The horizon is not so far as we can see, but as far as we can imagine

Category: Creating Reality Page 4 of 6

How Capitalism Makes Evil Rational

It’s always worth understanding an important ideology’s ethical calculus.

Capitalism’s is brilliant.

If someone is willing and able to give you money to do something, you are improving their life.

The corollary is:

If you have money, you have it because you have improved someone else’s life. The more you have, the more lives you have improved.

There are assumptions embedded in this logic: That people know what improves their lives, for example, and that everyone involved is buying and selling voluntarily.

Demand isn’t desire, mind you. If you want something that would improve your life a lot, it doesn’t matter if you can’t command enough money to get it. Adam Smith pointed out that bums may want coaches complete with horses, but this does not translate to “demand.”

Still, basically, the theory is that you get money by helping other people.

Roy Dalio, the fund manager famous for his book on principles, believes this one hundred percent.

Now, it’s important to understand that capitalism is an ideology and organizational principle sitting on top of a series of technologies. We can call those technologies “industrialization.” Industrialization is not capitalism; we can imagine there might be other moral and organizational principles which could work with industrialization. We tried, as a species. We called it communism, which was centralized industrial control, and it didn’t work out in the end. Some say that’s because it couldn’t work, others say it’s because the USSR had less people and resources than capitalism, along with a weak strategic position.

I’ve argued parts of both. The truth is we don’t actually know.

Both systems are ideologies which determine who gets to control a certain amount of other people’s time, and who got to tell people what to do. That’s what money does, and anyone who has spent their entire life working for money by doing what other people tell them to do should understand this (though remarkably, many people don’t).

Capitalism is also an argument based on scarcity. It says: “There isn’t enough, so we need to make sure the people who get what we have use it to help others.”

That’s the actual moral argument: Capitalism is the best way to use people and resources to help the most people. It’s why whenever someone suggests there might be another way, someone else will say “Venezuela, Venezuela, neener, neener.”

Here’s a strange thing, though. Every time I look into homelessness I find that there are more empty homes than homeless people. There’s probably an exception, but I’ve never found one in the Western world.

We also throw out far more more food than is needed to feed everyone.

So at the very least, we know that capitalism isn’t distributing goods to everyone who needs them. The capitalist argument to this contradiction isn’t, “That’s false!” It’s that, “Communism failed, so you’re stuck with this.”

Then there’s another issue: Capitalism has turned out to be terrible at managing scarce resources. We could make a lot of things we use more durable so they’d last longer. Instead we make them so they won’t, deliberately. We make them so they’ll break or wear out, and people will have to buy another set, because companies need to make a profit. It’s not that cell phones couldn’t be created to last much longer, it’s that the people who make them don’t want to. The same is true of light bulbs, clothes, almost all electronics, cars, and so on.

We’re wasting vast amounts of resources, and that waste also shows up as vast amounts of pollution and huge destruction of the environment.

Pollution, including pollution involving carbon, methane and other climate change gases is an important example of not managing limited resources. There’s actually a limited amount of room to pollute, and beyond that, the environment starts changing in ways which are dangerous to us and the rest of life. This is a genuine scarcity “pollution sink,” and capitalism isn’t managing it.

It turns out that capitalism (and state communism before it) isn’t very good at managing scarcity. Perhaps it’s better than an opposition which doesn’t exist any more, but it’s not good enough to avoid wiping out island nations and changing the climate catastrophically.

So what we have is a technology which is theoretically capable of managing scarcity (industrialization/science) and an ideology and organizing principle (capitalism) which can not.

We produce way more than we need, vast amounts are wasted, we still have people without homes or going without food, and we’re destroying the environment and changing climate in disastrous ways.

That’s an ideology which is, well, evil. To produce more than we need, and then say, for ideological reasons, “But some people have to sleep on the street, and others need clean out sewers by hand, and still others have to go hungry” is a simple failure. To destroy the ecosphere is another failure.

Capitalism doesn’t do what it is supposed to do: It doesn’t use resources efficiently or distribute them in a humane way. In fact, it uses resources inefficiently, vastly so.

It turns out that “if it makes money” isn’t a good proxy for “does good while using resources efficiently.”

By capitalism’s rules, destroying the world is rational. Not feeding people is rational. Having homes sitting empty while people freeze on the streets is rational. Making way more goods than people need, through planned obsolesence, is rational.

And these aren’t corner cases. This is what the logic leads to. This is the system running on its core logic loops. Someone is paying for all of these things, so it must be making them better off, so therefore doing these things is good. More, the people doing those things are given MORE resources (money) so they can perpetuate same behaviours, because the system assumes the behaviour must be good, or someone wouldn’t be paying for it.

This isn’t just, well, evil. It’s insane.

When your ideology says: “Destroying the world’s climate and environment, starving people, and making people homeless is rational”? There’s a problem with the ideology.


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“Construction of Reality” First Draft Sent to Editor

The stretch goal in 2016 was a booklet, “Construction of Reality” (CoR) about how, as individuals, groups, and societies, we create reality.

The first draft is done, 58,887 words and has been sent to an editor. This is more than I expected and more than planned.

I apologize to 2016 donors and subscribers, this took way longer than I intended. Part of that is that I’d never written a book before, part of it is that the topic was more difficult than I expected (especially to write CoR without it feeling like a textbook), and part of it is that my health was trash, but the fact remains you’ve waited a long time and will wait a bit more. I’m sorry about that.

(As an aside, my health has radically improved in the last three months. What finally did the trick was a 100 day “juice cleanse.” I did it because someone suggested it, and I’d tried everything else. Didn’t expect it to work, but it did. I’m not 100 percent, but the improvement is huge.)

Back on topic, when the book comes out will depend on whether the editor thinks it’s the sort of book that the publishers would be interested in. This has little do with quality, it’s a judgement about how they perceive it will sell. If so, it’ll be at least another year, if not, you should see it sooner.

“How To Think,” which I promised in last year’s fundraiser will not take nearly so long. Though not an easy topic, it’s a lot easier than how we construct reality. I’m a lot healthier, and I’ve written a book now, and know better what I’m doing. (Blogging, article, and essay skills translate poorly.)

I do think you’ll find “Construction of Reality” (CoR) to be worth the wait. One advantage of the long writing time is that I’m able to be fairly objective about it. Contrary to what non-writers think, writers usually aren’t happy with their books when they’ve just finished them (and at various stages I wasn’t), but I am with CoR. Almost no one, myself included, can claim unique ideas, but the synthesis of ideas in CoR is unlike any book I’ve read.

One reason writing CoR took so long is that I stopped, threw out most of what I had and restarted because I wanted you to receive a book which was actually useful, not a dry tome, however accurate. I think and hope this book will be something which will actually make some readers’ lives better. (Not all, no one can write that book!)

I’m looking forward to sharing CoR with you.


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Christianity as a Religious Ideology

Religions are ideologies. They are little different from something like capitalism, or Marxism, or the divine right of kings, or humanism.

That is to say ideologies are sets of statements about how the world and people are, and how they should be.

Christianity takes humans as fallen. We are innately bad, and we must be reformed by good education, including punishment. “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” This is different from classic Confucianism, which assumed that humans were essentially neutral slates, or the Confucianism of Mencius, which believed that humans were innately good, similar to Rousseau. The Chinese Legalists, on the other hand, assumed humans were bad, and the Imperial justice system tended to run on their ideas, not those of Mencius.

If you believe humans are bad, you must change them; fix them. Such ideologies tend to be punitive. If you think humans are good, on the other hand, you have to mostly avoid screwing them up, and such ideologies try to avoid punishment and negative reinforcement.

Christianity’s caused a lot of suffering down through the ages, a statement I hope isn’t controversial. A lot of that comes down to Christianity’s metaphysical beliefs for most of that time.

  1. The only way to go to Heaven is through acceptance of Christ;
  2. If you don’t go to Heaven, you will wind up in Hell. Hell is eternal torment.

The combination of these two beliefs means that, logically, anything is acceptable if it leads to someone becoming a Christian. Charlemagne once force-converted ten thousand pagans, then executed them. They died as Christians, with no chance to sin, doubtless they went to heaven. Spanish conquistadors would burn heretics, because they believed that would send them to heaven. Conquering a country to convert its people was not only moral, it was the only moral thing to do. To do otherwise would be to condemn everyone born there to hell, which is to say to torture which never ends.

Christianity is a form of hegemonic ideology. “Everyone should follow this ideology.” Democracy is another hegemonic ideology, “Everyone should be able to vote for their leaders.” Oh, there are exceptions, but they are minor. A country that is not a democracy, to a believer in democracy, isn’t ruled legitimately. Plenty of wars have been justified by hegemonic democratic principles, and plenty of non-democratic governments have been overthrown when democratic powers defeated them (Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire in World War I, for example.)

But remember that, after the Napoleonic wars, aristocracy was re-instituted in France. The hegemonic philosophy of the day can differ.

Islam is also a hegemonic religious ideology: everyone is supposed to eventually become a Muslim. That’s the goal, although it’s sort of okay for the other monotheists to stick around.

Hegemonic philosophies which get traction change the world. They evangelize. They conquer. When they go bad, they go really bad.

Religious hegemonic ideologies have the extra oomph of “God said.” If “God said,” well then, you can’t override that, because obviously “God is right.” The best you can do is to say “Well, perhaps we misunderstood part of this.”

Non-hegemonic ideologies find hegemonic ideologies horrifying. Hegemonic ideologies breed fanatics, people who aren’t willing to say “it’s okay for other people to live differently.”

Don’t think this is always a bad thing: Our ideology may radically oppose slavery, for example, or starvation, or torture or rape, and say “No one should every do these things!”

Is that bad?

Well, is it worth fighting wars over? That’s really the question. Is it worse using violence to stop this? How much violence? At what point are the evils of the violence you’re using worse than whatever it is you oppose, or whatever good you intend to impose?

Christianity’s monster state ruled by crusades and inquisitions and insisting that women bear the children of their rapists–that sort of thing. This isn’t in question, because we have a lot of Christian history.

This doesn’t make Christianity uniquely monstrous, or more evil than many other ideologies, but it is baked into the set of beliefs required to be Christian (forced conversion, death to pagans and heathens) or is easy to pervert a hegemonic ideology towards (abortion is murder, murder is always bad, unless you’re murder a non-Christian to force conversion of their society).

Other ideologies have other monster modes. We’re beginning to see Hinduism’s right now. We’ve been seeing how Islam goes wrong for many decades now. Communism regularly gets vilified for its crimes and I trust people know the crimes of capitalism, though they tend to be understated–because it is our ruling ideology.

But religious ideologies are always particularly dangerous, for the simple reason that one cannot admit God was wrong, because God can’t be wrong. (The Hindu Gods, oddly, can be wrong. Pagans are usually pretty clear that gods aren’t always right.)

Beware the consequences of monotheism with infallible Gods, and beware the consequences of hegemonic ideologies.


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Social Facts Create Reality

When I write longer works, like the booklet “The Construction of Reality,” I put aside pieces that are good, but don’t work in the context of the book.

I’ve now re-written the entire first chapter twice. The first time was way too dry, but looking at it now, I see that it’s still interesting and makes some important points, so I’m going to post it here.


Reality is constructed.

It is constructed first by our bodies–our senses and universal emotions like fear and lust, anger and love. Being human orders the world for us before we take our first breath.

This is true of all animals, who, like humans, also change the environment to suit themselves. But humans have created a reality far, far from that of our forebears who ran in bands on the Savannah.

We have created a human world.  Most of us live in cities, artificial environments created by us. We walk on streets laid out by humans, work, sleep, and cook in buildings, drive in cars or take buses, trains, and planes. We talk on cell phones and surf the internet. Even those who live in the country live on land which has been altered by agriculture and pasturing of animals humans domesticated. A farmer grows wheat which was bred over millennia (or genetically altered, more recently). The farmer raises animals humans have been raising for thousands of years. We eat the meat of cows, pigs, and chicken and we dine on rice, wheat, or vegetables we have tended for millennia and which we have bred to suit us.

As individuals, we did not create almost any part of this physical world. We did not invent the techniques for caring for domesticated animals, growing vegetables, or making smart phones.

We live in a physical world created by humans, many of whom are dead. Human life is human in a way that animal life is not animal. Animals have an effect on the environment, but it is minor compared to what humans have done to the world.

And this is just the physical side of the world. Just as important is the world of ideas, of social facts.

Look at the words you are reading right now. You didn’t invent writing, typing, any of these words, or language itself. You spend your life thinking most of your thoughts in a language or languages created by humans, for humans–and mostly by dead humans.

You almost certainly receive your daily food in exchange for something called money which is probably either plastic woven to look like paper or electronic bits. Money has no intrinsic value; a million dollars in the middle of Antarctica would do nothing for you, most money isn’t even paper any more–you couldn’t burn it for heat. Yet most of us spend most of our waking day working for someone who gives us “money” and exchanges it for most everything else we want.

In times of war and famine, money may lose most of its value. Food, cigarettes, or sex may be worth more. Money’s value is a social fact.

When someone is killed by another human being, whether it was murder or not is a social fact. In war, if a soldier kills someone it is probably not murder. If the state is executing someone it is not murder. When police kill someone it is usually not considered murder. Social facts.

The quality and amount of health care provided to individuals is a social fact; it depends on where they live.  In some countries, it depends on how much money they have. In other countries, it depends on how much power they have.

The amount of melanin in someone’s skin is a physical fact. That having a “black” name in America leads to half the interview requests than those received for an identical resume with a “white” name is a social fact.

Cannabis is almost certainly less physically harmful than tobacco or alcohol, but selling or possessing cannabis is far more likely to get you thrown in jail. In the US, during alcohol prohibition, this was not true. Alcohol is alcohol, its legal status is a social fact.

Social facts rule most of your life. They are layered on top of physical facts and tell you how to understand those facts, and how to act towards them. There are few more consequential decisions than, “When should I kill someone?” or, “When should someone receive health care and how good should it be? or “Should I hire someone and for how much?”

Not all ideas are social facts. You may believe something “ought” to be true, but often other people do not agree. You think your girlfriend shouldn’t cheat, she doesn’t agree, the state doesn’t care. But if you act on that idea, and so do other people, it’s a social fact. They may call her a cheater, ostracize her, and so on. If no one acts on it, it is not a social fact.

A gang or mafia may believe that their members shouldn’t inform to the authorities, and they may enforce this as best they can, but obviously the state does not. It is still a social fact if they can make it one, however.

You may also believe in ideas which are contrary to the ideas currently enforced by the state or other people. Perhaps you do not believe in intellectual property. Perhaps you think confessions obtained by torture shouldn’t be used in criminal proceedings. Perhaps you believe that women should or shouldn’t be able to have abortions.

These ideas may fall short of being social facts if no one acts on them. They are just ideas; musings on how the world “ought” to be.

This social world is layered on top of the physical world created by our bodies and how they perceive and interact with objects around us. No amount of social facts will alter the solidity of a rock, or our need to breathe.

Each of us lives inside these two worlds, worlds which were largely given to us.

Imposed on us.

At most, we’ve made a few choices from the worlds and realities available to us, but most of our fundamental choices have been made for us.

The reality, I, a Canadian urban male, live in is different from that of a female Mexican subsistence farmer, let alone that of a plains Indian 700 years ago, a prole in the Roman Republic, or an Egyptian priest under the Pharoahs.

This is before we get to the differences that seem important to us today: say, the difference between a conservative Republican Christian and his counterpart progressive Democratic atheist. A thousand years from now, those may seem like rather similar people, today they seem quite different.

Our bodies make us alive, but they make us different as well: To be tall or short is to experience the world differently. To have a strong constitution or a sickly one is to experience the world differently, as well.

And to be a woman or a man, likewise; so much so that men and women in some societies (Saudi Arabia today, Victorian England, or Manchu China) can be said to have such different experiences in life that they might as well live in different worlds; different realities.

Reality is inside-out, first, because we have bodies and senses which organize our experience of the world, and do so before the first drop of parental interference, training, or culture.

But it is outside-in in most of the ways which make us different from each other and from other humans who have lived in the past.

Each of us is formed by time, place and position. Even if we were both male, with similar bodies, in Republican Rome, were I born to a Plebeian family and you to a Patrician family, our worlds would part, and even if both of us were born to Patrician families the particulars of our parents, tutors and other incidentals would leave us different. Position within a place and time, added to different bodies, makes up most of the individuality which divides us from our peers.

In this book we will swoop from the heights of macro-history; of the effects of great ideas, of technologies like gunpowder and farming, or organization and vast tribal identities, to the depths of our inner experience; our thoughts, our feelings, our urges and beliefs.

Reality is an experience. Each of us lives in a reality, feels it, and thinks about it. As we live, we change the reality we live in, or it changes around us, and again, our experience of the world changes.

To write a book on the construction of reality while neglecting how we can change reality would be barren.  Though careful examination reveals that most of human reality is imposed on us from outside, by time, place, and position, none of which we choose, we do not have to accept this passively.

While even in the great struggle to change our shared world, our shared reality, all of us can change the reality we live in, by taking some control of our own circumstances–or, denied that, by changing how our bodies and brains interpret the world.

So we will cover the vast currents of history and prehistory, of identity, organization, technology and ideology. We will speak of human empathy, human violence, and human limits, because it is human limits which have the greatest effect on the world we create and our acceptance of the world that we are given.

But in so doing, we will not neglect the personal.

Killing Herd Animals

One of the great crimes and tragedies of our world is how we treat the animals we eat (or whose milk, eggs, or other products we eat and use). Factory farming keeps them in tiny enclosures, feeds them monotonous foods, and then when they’re slaughtered, it’s a terrible experience–they’re terrified and die in pain.

There’s been a kerfuffle in Britain, where the Green Party leader said he’d bank Halal meats.

There’s an argument for this based on Nassim Taleb’s tyranny of the committed minority. If enough people simply won’t buy something unless it’s done their way, it makes sense for capitalists to just produce all of whatever it is that way. “Just butcher them all Halal.”

Halal killing is a cut to the jugular vein, and then all blood is drained. In part it’s fairly clear that the intent is to spare animals pain, same as it is in Kosher butchering, where the carotid and jugular and windpipe are all cut in one smooth motion.

So both these things seem good to me, but it seems that there’s a third style of killing herd animals that is even more painless: the Mongolian one. They make a small incisition in the neck, then pull out a vein. The animal dies quickly and painlessly (though it’s messy, as you’d expect.)

I have little respect for religious rules just because they’re religious, and that includes rules about how animals are treated. Animals, especially mammals, clearly have emotions and suffer. If you want to obey “God’s” rules yourself, knock yourself out–as long as it affects no one but you. But when it effects other people, those rules get no extra points because “God” said so.

Both Halal and Kosher killing is better than what happens in most slaughterhouses. But if Mongolian butchering is painless, then that’s what we should use. It should be mandated by law, everyone who kills animals should be trained, and slaughterhouses should be inspected.

And if that means some Jews and Muslims (or anyone else) decide not to eat meat, they can go howl.

The point here isn’t really about slaughtering animals (though we should do it humanely, and yeah, I’m willing to see prices go up if that’s required and I’m poor enough that means I’d eat less meat), but about religions, ideologies, and policies.

Religions are ideologies which claim special status. “God said,” usually.

Those claims are laughable. It’s not that God may or may not exist, it’s that there are too many religions all claiming “God” said different things.

Obviously, most of them are wrong. Heck, they’re probably all wrong, even if God does exist.

So that means they’re just ideologies: a series of assertions about how the world is, how the world should be and how humans should think, feel, and act. As such, they are due no more deference than any other ideology, whether capitalism, the divine right of kings, the Pax Romana, or democracy. They are simply provisional sets of ideas, from a particular time, with a particular history, and they can be wrong, or more to the point, harmful. Some will be good, some bad, and so on.

As such they must be evaluated by the good they do, versus the harm, and if better ways of doing things, in terms of the welfare of humans, animals, and life in general are found, what some guy centuries or millennia ago said about what God wanted should be thrown out the window.

Religion, all religion, including yours, is just ideology in supernatural drag.

Treat it as such.


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Breaking Your Chains

I started blogging in 2003. Since then, I’ve written well over a million words. There was a time when I wrote two or three articles a day.

I thought that the writing mattered, that it made a difference. It did to some people, but not to many. Seven billion people have a lot of momentum, and stopping them or even turning them is close to impossible, especially when the lever you have is just blogging.

Oh well.

Various bad stuff has happened. More bad stuff will happen. As I’ve written before, this stuff is now baked in. It will happen, it cannot be stopped. When you’re going 200 miles an hour and ten feet from the wall, everything is over except the casualty report.

You should probably still slam on the brakes, though.

A few years ago, I turned my primary emphasis from, oh, let’s call it political economics to more fundamental issues.

Why do people believe in what they do? Why do they do what they do? And how can that be changed?

Because, as I’ve written before, the primary problem isn’t that we don’t know what our problems are, or even how to fix them (in technical terms). It is that we aren’t fixing them even though we know they exist and have a pretty good idea how to fix them.

I mean, to repeat myself yet again, we’ve known about climate change, undeniably, since the late 70s at the latest. And we did, well, basically nothing. We know that inequality is terrible for everyone, and people were warning back in the late 80s about it and we, well, slammed our foot down on the accelerator.

And so on.

Now, this isn’t a new pursuit for me. I wondered about it when I was a teenager, but I examined it, mostly, the wrong way–through anthropology, sociology, linguistics, history, neuroscience, and so on.

Oh, it’s not that these disciplines don’t have important insights, but they are all fragmentary and none of them tell you the most important thing, not really: How to change.

I mean, it’s nice to have some insights into why you’re fucked up, but if those insights don’t lead to the ability to become less fucked up, the exercise is somewhat sterile.

There are a group of people who have, over millennia, spent virtually all their time examining  how the human mind works, and why it believes what it believes. Spiritual people.

Not religious people, understand; religion is what people who want pat answers to the insights of spiritual people. They suck the insights dry, and turn them into set rules.

You’ve got someone like Mohammed, say, whose first followers are mostly slaves, women, and poor people. And Mohammed, well, he made their lives better; he made new rules which were not as bad as the old rules. Sure, women still weren’t equal to men, but they had more rights than before.

And poltroons and fools think that the new rules are now set in stone for eternity, rather than considering that he was making things as much better as he could under the circumstances and given his own, unbroken conditioning.

Then there’s poor Jesus. Good God, what his followers have done to his teachings! They’ve turned them into, with some exceptions like the social gospel (now dead), an utter force for evil.

This is the fate of the great spiritual figures–to be misunderstood. Sometimes that misunderstanding doesn’t do too much harm (Buddha, yes, some); sometimes it does a lot, as with Mohammed and Christ.

Or, as Marx, a great ideologue, though not a great spiritual figure, said: “I am not a Marxist.”

Or Jesus: “I am not a Christian.”

Anyway, there’s a type of spirituality which basically involves learning to examine one’s mind, until the way it really works becomes something one can’t deny any more.

Jiddu Krishnamurti tried to teach this. Failed miserably. Maybe got one person enlightened, despite spending his entire life working at it.

The problem he had was that he really wouldn’t give instructions. He was scared of the founder effect; he wanted people to learn to think for themselves and not reify a bunch of new rules.

So, yeah, that didn’t work too well.

The simplest rule of the mind is that everything in it is stuff given to you by other people. Your religion, your nationality, your love of sports, whatever… it’s all conditioning and while it isn’t precisely all garbage, it’s close to it. You didn’t choose it, but you think it is “you.” You think your personality is you, or that you are American or Chinese or Hindu or Christian or Jewish.

You’re full up to the brim with stinking garbage; realities created by “wise” men of the past, which served their purposes and which has been, usually, completely unsuited to living a healthy, happy life with other humans in such a way that you don’t, well, destroy the ecosphere, for one.

And the humor of it is in the identification with it–that you, that we, think that all this garbage is actually us. It’s closer to a sickness, a virus, passed from sufferer to sufferer.

And it’s why we’re ten yards from a wall, going 100 miles an hour.

If you want to stop being sick, and a vector for sickness, start by just resting and examining the contents of your consciousness as they come and go.

And be ready to be really unhappy, as you realize you’re a slave.

But it is the slave who believes they are free who is most chained: You can’t break invisible chains.


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How We Are Conditioned To Be Slaves

Every ideology makes statements about human nature.

  • Capitalism: people are greedy;
  • Christianity: people are innately sinful;
  • Confucianism (Confucius original), people are neither good or bad, but pliable;

They make statements about how people should be treated. In capitalism, since people are greedy, they must be motivated with rewards. In Catholic Christianity, since people are innately sinful they must be forgiven, sin is natural. In original Confucianism, they must be trained to be good people.

All systems of learning are also conditioning processes. Take the discipline of economics. Economics believes  the idea that humans pursue self interest, know what it is, and make rational decisions to achieve it.

Studies have shown that there is only one group of humans who reliably act as economics predicts: people with economics degrees.

They learn how to think like an economist, and they make decisions like an economist.

For example, in sharing games.  One person is given, say,  $100 then has to give some to another person. That person decides whether to accept the offer. If they refuse, neither participant gets anything.

Economic theory says that the recipient should accept even a cent: after all, they’re better off than they would have been otherwise. But normal humans don’t do that. The less they are offered, the more likely they are to refuse.

Economics majors, on the other hand, take the offer.

Every discipline is like this. You learn to think like an economist, or sociologist, or political scientist or engineer, or doctor, or… whatever.

But life, overall, is like this.

Think about school. School is a place where you sit down, speak only when called on, do what you’re told, in the way you are told to do it. It is brutal indoctrination in obedience to teacher.

If it doesn’t work with you, what happens? Well, unless you’re very smart, you don’t get good grades. If it really doesn’t work with you, you get kicked out.

Higher education, required for almost all good jobs, cannot be received without good grades.

Indoctrination has failed, you will never have a good job, and thus you will never have power in society.

School exists to teach people to be obedient to power. It exists to make sure that when bosses tell them what to do, how and to be quiet unless boss gives permission, they do so.

Grab the kids at age 6, indoctrinate them while they’re young and almost helpless, deliver the results.

Kids are conditioned to act like employees. Like, frankly, wage slaves.

This is a very effective social system, because it does what it must: it makes sure that people who effectively resist the conditioning don’t get power later on.

The rare exceptions get power by going thru the capitalist system, outside the job system. They are extremely rare, but they are also conditioned, because capitalism has another conditioning set, where if you don’t do what is required to make a lot of money, no matter how bad (see how Bezos, in Amazon, treats his employees or Steve Jobs acted) you will never have a lot of power in that system.

Systems often break down when they either start letting thru the wrong people, or when they stop letting thru too many competent people.

Or they break down when the requirements of the system start producing results so bad it breaks the system (see Climate Change.)

To bring it back, why do Economists act like monsters when they become central bankers?

Because they’ve been trained to act like monsters: to take into account only self-interest. And being long time products of the education system (PhD + school = 22 years or so), they also know that, even if they don’t have a direct boss, they are to do what bosses and teachers would want them to.

After 22 years of conditioning, well, they just do it. It isn’t about rational thought, it’s about conditioning.

Meanwhile, the rest of us, conditioned to be slaves from childhood, sit there at our shitty jobs and just take it even if we’ve broken enough of the conditioning to walk. Because if we don’t, if the conditioning is shown to have failed, well, soon we won’t have a job, and then we won’t have a house or enough food.

This is how successful societies and ideological systems work.

It is also, a small piece of what you will learn in my book, “The Creation of Reality”, which is almost complete its first draft.

More later. In the meantime, you’ve been conditioned to be a slave. Recognize that, but be careful how you rebel, lest you suffer the consequences the masters have in mind.


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How Our Everyday Life Creates Our Character and Our Destiny

We are what we do. What we experience during our daily lives creates our habits, both of action and thought and those habitual actions and thoughts are our character. The character of men and women, and the shared character of a society is destiny. It determines how we respond to what happens, it is as close to fate as exists in a world awash in choice, where we make the choices we are expected to.

The defining characteristic of growing up in the modern world is school. In school, we are taught to sit still, speak only when we are allowed to by an authority figure, and do meaningless work that is not suited to us. For the bright kids, school is stultifying. They sit there, bored out of their skulls by how slowly the class proceeds. For the active child, school is stultifyingly boring because they are told to sit on their butt for most of the day, when they’d rather be doing something physical. For the creative child (which is all children, till they have it schooled out of them), school is, yes, stultifyingly boring, as it is all doing what someone else tells  you to.

Outside of class, school is about nasty peer pressure and fitting in. Even if you aren’t a loser or a loner, even if you belong to a clique, you quickly understand what happens to someone who doesn’t fit in, who doesn’t do whatever it takes to belong to an in-group. Our society is rife with comments about how something is “high school all over again,” and we don’t mean anything good by that, we mean a horrible game of cool kids and jocks and geeks and fitting in or getting ostracized at best, or possibly beaten down, or worse for the truly unlucky.

By the time we get out of school, most of us have been trained to do what authority figures tell us, had the creativity taken out of us, lost all real intellectual curiosity (because intellectual pursuits are associated with the horrors of school), learned that nothing is more important than fitting in and that popularity matters more than virtually everything else. We have come to accept that we don’t make choices except those on offer to us: “You may write an essay from the following list of topics/you may select from the following list of electives.”

Our adult life is little different. We have some more choices, but most of us will work for someone else, and that someone else will tell us what to do, how do it, where to do it (at their workplace), and when to do it. Our consumer existence, in which we appear to have choices, mostly involves choices between Brands X,Y, and Z, and the choice between brands is almost always completely minor: The differences are not substantial. More importantly, again, we choose from choices offered us, we do not create our own choices.

This issue has arisen since most people have entered formal schooling as children and since people have moved into wage labor. Before the late 19th century, you did not see this type of conditioning (though they had their types) in the majority of the population. Mandatory regimented schooling, and wage labor, in which we do not decide what we do with our time, has made things very different from the previous society.

One of my uncles lived in, let’s call it, the pre-industrialization lifestyle. He was a farmer and a fisherman (and hunted on the side, for food for his plate). He had huge lists of work to do, but he chose when to do it and how to do it. He controlled his own life. This is how free farmers and artisans used to live. In the day-to-day detail of their lives, believe it or not, even many peasants had more freedom than most industrial and post-industrial workers do.

This has grown worse over the last three decades.

Free play time, as a child, was when we used to have choice. As a child, outside of school, I had to be home for meals and bedtime, otherwise I was my own boy. I had very few toys, and I and my friends made our games of make-believe. I created the rules to my own games, made my own pieces, and played them. I ran wild through the neighbourhood, living a hundred different imaginary lives from books and movies, but also ones I made up myself. My parents did not try to control the details of my life beyond making sure I got to school and got fed, so long as I didn’t cause (too much) trouble.

Oh, it was still a regimented life, but it was a much less regimented life than today’s helicopter children experience. The conformity of that late industrial society, oddly, was less than the conformity pushed on children for the last couple decades by their own parents.

The workforce has in some respects also become worse. The sort of micro-control that is commonplace in Amazon warehouses, with a supervisor electronically watching you every second, was almost impossible in the past. The sort of micro-measurement of productivity was also impossible in most jobs, though certainly, assembly lines were hell. In most jobs, your boss had to give you the work and check in later to see if it was done and how well. As long as it got done, you were fine.


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Again, to be sure, there were micro-supervised jobs even then, but technology has made it possible to micro-supervise the sort of work which simply could not be supervised then.

And when you left work, there were no cell phones, no pagers, no laptops. For the vast majority of workers, once they left work, work was done for the day. They were not, for all intents and purposes, on call 24-7.

High surveillance societies produce conformity, because we are what we do. What we do forms our habits, our habits form our character. If you are constantly under your boss’s thumb, you learn to act reflexively in ways that will satisfy your boss. Of course, we all rebel where we can, but the margins for rebellion are growing smaller and smaller.

We have created a society where people live regimented lives, doing what they are told, choosing from choices given to them, learning that nothing matters more than popularity, and constantly under supervision or at the beck and call of their teachers, bosses, and other lords and masters (including their parents; sorry parents).

This is not a society that makes people happy. There is good reason to believe (Diener) that rates of depression are about ten times higher than they were one hundred years ago. But more to the point, it is a society that creates people with the type of character that does not produce better futures, because they are conditioned to choose only from what is offered them, to sit down, shut up, and do what they are told, and to play popularity games. If you don’t, well, no good job for you, or no job at all, and in this society having very little money is very unpleasant. We do not think up our own options, create our own politics, choose options outside of the limited ones offered by our lords and masters.

We have been created this way, conditioned this way, trained this way, by the everyday experience of our lives, starting from a very young age. To be sure, this is far from the only reason our societies are dysfunctional and careening from disaster to disaster; there are very real material constraints on what people can do in this society, largely through control of who is given money and credit, but it is a major reason for our problems. We have been shaped into people our lords and masters sincerely hope are not fitted to freedom, not able to make choices outside what they offer, not able to challenge them effectively, and well suited to the trivial jobs they want us to perform, mostly by fighting over which billionaire is the richest.

If you want a free people, you must free your minds, but free minds come from the exercise of practical everyday freedom.

Originally Published November 11, 2013.


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