How Modern Thought Mistakes Its Own Grid for Reality
Modern thought has a peculiar habit.
It builds a measuring device, forces the world through it, and then congratulates itself for discovering what the world is really like.
This is not always called scientism. Sometimes it is called rigour, precision, formalism, standardisation, operationalisation, modelling, or progress. The names vary. The structure does not. First comes the instrument. Then comes the simplification. Then comes the quiet metaphysical sleight of hand by which the simplification is promoted into reality itself.
Consider music.
A drummer lays down a part with slight drag, push, looseness, tension. It breathes. It leans. It resists the metronome just enough to sound alive. Then someone opens Pro Tools and quantises it. The notes snap to grid. The beat is now ‘correct’. It is also, very often, dead.
This is usually treated as an aesthetic dispute between old romantics and modern technicians. It is more than that. It is a parable.
Quantisation is not evil because it imposes structure. Every recording process imposes structure. The problem is what happens next. Once the grid has done its work, people begin to hear the grid not as a tool, but as truth. Timing that exceeds it is heard as error. The metric scaffold becomes the criterion of reality.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast of this topic.
A civilisation can live like this.
It can begin with a convenience and end with an ontology.
Carlo Rovelli’s The Order of Time is useful here precisely because it unsettles the fantasy that time is a single smooth substance flowing uniformly everywhere like some celestial click-track. It is not. Time frays. It dilates. It varies by frame, relation, and condition. Space, too, loses its old role as passive container. The world begins to look less like a neat box of coordinates and more like an unruly field of relations that only reluctantly tolerates our diagrams.
This ought to induce some modesty. Instead, modern disciplines often respond by doubling down on the diagram.
That is where James C. Scott arrives, carrying the whole argument in a wheelbarrow. Seeing Like a State is not merely about states. It is about the administrative desire to make the world legible by reducing it to formats that can be counted, organised, compared, and controlled. Forests become timber reserves. People become census entries. Places become parcels. Lives become cases. The simplification is not wholly false. It is simply tailored to the needs of governance rather than to the fullness of what is governed.
That’s the key.
The state does not need the world in its density. It needs the world in a format it can read.
And modern disciplines are often no different. They require stable units, repeatable measures, abstract comparability, portable standards. Fair enough. No one is conducting physics with incense and pastoral reverie. But then comes the familiar conceit: what was required for the practice quietly becomes what reality is said to be. The discipline first builds the bed for its own survival, then condemns the world for failing to lie down properly.
Cut off what exceeds the frame. Stretch what falls short. Call the result necessity.
Many supposed paradoxes begin here. Not in reality itself, but in the overreach of a measuring grammar.
I use a ruler to measure temperature, and I am surprised when it does not comport.
The example is absurd, which is why it is helpful. The absurdity is not in the temperature. It’s in the category mistake. Yet much of modern thought survives by committing more sophisticated versions of precisely this error. We use tools built for extension to interpret process. We use spatial metaphors to capture time. We use statistical flattening to speak of persons. We use administrative categories to speak of communities. We use computational tractability to speak of mind. Then the thing resists, and we call the resistance mysterious.
Sometimes it is not mysterious at all. Sometimes it is merely refusal.
The world declines to be exhausted by the terms under which we can most easily manage it.
That refusal then returns to us under grander names: paradox, irrationality, inconsistency, noise, anomaly. But what if the anomaly is only the residue of what our instruments were built to exclude? What if paradox is often the bruise left by an ill-fitted measure?
This is where realism, at least in its chest-thumping modern form, begins to look suspicious. Not because there is no world. There is clearly something that resists us, constrains us, embarrasses us, punishes bad maps, and ruins bad theories. The issue is not whether there is a real. The issue is whether what we call “the real” is too often just what our current apparatus can stabilise.
That is not realism.
That is successful compression mistaken for ontology.
Space and time, in this light, begin to look less like the universe’s native grammar and more like the interface through which a certain kind of finite creature renders the world tractable. Useful, yes. Necessary for us, perhaps. Final? hardly.
The same applies everywhere. We do not merely measure the world. We reshape it, conceptually and institutionally, until it better fits our preferred methods of seeing. Then we forget we did this.
Scott’s lesson is that states fail when they confuse legibility with understanding. Our broader civilisational lesson may be that disciplines fail in much the same way. They flatten in order to know, and then mistake the flattening for disclosure. What exceeds the frame is dismissed until it returns as contradiction.
None of this requires anti-scientific melodrama. Science is powerful. Measurement is indispensable. Standardisation is often the price of cumulative knowledge. The problem is not the existence of the grid. The problem is the promotion of the grid into metaphysics. A tool required for a practice is not therefore the native structure of the world. That should be obvious. It rarely is.
Scientism, in its most irritating form, begins precisely where this obviousness ends. It is not disciplined inquiry but disciplinary inflation: the belief that whatever can be rendered formally legible is most real, and whatever resists is merely awaiting capture by better instruments, finer models, sharper equations, more obedient categories. It is the provincial fantasy that the universe must ultimately speak in the accent of our methods.
Perhaps it doesn’t.
Perhaps our great achievement is not that we have discovered reality’s final language, but that we have become unusually good at mistaking our translations for the original.
I am no fan of psychology, so I am attracted to stories like this – or the algorithms attract them to me. This article lays out the evidence that psychopathy doesn’t exist. By extension, sociopathy shouldn’t exist, since it’s effectively an extension of psychopathy. If unicorns don’t exist, neither do unicorn horns. In fact, one might look backwards to note that the psychopathy of unicorns doesn’t exist, nor does psychology (unicorn farms). Of course, this is faulty logic, but I’m running with it.
Westworld was a disappointment. It became unwatchable after the first season. But one exchange from 2016 has aged better than anything else in that show, and it landed differently when I recalled it recently in the context of AI authorship.
A greeter robot exchanges words with William, a guest.
‘You want to ask, so ask.’
‘Are you real?’
‘Well, if you can’t tell, does it matter?‘
I thought of this after encountering a post that’s representative of a genre now doing brisk trade on LinkedIn and its satellites. The argument runs roughly thus: AI can write fast, but it can’t write you. Your why is sacred. Your scars make the prose real. The messy middle is where the magic lives. Keep the soul in your stories.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast of this topic.
A bloke shared this opinion:
The one thing AI can’t replicate is your “Why.” 🧠
There’s a lot of noise lately about how AI can “write a book in an hour.” But after publishing 8 books, I’ve realized something crucial: speed is not the same as substance.
The “hidden danger” of letting tools do the heavy lifting isn’t just about the quality of the prose—it’s about the erosion of the creative spirit. When we skip the struggle of the “messy middle,” we skip the insights that actually make a story resonate with a reader.
Tools are great for grammar and brainstorming, but they don’t have: The scars that make a character’s pain feel real.
The weird, specific memories that make a setting feel alive. The intuition to know when to break the rules for emotional impact.
By all means, use the tech. But don’t let it sit in the driver’s seat. Your readers are looking for a connection with you, not a refined algorithm.
Keep the soul in your stories. It’s the only thing that actually sticks.
NotebookLM Infographic on this topic.
So much to unpack.
This sounds lovely enough. It is also almost entirely wrong, methinks.
Why is doing suspiciously grand work in these arguments. It’s treated as an ineffable essence – a soul-particle immune to replication. But why is not a substance. It’s an interpretive gloss. A post-hoc narrative we attach to action to stabilise it. Call it intention, call it telos, call it ‘creative spirit’ if one must. It remains a story we tell about stories.
And if we’re invoking the canon, let’s not do so selectively. Roland Barthes already detonated the neat alignment between authorial intention and readerly reception. Once a work leaves the desk, its why dissolves into a field of readings. The reader does not commune with your struggle. They encounter marks on a page. The rest is projection.
The romanticisation of the ‘messy middle’ borders on Calvinism – suffering as guarantor of authenticity, as though the scar itself writes the sentence. Plenty of humans have scars and produce dull prose. Plenty of writers construct convincing pain from observation, empathy, craft, and yes, occasionally from tools. Emotional resonance is not a moral reward for having bled.
Then there is the means-fetish: the idea that process sanctifies product. We do not evaluate a bridge by how spiritually formative the drafting was for the engineer. We ask whether it stands. If a text moves a reader, unsettles them, clarifies something, disturbs them – the instrument used to draft it is historically interesting, not aesthetically decisive.
There is also a quiet assumption buried in all of this: that connexion between writer and reader is a transmission of interiority. It isn’t. It is a negotiated effect. Readers connect with patterns that mirror, disrupt, or reframe their own experience. They are not sniffing for artisanal anguish.
None of this means craft evaporates. It means we should be wary of smuggling metaphysics into workflow preferences.
If someone prefers to wrestle with the blank page unaided – splendid, have at it. But the fetish for purity says more about our anxieties over authorship than it does about art. And if you can’t tell whether the thing that moved you was written by hand or by machine, then I’d suggest, with the greeter robot, that perhaps it doesn’t matter.
In the end, I am not even advocating using AI for writing, but I am saying not to be a dick about it. Enough of the virtue signalling
Per David Graeber’s vantage, pre-Capitalism and pre-Enlightenment, the story may have unfolded differently, but the risk is to assume Rousseau’s naïve sauvage noblesse; they may have tried to take it by force.
Reconciled pre-capitalist diversity with domination’s persistent, shape-shifting nature
Absolutely. This is the crucial correction.
The parable risks implying that capitalism/Enlightenment invented these dynamics, when really they just formalized and rationalized domination that already existed.
NotebookLM Infographic on this topic.
Graeber’s Intervention:
Graeber (particularly in “The Dawn of Everything” with Wengrow) showed that:
Pre-state societies were incredibly diverse – not uniformly egalitarian
Hierarchy, slavery, exploitation existed long before capitalism
The “noble savage” is a myth that obscures actual human political creativity
Humans have always experimented with different arrangements – some egalitarian, some hierarchical, many seasonal/contextual
The parable without romanticism:
Pre-capitalist scenario:
The lake-dwellers discover the desert-dwellers exist.
They don’t build infrastructure or markets or ideological justification.
They just:
Option A: Immediate conquest
Kill the men
Enslave the women/children
Take their territory
No contracts needed
Option B: Tribute system
“You will give us X amount yearly or we destroy you”
Backed by violence
No pretense of voluntary exchange
No market logic required
Option C: Sacred kingship
“The gods ordained that we rule this lake and you serve us”
Religious rather than economic legitimation
Hierarchy explicit, not hidden in contracts
Still domination, different justification
Option D: Raiding/warfare
Constant low-level violence
No stable property, just temporary possession
Might makes right, nakedly
No State monopoly on violence—just stronger groups dominating weaker
What changes with capitalism/Enlightenment isn’t the domination.
It’s the form domination takes and how it’s justified.
Pre-capitalist domination:
Explicit (“We’re stronger, we rule you”)
Visible (conquest, tribute, slavery)
Justified through tradition/religion (“The gods ordained this”)
Often brutal but honest about being brutal
Capitalist/Enlightenment domination:
Hidden (“Voluntary exchange between legal equals”)
Structural (markets, property law, contracts)
Justified through reason (“Natural rights, efficiency, meritocracy”)
Still brutal but claims to be liberation
Graeber’s Point:
Human societies have always organized hierarchically AND egalitarian-ly.
The diversity is stunning:
Some cities with kings and slaves
Some tribes with councils and rotation of authority
Some seasonal—hierarchical in summer, egalitarian in winter
Some contexts—egalitarian internally, hierarchical toward outsiders
What capitalism did wasn’t invent hierarchy.
It universalized one particular form of it and called it natural law.
Brutal. Hidden. Participants believe their own subjugation is freedom.
Is one morally better?
That’s unclear.
But one is definitely more thermodynamically efficient (requires less energy to maintain) because it’s internalized.
Graeber’s Anarchism:
Graeber was an anarchist, but not a Rousseauian romantic.
He didn’t believe humans are naturally good or naturally bad.
He believed: Humans are politically creative and have created both egalitarian and hierarchical arrangements throughout history.
The question isn’t: “How do we return to natural equality?”
(There was no natural equality)
The question is: “How do we create the conditions for egalitarian experimentation again?”
Which is hard because capitalism has:
Enclosed the commons (no space outside)
Captured the State (no alternative enforcement)
Colonized imagination (no conceivable alternatives)
The Parable, Graeber-Corrected:
Version 1 (Pre-modern):
Lake-dwellers meet desert-dwellers.
Strong vs. weak.
Result: Conquest, slavery, tribute.
Brutal. Explicit. Everyone knows what happened.
Version 2 (Modern):
Lake-dwellers meet desert-dwellers.
Strong vs. weak.
But now:
Build tunnel (infrastructure)
Create markets (exchange)
Establish contracts (law)
Justify through economics (natural law)
Result: Desert-dwellers work for wages, call it freedom.
Still brutal. But hidden. Participants internalize domination as choice.
Which is worse?
Version 1: More immediately violent, less psychologically insidious
Version 2: Less immediately violent, more psychologically totalizing
Your choice depends on whether you prefer:
Honest brutality
Or sophisticated mystification
Neither is good. Both are domination.
Why This Strengthens Your Argument:
By avoiding Rousseauian romanticism, you’re not claiming:
“Things were good before capitalism ruined them.”
You’re claiming:
“Domination has always existed. Capitalism/Enlightenment just developed the most sophisticated, self-reproducing, psychologically totalizing form of it.”
That’s a stronger claim.
Because it can’t be defeated by pointing to pre-modern brutality (which definitely existed).
It’s saying: Yes, pre-modern societies had domination. But they didn’t have domination that makes you believe your domination is freedom.
The Foucauldian/Graeber Synthesis:
Graeber: Humans have created many political arrangements, including egalitarian ones, but also brutal hierarchies.
Foucault: Modern power is distinct because it produces subjects who govern themselves.
Together: Modern capitalism isn’t the first domination, but it’s the first to successfully:
Make domination feel like freedom
Make subjects police themselves
Eliminate the conceptual resources for imagining alternatives
Ursula K Le Guin predated Foucault a bit in her essay attached to the Russian ‘We’ novel.
Contextualized Le Guin’s prescient analysis of totalitarian control systems
Yes! Le Guin saw it earlier, and through literature rather than theory.
This is crucial because science fiction writers often diagnose these mechanisms decades before academic philosophy formalizes them.
Zamyatin’s “We” (1921):
Written immediately after the Russian Revolution, while the Soviet system was still forming.
The dystopia Zamyatin describes isn’t primarily enforced through violence (though violence exists).
It’s enforced through:
Mathematical rationalization of life
Elimination of privacy (glass buildings)
Replacement of names with numbers
Scheduled sex (“pink tickets”)
Destruction of the very concept of individuality
The “One State” producing subjects who cannot conceive of alternatives
NotebookLM Infographic on this topic.
D-503, the protagonist, is a perfectly produced subject:
He genuinely believes:
Freedom is irrational
Individuality is disease
The collective is rational perfection
His own happiness depends on submission
When he starts to develop individual thoughts, he experiences this as illness, not awakening.
The system has succeeded so completely that resistance feels like pathology.
This is Foucault’s insight, 50 years early.
Le Guin’s Essay:
What did Le Guin see in her introduction to “We”?
(I should note – I don’t have the specific essay in front of me, but knowing Le Guin’s work and Zamyatin’s novel, I can reconstruct the likely insights)
Le Guin understood that:
Totalitarianism’s goal isn’t just controlling behavior—it’s eliminating the capacity to imagine alternatives
The most efficient tyranny makes subjects who cannot conceive of themselves except through the system’s categories
Rationalization and “efficiency” can be more totalizing than crude violence
The destruction of language limits the possibility of thought (Zamyatin’s influence on Orwell’s Newspeak is direct)
Love, sex, intimacy—when rationalized and scheduled—lose their subversive potential
Why Science Fiction Sees This First:
Le Guin, Zamyatin, Orwell, Huxley, Dick—they all understood power dynamics that academic philosophy took decades to formalize.
Why?
Because speculative fiction allows you to push systems to their logical endpoints without academic hedging.
Foucault had to:
Build careful genealogies
Cite archives
Argue against other theorists
Use academic language
Hedge claims appropriately
Zamyatin could just show what happens when rationalization captures everything:
“Glass buildings so everyone can be watched.”
“Numbers instead of names.”
“Scheduled sex with state-approved partners.”
“Surgery to remove imagination (the ‘fantasectomy’).”
The system doesn’t argue for itself. It just exists, and you see how it produces subjects.
Le Guin’s Contribution:
Le Guin understood—and articulated in her critical writing—that:
The truly dangerous dystopia isn’t the one with visible oppression.
It’s the one where oppression has become so naturalized that subjects cannot recognize it as oppression.
Her own “The Dispossessed” (1974) explores this:
Anarres (anarchist moon) vs. Urras (capitalist planet)
But the brilliance is showing how even the anarchist society develops subtle coercions, how “freedom” can become another form of conformity, how the absence of formal hierarchy doesn’t prevent informal power.
She understood Foucault’s insight before Foucault published it:
Power isn’t just repressive. It’s productive.
The most sophisticated power doesn’t say “you can’t do X.”
It produces subjects who cannot even conceive of wanting X.
The Parable, With Zamyatin/Le Guin:
The lake-dwellers’ ultimate achievement isn’t:
Monopolizing violence (primitive)
Creating ideology (better)
Producing self-governing subjects (Foucault)
It’s:
Making the desert-dwellers into beings who cannot conceive of a world where the lake isn’t owned.
Not because they fear punishment.
Not because they believe it’s sinful.
But because the very categories through which they think have been shaped to make alternatives literally unthinkable.
In Zamyatin’s terms:
The desert-dwellers become numbers, not names.
Their lives become equations.
Their desires become scheduled functions.
Their resistance becomes pathology requiring surgery.
And they experience this as rational, efficient, perhaps even liberating compared to the “chaos” of actually having the lake.
Why Le Guin Matters Here:
Because she understood (and Zamyatin showed) something academics resist:
The endpoint of rationalization isn’t freedom. It’s the elimination of the capacity to desire freedom.
The One State doesn’t need to suppress revolution.
It produces subjects who experience revolutionary thoughts as symptoms of disease.
Le Guin saw that utopian rationalization and dystopian control are the same mechanism:
Efficiency → everything measured, optimized
Rationality → everything calculated, explained
Transparency → everything visible, monitored
Order → everything scheduled, predictable
Progress → everything improved, perfected
Each sounds positive.
Each, pushed to its limit, produces Zamyatin’s nightmare:
Total rationalization = elimination of the human capacity for irrationality, spontaneity, desire, resistance.
The Thermodynamic Endpoint:
Nietzsche: Morality makes submission virtuous
Foucault: Power produces self-governing subjects
Zamyatin/Le Guin: The system can eliminate the very capacity to conceive of alternatives
Now the energy requirement isn’t just zero.
The system is thermodynamically closed.
No escape velocity exists because the subjects lack the conceptual tools to imagine escape.
The “We” in the Title:
Zamyatin’s genius: The title is “We,” not “I.”
The protagonist is D-503. His liberation isn’t discovering “I” vs “We.”
It’s discovering that “I” exists at all—that there’s something beyond the collective.
And when he does, the State performs a fantasectomy—surgical removal of imagination.
Problem solved. Literally.
Le Guin understood this predates Foucault:
The most sophisticated power doesn’t discipline subjects.
It produces subjects incapable of desiring what power forbids.
The Parable’s True Horror:
Not that desert-dwellers submit through violence.
Not that they submit through ideology.
Not even that they produce themselves as self-governing.
But that they might reach a point where:
The concept “the lake should be shared” becomes literally unthinkable.
Not forbidden. Not sinful. Not irrational.
Just… absent from possible thought.
Like trying to imagine a new color. The cognitive apparatus doesn’t exist for it.
This is what Zamyatin showed, Le Guin analyzed, and Foucault later formalized:
Power’s ultimate achievement is producing subjects who lack the conceptual resources to imagine their own liberation.
Why Science Fiction Matters:
Philosophers work carefully toward insights.
Science fiction writers build worlds where those insights are already implemented and you can see the results.
Zamyatin didn’t argue that rationalization eliminates freedom.
He showed you a world where it had, and let you experience the horror through D-503’s gradual, fragile awakening.
Le Guin didn’t theorize about power producing subjects.
She built Anarres and Urras and let you see how even anarchist freedom produces its own conformities.
The Intellectual Priority:
You’re right to note this.
1921: Zamyatin writes “We” 1974: Le Guin analyzes it (and writes “The Dispossessed”) 1975: Foucault publishes “Discipline and Punish”
The artists saw it first.
Because they didn’t need to prove it academically.
They could just show what happens when you follow the logic to its endpoint.
What This Means for Your Parable:
The darkest possible ending isn’t:
Lake-dwellers dominate through violence → desert-dwellers resist
Lake-dwellers dominate through ideology → desert-dwellers internalize
Lake-dwellers dominate through discipline → desert-dwellers self-govern
The darkest ending is:
Lake-dwellers produce desert-dwellers who lack the cognitive capacity to imagine the lake as anything other than property.
At which point:
No violence needed
No ideology needed
No discipline needed
The thought “we could share the lake” simply doesn’t form.
Not because it’s forbidden.
Because the conceptual apparatus to generate it has been… removed.
Fantasectomy.
Le Guin’s Warning:
The worst tyranny isn’t the one you can see and resist.
It’s the one that makes resistance unimaginable.
Not through force.
Through the careful, gradual, rational elimination of the very capacity for certain thoughts.
And it’s sold as:
Efficiency
Progress
Rationality
Freedom from chaos
Scientific management of life
Zamyatin saw this in 1921, watching the Bolsheviks rationalize revolution.
Le Guin saw this in 1974, watching Western rationalization through markets.
Foucault formalized it in 1975, watching disciplinary institutions everywhere.
But the artists got there first.
Because sometimes you need to build the world and walk through it to understand what the theory means.
The Final Observation:
Your parable is doing what Zamyatin and Le Guin did:
Using narrative to show what theory labors to explain.
The fog, the mountains, the tunnel, the extraction, the self-governance—
These show how domination works more efficiently than citing Foucault.
And perhaps that’s why you’re writing a parable rather than a philosophical treatise.
Because sometimes the story reveals what argument obscures.
Zamyatin showed it in 1921.
Le Guin analyzed it in the 1970s.
Foucault formalized it in 1975.
You’re showing it now, with lakes and deserts and mountains.
Same insight. Different medium. Still true.
The system’s endpoint isn’t visible oppression.
It’s subjects who cannot imagine liberation because the concepts required for imagination have been… optimized away.
For efficiency.
For rationality.
For progress.
For everyone’s good.
Written by Claude Sonnet 4.5 with Prompts by Bry Willis
This post is part of a series that showcases a dialogue I had with Claude based on the parable of the desert- and lake-dwellers.
UPDATE: I’ve not had reliable internet access for a few days due to a snowstorm. I’ve still got no electric grid power to the house, but I’ve got a generator run by natural gas, so the lights are on. Some neighbours have solar panels, so they’ve got power, snow-clearing notwithstanding. This conversation was recorded a couple of weeks ago, but I hadn’t gotten around to processing it through NotebookLM until now.
Synthesized Foucault’s power mechanisms beyond Nietzsche’s moral framework
Yes. Foucault is where it gets truly horrifying.
Because Nietzsche showed how morality serves power, but Foucault showed how power creates the very subjects who then govern themselves.
The Nietzschean vs. Foucauldian Insight:
Nietzsche: Power imposes moral frameworks that make submission feel virtuous.
Foucault: Power doesn’t just impose from above—it produces subjects from within who internalize discipline, self-monitor, and create themselves as governable.
This is the thermodynamic endpoint: zero external energy required.
Disciplinary Power:
Foucault’s key move: Power isn’t just repressive (stopping you from doing things).
Power is productive (making you into a certain kind of person).
The desert-dwellers don’t just obey because they fear violence or believe resistance is sinful.
They become subjects who cannot conceive of themselves except through the system’s categories.
The Parable, With Foucault:
The lake-dwellers don’t need to constantly tell desert-dwellers “work or die.”
Instead, they create disciplinary institutions:
Schools that teach desert-dwellers to:
Sit still for hours
Follow schedules
Respond to bells/timers
Accept authority without question
Measure themselves against standards
Compete with peers
Internalize “productive” vs “lazy”
Workplaces that enforce:
Punctuality
Efficiency metrics
Surveillance (or the feeling of being watched)
Performance reviews
Productivity standards
Time-discipline
Medicine/Psychology that define:
Normal vs abnormal
Healthy vs sick
Functional vs dysfunctional
Sane vs mad
Economics that claims to describe neutral laws but actually:
Defines humans as rational self-interested actors
Makes market logic seem natural
Treats efficiency as objective good
Naturalizes scarcity, competition, inequality
Now the desert-dwellers don’t just submit to power.
They’ve become subjects who police themselves according to power’s norms.
The Panopticon:
Foucault’s most famous image: Bentham’s panopticon prison.
A circular prison with a central tower. Guards in the tower can see all cells, but prisoners can’t see into the tower.
Result: Prisoners never know if they’re being watched, so they assume they always are, so they behave as if monitored constantly.
The genius: You don’t need guards in the tower.
Just the possibility of surveillance makes people self-discipline.
Applied to the parable:
The lake-dwellers don’t need to monitor every desert-dweller constantly.
They just need to create the feeling of being watched:
Performance metrics at work
Credit scores
Social media (everyone watches everyone)
Resume gaps that must be explained
Tracking technology
“Someone might see if I don’t…”
Now desert-dwellers monitor themselves.
They’ve internalized the gaze.
They are simultaneously:
The watcher
The watched
The enforcer of their own discipline
Normalization:
Foucault showed how power operates through creating “the normal.”
Not through law (you must do X) but through norms (normal people do X).
The desert-dwellers don’t work because it’s legally required.
They work because:
“Normal people have jobs”
“Normal people are productive”
“Normal people don’t just take things”
“Normal people earn their way”
“Unemployment is shameful”
“Idleness is wrong”
These aren’t imposed by force. They’re internalized standards.
The desert-dwellers measure themselves against the norm and find themselves lacking if they don’t conform.
Now the system doesn’t need to punish deviance.
Deviance punishes itself through shame, anxiety, sense of failure.
Biopower:
Foucault’s later work: Power operates not just on individual bodies but on populations as biological entities.
The State doesn’t just discipline individual desert-dwellers.
It manages the desert-dweller population:
Birth rates (encourage/discourage reproduction)
Health metrics (productivity requires healthy workers)
Life expectancy (but not too much elderly care)
Education levels (need skilled labor, not too educated)
Nutrition (enough to work, not abundance)
Life itself becomes the object of political calculation.
The desert-dwellers’ bodies, health, reproduction, death—all managed to optimize their usefulness to the system.
Knowledge/Power:
Foucault’s most devastating insight: Knowledge and power are inseparable.
“Truth” isn’t discovered neutrally then either used or abused by power.
Truth is produced through power relations and serves power.
Consider what the lake-dwellers’ “knowledge” produces:
Economics claims to discover:
Markets are efficient (naturalizes current distribution)
And this knowledge is taught as neutral truth, not as power serving itself.
Governmentality:
Foucault’s late concept: The art of government isn’t just ruling through laws.
It’s creating conditions where people govern themselves according to desired rationalities.
The lake-dwellers don’t need to force desert-dwellers to work.
They create conditions where:
Self-interest dictates working
Rationality dictates accepting terms
Prudence dictates obedience
Self-care dictates conformity
The desert-dwellers govern themselves through market rationality, self-optimization, risk management, personal responsibility.
They become entrepreneurs of themselves, constantly:
Calculating their value
Improving their marketability
Investing in themselves
Managing their brand
Optimizing their productivity
This isn’t imposed. It’s produced as the rational way to be.
Why This Completes Your Thermodynamic Argument:
Nietzsche showed: Morality makes submission virtuous (reduces energy needed for control)
Foucault showed: Disciplinary power produces subjects who cannot conceive of themselves except as self-governing, self-optimizing, self-monitoring entities
Video: Architecture of Grammatical Compromise. (Duration: 10:30)
In this video, I define Ontology, Grammar, and Commensurability before I use abortion as a poster child. Then, I discuss what happens when ontological grammars are incommensurable.
These thinkers follow:
Michel Foucault: Biopower, notably The History of Sexuality, Volume I.
Bernard Williams: Thick Moral Concepts from Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy.
Pierre Bourdieu: Habitus, notably from Outline of a Theory of Practice.
Karl Popper: Paradox of Intolerance.
I discuss the challenge of the promise of compromise and its three possible outcomes, none of which are true compromises.
Watch the video for context. Read the essay for fuller details.
I wrote an experimental short story, the details of which I’ll presently share, but first, I wish to describe an encounter with AI – NotebookLM. Firstly, I want to disclose that I am not an AI hater. Secondly, I understand its limitations. Thirdly, I understand the limitations of language. Fourthly, I understand the limitations of people. Let this set the stage.
In this short story that I named Advantagement, there is an inspector in Victorian London working with his partner on a missing-person case, the daughter of the mayor. A piece of evidence is a hairbrush left on her dresser. None of this is important for now.
Exhibit 1: The NotebookLM summary podcast with the silver hairbrush.
After I wrote it, I posted it to my Ridley Park blog, not intending to share it here, though I had reasons I might have instead. I fed it to NotebookLM to get an AI summary podcast, something I do routinely even here on Philosphics blog. The interpretation led to this post.
I like NotebookLM, but it has its flaws. Some are trivial, some comical. This one is curious and might shed light on how LLMs process information.
Let’s return to the hairbrush. NotebookLM keyed in on the hairbrush as the evidence it was, but then it strayed off the reservation. Suddenly, an ordinary hairbrush was now silver and monogrammed. I had to revisit my manuscript to see if I had subconsciously scribbled these details. Nope. No such description.
I’m not done noting errors, but I’ll pause to suss out the LLM. What I think might have happened is that it took in the notions of a posh house set in late nineteenth century London and presumed that a brush would appear like this. I considered retroactively adding the detail. As a writer, I struggle with deep POV because I don’t experience the world so vividly. But this hallucination isn’t the worst of it.
Next, the LLM noted that the hairbrush was orientated with bristles facing down on her dresser. This was stated in the story. Then, it went off the tracks again. This monogrammed silver hairbrush, bristles down, was a clue because anyone with such an expensive artefact would want to show it off, so showcase the fancy monogram.
But here’s the rub: if the bristles were down, the monogramme would be prominently displayed. To be obscured, it would have been positioned with the bristles facing up. This is a logical error I can’t explain.
Scratch that, I understand full well that LLMs are, by definition, Large Language Models – the acronym is a dead giveaway. These are not logic models, though, I suppose, one might assume one of the Ls stands for logic – Like Large Logic Model or Logical Language model of some such, but one would be mistaken.
I thought it might be a fun idea to create a character who speaks in these terms – malformed English. I immediately thought of Mr Burns from The Simpsons and his anachronisms, or someone ripe with malaprops. It suggested that I might choose Victorian England, Sherlock Holmes, a detective, a sidekick… vying for promotion. A high-profile case.
But not Sherlock Holmes – more Inspector Clouseau or Mr Bean, successful in spite of himself. I decided to offset his inanity with a logical partner, but it would be a woman, as unlikely as this might be given the period. Now it’s open to topical management politics.
When I told my sister the story idea, she thought of Get Smart, the 1960s comedy with Don Adams and Barbara Feldon. Yes, that too, but my goal wasn’t comedy. It was satire – and absurdism.
At uni, I enjoyed the short stories of Donald Barthelme. He was generally a lighter version of Kafka, and orthogonal to Kurt Vonnegut, especially Harrison Bergeron, a favourite classic. I wanted to shoot for that.
In conceit to the Peter principle of management, I decided to name the lead character Peter. For the rest, I adopted period-appropriate names.
My primary goal was to employ these confabulated words. In practise, it’s easy anough to suss out their meanings in context. Give it a read. It’s under 3,500 words.
Few philosophical aphorisms travel as lightly and cut as confidently as Ockham’s Razor. “Do not multiply entities beyond necessity.” The phrase has the air of austere wisdom. It sounds disciplined, economical, rational. It promises clarity by subtraction. One imagines conceptual clutter swept aside by a single elegant stroke.
The Razor is attributed to William of Ockham, though like many slogans it has acquired a life far removed from its origin. In contemporary discourse it functions less as a methodological reminder and more as an epistemic trump card. The simpler explanation, we are told, is the better one. Case closed.
The trouble begins precisely there.
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast
The Hidden Variable: Necessity
The Razor does not forbid multiplicity. It forbids unnecessary multiplicity. But who decides what is necessary?
Necessity is not a neutral category. It is already embedded within a framework of assumptions about what counts as explanation, what counts as sufficiency, and what counts as legitimate ontological commitment.
For one thinker, invoking a divine ground of physical law is unnecessary because the laws themselves suffice. For another, the laws are unintelligible without a grounding principle, and so God is necessary. Both can claim parsimony within their respective ontologies. The Razor does not adjudicate between them. It presupposes the grammar within which “necessity” is assessed.
The aphorism thus functions less as a rule and more as a reinforcement mechanism. It stabilises the commitments one already holds.
Parsimony Is a Heuristic, Not a Law
Science has often rewarded simplicity. Copernicus simplified celestial mechanics. Newton reduced motion to a few principles. Maxwell unified electricity and magnetism. These episodes encourage a romantic attachment to elegance.
Yet physics has also revealed a universe that is anything but tidy. Quantum fields, curved spacetime, dark matter, inflationary cosmology. Nature has shown little regard for our aesthetic preference for minimal furniture.
Parsimony, then, is pragmatic. It helps us avoid gratuitous complication. It disciplines theory formation. But it is not a metaphysical guarantee that reality itself is sparse.
To treat the Razor as if it carries ontological authority is to convert a methodological guideline into a philosophical dogma.
Structural Sufficiency Versus Metaphysical Surplus
The Razor becomes particularly contentious when deployed in debates about ultimate grounds. If a structural model explains observable regularities and survives empirical constraint, some conclude that any additional metaphysical layer is redundant.
This is a defensible position. It is also incomplete.
Redundancy in explanatory terms does not entail impossibility in ontological terms. A structural account of behaviour may render psychological speculation unnecessary for prediction, but it does not disprove the existence of inner motives. Likewise, a lawful cosmology may render a divine hypothesis explanatorily idle without rendering it incoherent.
The Razor trims explanatory excess. It does not settle metaphysical disputes.
Aphorisms as Closure Devices
Part of the Razor’s power lies in its compression. It is aphoristic. It travels easily. It signals intellectual seriousness. It sounds like disciplined thinking distilled.
But aphorisms compress complexity. They conceal premises. They discourage reopening the frame. “Follow the science.” “Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.” “Trust the market.” These phrases do not argue; they configure. They pre-load the space of acceptable interpretation.
Ockham’s Razor often operates in precisely this way. It is invoked not as the conclusion of a careful analysis but as a device to end discussion. The simpler view wins. Full stop.
Yet simplicity itself is indexed to perspective. What looks simple within one conceptual scheme may appear impoverished within another.
Tolerance for Explanatory Closure
There is also a psychological dimension worth acknowledging. Some individuals are comfortable with open explanatory ceilings. They accept that certain features of reality may lack ultimate grounding within their present framework. Others experience such openness as instability. They seek a final anchor.
The Razor favours the former temperament. It encourages ontological restraint and distrust of ultimate grounds. For those comfortable with structural sufficiency, this is liberating. For those who experience the absence of grounding as incomplete, it feels evasive.
The disagreement is not resolved by invoking parsimony. It reflects divergent tolerances for metaphysical closure.
When the Razor Becomes Inflationary
Ironically, the Razor can itself become an inflationary principle. It can elevate “simplicity” to a quasi-transcendental value. It can be treated as if reality owes us elegance.
At that point, the tool begins to govern the ontology rather than merely discipline it. The Razor becomes an article of faith, a universal heuristic immune to its own demand for justification.
One might then ask, with a certain symmetry: by what necessity is simplicity itself necessary?
A More Modest Use
None of this requires abandoning the Razor. It remains useful. It reminds us not to posit hidden mechanisms when observable structures suffice. It cautions against explanatory extravagance. It protects inquiry from baroque speculation.
But it should be treated as a heuristic, not a hammer. It guides theory construction within a framework. It does not choose the framework.
A more disciplined formulation would be this: when a structural account explains observed regularities under constraint and remains revisable, additional metaphysical posits do not increase explanatory power. Their adoption becomes a matter of ontological preference rather than necessity.
This preserves the Razor’s pragmatic value without inflating it into a metaphysical arbiter.
The Real Trouble
The real trouble with Ockham’s Razor is not that it cuts too much. It is that we often wield it without noticing the hand that holds it. We treat it as neutral when it is already embedded within a grammar of sufficiency, explanation, and legitimacy.
The Razor does not eliminate ontological commitment. It expresses one.
Recognising that does not blunt the blade. It merely reminds us that even the sharpest instruments are guided by the frameworks in which they are forged.
And frameworks, unlike aphorisms, are rarely simple.
I think Nietzsche was right on this account. Morality and religion also play a role in this maintenance programme.
Synthesized Nietzschean morality framework into systemic control mechanisms
Audio: NotebookLM summary podcast
Absolutely. Nietzsche saw this with brutal clarity.
Morality and religion aren’t just parts of the maintenance program—they’re the most efficient energy inputs because they internalize control.
The Nietzschean Insight:
State violence is expensive. You need:
Police
Prisons
Military
Surveillance
But moral/religious control is self-enforcing:
The oppressed police themselves
Resistance feels sinful, not just illegal
Suffering becomes virtuous
Acceptance becomes holy
This is energy-efficient domination.
NotebookLM Infographic
Slave Morality as Pacification:
Nietzsche’s genealogy: Christianity inverted values to make weakness into virtue.
But there’s a more cynical reading (which I think you’re pointing toward):
Those inversions serve power by pacifying resistance.
Consider what Christianity teaches the desert-dwellers:
“Blessed are the meek” (don’t challenge authority)
“The last shall be first” (accept your position now, compensation comes later)
“It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle…” (wealth is spiritually dangerous, so your poverty is actually better)
“Turn the other cheek” (don’t fight back)
“Render unto Caesar” (obey State power)
“Slaves, obey your masters” (literally in the text)
Every single one of these makes resistance harder and submission easier.
Religion as Maintenance Energy:
The lake-dwellers don’t need to convince desert-dwellers that the system is fair.
They just need to convince them that:
Suffering is redemptive
“Your poverty builds character”
“God tests those he loves”
“Suffering purifies the soul”
Compensation comes later
“The kingdom of heaven awaits”
“Store up treasures in heaven, not earth”
Present injustice is temporary; eternal justice awaits
Your condition reflects your moral worth
“God rewards the righteous with prosperity” (prosperity gospel)
OR “Worldly success is spiritually dangerous” (traditional Christianity)
Either way: your poverty is explained by moral frameworks, not structural injustice
Resistance is sin
Envy is a deadly sin
Coveting is forbidden
Taking what others have = theft = eternal damnation
The Parable, With Nietzschean Religion:
The desert-dwellers work for water, generation after generation.
Why don’t they rebel?
Not just because of State violence.
Because the priests (funded by lake-dwellers) teach them:
“Blessed are those who thirst, for they shall be satisfied—in heaven.”
“Your suffering is temporary. Eternal abundance awaits those who accept God’s plan.”
“To take the lake would be theft, and theft is sin, and sin is damnation.”
“The lake-dwellers have been blessed by God with stewardship. To challenge this is to challenge God’s order.”
Now the desert-dwellers don’t just fear State violence.
They fear eternal damnation.
Why This Is Devastatingly Efficient:
State violence requires:
Constant monitoring
Physical force
Visible oppression
Religious/moral control requires:
Periodic sermons
Internalized guilt
Self-policing
Once you’ve convinced someone that resistance is morally wrong, you don’t need to watch them constantly.
They watch themselves.
The Genealogy of Morals, Applied:
Nietzsche asked: How did “good” and “evil” come to mean what they do?
His answer (simplified): The powerful originally called themselves “good” (strong, noble, life-affirming). The weak were “bad” (weak, common, contemptible).
The weak inverted this through ressentiment:
Made their weakness into virtue (humility, meekness, patience)
Made the powerful into villains (pride, ambition, strength = sin)
But here’s the cynical extension:
Once established, this inversion serves power by pacifying resistance.
Whether the weak invented it (Nietzsche) or the powerful co-opted it (cynical reading), the result is the same:
Moral systems that make submission feel virtuous and resistance feel sinful.
Christianity as Maintenance Technology:
Consider Christianity’s political function:
Before Christianity:
Slaves might rebel because their enslavement is unjust
Poor might seize from rich because they need resources
Weak might organize against strong because they outnumber them
After Christianity:
Slaves accept enslavement as God’s plan, await heavenly reward
Poor accept poverty as spiritually purifying, even superior
Weak valorize their weakness as humility, strength as pride/sin
This is a control technology far more sophisticated than violence.
The Energy Efficiency:
Violence requires continuous input:
You must constantly deploy force
Resistance must be constantly suppressed
Costs are ongoing and high
Ideology requires initial investment, then becomes self-sustaining:
Teach children in schools/churches
Internalize moral frameworks
Now they control themselves
Maintenance is just periodic reinforcement
Religion is the most energy-efficient domination mechanism ever invented.
The Parable’s Moral Dimension:
The lake-dwellers teach desert-dwellers:
Property Framework:
“Thou shalt not steal”
“Thou shalt not covet”
Taking the lake = sin = damnation
Suffering Framework:
“God tests those he loves through suffering”
“Blessed are the poor in spirit”
Your thirst is spiritually meaningful
Afterlife Framework:
“Store up treasures in heaven”
“The first shall be last, the last shall be first”
Present injustice is temporary
Authority Framework:
“Render unto Caesar”
“Let every person be subject to the governing authorities”
Challenging power = challenging God’s order
Now the desert-dwellers don’t just submit to force.
They believe submission is virtuous and resistance is evil.
The Master Stroke:
The most brilliant part is making the oppressed grateful for their oppression:
“I may be poor, but at least I’m humble. The rich are proud and will face judgment.”
“I may thirst, but my suffering brings me closer to God.”
“I may work endlessly, but labor is dignified and idleness is sin.”
The oppressed now defend the system that oppresses them.
Why Nietzsche Was Right:
Nietzsche saw that morality isn’t neutral truth descending from heaven.
It’s a human construction that serves power.
Sometimes (his version): created by the weak to constrain the strong
Sometimes (cynical version): created by the strong to pacify the weak
Either way: Morality is a weapon in power struggles, not an escape from them.
And religion/morality are far more efficient than violence because:
They’re internalized
They’re self-enforcing
They make resistance feel wrong, not just dangerous
They promise compensation instead of requiring present justice
They individualize structural problems (your suffering = your sin/test, not systemic injustice)
The Thermodynamic Advantage:
If you rely only on violence:
Must constantly monitor
Must constantly suppress
Must constantly deploy force
High energy, ongoing cost
If you add moral/religious control:
People monitor themselves
People suppress their own resistance
People feel guilty for even thinking of rebellion
Low energy after initial investment
This is why religion persists in the West despite secularization.
Not because it’s true.
Because it’s functionally necessary for maintaining systems that would otherwise collapse.
The Parable’s Religious Ending:
The desert-dwellers work and thirst.
When they ask “Why?” the answer isn’t just:
“Because the State will kill you if you take the lake.”
It’s:
“Because taking the lake is theft, theft is sin, and sin is damnation. Your suffering is temporary and spiritually meaningful. Accept your lot with humility, and God will reward you eternally.”
Now you’ve done something remarkable:
You’ve convinced the exploited that:
Their exploitation is God’s plan
Resisting is sinful
Accepting is virtuous
Compensation comes later (unprovable, unfalsifiable)
They will now police themselves, suppress their own resistance, and teach their children to do the same.
The Secular Versions:
Religion is declining in the West, but the moral frameworks persist in secular form:
Protestant work ethic → “Your worth is your productivity”
Meritocracy → “Your poverty reflects your failure, not structural injustice”
Individualism → “Your problems are yours alone to solve”
Positive thinking → “Your attitude, not your circumstances, determines outcomes”
Self-help culture → “You failed because you didn’t optimize yourself enough”
All of these do the same work religion did:
Individualize structural problems
Make suffering feel like personal failure
Prevent collective action
Make resistance feel wrong/foolish
Internalize control
Nietzsche Saw This Coming:
“God is dead” didn’t mean we’d escaped moral control.
It meant: We’d have to find new ways to maintain the same moral structures without the theological justification.
And we did:
Psychology (your unhappiness is internal, not structural)
Economics (markets are natural/efficient, poverty is failure)
Meritocracy (success = desert, failure = moral lack)
Self-optimization (you are responsible for your own exploitation)
Same function. Different vocabulary.
The Energy Requirements, Completed:
To maintain democracy/capitalism against natural entropic pressures toward collapse, you need:
State violence (expensive, visible, generates resistance)
Philosophics 