For no apparent reason, I was pondering lost temporal words, so I paid a quick visit to ChatGPT and wanted to share the wealth. Perhaps we can bring some of these back from the grave.
Audio: Podcast prattle of this content.
Eldernight: Referring to the night before last, this term has long since faded from common usage.
Erewhile: Meaning “a little while ago” or “previously.”
Ereyesterday: Meaning “the day before yesterday” – a direct counterpart to “overmorrow.”
Erstwhile: Similar to “erewhile,” it denotes something that was formerly the case.
Fortnight: Short for “fourteen nights,” this term refers to a two-week period and is still in use in British English.
Nudiustertian: A wonderfully specific Latin-derived term meaning “of or relating to the day before yesterday.”
Overmorrow: This term was used to indicate the day after tomorrow.
Sennight: Derived from “seven nights,” this word was used to mean a week.
Umwhile: Another Scottish term meaning “at times” or “occasionally” in the past.
Whilom: An archaic term meaning “formerly” or “once upon a time.”
Yore: While you touched on similar concepts with “whilom,” this term specifically means “of long ago” or “of time long past.”
Yestereve: This term referred to the evening of the previous day, essentially what we’d call “last night.”
Yestermorrow: An intriguing word that denoted “yesterday morning.”
Yestreen: A Scottish and Northern English word meaning “yesterday evening” or “last night” – similar to “yestereve” but with different regional origins.
These terms, though largely obsolete, offer a glimpse into the linguistic richness of earlier English, providing nuanced ways to express temporal relationships that have since been lost in modern usage.
Kurt Grayâs Outraged! is a fascinating romp through the minefield of moral psychology and outrage culture. Itâs snappy, itâs clever, and itâs… shallow. Whilst Gray positions himself as the maestro conducting the cacophony of modern outrage, his approach has left me wondering if the symphony is little more than noise. Hereâs why:
Audio: Podcast discussion on this review content.
Oversimplification of Moral Psychology
Grayâs central thesis that “all morality stems from perceptions of harm and threat” is bold, sure, but also reductive. Morality isnât just a harm detector. Itâs a rich tapestry of loyalty, authority, sanctity, and libertyâconcepts Gray conveniently glosses over. His approach feels like reducing a fine Bordeaux to “itâs just fermented grapes.” Sure, technically correct, but whereâs the depth?
The Age of Competitive Victimhood
By focusing so heavily on harm perception, Gray risks fueling the very outrage culture heâs critiquing. Welcome to the Hunger Games of victimhood, where everyone races to be crowned the most aggrieved. Instead of deflating this dynamic, Grayâs analysis may inadvertently add more oxygen to the fire.
Lack of Diverse Perspectives
Grayâs attempt to bridge divides is commendable but flawed. Critics point out that he gives more airtime to controversial right-wing figures than the left-leaning audience heâs presumably trying to engage. Itâs like building half a bridge and wondering why no oneâs crossing. If you alienate half your audience, how exactly are you fostering dialogue?
Contradictory Messaging
The book also suffers from a classic case of ideological whiplash. Gray tells us not to get offended by microaggressions, then argues that offensive content needs more careful handling. Which is it, Kurt? Either youâre driving the âsticks and stonesâ bus, or youâre preaching kid-glove diplomacy. You canât have it both ways.
Limited Practical Solutions
Like many pop psychology books, Outraged! excels at diagnosing problems but falters when offering solutions. Grayâs suggestion to use personal stories of harm to bridge divides is charmingly naive. Sure, storytelling might work for interpersonal tiffs, but try applying that to global crises like climate change or systemic inequality. Good luck narrating your way to a greener planet.
Oversimplifying Complex Issues
Grayâs harm-based morality seems like an attempt to cram human behaviour’s messy, chaotic sprawl into a tidy spreadsheet. Real moral debates are nuanced, tangled, and frustratingly complex. By filtering everything through the lens of harm, Gray risks missing the bigger picture. Itâs morality on Instagramâpolished, curated, and ultimately hollow.
Final Thoughts
Outraged! isnât without merit. Gray is a masterful storyteller and a sharp thinker, but the book feels like a soufflĂŠ: all air, no substance. While it might offer a quick, engaging read for those looking to dip a toe into the outrage pool, anyone hoping for deeper insights will come away unsatisfied.
In the end, Gray delivers a sizzling trailer for a movie that never quite materialises. Fun to watch, but ultimately forgettable.
If you are reading this, you are likely familiar with David Chalmers’ idea of the Hard Problem of Consciousnessâthe thorny, maddeningly unsolvable question of why and how subjective experience arises from physical processes. If you’re not, welcome to the rabbit hole. Here, we’ll plunge deeper by examining the perspective of Stuart Hameroff, who, like a philosophical magician, reframes this conundrum as a chicken-and-egg problem: what came first, life or consciousness? His answer? Consciousness. But waitâthere’s a slight snag. Neither “life” nor “consciousness” has a universally agreed-upon definition. Oh, the joy of philosophical discourse.
Video: Professor Stuart Hameroff and others promote the idea that consciousness pre-dates life. A fuller version is available at IAI.
Audio: Podcast on this topic.
For the uninitiated, Hameroff’s stance is heavily flavoured with panpsychismâthe idea that consciousness is a fundamental feature of the universe, like space or time. In this worldview, consciousness predates life itself. From this vantage, Hameroff’s proposition seems inevitable, a tidy solution that fits neatly into a panpsychistic framework. But let me stop you right there because Iâm not signing up for the panpsychism fan club, and Iâm certainly not prepared to let Hameroffâs intellectual sleight of hand go unchallenged.
To make his case, Hameroff engages in a curious manoeuvre: he defines both life and consciousness in ways that conveniently serve his argument. Consciousness, for him, is not limited to the complex phenomena of human or even animal experience but is a fundamental property of the universe, embedded in the very fabric of reality. Meanwhile, consciousness eventually orchestrates itself into lifeâa secondary phenomenon. With these definitions, his argument clicks together like a self-serving jigsaw puzzle. Itâs clever, Iâll grant him that. But cleverness isnât the same as being correct.
This is the philosophical equivalent of marking your own homework. By defining the terms of debate to fit his narrative, Hameroff ensures that his conclusion will satisfy his fellow panpsychists. The faithful will nod along, their priors confirmed. But for those outside this echo chamber, his framework raises more questions than it answers. How does this universal consciousness work? Why should we accept its existence as a given? Andâhereâs the kickerâdoesnât this just punt the problem one step back? If consciousness is fundamental, whatâs the mechanism by which it “pre-exists” life?
Hameroffâs move is bold, certainly. But boldness isnât enough. Philosophy demands rigour, and redefining terms to suit your argument isnât rigorous; itâs rhetorical trickery. Sure, itâs provocative. But does it advance our understanding of the Hard Problem, or does it merely reframe it in a way that makes Hameroffâs preferred answer seem inevitable? For my money, itâs the latter.
The real issue is that panpsychism itself is a philosophical Rorschach test. Itâs a worldview that can mean just about anything, from the claim that electrons have a rudimentary kind of awareness to the idea that the universe is a giant mind. Hameroffâs take lands somewhere in this spectrum, but like most panpsychist arguments, itâs long on metaphysical speculation and short on empirical grounding. If you already believe that consciousness is a fundamental aspect of reality, Hameroffâs arguments will feel like a revelation. If you donât, theyâll feel like smoke and mirrors.
In the end, Hameroffâs chicken-and-egg problem might be better framed as a false dichotomy. Perhaps life and consciousness co-evolved in ways we canât yet fully understand. Or perhaps consciousness, as we understand it, emerges from the complexity of life, a byproduct rather than a prerequisite. Whatâs clear is that Hameroffâs solution isnât as tidy as it seems, nor as universally compelling. Itâs a clever sleight of hand, but letâs not mistake cleverness for truth.
As I continue reading Chapter 6 of Yuval Noah Harariâs Nexus, I find myself wrestling with the masterful misdirection and rhetorical strategies he employs. A critical reader can discern the writing on the wall, but his choir of loyal readers likely consumes his narrative like red meat, uncritically savouring its surface-level appeal.
Social Media and Misinformation
Harari begins by addressing the role of social media in spreading disinformation and misinformation, particularly singling out Facebook. From there, he pivots to Q-Anon conspiracy theories. While these topics are undeniably relevant, Harariâs framing feels more like an indictment of the masses rather than a nuanced critique of the systemic factors enabling these phenomena.
The Voter Knows Best?
Harari leans heavily on platitudes like “the customer is always right” and “the voters know best.” These truisms may resonate with an indoctrinated audience but fail to hold up under scrutiny. The powers that beâwhether governments or corporationsâexploit this mentality, much like religious institutions exploit faith. Harariâs concern seems rooted in the fear that AI could outmanoeuvre these same masses, creating competition for global entities like the World Economic Forum (WEF), which, in his view, aims to remain unchallenged.
Taxation, Nexus, and the Future of Nation-States
Harariâs discussion of taxation and the nexus between power and information is intriguing, but it misses a larger point. Nation-states, as I see it, are becoming anachronisms, unable to defend themselves against the rise of technocratic forces. Taxation, once a cornerstone of state power, may soon be irrelevant as the global landscape shifts toward what I call Feudalism 2.0âa hierarchy dominated by transnational actors like the WEF.
Harari poorly frames a Uruguayan taxation dilemma, reducing it to a simplistic trade-off between information and power without addressing the broader implications. This shallow analysis leaves much to be desired.
Determinism and Misdirection
Next, Harari mischaracterises the philosophical concept of determinism, likely to mislead readers who arenât well-versed in its nuances. He spins a cautionary tale based on this revised definition, which may serve his rhetorical goals but detracts from the intellectual integrity of his argument.
Setting the Stage
Harari ends the chapter with a statement about the importance of time and place in history, using it as a setup to provoke a sense of urgency. While this is a classic rhetorical device, it feels hollow without substantive backing.
Final Reflections
Many Modernists may embrace Harariâs narrative uncritically, but for me, the veneer is thin and riddled with holes. His analysis fails to engage with more profound critiques of power and governance, relying instead on cherry-picked anecdotes and oversimplified arguments. The chapterâs focus on social media, AI, and taxation could have been fertile ground for profound insights, but Harari instead opts for rhetorical flourish over rigorous examination. Still, Iâll press on and see what the next chapter holds.
Chapter 5 of Yuval Noah Harariâs 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 heâs 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 â At What Cost?
Harari ardently defends the âtrivial freedomsâ offered by democracies whilst conveniently ignoring the shackles they impose. Itâs unclear whether his Pollyanna, rose-coloured perspective reflects his genuine worldview or if heâs attempting to convince either himself or his audience of democracyâs 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 Harariâs perspective, his argumentâs veneer is barely a nanometre thick and riddled with holes. Itâs 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, Harariâs defence feels more like a sales pitch than a rigorous examination.
Final Thoughts
Harariâs 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.
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 truthâtwo 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 followâalbeit 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 humanityâs 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 Harariâs 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 fewâpresumably his preferred “elite” humansâeven if other solutions might ultimately prove superior. He is caught in the illusion of control. While Harariâs position on transhuman capabilities is unclear, I suspect he would steadfastly defend human cognitive superiority to the bitter end.
In essence, Harariâs 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.
As I continue to react to Harari’s Nexus, I canât help but feel like a curmudgeon. Our worldviews diverge so starkly that my critique begins to feel like a petty grudgeâas though I am inconsolable. Be that as it may, Iâll 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, donât resonate with me. This is fineâIâm 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. Harariâs 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 Modiâs 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 âdeep state.â
Earlier, Harari explained how communication evolved from Human â Human to Human â Stories. Now, he introduces Human â 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 donât entirely disagree with him, but itâs clear heâs using religion as a metaphor to draw parallels with AI and intractable doctrines.
Harari juxtaposes âdeath by tigerâ with âdeath by document,â suggesting the latterâthe impersonal demise caused by bureaucracyâis harder to grapple with. This predates Luigi Mangioneâs infamous response to UnitedHealthcareâs 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 âus versus themâ narrative. He touches on the enduring challenges of Indiaâs caste system, presenting yet another layer of complexity. Harariâs 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 debtsârevealing what feels like a document fetish and an obsession with traceability.
While he lauds AIâs 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, Iâm ready to dive into the next chapter.
Chapter 2 of Yuval Noah Harariâs 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 networksâa transition he frames as unadulterated Progressâ˘, 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 Harariâs thesis is compelling, his tone suggests an uncritical embrace of these constructs as inherently good. Branding and propaganda, for example, are presented as valid toolsâbut only when used by those on the “right side” of history, a position Harari implicitly claims for himself.
Order Above All Else
One of Harariâs 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”âdeception deemed acceptable if it serves these ends. While pragmatism may demand such compromises, Harariâs framing raises concerns about how this justification could be weaponised to silence opposition or reinforce entrenched power structures.
Alignment with Power
Harariâs 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. Harariâs lack of criticism for these entities mirrors historical justifications of despotic regimes by those aligned with their goals. He seems more concerned about AIâs 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 fictionâand his belief that “a story is greater than any truth”âpositions storytelling as both a tool and a weapon. While this reflects the undeniable power of narratives, it also underscores Harariâs selective morality: stories are good when they align with his perspective and problematic when they donât.
Final Thoughts
Chapter 2 of Nexus is a study in the utility of stories, but it also reveals Harariâs 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, Harariâs narrative raises as many concerns as it seeks to address. I donât mean to be overly cynical, but I canât help but think that this book lays the groundwork for propagandising his playbook.
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 Harariâs 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 âinformationâ truly means. Instead of attempting a rigorous definition, he opts for the commonsense idiomatic approachâa conveniently disingenuous choice, given that information is supposedly the bookâs 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
Harariâs rationale for leaving âinformationâ 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 isnât 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 examplesâIsraeli versus Palestinian perspectives, Orthodox versus secular vantage pointsâhighlight 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 canât help but suspect that Harariâs refusal to define âinformationâ 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 bookâs 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 Harariâs 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 answerâat least, not yet.
Philosophics 