The Fallibility of Nexus Chapter 4

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.

Ownership and Democracy

A Facebook friend is pushing for the adoption of a new phrase: red washing, where it indicates a false sense of ownership and control. This friend has collectivist leanings, so perhaps that’s where the red comes from. It doesn’t make logical sense to me, but rather than focus on the phrase itself, I want to discuss the sentiment and intent. Essentially, his contention is that some forms of ownership don’t offer the same sense of control as others. If I own a car, or a pencil, it’s mine to do with it what I please. But if I only own a piece of something, my control diminishes. This is especially true where my ownership is a minority share.

The first mistake my friend makes is to presume that ownership and control are one in the same. I don’t feel we need to discuss the case where the State controls the limits of any ownership. You can own property, but what you can construct on it is limited by zoning laws and perhaps community guidelines. You can own a car, but you can’t drive it on public roads at 200 MPH, or paint it like a police car affixed with blue and red lights. You can’t stab your neighbour with the pencil you own. And you can’t own or even possess heroin under normal circumstances. I feel that these ownership restrictions are obvious. These are aspects of control ceded to the State. Some Libertarians may baulk, but for the most part, these are generally accepted limitations.

My interest here is the notion of diluted ownership. This really underscores the difference between ownership and control. A simple illustrative example is a publicly traded company. One can own a share in that company, but ostensibly, this gives you no control. If one holds a million shares, maybe they have a voice. If one has a majority share or can create a coalition to compose a majority share, one ostensibly has control. Otherwise, although your ownership may grant you other advantages, control is not one of them. One can benefit by price increases in the marketplace, perhaps collect dividends, and you can cast your proxy vote, but these don’t represent control.

Likewise, this is how democracy operates in practice. One has a vote. Theoretically, it’s one person, one vote—one vote per person. Though in the United States this is the system de jure, not de facto system, where it’s closer to one vote per dollar.

Consider the United States. In 2020, there were 239,000,000 eligible voters. Each eligible voter is an owner of this democracy or republic. Pick your poison. Effectively, this means that one’s ownership share affords them 1/239,000,000 control. This wouldn’t even qualify as homoeopathic, and that’s a pretty low bar.

Dehydrated Water

I’ve commented elsewhere on how democracy is a specious proposition. That it only provides an ‘illusion of control‘. This is fine for the power structure. All they need to operate is to maintain this illusion and for the people to defend their voiceless voices.

Of course, the Republican flavour of Democracy is even worse. Not the Republican party. The sense of representative democracy over direct democracy or even anarchy. Republicanism adds a principle-agency challenge to it’s already weak-tea proposition.

And all I have is a keyboard.