There’s an old story/quote attributed to Kurt Vonnegut that this reminds me of. I cannot post the photo so I will give the text of it:
Kurt Vonnegut tells his wife he's going out to buy an envelope:
"Oh, she says, well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet?
And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.
I meet a lot of people. And see some great looking babies. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And I'll ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don't know. The moral of the story is - we're here on Earth to fart around.
And, of course, the computers will do us out of that.
And what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And it's like we're not supposed to dance at all anymore."
Think of the efficiency gains if all non-economic activity could be flattened out. Think of the trillions you're dooming to nonexistence. Those wielding the shotguns would still have to be crack shots, of course. Be silly otherwise.
“This simple truth is revolutionary precisely because it's democratic at its core. It recognizes that meaning isn't the exclusive province of experts or elites or algorithms. It's created in the messy, collaborative space of human interaction, where diverse perspectives clash and combine to form something greater than any individual could produce alone.”
HUMANISTIC GOVERNING WORKS. It must include recognizing environmental damage and corporate abuse and enforce protections. Make PROGRESS and PROTECT. Europe is way ahead of the US. The happiness index doesn’t include America. Too much greed. Look at the poor healthcare. Universal was talked of in the 70’s. Thank you, Teddy Kennedy!
This goes well with my evolving idea that we must create a space where we can talk about the best of our ideals and values, where we can form a community around the ideals and values we share. So far, I’m calling it Blue Culture.
Mike: "It's the willingness to live in the tension rather than escaping to either extreme. To reject both the nihilism that says nothing matters and the dogmatism that claims to know exactly what matters and why."
Holding the tension and living in it. Living with Faith. Rejecting all else that would reduce us to automatons, to cowards, to less than human.
"We are all more than we know." (Madeleine L'Engle)
Another insightful writing. I got a chuck when I got to the explanation that in the 'new' Tecno world, meaning will flow from the top down. Trickle down meaning. Reminiscent of trickle down economics which never worked.
The trickle down concept always makes me think of small boys everywhere in the world there are anthills pissing on them in a high arc from a safe distance, watching all the ants getting frantic, running around in circles trying to find out what is ruining their world....
My life has meaning because it’s complicated, my dad will die soon, I am worried about my daughters, who’ve chosen difficult, unconventional paths, and the world’s all fucked up. I have a nice house, a nice wife, a couple cars, a yard, a swimming pool, food, debts, and seldom a moment when I am not struggling with various fears and battling complex practical problems. There’s not much joy in it, but there’s meaning in the struggle. If I go, several people are thrown into despair and economic peril. My philosophy is very simple. Stay alive and take care of the people who need me. Is there a name for that? It’s really all I’ve got and I’m okay with it.
I don’t think so. That sounds a little grim. I generally just try to be a nice guy and make people laugh. While secretly worrying a lot. I suppose be kind could be a sort of philosophy, not very fancy but often effective. As far as meaning, I try not to worry about that. Thanks for asking.
This is reminiscent of Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower. Lauren, the main character, realizes that in order for people to survive, they also need meaning and purpose, not just basic survival skills. Because, if not, what’s the point? There’s no reason to live. She invents a new sort of religion, for lack of a better word, called Earthseed. Fascinating book. Published in 1996, it opens with LA Wildfires in 2025 and a new President with the slogan “Make America Great Again.” A modern day Nostradamus?
As a nurse I appreciate your perspective - when neoliberalism first took root in our NZ health system I and other nurses challenged the reductionist approach, the time and motion studies accounting focused managers subjected us to. When we claimed nursing involved more than performing tasks for or on (in their view) inanimate beings, we were told that talking and just being with patients was not our role! I believe this drive for efficiency alone diminishes the nursing role. It certainly left me with a sense of personal and professional conflict - what I could do and what I should do were no where near balanced. I found inspiration in the writing of Suzanne Gordon in her book "Prisoners of Men's Dreams" - published in 1991 but it still speaks to me.
Wow! I’ve saved this for a second look. I’ve often wondered, though, how it would ever be possible for AI to replicate the work of a good, solid team with diverse ways of attacking a problem. I’ve worked in such teams and the final product always seems born of a magic which occurs in the collaborative effort.
I think it’s high time you were a guest on Sam Harris’ podcast. Your philosophy deserves amplification in exactly the same way that MAGA Thought Police do not.
Thanks for your sustained effort in writing these. 👏
“The fact that meaning exists only because we create it makes it more precious, not less.”
I read this moment as psychodrama reaching extremes. Attempts by people to fix meanings that served some purpose once, only to stamp others out. Paired with a movement that believes we can do away with meaning altogether, in order to usher in the rule of mechanistic determinism.
There’s an old story/quote attributed to Kurt Vonnegut that this reminds me of. I cannot post the photo so I will give the text of it:
Kurt Vonnegut tells his wife he's going out to buy an envelope:
"Oh, she says, well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet?
And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.
I meet a lot of people. And see some great looking babies. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And I'll ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don't know. The moral of the story is - we're here on Earth to fart around.
And, of course, the computers will do us out of that.
And what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And it's like we're not supposed to dance at all anymore."
Brilliant post SMB...good old Kurt Vonnegut, eh...!
Think of the efficiency gains if all non-economic activity could be flattened out. Think of the trillions you're dooming to nonexistence. Those wielding the shotguns would still have to be crack shots, of course. Be silly otherwise.
“This simple truth is revolutionary precisely because it's democratic at its core. It recognizes that meaning isn't the exclusive province of experts or elites or algorithms. It's created in the messy, collaborative space of human interaction, where diverse perspectives clash and combine to form something greater than any individual could produce alone.”
HUMANISTIC GOVERNING WORKS. It must include recognizing environmental damage and corporate abuse and enforce protections. Make PROGRESS and PROTECT. Europe is way ahead of the US. The happiness index doesn’t include America. Too much greed. Look at the poor healthcare. Universal was talked of in the 70’s. Thank you, Teddy Kennedy!
This goes well with my evolving idea that we must create a space where we can talk about the best of our ideals and values, where we can form a community around the ideals and values we share. So far, I’m calling it Blue Culture.
America, Oh America
By Langston Hughes
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.
O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!
Let America Be America Again
Langston Hughes
1901 –
1967
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.
O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!
https://www.facebook.com/share/r/15w48YFc9t/?mibextid=wwXIfr
https://www.facebook.com/share/r/14J4ksrwQ9/?mibextid=wwXIfr
Mike: "It's the willingness to live in the tension rather than escaping to either extreme. To reject both the nihilism that says nothing matters and the dogmatism that claims to know exactly what matters and why."
Holding the tension and living in it. Living with Faith. Rejecting all else that would reduce us to automatons, to cowards, to less than human.
"We are all more than we know." (Madeleine L'Engle)
Thank you, Mike.
And thankyou as well, Susan!
Another insightful writing. I got a chuck when I got to the explanation that in the 'new' Tecno world, meaning will flow from the top down. Trickle down meaning. Reminiscent of trickle down economics which never worked.
The trickle down concept always makes me think of small boys everywhere in the world there are anthills pissing on them in a high arc from a safe distance, watching all the ants getting frantic, running around in circles trying to find out what is ruining their world....
My life has meaning because it’s complicated, my dad will die soon, I am worried about my daughters, who’ve chosen difficult, unconventional paths, and the world’s all fucked up. I have a nice house, a nice wife, a couple cars, a yard, a swimming pool, food, debts, and seldom a moment when I am not struggling with various fears and battling complex practical problems. There’s not much joy in it, but there’s meaning in the struggle. If I go, several people are thrown into despair and economic peril. My philosophy is very simple. Stay alive and take care of the people who need me. Is there a name for that? It’s really all I’ve got and I’m okay with it.
Does "Stoicism" fit the bill, Jack?
I don’t think so. That sounds a little grim. I generally just try to be a nice guy and make people laugh. While secretly worrying a lot. I suppose be kind could be a sort of philosophy, not very fancy but often effective. As far as meaning, I try not to worry about that. Thanks for asking.
Thank you for this
This is reminiscent of Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower. Lauren, the main character, realizes that in order for people to survive, they also need meaning and purpose, not just basic survival skills. Because, if not, what’s the point? There’s no reason to live. She invents a new sort of religion, for lack of a better word, called Earthseed. Fascinating book. Published in 1996, it opens with LA Wildfires in 2025 and a new President with the slogan “Make America Great Again.” A modern day Nostradamus?
Mike: ...when every human impulse becomes a data point to be monetized, manipulated, and ultimately extinguished...
I would add "weaponized", though one could argue "manipulated" may capture that meaning.
As a nurse I appreciate your perspective - when neoliberalism first took root in our NZ health system I and other nurses challenged the reductionist approach, the time and motion studies accounting focused managers subjected us to. When we claimed nursing involved more than performing tasks for or on (in their view) inanimate beings, we were told that talking and just being with patients was not our role! I believe this drive for efficiency alone diminishes the nursing role. It certainly left me with a sense of personal and professional conflict - what I could do and what I should do were no where near balanced. I found inspiration in the writing of Suzanne Gordon in her book "Prisoners of Men's Dreams" - published in 1991 but it still speaks to me.
I will look for the book Liz, thanks.
Published in Canada by Little, Brown and company. ISBN 0-316-32106-0 Best wishes.
Thank you Mike for your words, and for sharing them in this space.
Gladly sent this particular post off to a few of my friends to try for a month....thanks Mike.
Wow! I’ve saved this for a second look. I’ve often wondered, though, how it would ever be possible for AI to replicate the work of a good, solid team with diverse ways of attacking a problem. I’ve worked in such teams and the final product always seems born of a magic which occurs in the collaborative effort.
I think it’s high time you were a guest on Sam Harris’ podcast. Your philosophy deserves amplification in exactly the same way that MAGA Thought Police do not.
Thanks for your sustained effort in writing these. 👏
“The fact that meaning exists only because we create it makes it more precious, not less.”
I read this moment as psychodrama reaching extremes. Attempts by people to fix meanings that served some purpose once, only to stamp others out. Paired with a movement that believes we can do away with meaning altogether, in order to usher in the rule of mechanistic determinism.
One helluva ride.
If you care to pay close attention, you quickly find out that reality is the product of authorship, that's why it's so compelling. #mxtm