Category: power

Chapter 5: Harari’s Defence of Democracy

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A Pollyanna Perspective

Chapter 5 of Yuval Noah Harari’s Nexus feels almost unlistenable, like polemic propaganda, painting cherry-picked anecdotes with a broad brush for maximal effect. If I hadn’t agreed to read this in advance, I’d have shelved the book long ago. It is as though Harari has never set foot on Earth and is instead relying on the optimistic narratives of textbooks and travel guides. His comparisons between democracy, dictatorship, and totalitarianism are so heavily spun and biased that they verge on risible. Harari comes across as an unabashed apologist for democracy, almost like he’s part of its affiliate programme. He praises Montesquieu’s separation of powers without noting how mistaken the idea as evidenced by modern-day United States of America. Not a fan. If you’re a politically Conservative™ American or a Torrey in the UK, you’ll feel right at home.

A Trivial Freedom – At What Cost?

Harari ardently defends the “trivial freedoms” offered by democracies whilst conveniently ignoring the shackles they impose. It’s unclear whether his Pollyanna, rose-coloured perspective reflects his genuine worldview or if he’s attempting to convince either himself or his audience of democracy’s inherent virtues. This uncritical glorification feels particularly out of touch with reality.

The Truth and Order Obsession

Once again, Harari returns to his recurring theme: the tradeoff between truth and order. His obsession with this dynamic overshadows more nuanced critiques. Listening to him defend the so-called democratic process that led to the illegal and immoral US invasion of Iraq in 2002 is nothing short of cringeworthy. Even more egregious is his failure to acknowledge the profound erosion of freedoms enacted by the PATRIOT Act, the compromised integrity of the offices of POTUS and SCOTUS, and the performative partisanship of Congress.

The Role of Media and Peer Review

Harari cites media and peer review as essential mechanisms for error correction, seemingly oblivious to the fallibility of these systems. His perception of their efficacy betrays a glaring lack of self-awareness. He overlooks the systemic biases, self-interest, and propaganda that permeate these supposed safeguards of democracy.

A Flimsy Narrative

Whilst many Modernists might uncritically embrace Harari’s perspective, his argument’s veneer is barely a nanometre thick and riddled with holes. It’s not merely a question of critiquing metanarratives; the narrative itself is fundamentally flawed. By failing to engage with the complexities and contradictions inherent in democratic systems, Harari’s defence feels more like a sales pitch than a rigorous examination.

Final Thoughts

Harari’s Chapter 5 is a glaring example of uncritical optimism, where the faults of democracy are brushed aside in favour of a curated narrative of its virtues. This chapter does little to inspire confidence in his analysis and leaves much to be desired for those seeking a balanced perspective.

The Fallibility of Nexus Chapter 4

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My reaction to Yuval Noah Harari’s Nexus continues with Chapter 4, “Errors: The Fantasy of Infallibility.” Spoiler alert: Harari makes a critical misstep by overly defending so-called self-correcting institutions compared to non-self-correcting ones.

Harari provides a solid account of how religious institutions and other dogmatic ideological constructs are slow to change, contrasting them with relatively faster self-correcting systems like science. Once again, he underscores the tension between order and truth—two critical dimensions in his worldview and cornerstones of Modernist beliefs.

Audio: Podcast conversation on this topic.

I agree with Harari that the lack of self-correction in institutions is problematic and that self-correction is better than the alternative. However, he overestimates the speed and efficacy of these self-correcting mechanisms. His argument presumes the existence of some accessible underlying truth, which, while an appealing notion, is not always so clear-cut. Harari cites examples of scientific corrections that took decades to emerge, giving the impression that, with enough time, everything will eventually self-correct. As the environment changes, corrections will naturally follow—albeit over long spans of time. Ultimately, Harari makes a case for human intervention without recognising it as an Achilles’ heel.

Harari’s Blind Spot

Harari largely overlooks the influence of money, power, and self-interest in these systems. His alignment with the World Economic Forum (WEF) suggests that, while he may acknowledge its fallibility, he still deems it “good enough” for governance. This reflects a paternalistic bias. Much like technologists who view technology as humanity’s salvation, Harari, as a Humanist, places faith in humans as the ultimate stewards of this task. However, his argument fails to adequately account for hubris, cognitive biases, and human deficits.

The Crux of the Problem

The core issue with Harari’s argument is that he appears to be chasing a local maxima by adopting a human-centric solution. His proposed solutions require not only human oversight but the oversight of an anointed few—presumably his preferred “elite” humans—even if other solutions might ultimately prove superior. He is caught in the illusion of control. While Harari’s position on transhuman capabilities is unclear, I suspect he would steadfastly defend human cognitive superiority to the bitter end.

In essence, Harari’s vision of self-correcting systems is optimistic yet flawed. By failing to fully acknowledge the limits of human fallibility and the structural influences of power and self-interest, he leaves his argument vulnerable to critique. Ultimately, his belief in the self-correcting nature of human institutions reflects more faith than rigour.

Death by Tiger, Death by Document: Reflections on Nexus Chapter 3

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As I continue to react to Harari’s Nexus, I can’t help but feel like a curmudgeon. Our worldviews diverge so starkly that my critique begins to feel like a petty grudge—as though I am inconsolable. Be that as it may, I’ll persist. Please excuse any revelatory ad hominems that may ensue.

Audio: Podcast of the page contents

Harari is an unabashed Zionist and unapologetic nationalist. Unfortunately, his stories, centred on Israel and India, don’t resonate with me. This is fine—I’m sure many people outside the US are equally weary of hearing everything framed from an American perspective. Still, these narratives do little for me.

Patriotism and property are clearly important to Harari. As a Modernist, he subscribes to all the trappings of Modernist thought that I rail against. He appears aligned with the World Economic Forum, portraying it as a noble and beneficial bureaucracy, while viewing AI as an existential threat to its control. Harari’s worldview suggests there are objectively good and bad systems, and someone must oversee them. Naturally, he presents himself as possessing the discernment to judge which systems are beneficial or detrimental.

In this chapter, Harari recounts the cholera outbreak in London, crediting it with fostering a positive bureaucracy to ensure clean water sources. However, he conflates the tireless efforts of a single physician with the broader bureaucratic structure. He uses this example, alongside Modi’s Clean India initiative, to champion bureaucracy, even as he shares a personal anecdote highlighting its flaws. His rhetorical strategy seems aimed at cherry-picking positive aspects of bureaucracy, establishing a strawman to diminish its negatives, and then linking these with artificial intelligence. As an institutionalist, Harari even goes so far as to defend the “deep state.”

Earlier, Harari explained how communication evolved from Human → Human to Human → Stories. Now, he introduces Human → Document systems, connecting these to authority, the growing power of administrators, and the necessity of archives. He argues that our old stories have not adapted to address the complexities of the modern world. Here, he sets up religion as another bogeyman. As a fellow atheist, I don’t entirely disagree with him, but it’s clear he’s using religion as a metaphor to draw parallels with AI and intractable doctrines.

Harari juxtaposes “death by tiger” with “death by document,” suggesting the latter—the impersonal demise caused by bureaucracy—is harder to grapple with. This predates Luigi Mangione’s infamous response to UnitedHealthcare’s CEO Brian Thompson, highlighting the devastating impact of administrative systems. Harari also briefly references obligate siblicide and sibling rivalry, which seem to segue into evolution and concepts of purity versus impurity.

Echoing Jonathan Haidt, Harari explores the dynamics of curiosity and disgust while reinforcing an “us versus them” narrative. He touches on the enduring challenges of India’s caste system, presenting yet another layer of complexity. Harari’s inclination towards elitism shines through, though he occasionally acknowledges the helplessness people face when confronting bureaucracy. He seems particularly perturbed by revolts in which the public destroys documents and debts—revealing what feels like a document fetish and an obsession with traceability.

While he lauds AI’s ability to locate documents and weave stories by connecting disparate content, Harari concludes the chapter with a segue into the next: a discussion of errors and holy books. Once again, he appears poised to draw parallels that serve to undermine AI. Despite my critiques, I’m ready to dive into the next chapter.

Stories, Power, and the Utility of Fiction

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Chapter 2 of Nexus

Chapter 2 of Yuval Noah Harari’s Nexus centres on the power of stories and their role in shaping human societies. For Harari, stories are not merely narratives but essential tools that have elevated human-to-human networks into human-to-story networks—a transition he frames as unadulterated Progress™, reflecting his dyed-in-the-wool Modernist perspective.

Audio: Podcast on this content

The Power of Stories

Harari argues that fictional stories underpin the strength of social networks, enabling constructs like nations and economies to thrive. He celebrates these intersubjective frameworks as shared functional experiences that facilitate progress. While Harari’s thesis is compelling, his tone suggests an uncritical embrace of these constructs as inherently good. Branding and propaganda, for example, are presented as valid tools—but only when used by those on the “right side” of history, a position Harari implicitly claims for himself.

Order Above All Else

One of Harari’s key claims is that order trumps truth and justice. He justifies limiting both for the sake of maintaining stability, positioning this as his modus operandi. This prioritisation of order reveals a functionalist worldview where utility outweighs ethical considerations. Harari goes further to define “good” information as that which either discovers truth or creates order, a reductionistic view that leaves little room for dissent or alternative interpretations.

By extension, Harari endorses the concept of the “noble lie”—deception deemed acceptable if it serves these ends. While pragmatism may demand such compromises, Harari’s framing raises concerns about how this justification could be weaponised to silence opposition or reinforce entrenched power structures.

Alignment with Power

Harari’s alignment with institutional power becomes increasingly evident as the chapter progresses. His discussion of intersubjective constructs positions them as the bedrock of human achievement, but he appears unwilling to scrutinise the role of institutions like the World Economic Forum (WEF) in perpetuating inequalities. Harari’s lack of criticism for these entities mirrors historical justifications of despotic regimes by those aligned with their goals. He seems more concerned about AI’s potential to disrupt the plans of such institutions than about its impact on humanity as a whole.

Fiction as a Weapon

Harari concludes with an implicit hope that his narrative might gain consensus to undermine opposition to these power structures. His fondness for fiction—and his belief that “a story is greater than any truth”—positions storytelling as both a tool and a weapon. While this reflects the undeniable power of narratives, it also underscores Harari’s selective morality: stories are good when they align with his perspective and problematic when they don’t.

Final Thoughts

Chapter 2 of Nexus is a study in the utility of stories, but it also reveals Harari’s Modernist biases and alignment with institutional power. His prioritisation of order over truth and justice, coupled with his justification of noble lies, paints a picture of a pragmatist willing to compromise ethics for stability. Whether this perspective deepens or is challenged in later chapters remains to be seen, but for now, Harari’s narrative raises as many concerns as it seeks to address. I don’t mean to be overly cynical, but I can’t help but think that this book lays the groundwork for propagandising his playbook. 

What is Information?

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I question whether reviewing a book chapter by chapter is the best approach. It feels more like a reaction video because I am trying to suss out as I go. Also, I question the integrity and allegiance of the author, a point I often make clear. Perhaps ‘integrity’ is too harsh as he may have integrity relative to his worldview. It just happens to differ from mine.

Chapter 1 of Yuval Noah Harari’s Nexus, ironically titled “What is Information?” closes not with clarity but with ambiguity. Harari, ever the rhetorician, acknowledges the difficulty of achieving consensus on what ‘information’ truly means. Instead of attempting a rigorous definition, he opts for the commonsense idiomatic approach—a conveniently disingenuous choice, given that information is supposedly the book’s foundational theme. To say this omission is bothersome would be an understatement; it is a glaring oversight in a chapter dedicated to unpacking this very concept.

Audio: Podcast related to this content.

Sidestepping Rigour

Harari’s rationale for leaving ‘information’ undefined appears to rest on its contested nature, yet this does not excuse the absence of his own interpretation. While consensus may indeed be elusive, a book with such grand ambitions demands at least a working definition. Without it, readers are left adrift, navigating a central theme that Harari refuses to anchor. This omission feels particularly egregious when juxtaposed against his argument that information fundamentally underlies everything. How can one build a convincing thesis on such an unstable foundation?

The Map and the Terrain

In typical Harari fashion, the chapter isn’t devoid of compelling ideas. He revisits the map-and-terrain analogy, borrowing from Borges to argue that no map can perfectly represent reality. While this metaphor is apt for exploring the limitations of knowledge, it falters when Harari insists on the existence of an underlying, universal truth. His examples—Israeli versus Palestinian perspectives, Orthodox versus secular vantage points—highlight the relativity of interpretation. Yet he clings to the Modernist belief that events have an objective reality: they occur at specific times, dates, and places, regardless of perspective. This insistence feels like an ontological claim awkwardly shoehorned into an epistemological discussion.

Leveraging Ambiguity

One can’t help but suspect that Harari’s refusal to define ‘information’ serves a rhetorical purpose. By leaving the concept malleable, he gains the flexibility to adapt its meaning to suit his arguments throughout the book. This ambiguity may prove advantageous in bolstering a wide-ranging thesis, but it also risks undermining the book’s intellectual integrity. Readers may find themselves wondering whether Harari is exploring complexity or exploiting it.

Final Thoughts on Chapter 1

The chapter raises more questions than it answers, not least of which is whether Harari intends to address these foundational gaps in later chapters. If the preface hinted at reductionism, Chapter 1 confirms it, with Harari’s Modernist leanings and rhetorical manoeuvres taking centre stage. “What is Information?” may be a provocative title, but its contents suggest that the question is one Harari is not prepared to answer—at least, not yet.

First Impressions of Nexus

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I’ve just begun reading Yuval Noah Harari’s Nexus. As the prologue comes to a close, I find myself navigating an intellectual terrain riddled with contradictions, ideological anchors, and what I suspect to be strategic polemics. Harari, it seems, is speaking directly to his audience of elites and intellectuals, crafting a narrative that leans heavily on divisive rhetoric and reductionist thinking—all while promising to explore the nuanced middle ground between information as truth, weapon, and power grab. Does he deliver on this promise? The jury is still out, but the preface itself raises plenty of questions.

Audio: Podcast reflecting on this content.

The Anatomy of a Polemic

From the outset, Harari frames his discussion as a conflict between populists and institutionalists. He discredits the former with broad strokes, likening them to the sorcerer’s apprentice—irrational actors awaiting divine intervention to resolve the chaos they’ve unleashed. This imagery, though evocative, immediately positions populists as caricatures rather than serious subjects of analysis. To compound this, he critiques not only populist leaders like Donald Trump but also the rationality of their supporters, signalling a disdain that reinforces the divide between the “enlightened” and the “misguided.”

This framing, of course, aligns neatly with his target audience. Elites and intellectuals are likely to nod along, finding affirmation in Harari’s critique of populism’s supposed anti-rationality and embrace of spiritual empiricism. Yet, this approach risks alienating those outside his ideological choir, creating an echo chamber rather than fostering meaningful dialogue. I’m unsure whether he is being intentionally polemic and provocative to hook the reader into the book or if this tone will persist to the end.

The Rise of the Silicon Threat

One of Harari’s most striking claims in the preface is his fear that silicon-based organisms (read: AI) will supplant carbon-based life forms. This existential anxiety leans heavily into speciesism, painting a stark us-versus-them scenario. Whilst Harari’s concern may resonate with those wary of unchecked technological advancement, it smacks of sensationalism—a rhetorical choice that risks reducing complex dynamics to clickbait-level fearmongering. How, exactly, does he support this claim? That remains to be seen, though the sceptic in me suspects this argument may prioritise dramatic appeal over substantive evidence.

Virtue Ethics and the Modernist Lens

Harari’s ideological stance emerges clearly in his framing of worldviews as divisions of motives: power, truth, or justice. This naïve triad mirrors his reliance on virtue ethics, a framework that feels both dated and overly simplistic in the face of the messy realities he seeks to unpack. Moreover, his defence of institutionalism—presented as the antidote to populist chaos—ignores the systemic failings that have eroded trust in these very institutions. By focusing on discrediting populist critiques rather than interrogating institutional shortcomings, Harari’s argument risks becoming one-sided.

A Preface Packed with Paradoxes

Despite these critiques, Harari’s preface is not without its merits. For example, his exploration of the “ant-information” cohort of conspiracy theorists raises interesting questions about the weaponisation of information and the cultural shifts driving these movements. However, his alignment with power concerns—notably the World Economic Forum—casts a shadow over his ability to critique these dynamics impartially. Is he unpacking the mechanisms of power or merely reinforcing the ones that align with his worldview?

The Promise of Middle Ground—or the Illusion of It

Harari’s stated goal to explore the middle ground between viewing information as truth, weapon, or power grab is ambitious. Yet, the preface itself leans heavily toward polarisation, framing AI as an existential enemy and populists as irrational antagonists. If he genuinely seeks to unpack the nuanced intersections of these themes, he will need to move beyond the reductionism and rhetorical flourishes that dominate his opening chapter.

Final Thoughts

I liked Hararis’ first publication, Sapiens, that looked back into the past, but I was less enamoured with his prognosticating, and I worry that this is more of the same. As I move beyond the preface of Nexus, I remain curious but sceptical. Harari’s narrative thus far feels more like a carefully curated polemic than a genuine attempt to navigate the complexities of the information age. Whether he builds on these initial positions or continues entrenching them will determine whether Nexus delivers on its promise or merely reinforces existing divides. One thing is certain: the prologue has set the stage for a provocative, if polarising, journey.

Top 5 Books Read 2024

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These are my favourite books I read in 2024. Only one was first published this year, so it seems I was playing catch-up and rereading. Two are about history; two are about the philosophy of science; and one is about biological free will or the lack thereof.

5

Against Method (2010)
Philosophy of Science

Against Method is a re-read for me. It makes the list on the coattails of a higher-ranked book. Feyerabend makes a compelling case against the Scientific Method™. To complete the set, I’d also recommend Bruno Latour‘s We Have Never Been Modern.

4

Determined: A Science of Life without Free Will (2023)
Neuroscience, Philosophy

Determined arrives on the heels of Sapolsky’s Behave, another classic that I’d recommend even more, but I read it in 2018, so it doesn’t make the cut. In Determined, Sapolsky makes the case that there is no room or need for free will to explain human behaviour.

3

Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies (1998)
History

As with Against Method, Guns, Germs, and Steel makes the list only to complement my next choice. It views history through an environmental lens. To fill out the historical perspective, I recommend David Graeber’s The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity (with David Wengrow). I’d recommend Yuval Noah Harari‘s Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, but it occupies a different category and is more about a plausible broad narrative than the detail explored in the others listed.

2

How the World Made the West: A 4,000 Year History (2024)
History

Quinn makes history approachable as she questions the uniformity of civilisations pushed by orthodoxy. Read this in context with the aforementioned historical accounts for a fuller perspective.

1

The Structure of Scientific Revolutions: 50th Anniversary Edition (1962/2012)
Philosophy of Science

I was born in 1961. This should have been bedtime reading for me. I’d heard of this work, but one really has to read it. It’s less Modernist than I had presumed—though not to the extent of Feyerabend or Latour mentioned above. Again, reading all three provides a robust perspective on the philosophy of science.

Like Quinn, the writing is approachable. I had expected it to be stilted. It is academic, and it may boost your vocabulary, but give it a gander. It also works well in an audiobook format if you are so inclined.

This about closes out 2024. What do you think about these choices? Agree or disagree? What are your top recommendations?

“Your Triggers Aren’t My Problem!”

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…except, sometimes they are.

This came across my feed, the laminated wisdom of our times: Your triggers are your responsibility. It isn’t the world’s obligation to tiptoe around you. A phrase so crisp, so confident, it practically struts. You can imagine it on a mug, alongside slogans like Live, Laugh, Gaslight. These are the language games I love to hate.

Now, there’s a certain truth here. Life is hard, and people aren’t psychic. We can’t reasonably expect the world to read our mental weather reports—50% chance of anxiety, rising storms of existential dread. In an adult society, we are responsible for understanding our own emotional terrain, building the bridges and detours that allow us to navigate it. That’s called resilience, and it’s a good thing.

Audio: NotebookLM Podcast on this topic.

But (and it’s a big but) this maxim becomes far less admirable when you scratch at its glossy surface. What does triggers even mean here? Because trigger is a shape-shifter, what I term Shrödinger’s Weasels. For someone with PTSD, a trigger is not a metaphor; it’s a live wire. It’s a flashback to trauma, a visceral hijacking of the nervous system. That’s not just “feeling sensitive” or “taking offence”—it’s a different universe entirely.

Yet, the word has been kidnapped by the cultural peanut gallery, drained of precision and applied to everything from discomfort to mild irritation. Didn’t like that movie? Triggered. Uncomfortable hearing about your privilege? Triggered. This semantic dilution lets people dodge accountability. Now, when someone names harm—racism, misogyny, homophobia, you name it—the accused can throw up their hands and say, Well, that’s your problem, not mine.

And there’s the rub. The neat simplicity of Your triggers are your responsibility allows individuals to dress their cruelty as stoic rationality. It’s not their job, you see, to worry about your “feelings.” They’re just being honest. Real.

Except, honesty without compassion isn’t noble; it’s lazy. Cruelty without self-reflection isn’t courage; it’s cowardice. And rejecting someone’s very real pain because you’re too inconvenienced to care? Well, that’s not toughness—it’s emotional illiteracy.

Let’s be clear: the world shouldn’t have to tiptoe. But that doesn’t mean we’re free to stomp. If someone’s discomfort stems from bigotry, prejudice, or harm, then dismissing them as “too sensitive” is gaslighting, plain and simple. The right to swing your fist, as the old adage goes, ends at someone else’s nose. Likewise, the right to be “brutally honest” ends when your honesty is just brutality.

The truth is messy, as most truths are. Some triggers are absolutely our responsibility—old wounds, minor slights, bruised egos—and expecting the world to cushion us is neither reasonable nor fair. But if someone names harm that points to a broader problem? That’s not a trigger. That’s a mirror.

So yes, let’s all take responsibility for ourselves—our pain, our growth, our reactions. But let’s also remember that real strength is found in the space where resilience meets accountability. Life isn’t about tiptoeing or stomping; it’s about walking together, with enough care to watch where we step.

The Morality of Ants

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Taking Moral Cues from Ants: Because Humans are Too Busy Defending the Indefensible

Ah, ants. Tiny, unassuming, and quite literally beneath us — unless you’re sprawled out on a picnic blanket fighting off a colony swarming your questionable sandwich. Yet, while humanity busies itself polluting oceans, strip-mining rainforests, and justifying corporate bloodsucking as “necessary for the economy,” ants are out here performing life-saving surgeries on their comrades.

ants are out here performing life-saving surgeries on their comrades

You heard that correctly.

Researchers have now observed certain ant species (yes, ants) performing amputations on their injured nestmates to prevent infections from spreading. Picture it: a worker ant limping home, leg shredded by some territorial skirmish, and the squad rolls up like a triage team, deciding whether to (a) gently clean the wound or (b) lop the limb off entirely. Amputation is precise and deliberate — snip at the hip joint if the upper leg is toast. Lower leg injuries? Too risky. Infection spreads faster there, so it’s all hands (or mandibles) on deck for some industrial-strength licking.

It’s a brutal but effective social health system. The results? Injured ants survive. They get patched up, return to work, and contribute to the collective. The colony benefits, everyone thrives, and not a single ant launches into a fevered tirade about how “it’s their individual right to rot from gangrene in peace.”

Contrast this with humanity, where the very notion of collective good seems to spark mass hysteria in certain corners. Here, defending dubious practices — say, unfettered pollution, exploitative labour conditions, or the kind of wealth-hoarding that would make a dragon blush — has become a full-time hobby for some. “Personal responsibility!” they scream whilst someone chokes on smog or shivers in a warehouse set to Arctic temperatures. Heaven forbid we intervene.

Imagine explaining to ants that humans argue about whether everyone deserves basic healthcare

Imagine explaining to ants that humans argue about whether everyone deserves basic healthcare. That we let industries poison rivers because regulations might “hurt innovation.” Some believe that letting people suffer and die without help is somehow noble.

Ants would stare at us — or they would if they had discernible faces. Then they’d probably do what they always do: get back to work ensuring their colony survives and thrives, as any halfway intelligent species might.

A Case for the Collective

What makes this ant behaviour so fascinating isn’t just that it exists, but that it demonstrates something humanity supposedly prides itself on: adaptability. Faced with an existential threat to one of their own, ants don’t moralise. They don’t argue about the costs or logistics of care. They don’t abandon the injured because helping them isn’t “profitable.” They just act. Quickly, efficiently, and for the collective good.

Meanwhile, humans act like the collective good is some leftist fever dream. Suggest tax-funded healthcare or basic environmental protections, and someone inevitably starts shrieking about “slippery slopes” toward tyranny, as though being able to breathe clean air or avoid bankruptcy after surgery is the thin edge of some Orwellian wedge.

We have entire systems built on the premise that it’s fine for some to suffer if others can profit

We have entire systems built on the premise that it’s fine for some to suffer if others can profit. Does that sound hyperbolic? I’ll wait while you Google “externalised costs.” Spoiler alert: your cheap burger came at the expense of rainforest ecosystems and underpaid workers. But hey, as long as we’re prioritising shareholder value, all’s fair, right?

The Ants Would Like a Word

Here’s the thing: ants don’t amputate limbs because they’re altruistic softies. They do it because it makes sense. An injured worker can still contribute to the colony, and the colony’s survival depends on its members pulling together. It’s cold, pragmatic, and effective.

Now consider our own global “colony.” Why do we resist solutions that would make all of us more resilient? Healthcare, environmental protections, workers’ rights — these aren’t radical. They’re practical. Just like amputating a leg to save an ant, safeguarding the vulnerable helps everyone. Yet here we are, letting metaphorical infections spread because someone’s feelings about rugged individualism got in the way.

If Ants Can Do It, So Can We

At this point, humanity doesn’t need a lofty moral awakening. We just need to be marginally smarter than ants. Think about it: they’re tiny-brained insects who figured out that collective care improves survival rates. What’s our excuse?

Perhaps it’s time we take a page out of the ants’ playbook: diagnose the problem, take decisive action, and prioritise the common good. Amputate the rot. Treat the infection. And for the love of whatever deity or science you hold dear, stop defending systems that sacrifice the many for the few.

If ants can do it, we have no excuse.

In Conclusion:

Ants: 1. Humans: 0.

When ants are more socially responsible than we are, it’s time to ask some tough questions. Now get it together, or the ants are going to outlive us all.

Banality of Evil

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I thought I was done wittering on about Brian Thompson, the late CEO of United Healthcare, but here we are. His name lingers like the corporate perfume of systemic rot—an enduring testament to how we’ve elevated unethical behaviour into performance art. It got me thinking: what if we brought back a bit of old-school accountability? In Ancient Rome, outlaws lost their citizenship, legal protections, and status as people. That’s right—booted out of polite society. Meanwhile, we’ve done the opposite: we hand out golden parachutes and slap their faces on business magazine covers.

To some, Brian Thompson was a good man – apart from the insider trading, of course. He was successful, a nice guy, funny, and had a good family, and a few million-dollar homes. What else could you ask for? But his success came in the way of blood money. It seems we need fewer people who think like this, not more.

Then I recalled The Purge franchise. And sure, The Purge is a dystopian fantasy, but let’s up the stakes. Picture this: bounties on corporate villains. Not literal carnage, of course—let’s leave that for the big screen—but the return of real consequences. Instead of allowing their PR teams to smooth it all over with buzzwords and philanthropy crumbs, what if we made it socially unacceptable to be a snake in a suit? What if moral suasion—the lost art of persuading someone to do right because it’s, you know, right—actually came back into fashion?

Nietzsche nailed it ages ago. We’ve got two moral codes: one for people and one for money. And guess which one wins every time? All it takes is enough cash and the right rhetoric, and suddenly, everyone forgets who’s really getting fleeced. This is the banality of evil in its purest form: not grand acts of villainy but a shrugging normalisation of corruption. We don’t even consider it corruption. We see it as business as usual. We support and work for these businesses.

The tragedy is that we’ve become so desensitised to it that we are adept at ignoring the stench of moral failure that even calling it out feels quaint. But it’s not hopeless. Some of us still notice. Some of us still care. The real question is, how long can we keep tolerating this farce before we remember that morality isn’t just for the powerless?

Meantime, I just imagine these grubbers being stripped of power and protection, running scared from the likes of Luigi Mangioni.