjoy Sunday sermons.

Why the boost in longevity? No, it’s not divine reward points. It boils down to a few key factors:

  • Community and Social Support: Regularly showing up to church, temple, mosque, or synagogue means interacting with the same people repeatedly, forming strong social bonds. When life gets tough, these people tend to notice and lend support.
  • Healthier Lifestyles: Many religious traditions frown upon self-destructive behaviours like smoking, heavy drinking, and drug use.
  • Lower Stress Levels: Religious belief systems provide coping mechanisms for hardship, instilling a sense of meaning and reducing existential dread.
  • Volunteerism and Purpose: Many religious folks engage in community service, which has been linked to greater happiness and longevity.

The Not-So-Spiritual Catch: Why Atheists and the “Spiritual but Not Religious” Miss Out

Here’s the kicker: it’s not belief in a deity that grants these benefits. It’s participation in a structured, tight-knit community. That’s why merely identifying as “spiritual” doesn’t deliver the same effects—without a committed social framework, spirituality becomes a solo endeavour. And whilst atheists can certainly find meaning in other ways, they often lack equivalent institutions providing routine, real-world social engagement.

To put it bluntly, God isn’t keeping people alive longer. Other people are. Having a tribe that notices when you don’t show up, checks in when you’re sick, and nags you into a healthier lifestyle has tangible benefits.

The Scandinavian Exception: Thriving Without Religion

“But wait,” you may say, “what about those blissfully secular Scandinavian countries? They’re barely religious, yet they consistently rank among the happiest and longest-living people on Earth.” Good point. The key difference? They have successfully replaced the social function of religion with other strong communal institutions.

Nordic nations boast robust social safety nets, well-funded public spaces, and a culture prioritising collective well-being. They don’t need church groups to function as makeshift welfare systems because the state ensures no one falls through the cracks. They also have thriving clubs, hobby groups, and worker associations that provide built-in social support.

Conclusion: What This Means for Longevity-Seeking Atheists and Introverts

If you, like me, are an atheist and also an introvert who prefers solitude, writing, and the company of generative AI, this presents a bit of a conundrum. How does one reap the benefits of social integration without enduring the horror of group activities?

The lesson here isn’t that you need to feign religious belief or force yourself into suffocating social obligations. But if you want to maximize your lifespan and well-being, some form of consistent, meaningful connection with others is essential. Whether that’s through a socialist co-op, a local philosophy club, a structured hobby group, or even just a tight circle of like-minded misanthropes, the key is to avoid total isolation.

Religion isn’t the magic ingredient—it’s just a well-tested delivery system. And in a society where other forms of community are fraying, it’s not surprising that religious folks seem to be winning the longevity lottery. The real takeaway? Find your people. Even if you’d rather be alone.

Refeshing, Žižek

What a relief. After trudging through a couple of so-called ‘popular’ books, it’s refreshing to read something that actually reflects the complexity of reality.

The first essay in Slavoj Ĺ˝iĹľek’s Against Progress is titled Progress and Its Vicissitudes. It opens with a nod to the opening scene of The Prestige, directed by Christopher Nolan. But Ĺ˝iĹľek, as always, takes it further. He unearths something far more sinister in the magician’s sleight of hand—something unsettlingly perceptible to the young girl who witnesses the trick.

Life isn’t always what it seems on the surface. It isn’t as neat or digestible as our perceptions make it out to be. Ĺ˝iĹľek embarks on a scathing critique of the concept of progress, dismantling its conventional interpretations and exposing the often-overlooked consequences that lurk beneath its glossy exterior. He unravels the paradoxes and failures inherent in the notion of progress, urging readers to rethink their blind faith in the idea of a linear march towards a utopian future.

Defining ‘progress,’ he argues, is akin to laying claim to the future. But whose future? And at what cost? He interrogates the competing visions that shape human possibility, questioning whether, in the face of our cascading ecological, social, and political crises, things can actually improve—and what ‘better’ even means. He skewers various ideologies—neoliberalism, populism, and the self-improvement industrial complex—for their roles in manipulating and distorting the very concept of progress.

From a postmodernist perspective, Ĺ˝iĹľek’s analysis aligns with the scepticism towards grand narratives and universal truths that define postmodern thought. He deconstructs the monolithic idea of progress, revealing it as a construct that conveniently conceals underlying power structures and exclusions. By exposing the ‘squashed dead birds’—the inevitable collateral damage of progress—he underscores just how arbitrary and manufactured our notions of advancement really are.

Moreover, Ĺ˝iĹľek’s critique echoes the postmodernist fixation on desire, denial, and disavowal. He examines how different visions of progress systematically exclude or sacrifice certain elements and how these dynamics manifest across cultural phenomena, from Hollywood blockbusters to decolonisation movements. His analysis reinforces the postmodernist conviction that meanings are never fixed—they are fluid, contested, and often riddled with contradiction.

In the end, Against Progress is not just a critique—it’s an invitation. An invitation to abandon the comforting illusion of an inevitable march towards something better and to face the messy, contingent reality of human existence head-on.