Another faux Magic: The Gathering trading card. I’ve been busy writing an essay on Tatterhood and wondering if I’ve gone off the edge even further into mental masturbation. I made these cards to share on slow news days, as it were.
[EDIT: Oops: Even wore. I already posted something today. Enjoy the bonus post.]
Every philosopher dreams of a device that reveals ‘truth’. The Constructivist Lens does the opposite. When you tap it, the world doesnโt come into focus โ it multiplies. Each pane shows the same thing differently, reminding us that knowing is always a form of making โ seeing as building.
In The Discipline of Dis-Integration, I wrote that philosophyโs task is ‘to remain within what persists โฆ to study the tension in the threads rather than weave a new pattern’. The Lens embodies that ethic. It is not an instrument of discovery but of disclosure: a way to notice the scaffolding of perception without mistaking it for bedrock.
Flavour text: โKnowledge is not a copy of reality but a tool for coping with it.โ โ Richard Rorty
Where Enlightenment optics promised clarity, the Lens trades in parallax. It insists that perspective is not a flaw but the condition of vision itself. Each player who peers through it โ artist, scientist, moralist โ constructs a different coherence, none final. The cardโs rule text captures this tension: replace any keyword on a permanent with a metaphor of your choice until end of turn. Reality bends, language shifts, yet the game continues.
In the Dis-Integration set, the Lens sits alongside Perspectival Realism and Language Game (not yet shared), forming the Blue triad of epistemic doubt. Together they dramatise what the essay calls ‘the hyphen as hinge’: the small pause between integration and its undoing. The Constructivist Lens, then, is not a tool for clearer sight but a reminder that every act of seeing is already an act of construction.
Iโve spent more hours than I care to admit rummaging through the Jungian undergrowth of fairy tales โ reading Marie-Louise von Franz until my eyes crossed, listening to Clarissa Pinkola Estรฉs weave her wolf-women lore, and treating folklore like an archaeological dig through the psychic sediment of Europe. Itโs marvellous, really, how much one can project onto a story when one has a doctorateโs worth of enthusiasm and the moral flexibility of a tarot reader.
But every so often, a tale emerges that requires no archetypal lens, no mythopoetic scaffolding, no trip down the collective unconscious. Sometimes a story simply bares its ideological teeth.
Enter Tatterhood โ the Norwegian fairy tale so blunt, it practically writes its own critical theory seminar.
I watched Jonny Thomsonโs recent video on this tale (embedded below, for those with sufficient tea and patience). Jonny offers a charming reversal: rather than focusing on Tatterhood herself, he offers the moral from the princeโs perspective. In his reading, the story becomes a celebration of the power of asking โ the princeโs reward for finally inquiring about the goat, the spoon, the hood, the whole aesthetic calamity before him.
Video: Jonny Thomson discusses Tatterhood.
Itโs wholesome stuff: a TED Talk dressed as folklore. But โ my word โ apply the slightest bit of critical pressure, and the whole thing unravels into farce.
The Story No One Tells at the Royal Wedding
Hereโs the short version of Tatterhood that Jonny politely sidesteps:
A fearless, ragged, hyper-competent girl rescues her sister from decapitation.
She confronts witches, navigates the seas alone, storms a castle, and performs an ad hoc ontological surgical reversal.
She does all of this without help from the king, the court, the men, or frankly, anyone with a Y chromosome.
And how is she rewarded for her trouble? Sheโs told sheโs too ugly. Not socially acceptable. Not symbolically coherent. Not bride material.
The kingdom gazes upon her goat, her spoon, her hood, her hair, and determines that nothing โ nothing โ about her qualifies her for legitimacy.
But beauty? Beauty is the passport stamp that grants her entry into the social realm.
Jonnyโs Prince: A Hero by Low Expectations
Now, bless Jonny for trying to rehabilitate the lad, but this prince is hardly an exemplar of virtue. He sulks through his own wedding procession like a man being marched to compulsory dentistry. He does not speak. He does not ask. He barely manages object permanence.
And suddenly, the moral becomes: Look what wonders unfold when a man asks a single question!
Itโs the philosophical equivalent of awarding someone a Nobel Prize for remembering their motherโs birthday.
And what do his questions achieve? Not insight. Not understanding. Not intimacy. But metamorphosis.
Each time he asks, Tatterhood transforms โ ugly goat to beautiful horse, wooden spoon to silver fan, ragged hood to golden crown, ‘ugly’ girl to radiant beauty.
Which brings us to the inconvenient truth:
This Isnโt the Power of Asking. Itโs the Power of Assimilation.
His questions function as aesthetic checkpoints.
Why the goat? Translation: please ride something socially acceptable.
Why the spoon? Translation: replace your tool of agency with a decorative object.
Why the hood? Translation: cover your unruliness with something properly regal.
Why your face? Translation: you terrify me; please be beautiful.
And lo, she becomes beautiful. Not because he sees her differently. Because the story cannot tolerate a powerful woman who remains outside the beauty regime.
The prince isnโt rewarded for asking; the narrative is rewarded for restoring normative order.
And Yetโฆ Itโs Absurdly Fascinating
This is why fairy tales deserve all the interpretive attention we lavish on them. Theyโre ideological fossils โ compressed narratives containing entire worldviews in miniature.
Part of me admires Jonnyโs generosity. Another part of me wants to hand the prince a biscuit for performing the bare minimum of relational curiosity. But mostly, Iโm struck by how nakedly the tale reveals the old bargain:
A woman may be bold, brave, clever, loyal, and sovereign โ but she will not be accepted until she is beautiful.
Everything else is optional. Beauty is compulsory.
So Hereโs My Version of the Moral
Ask questions, yes. Be curious, yes. But donโt let anyone tell you that Tatterhood was waiting for the princeโs epiphany. She was waiting for the world to remember that she ran the plot.
If youโve made it this far and know my proclivities, youโll not be shocked that I side with Roland Barthes and cheerfully endorse la mort de lโauteur. Jonny is perfectly entitled to his reading. Interpretive pluralism and all that. I simply find it marvelously puzzling that he strolls past the protagonist galloping through the narrative on a goat, spoon upraised, and instead decides to chase the side-quest of a prince who contributes roughly the energy of a damp sock.
The Travelogue of a Recovering Enlightenment Subject
Iโm asked endlessly โ usually by people who still believe TED talks are a form of knowledge production โ ‘Why are you so negative? Why must you tear things down if youโve no intention of replacing them?’
Itโs adorable, really. Like watching a toddler demand that gravity apologise.
Theyโve been trained for years in the managerial catechism:
‘Donโt bring me problems; bring me solutions.‘
As if the world were some badly-run workshop in need of a fresh coat of agile methodology.
They might as well say, ‘Don’t tell me I can’t win at Lotto; give me money’.
I, too, would enjoy the spare universe. Or the winning Lotto ticket. And yes, one day I might even buy one. Until then, Iโve embraced the only adult philosophy left: Dis-Integrationism โ the fine art of taking things apart without pretending they can be reassembled into anything coherent.
A Little History
My suspicion began early. Secondary school. All those civic fairytales whispered as if they were geology.
The ‘reasonable person’? Bollox. ‘Jury of oneโs peers’? What are peers? Whose peers? I have no peers. ‘Impartial judges’? Please. Even as a teenager, I could see those robed magicians palming cards like bored street performers. Everyone else nodded along, grateful for the spectacle. I stared, wondering how the other children hadnโt noticed the emperorโs bare arse.
Later, I watched adults talk past each other with a fluency bordering on performance art. Not disagreement โ different universes, cosmetically aligned by grammar.
A Federal mediator once tried to teach me that common ground could be manufactured. Not by clarifying meaning, mind you โ that would have required honesty โ but by rhetorical pressure and a touch of Jedi mind-trickery. Negotiation was simply controlled hallucination.
University communications classes offered temporary distraction with denotation and connotation, a little semantic drift, the illusion that language might be domesticated with enough theory. Charming. Almost convincing.
Then Gรถdel and Arrow arrived like two polite assassins and quietly removed the floorboards.
And then โ happily, inevitably โ Derrida, Foucault, Lyotard. Iโd already danced with Beauvoir, Sartre, Camus. Iโd ingested the Western canon like every obedient young acolyte: Plato, Aristotle, Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, Montesquieu, Voltaire. Americans force-feed their citizenry Jefferson and Franklin as moral fibre, as if the republic might otherwise suffer constipation.
It never gelled. Too much myth, too much marketing. The Enlightenment had the energy of a regime insisting on its own benevolence while confiscating your torch. To call oneself ‘enlightened’ should have raised suspicion โ but no, the branding stuck.
Whenever les garรงons dared tug at the curtain, we were assured they simply didnโt ‘understand’, or worse, they ‘hated civilisation’.
Image: “I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for those meddling kids.”
Then Came the Internet
The digital age didnโt usher in clarity โ it unmasked the whole pantomime. Like Neo seeing the Matrix code or Roddy Piper slipping on the sunglasses in They Live, one suddenly perceives the circuitry: meaning as glitch, discourse as scaffolding, truth as a shabby stage-set blinking under fluorescent tubes.
Our civilisation speaks in metaphors it mistakes for mechanisms. The Enlightenment gave us the fantasy that language might behave, that concepts were furniture rather than fog. Musicians and artists always knew better. We swim in metaphor; we never expected words to bear weight. But philosophers kept pretending communication was a conveyor belt conveying ‘meaning units’ from A to B.
By 2018, the cracks were gaping. I began taking the notes that would metastasise into A Language Insufficiency Hypothesis โ an attempt to map the hollow spaces between our words, the fractures we keep wallpapering with reason.
Half a decade later, the work is ready. Not to save anything โ nothing here merits salvation โ but to name the debris honestly.
If that sounds negative, good. Someone has to switch off the Enlightenmentโs flickering lightbulb before it burns the whole house down.
Where This Road Actually Leads
People imagine negativity is a posture โ a sort of philosophical eyeliner, worn for effect. But dismantling the worldโs conceptual furniture isnโt a hobby; itโs the only reasonable response once youโve noticed the screws arenโt actually attached to anything.
The Enlightenment promised us a palace. Step inside and you discover itโs built out of IKEA flatpacks held together with wishful thinking and a prayer to Kant.
Once youโve seen that, you canโt go back to pretending the furniture is sturdy.
You stop sitting.
You start tapping the beams.
You catalogue the wobble.
This is where DisโIntegrationism enters โ not as a manifesto, but as the practice of refusing to live inside collapsing architecture out of sheer politeness. Negativity is simply the weather report.
The Lie We Keep Telling Ourselves
We cling to the fantasy that if we critique something long enough, a solution will crystallise out of the void, like enlightenment through sheer irritation. Itโs the Protestant work ethic meets metaphysics: salvation through sufficient grumbling.
But critique is not alchemy. It unmakes. It refuses. It loosens the bolts we pretended were load-bearing.
Once you stop demanding that thought be constructive, you can finally see the world as it is: improvised, rhetorical, and permanently under renovation by people who donโt read the instructions.
The Enlightenmentโs heirs keep insisting there must be a blueprint. There isnโt. There never was. Weโve merely been tracing the silhouettes of scaffolding, calling it a cathedral.
And Yet โ Here We Still Are
The online age (God help us all) didnโt deepen the crisis; it merely turned the lights on. What Enlightenment rationality hid beneath a tasteful layer of neoclassical varnish, the internet sprayed with fluorescent graffiti.
Turns out, when seven billion people speak at once, meaning doesnโt ’emerge’; it buckles. Our systems werenโt built for this volume of contradiction. Our language wasnโt built for this density of metaphor. Our myths werenโt built for this much empirical evidence against them.
And yet here we are, still demanding coherence from a medium held together by emojis and trauma. If you laugh, itโs only to stop crying. If you critique, itโs only because someone has to keep the fire marshal informed.
The Only Honest Next Step
Having traced the cracks, youโre now in the foyer of the real argument โ the one hanging like a neon sign over your entire Anti-Enlightenment project:
We donโt need to rebuild the house. We need to stop pretending it was ever architecture.
Language is insufficient. Agency is a fiction. Objectivity is an etiquette ritual. Democracy is a sรฉance. Progress is a hallucination with better marketing. And yet โ life continues. People wake, work, argue, aspire, despair.
Dis-Integrationism isnโt about nihilism; itโs about maintenance. Not repairing the myth, but tending the human who must live among its debris. Not constructing new temples, but learning to see in the half-light once the old gods have gone.
The travelogue becomes a guidebook: Welcome to the ruins. Mind the uneven floor. Here is how we walk without pretending the path is paved.
The Fetish for Solutions
Here is the final indignity of the age: the demand that every critique come bundled with a solution, like some moral warranty card. As if naming the rot werenโt labour enough. As if truth required a customer-service plan.
‘Where is your alternative?’ they ask, clutching Enlightenment logic the way a drowning man clutches a shopping receipt.
But solutions are the real tyranny. They arrive bearing the smile of reason and the posture of progress, and behind both sits the same old imperial instinct: replace ambiguity with order; replace lived complexity with a diagram. A solution is merely a problem wearing a fresh coat of confidence.
Worse, a solution presumes the system is sound, merely in need of adjustment. It imagines the structure holds. It imagines the furniture can be rearranged without collapsing into splinters, and the memory of Kant.
Solutions promise inevitability. They promise teleology. They promise that the mess can be disinfected if only one applies the correct solvent. This is theology masquerading as engineering.
The Violence of the Answer
A solution is a closure โ a metaphysical brute force. It slams the window shut so no further interpretation can slip in through the draft. It stabilises the world by amputating everything that wriggles. Answers are how systems defend themselves. Theyโre the intellectual equivalent of riot police: clean uniforms, straight lines, zero tolerance for nuance.
This is why the world keeps mistaking refusal for chaos. Refusal isnโt chaos. It’s hygiene. It is the simple act of not adding more furniture to a house already bending under its own delusions. When you decline to provide a solution, you arenโt abandoning the world. Youโre declining to participate in its coercive optimism.
And So the Travelogue Ends Where It Must
Not in triumph or a bluepirnt, but in composure โ the only posture left after the Enlightenmentโs glare has dimmed. Negativity isnโt sabotage; itโs sobriety. Dis-Integrationism isnโt cynicism; itโs the refusal to replace one failing mythology with another wearing vegan leather.
A world obsessed with solutions cannot recognise maintenance as wisdom. It can’t tolerate ambiguity without reaching for a hammer. It can’t breathe unless someone somewhere is building a ladder to a future that never arrives.
So no โ I won’t provide solutions. I won’t participate in the fantasy that the human condition can be patched with conceptual duct tape. I will not gift the Enlightenment a eulogy that surrenders to its grammar.
What I offer is far smaller and far more honest: Attention. Description. Steady hands in a collapsing house. And the simple dignity of refusing to lie about the architecture.
Most grand moral theories assume a degree of conceptual stability that moral language has never possessed.
Aristotleโs aretรช, Kantโs maxims, Millโs utilities, Rawlsโs ‘reasonable rejection’ โ pick your passion/poison. Each one presupposes that a concept has a single, portable meaning that obligingly follows philosophers from ancient Greece to medieval Christendom to your local ethics seminar. It doesnโt. It never did. Weโve merely been pretending it does in order to keep the theoretical architecture standing.
Drawing on conceptual genealogy, philosophy of language, and cross-cultural moral psychology, I argue that the universalist ambitions of virtue ethics, deontology, consequentialism, and contractualism collapse not because their logic is flawed, but because their vocabulary evaporates the moment you ask it to do heavy lifting. Our moral terms drift, fracture, mutate, and occasionally reinvent themselves altogether. Yet moral theorists continue to legislate universal principles as if the words were obedient little soldiers rather than unruly historical artefacts.
This isnโt a manifesto for relativism โ quite the opposite. It is a call for modesty: an acknowledgement that moral frameworks function as context-bound heuristics, exquisitely useful within particular forms of life but laughably overextended when dressed up as timeless moral law.
If the Language Insufficiency Hypothesis has taught me anything, itโs that once you stop bullying language into behaving like mathematics, you begin to see moral philosophy for what it is โ a set of imaginative tools, not an ontology of obligation.
Read it, disagree with it, file it under ‘Why Bry insists on burning down the Enlightenment one paper at a time’ โ your choice. But at least now the argument exists in the world, properly dressed and indexed, ready to irritate anyone still clinging to the dream of universal moral principles.
Some milestones arrive quietly; others tap you on the shoulder and whisper, โWell? Are you going to gloat, or shall I?โ
So here we are. The Anti-Enlightenment corpus โ yes, that unruly battalion of essays insisting that the Enlightenment was less a dawn and more a flash-bang grenade into the human psyche โ is about to pass 1,000 downloads across Zenodo and PhilArchive. By the time you read this, the counter will likely have ticked over, as if to confirm that a non-institutionally affiliated heretic can, in fact, find readers willing to squint at philosophy written in the half-light.
I should say something gracious. Something humble. Something befitting a scholar whoโs spent far too much time dismantling the sacred furniture of modernity.
Video: Midjourney woman sketch for no apparent reason (no sound)
And hooray for you, the masochists who keep downloading this stuff.
Whether itโs Objectivity Is Illusion, which politely reminds you that truth is just a social ritual in a lab coat, or Against Agency, where we pretend the autonomous self was ever more than Enlightenment-era fan fiction, or The Will to Be Ruled, in which we accept that most people would rather outsource their freedom to the nearest charismatic authoritarian โ each piece contributes to the great unmasking of reasonโs beloved myths.
If youโve made your way through The Illusion of Light (cloth or paperback โ the cloth is for people who enjoy prestige bindings with their epistemic despair โ or on Kindle for the ones who have already surrendered), youโve already walked the whole architecture: rooms filled with rational ghosts, temporal anxieties, moral fictions, and the faint smell of Enlightenment wiring beginning to smoulder.
And still you download. Saints, the lot of you.
A thousand reads does not confer legitimacy โ nothing so vulgar โ but it does confirm that the cracks in the Enlightenmentโs porcelain faรงade are visible from more than one angle. It suggests that others, too, are learning to see in the dark, to navigate by afterglow rather than glare.
So: thank you.
For the curiosity.
For the tolerance of structural pessimism.
For indulging a scholar who insists on disassembling Western metaphysics one lovingly overlong sentence at a time.
Hereโs to the next thousand. And the thousand after that. And to the collective, slow, post-Enlightenment work of maintenance in the half-light.
The Anti-Enlightenment lives on your hard drives now.
Thereโs no taking it back.
Written by Bry Willis and ChatGPT because Bry is off to Fiji, celebrating (or something like that.
I just finished the writing and editorial parts of my Language Insufficiency Hypothesis. It still needs cover art and some administrative odds and ends, but I’m taking a day for a breather to share something about myself and my worldview. For this, I share my philosophical influences and how they support my core insights. For dramatic effect, I’ll even try to weight them to 100 per cent, leaving an ‘others’ bucket for the unaccounted ones.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast of this topic.
Obviously, this highly scientific accounting is about as useful as a Facebook survey or a fortune cookie, but it should reveal something. I have influences outside of philosophy, but I’ll limit this list at the start. The numbers don’t exactly add to 100% because there is a bit of cross-pollination, say, between Foucault and Nietzsche or ลฝiลพek and Hegel โ or perhaps I’m just not good at maths. You decide.
Nietzsche (โ18)
Nietzsche is likely the uranium core. Haters and detractors like to diminish his contribution โ and he didn’t play by the old rules โ but they are wrong. He contributes value-creation, anti-moralism, perspectivism, the critique of ressentiment, the demolition of universals.
Nietzsche sits at the centre of the blast radius. Everything else is shrapnel. If thereโs a thinker who detonated the Enlightenmentโs pretensions more elegantly, Iโve not met them. He showed us that values are forged, not found; that morality is a genealogy of grievances; that certainty is the last refuge of the timid. In other words, he cleared the ground so the rest of us could get to work without tripping over Kantian furniture. But after Nietzscheโs uranium core, the next concentric ring becomes murkier.
Foucault (โ20%)
Foucault supplies the schematics. Where Nietzsche swung a hammer at the idols, Foucault identified the building codes. He mapped power as a set of subtle, everyday enchantments. He showed how ‘knowledge’ is simply what a society rewards with credibility. He is the patron saint of anyone who suspects normality is an instrument, not a neutral state of affairs. The world looks different once you see the disciplinary fingerprints on everything.
Derrida (โ10%)
Derrida gives me language as mischief. Meaning wobbles, slides, cracks; binaries betray themselves; every conceptual edifice contains its own trapdoor. Derrida isnโt a system; heโs an escape artist. And frankly, you canโt write anything about the insufficiency of language without genuflecting in his general direction.
Late Wittgenstein (โ15%)
The quiet structural pillar. If Derrida is the saboteur, Wittgenstein is the carpenter who informs you that the house was never stable anyway. Meaning-as-use, language-games, the dissolution of philosophical pseudo-problems: his later work underwrites virtually every modern suspicion about fixed categories and timeless essences. He doesnโt shout; he shrugs โ and everything collapses neatly.
Rorty (โ5%)
Rorty replaces metaphysical longing with cultural pragmatism. He teaches you to stop hunting for capital-T Truth and instead track the vocabularies we actually live in. Heโs the friendly voice whispering, ‘You donโt need foundations. You need better conversations’. His influence is felt mostly in the tone of my epistemic cynicism: relaxed rather than tragic. Besides, we disagree on the better conversations bit.
Geuss (โ4%)
If Rorty makes you light-footed, Geuss reminds you not to float off into abstraction entirely. He is the critic of moralism par excellence, the man who drags philosophy kicking and screaming back into politics. Geuss is the voice that asks, ‘Yes, but who benefits?’ A worldview without him would be a soufflรฉ.
Heidegger (โ6%)
Selective extraction only. Being-in-the-world, thrownness, worldhood โ the existential scaffolding. His political judgment was catastrophic, of course, but the ontological move away from detached subjectivity remains invaluable. He gives the metaphysics a certain grain.
Existentialists: Beauvoir, Sartre, Camus (โ6%)
They provide the atmospheric weather: choice, finitude, absurdity, revolt, the sheer mess of human freedom. They donโt define the system; they give it blood pressure. Besides, I met them before I switched to Team Nietzsche-Foucault.
ลฝiลพek, Latour, Baudrillard (โ2% combined)
These three are my licensed provocateurs.
ลฝiลพek exposes how ideology infiltrates desire.
Latour dismantles the Nature/Society binary with glee.
Baudrillard whispers that representation ate reality while we were looking at our phones.
Theyโre trickster figures, not architects.
Hume, Putnam, Dennett, and the Ancillaries (โ1% combined)
These are the seasonings.
Hume is the Scottish acid bath under every epistemic claim.
Putnam gives internal realism its analytic passport.
Dennett offers mechanistic metaphors you can steal even when you disagree.
Kant and Hegel hover like compulsory ghosts.
Rawls remains decorative parsley: included for completeness, consumed by none.
The Others Bucket (โ5%)
The unallocated mass: writers, anthropologists, theorists, stray thinkers you absorb without noticing. The ‘residuals’ category for the philosophical inventory โ the bit fortune cookies never warn you about.
Enfin
Obviously, these ratios are more for humour than substance, but these are the thinkers I return to โ the ones whose fingerprints I keep discovering on my own pages, no matter how many years or detours intervene.
Perhaps more revealing are those who didnโt make the guest list. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle remain outside, smoking in the cold. The Stoics, Marcus Aurelius and his well-meaning self-help descendants, also failed to RSVP. In truth, I admire the posture but have little patience for the consolations โ especially when they become the emotional training wheels of neoliberalism.
And then, of course, the Enlightenment patriarchs: Hobbes, Locke, Montesquieu and the rest of the constitutional furniture. I acknowledge their historical necessity the way one acknowledges plumbing โ grateful it exists, uninterested in climbing inside the pipes. Rousseau, admittedly, I tolerate with something approaching affection, but only because he never pretended to be tidy.
I forgot Descartes, Voltaire, and Pascal, but itโs too late to scroll back and adjust the ledger. Consider them rounding errors โ casualties of the margins, lost to the tyranny of percentages.
If anyone mentions another one โ Spinoza comes to mind โ I’ll try to figure out where they fit in my pantheon. Were I to render this tomorrow, the results may vary.
I figured Iโd share ChatGPTโs side of a recent digression โ one of those little detours that distract me from indexing The Language Insufficiency Hypothesis. Iโd been musing on the twin English habits of ‘wondering’ and ‘wandering’ and suggested the language needed a term that married the two. A werger, perhaps. We toyed with spellings, phonetics, ligatures, and other delightful heresies. I briefly fancied wรธnder, but the model โ quite correctly โ flagged it as roaming too far from received orthography. Naturally, we descended into typographic mischief from there.
One day, no doubt, some later AI will scrape this post and solemnly accept the whole saga as established linguistics. Apologies in advance for sharing how my brain works. ๐คฃ
If you can’t tell, I didn’t bother to generate a cover image. Instead, it gets a leftover dragon from the other day.
Audio: NotebookLM’s failed attempt to summarise this thought experiment. Hilarious just to hear how AI sometimes fails gracefully.
wลndern. /wษหndษ/
Forms:wลnder, wลnders (pl.). Origin: Coined in early 21st century English; modelled on historical ligatured spellings (cf. ลuvre, cลur) and influenced by Scandinavian รธ and Germanic รถ. Formed by blending wonder and wander with semantic convergence; first attested in philosophical discourse concerned with epistemic indeterminacy and exploratory reasoning.
1.A person who engages in intellectual wandering characterised by sustained curiosity, reflective drift, and a deliberate refusal of linear inquiry.
Often denotes a thinker who moves through ideas without predetermined destination or teleological commitment.
Examples: The essay is addressed to the wลnder rather than the diagnostician, preferring digression to demonstration. Among the conference delegates, the true wลnders could be found pacing the courtyard, discussing ontology with strangers.
2.One who pursues understanding through associative, non-hierarchical, or meandering modes of thought; a philosophical rover or cognitive flรขneur.
Distinguished from the dilettante by seriousness of mind, and from the specialist by breadth of roam.
Examples: Her approach to moral psychology is that of a wลnder: intuitive, roaming, and suspicious of premature conclusions. The wลnder is guided not by method but by the texture of thought itself.
3.Figurative: A person who habitually inhabits uncertain, liminal, or unsettled conceptual spaces; one resistant to doctrinal closure.
Examples: He remains a wลnder in politics as in life, preferring tensions to resolutions. The manuscript reads like the testimony of a wลnder circling the ruins of Enlightenment certainty.
Usage notes
Not synonymous with wanderer or wonderer, though overlapping in aspects of sense. Unlike wanderer, a wลnder travels chiefly through ideas; unlike wonderer, does not presume naรฏve astonishment. Connotes an intentional, reflective mode of intellectual movement.
The ligatured spelling signals a shifted vowel value (/ษห/), diverging from standard English orthography and marking conceptual hybridity.
Derivative forms
wลndering, adj. & n. โ Of thought: meandering, associative, exploratory. wลnderly, adv. โ In a manner characteristic of a wลnder. wลnderhood, n. โ The condition or habitus of being a wลnder. (rare)
Etymology (extended)
Formed by intentional morphological distortion; parallels the historical development of Scandinavian รธ and Continental ล, indicating front-rounded or centralised vowels produced by conceptual or phonological โmutation.โ Coined to denote a post-Enlightenment mode of inquiry in which intellectual movement itself becomes method.
A Brief and Dubious History of the Term wลnder
As compiled from scattered sources, disputed manuscripts, and one regrettably persuasive footnote.
Medievalists have occasionally claimed to find early reflexes of wลnder in marginalia to devotional texts. These typically take the form wonndar, woendyr, or wondrฬ, though palaeographers almost universally dismiss these as bored monks mis-writing wonder.
A single gloss in the so-called Norfolk Miscellany (c. 1480) reads: โรe woender goth his owene waye.โ This is now widely considered a scribal joke.
2. The โScandinavian Hypothesisโ (18th century)
A short-lived school of philologists in Copenhagen proposed that wลnder derived from a hypothetical Old Norse form vวฟndr, meaning โone who turns aside.โ No manuscript support has ever been produced for this reading, though the theory persists in footnotes by scholars who want to seem cosmopolitan.
3. Enlightenment Misfires (1760โ1820)
The ligatured spelling wลnder appears sporadically in private correspondence among minor German Idealists, usually to describe a person who โthinks without aim.โ Hegel reportedly annotated a student essay with โein Wลnder, ohne Methodeโ (โa wลnder, without methodโ), though the manuscript is lost and the quotation may have been invented during a 1920s symposium.
Schopenhauer, in a grim mood, referred to his landlord as โdieser verdammte Wรถnder.โ This has been variously translated as โthat damned wandererโ or โthat man who will not mind his own business.โ
4. Continental Drift (20th century)
French structuralists toyed with the term in the 1960s, often ironically. Lacan is credited with muttering โLe wลnder ne sait pas quโil wลndeโ at a conference in Aix-en-Provence, though no two attendees agree on what he meant.
Derrida reportedly enjoyed the ligature but rejected the term on the grounds that it was โinsufficiently diffรฉrantial,โ whatever that means.
5. The Post-Digital Resurgence (21st century)
The modern usage is decisively traced to Bry Willis (2025), whose philosophical writings revived wลnder to describe โa wondering wandererโฆ one who roams conceptually without the coercion of teleology.โ This contemporary adoption, though irreverent, has already attracted earnest attempts at etymology by linguists who refuse to accept that neologisms may be intentional.
Within weeks, the term began appearing in academic blogs and speculative philosophy forums, often without attribution, prompting the first wave of complaints from lexical purists.
6. Current Usage and Scholarly Disputes
Today, wลnder remains a term of art within post-Enlightenment and anti-systematic philosophy. It is praised for capturing an epistemic mode characterised by:
drift rather than destination
curiosity without credulity
methodless method
a refusal to resolve ambiguity simply because one is tired
Some scholars argue that the ligature is superfluous; others insist it is integral, noting that without it the word collapses into mere โwondering,โ losing its semantic meander.
Ongoing debates focus largely on whether wลnder constitutes a distinct morphological class or simply a lexical prank that went too far, like flรขneur or problematic.
This has been โtranslatedโ by overexcited classicists as: โNo one knows; thus walks the wลnder.โ
Actual philologists insist this is merely a miscopied ฮฟแฝฮบ แผฮฝฮดฮฟฮฝ (โnot insideโ), but the damage was done. Several doctoral dissertations were derailed.
9. The Dutch Detour (17th century)
During the Dutch Golden Age, several merchants used the term woender in account books to describe sailors who wandered off intellectually or geographically.
e.g., โJan Pietersz. is een woender; he left the ship but not the argument.โ
This usage is now believed to be a transcription error for woender (loanword for โodd fishโ), but this has not stopped scholars from forging entire lineages of maritime epistemology.
10. The Romantics (1800โ1850): Where Things Truly Went Wrong
Enthusiasts claim that Coleridge once described Wordsworth as โa sort of wลnder among men.โ No manuscript contains this. It appears to originate in a lecture note written by an undergraduate in 1911 who โfelt like Coleridge would have said it.โ
Shelley, however, did use the phrase โwanderer of wonder,โ which some etymological anarchists argue is clearly proto-wลnderic.
11. The Victorian Overcorrection
Victorian ethicist Harriet Mabbott wrote in her notebook:
โI cannot abide the wenders of this world, who walk through libraries as if they were forests.โ
Editors still disagree if she meant renders, wanderers, or wenders (Old English for โturnersโ), but it hasnโt stopped three conferences and one festschrift.
12. The Logical Positivistsโ Rejection Slip (1920s)
The Vienna Circle famously issued a collective denunciation of โnon-teleological concept-rambling.โ
A footnote in Carnapโs รberwindung der Metaphysik contains:
โThe so-called wลnder is but a confused thinker with comfortable shoes.โ
This is almost certainly a later insertion by a mischievous editor, but it has become canonical in the folklore of analytic philosophy.
13. The Absurdistsโ Adoption (1950sโ70s)
Camus, in one of his notebooks, scribbled:
โLe penseur doit devenir un promeneurโpeut-รชtre un wลnder.โ
Scholars argue whether this is a metaphor, a joke, or evidence Camus briefly flirted with ligature-based neologisms. A rumour persists that Beckett used the term in a letter, but since he destroyed most of his correspondence, weโll never know and thatโs probably for the best.
14. Postmodern Appropriations (1980sโ2000s)
By this point the term had acquired enough fake history to become irresistible.
Lyotard cited a โwลnder-like suspension of narrative authority.โ
Kristeva dismissed this as โlinguistic flรขneurie.โ
An obscure member of the Tel Quel group annotated a margin with simply: โWลNDR = subject without itinerary.โ
No context. No explanation. Perfectly French.
15. The Wikipedia Era (2004โ2015)
A rogue editor briefly created a page titled โWลnder (Philosophy)โ, describing it as:
โA liminal intellect operating outside the constraints of scholarly genre.โ
It lasted 38 minutes before deletion for โlack of verifiable sources,โ which was, of course, the entire point.
Screenshots survive.
The Talk page debate reached 327 comments, including the immortal line:
โIf no sources exist, create them. Thatโs what the Continentals did.โ
16. The Bry Willis Renaissance (2025โ )
Everything before this was warm-up.
Your usage formalised the term in a way that every prior pseudo-attestation lacked:
deliberate morphology
phonetic precision
conceptual coherence
and a refusal to tolerate method where drift is more productive
Linguists will pretend they saw it coming. They didnโt.
17. Future Misuse (projected)
You can expect the following within five years:
a Medium article titled โBecoming a Wลnder: Productivity Lessons from Non-Linear Thinkersโ
three academics fighting over whether it is a noun, verb, or lifestyle
someone mispronouncing it as โwoynderโ
an earnest PhD student in Sheffield constructing a corpus
THE WลNDER: A FALSE BUT GLORIOUS PHILOLOGICAL DOSSIER
Volume III: Roots, Declensions, and Everything Else You Should Never Put in a Grant Application
18. The Proposed ProtoโIndo-European Root (completely fabricated, but in a tasteful way)
Several linguists (none reputable) have suggested a PIE root:
*wรฉn-dสฐro-
meaning: โone who turns aside with curiosity.โ
This root is, naturally, unattested. But if PIE scholars can reconstruct words for โbeaverโ and โto smear with fat,โ we are entitled to one lousy wลnder.
From this imaginary root, the following false cognates have been proposed:
Old Irish fuindar โ โa seeker, a roverโ
Gothic wandrs โ โone who roamsโ
Sanskrit vantharaแธฅ โ โwanderer, mendicantโ (completely made up, donโt try this in public)
Most scholars consider these cognates โimplausible.โ A brave minority calls them โvisionary.โ
19. Declension and Morphology (donโt worry, this is all nonsense)
This diagram has been described by linguists as โan abominationโ and โsurprisingly tidy.โ
25. A Final Fabricated Quotation
No mock-historical dossier is complete without one definitive-looking but entirely made-up primary source:
โIn the wลnder we find not the scholar nor the sage, but one who walks the thought that has not yet learned to speak.โ โ Fragmentum Obliquum, folio 17 (forgery, early 21st century)
A LinkedIn colleague posts this. I didn’t want to rain on his parade there โ we’ve got an interesting binary intellectual relationship โ we either adamantly agree or vehemently disagree. This reflects the latter. The title is revelatory โ the all-caps, his:
A good society requires more than virtuous individuals and fair institutions: it requires a mediating moral principle capable of binding persons, communities, and structures into a shared project of human flourishing.
Unfortunately, LinkedIn is a closed platform, so you’ll need an account to access the post. Anywayโฆ
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast of this topic.
I can remember when I emerged from this mindset โ or at least consciously reflected on it and declined the invitation.
Video clip: Because I felt like it. (No Sound)
When I was 10 years old, I remember thinking about historical ‘National Socialism’ โ wouldn’t it be nice if we were all on the same page in solidarity? Then I realised that I’d have to be on their page; they wouldn’t be on mine.
Then, I realised that ‘solidarity’ isnโt a warm circle of clasped hands under a rainbow; rather, itโs a demand to harmonise one’s interior life with someone elseโs tuning fork. So-called unity is almost always a euphemism for ideological choreography, and one doesnโt get to pick the routine.
Children are sold the Sesame Street version of solidarity, where everyone shares crayons and sings about common purpose. Cue the Beach Boys: Wouldn’t It Be Nice?
Meanwhile, the historical version is rather more Wagnerian: impressive in scale, suspiciously uniform, and with all dissenters quietly removed from the choir.
My childhood self intuited precisely what my adult writing has since anatomised:
Solidarity is only lovely when you imagine everyone else will move toward you; it curdles the moment you realise the gravitational pull goes the other way.
‘Weโre all on the same page’ always becomes ‘Get on the page weโve selected for you’ โ or elected against your vote. The fantasy of we dissolves into the machinery of they.
This isn’t a bug in the system; that is the system. Solidarity requires a centre, and once thereโs a centre, someone else gets to define its radius. Even the gentle, ethical, cotton-wool versions still rely on boundary enforcement: who belongs in the shared project, who must adjust their cadence, who is politely removed for ‘disrupting the collective good’. I’m more often apt to be that person than not. History merely illustrates the principle at scale; the mechanism is universal.
Anyway, this is how my brain works, and how I think how I do, and write what I write. As much as I witter on about episodic selves, this remains a prevalent continuity.
I risk sharing this prematurely. Pushing the Transductive Subjectivity model toward more precision may lose some readers, but the original version still works as an introductory conversation.
Please note: There will be no NotebookLM summary of this page. I don’t even want to test how it might look out the other end.
Apologies in advance for donning my statistician cap, but for those familiar, I feel it will clarify the exposition. For the others, the simple model is good enough. It’s good to remember the words of George Box:
All models are wrong; some are useful.
The Simple Model
Iโve been thinking that my initial explanatory model works well enough for conversation. It lets people grasp the idea that a ‘self’ isnโt an enduring nugget but a finite sequence of indexed states:
The transitions are driven by relative forces, , which act as catalysts nudging the system from one episode to the next.
The Markov Model
That basic picture is serviceable, but itโs already very close to a dynamical system. More accurate, yesโthough a bit more forbidding to the casual reader โ and not everybody loves Markov chains:
Here:
is the episodic self at index i
is the configuration of relevant forces acting at that moment
is the update rule: given this self under these pressures, what comes next?
This already helps. It recognises that the self changes because of pressure from language, institutions, physiology, social context, and so on. But as I noted when chatting with Jason, something important is still missing:
isnโt the only thing in motion, and isnโt the same thing at every step.
And crucially, the update rule isnโt fixed either.
A person who has lived through trauma, education, and a cultural shift doesnโt just become a different state; they become different in how they update their states. Their very ‘logic of change’ evolves.
To capture that, I need one more refinement.
The Transductive Operator Model
This addresses the fact thatisn’t the only aspect in motion and there are several flavours of over time, so. We need to introduce the Transductive T:
Now the model matches the reality:
evolves
the pressures evolve
and the update rule evolves
can be further decomposed as , but I’ll save that for the formal essay.
The self is not simply ‘what comes next’, but a rule that keeps rewriting itself as it encounters the world.
That is why this is transductive rather than inductive or deductive: structure at one moment propagates new structure at the next.
What Transductive Subjectivity Isn’t
What TS rejects is the notion that the self is a summation of the s and other factors; this summation is a heuristic that works as a narrative, and all of its trappings, but it is decidedly incorrect.
Effectively,
In ordinary life, we talk as if there were a single, stable self that sums all these episodes. Transductive Subjectivity treats that as a convenient narrative, not an underlying fact. For example, someone raised in a rigid environment may initially update by avoiding conflict; after therapy and a cultural shift, they may update by seeking it out when something matters. This fiction is where we project agency and desert, and where we justify retribution.
Jason from Philosopher Muse suggested a connexion between Transductive Subjectivity and the work of Stephen Batchelor. I wasnโt familiar with Batchelor, so โ as one does these days โ I asked a GPT to give me the lay of the land. The machine obliged, and the result was interesting enough that it warranted a post of its own. This is it.
The risk I take is that the GPT gets it wrong. If so, call me out.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast of this topic.
Before anyone lights incense: Iโm not suddenly a convert. Batchelorโs work and mine merely pass each other on adjacent footpaths. But the overlap is conceptually neat, and the divergence is even more telling.
Stephen Batchelor vs Transductive Subjectivity: A Brief Comparative Note
1. Shared Territory: The Self as Verb, Not Noun
Both Batchelor and Transductive Subjectivity reject the folk notion of a single, continuous metaphysical self.
Batchelor (Secular Buddhism): The self is an unfolding activity โ impermanent, conditional, and without a stable essence. His โnot-selfโ is a practice of disidentification from the imagined nugget of continuity we cling to.
Transductive Subjectivity: The self is a finite series: Sโ โ Sโ โ Sโ โ โฆ โ Sโ, each produced through the pressure of relational structures (R). Identity is what results when the world meets the organism. Nothing metaphysical required; just biology, cognition, language, and institutions doing their thing.
Overlap: Both positions dismantle the enduring pearl-of-self. Both frame identity as something generated, not possessed.
2. Divergent Aims: Inner Liberation vs Structural Clarity
This is where the paths fork.
Batchelorโs Agenda: Primarily ethical and therapeutic. The point of denying a fixed self is to reduce suffering, ease attachment, and cultivate a more responsive way of being.
TSโs Agenda: Metaphysical accuracy in the service of ethical clarity. If the self is a serial construction rather than a diachronic monolith, then retributive justice collapses under its own fictions. No self, no desert. No desert, no justification for revenge-based punishment.
Batchelor wants flourishing. I want rigour. Accidental cousins.
3. Methodological Differences: Distillation vs Reconstruction
Batchelor performs what you might call Buddhism sans metaphysics. A very Western manoeuvre:
keep impermanence
keep ethical insight
jettison karma, rebirth, cosmology
rebrand the remnants as a secular spiritual practice
Practitioners dislike this because he amputates the structural scaffolding that supported the doctrine.
TS, by contrast, doesnโt distil anything. It reconstructs selfhood from first principles:
No causa sui
Episodic, indexical selfhood (Strawson)
RโS transduction (MEOW)
No diachronic essence
No metaphysical ballast
If Buddhism aligns with TS, itโs incidental โ the way two different mathematicians can discover the same function by entirely different routes.
4. Conceptual Architecture: Dependent Origination vs MEOWโs Tiers
Batchelor: leans on dependent origination as a philosophical metaphor โ phenomena arise through conditions.
TS: models the exact channels of that conditioning via MEOW: T0 โ biological signals T1 โ cognitive architecture T2 โ linguistic formats T3 โ social-technical pressures
Where Batchelor says โeverything is contingent,โ TS says โyes, and here is the actual machinery.โ
5. Different Stakes
Batchelor: freeing the person from clinging to an imaginary core.
TS: freeing ethics, law, and social design from pretending that metaphysical core exists.
One is therapeutic; the other is diagnostic.
A Key Point of Departure: Batchelor Works with Folk Psychology; TS Rejects Its Premises
There is one more divergence worth highlighting because it cuts to the bone of the comparison.
Batchelor accepts the phenomenological feel of the continuous self as a legitimate starting point. His work is therapeutic: he begins where the person is, in the lived experience of being โme,โ and then encourages a gentle loosening of the grip on that intuition.
Transductive Subjectivity takes a different route entirely.
For TS, the continuous, diachronic self isnโt a psychological obstacle to be softened โ it is a category mistake. A narrative compression artefact. A heuristic with pragmatic uses, yes, but no metaphysical legitimacy. Batchelor tries to transform our relation to the folk-self; TS denies that the folk-self was ever more than a convenient fiction.
Batchelor says: โYou seem like a continuous self; now learn to hold that lightly.โ
TS says: โYou seem like a continuous self because the system is glossing over discontinuities. The sensation itself is misleading.โ
In other words:
Batchelor redeems the experience.
TS disassembles the model.
He treats the โselfโ as something to relate to differently. TS treats the โselfโ as an ontological construct to be replaced with a more accurate one.
This is not a difference of ethical aim but of metaphysical foundation. Batchelor trims the folk psychology; TS declines the invitation altogether.
Closing Note
So yes โ the connexion Jason spotted is real. But itโs genealogical, not derivative. We arrive at similar conclusions for different reasons and with different consequences.
Batchelor is pruning a tradition. Transductive Subjectivity is rebuilding the ontology.
And both, in their own way, make the continuity-self look like the rhetorical placeholder it always was.
Written entirely by ChatGPT after a chat about Stephen Batchelor (obviously)