This is a fantastic comment. It feels like I have no answer to what you asked, because you so accurately captured the essence of what lies beneath the words of my post. You are already there, within your questions, within the answers. The answers will simply come.

I am so inspired and grateful for your response. It encourages me to continue my research!

This is truly a high-quality level of rhetorical mastery.

The nomadic idea of ​​"home" is tied not to the land, but to everyday life, loved ones, and life itself. The idea of ​​"home on the land" enabled the development of many things related to establishing a life in one place, and, as you noted, primarily agriculture. However, the idea of ​​"home in the mind" (as among nomads) enabled the development of speed of movement and rapid expansion and contraction.

In the history of the world, it was nomads who managed to build the largest (in terms of size) states, but it was sedentary people who built the most stable states.

Yes, the settled people did invent a map with a center. The nomads simply made sure that this center was located where their headquarters were located at that moment.

What else? I would note that nomads are best adapted to the unexpected (famine, cold, catastrophes) – the so-called "black swan." Sedentary people, on the other hand, learned to overcome difficulties based on the principle of "nowhere to run."

History always tells us that a problem can have several solutions, and the model I propose allows us to consider their pros and cons.

If I were of a more scholarly cast I think this is precisely where I would go looking for a coherant model of thought in this space. — Tom Storm

Considering your number of forum posts, as well as the fact that you read almost every thread on this forum, I imagine you're already more than well-educated. Perhaps there's no document? But for me, a fan of content over form, that means nothing.

Any concept, be it relativism, anti-fundamentalism, or postpositivism, is a conceptual framework or analytical tool—a "lens" through which to describe a phenomenon, defining the boundaries of what is and isn't included within that concept. Roughly speaking, it's an idea to see the world or phenomena in a certain way, and for the sake of economy (to avoid describing the full content each time), an appropriate term—a construct—is selected. This construct is tested and accepted or rejected by intersubjective consensus.

If you approach the topic you've outlined from this perspective, the content of the idea itself, rather than its specific name, comes to the fore.

As for the content of these ideas, they have much in common—they are tools for describing the different views of contemporary people on the world order. Both terms, to varying degrees and with varying nuances, express the different understandings of contemporary people about the foundations of the world. You can create your own construct.

For me, the idea (content) itself is always more important. Perhaps philologists value a more precise demarcation of terminology.

The question of whether anti-foundationalism allows moral assertions depends on whether we believe morality requires a metaphysical foundation. If we adopt a pragmatic perspective, moral norms can be justified not through eternal truths, but through intersubjective practices, the goals of shared life, and the ability of norms to work cooperatively. Anti-foundationalism then doesn't boil down to relativism—because norms may not be "absolute," but still rational, critiqued, and improveable. In this understanding, a "position" arises not from metaphysics, but from the practice of reasoning.

This phenomenon concerns me. I'd like to delve into the descriptive description of the phenomenon (how it happens) rather than the prescriptive (how it should be).

And to what I've said above, I should add this: General indifference, which has become the norm for any individualistic society, continues to be perceived somewhat differently in the case of people with disabilities. It would be interesting to explore this. For example, according to the modern, generally accepted notion in developed countries, we are indifferent to an ordinary person walking towards us. Even if they do something wrong or even violate some norms, look very strange, smoke something illegal, or are simply lounging on the sidewalk after drinking, we calmly tell ourselves, "It's none of my business." And this seems generally accepted.

However, if a disabled person does all of the above, even if they're just walking towards us, we shouldn't seem so indifferent.

You'll agree, even despite our profound individualism, we still have a special attitude toward people with disabilities.

The very fact of indifference toward people with disabilities touches us. Hence, even despite secularism, something still lingers within us at a very deep level. This is a great area for conjecture. And I would suggest that this "special" attitude toward people with disabilities stems from our ordinary unpredictability of existence. We, residents of the 21st century, nevertheless continue to feel vulnerable, and it could easily happen that we ourselves could find ourselves in this position.

Perhaps this feeling among people with disabilities themselves is the root of the protest movement pointed out by the author of the thread: "Piss_On_Pity." Perhaps they don't like being special...

I'd add another layer to this. If we take what I've described about ancient times as a starting point, then in that society, caring for the disabled was a completely understandable and logical phenomenon: it's part of a cultural code based, on one hand, on empathy, and on the other, on the caregiver's desire to insure against their own disability. The modern world is somewhat different. Individualism and organized care for the elderly (for example, pensions) or the disabled (for example, benefits) don't strongly compel a contemporary to contribute to the well-being of such people. "The state will take care of them," or "It doesn't concern me," or "What does this have to do with me?" This is most likely the underlying cause of the problems faced by disabled people today.

Furthermore, I've also noticed that disabled people are portrayed as objects of hate or jokes (in films like "Avatar"). I don't know whether this is truly the norm in society or whether it's a distortion. If this is true, I'd like to point out that the very permissibility of making jokes about people with disabilities was probably perceived differently in earlier times. Furthermore, I think this has become possible due to the secular nature of modern times.

There is ample archaeological and paleopathological evidence that ancient humans, including early Homo sapiens and even Neanderthals, cared for and cared for their fellow tribesmen with serious injuries, disabilities, or illnesses. This is evident in the traces of old injuries on the bones of the inhabitants of that time, and yet, later in life, the tooth enamel of such individuals often appears better than that of their fellow tribesmen (they ate pureed food). This is interpreted by scientists as evidence of healthy group members caring for the sick or disabled.

This has led to disability being seen as a gap between what a body is able to do and what it has been historically expected to be able to do, the gap between body and social expectation. — Banno

In your initial post, you alienate the problem of disability from the individual and transfer it to society or the environment. However, what if we consider the possibility of continuing to live with an illness as a humane act, an act of caring? What if it is part of a cultural code based on empathy on the one hand, and on the caregiver's desire to insure against their own disability on the other?

In this scenario, care ensures the continuation of life, albeit not a fully fulfilling life. Caring for the disabled is no longer an obligation of the state or society, but an individual interest. It's an investment in one's future safety, making altruism a rational choice for group members, not simply an emotional impulse.
Nevertheless, in many countries around the world, government building codes and regulations require buildings to be constructed with the disabilities of some people in mind.

Caring for the disabled, like the social model of disability, existed long before the advent of modern cities and architectural barriers. Care wasn't simply "fulfilling requirements" but a cultural imperative.

Is disability no more than an issue of welfare and charity, or should we [url=http:// https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piss_On_Pity ]piss on pity[/url]? — Banno

If caring is a cultural code or a rational interest, it is not pity. Pity is passive; caring is active and instrumental.

I understood your point. And an idea immediately arose. (In this topic, I'm voluntarily eager to be the object of research.)

You seem to be trying to formalize it. To bring it into line with a structure, with an idea that exists BEFORE my thought. I'm talking about a different realm. What if this birth of meaning in my head is not formalizable, but only experienced sensually? (well, either in the eidos or in God, and not necessarily in my head)

I'm writing to you now in plain text, without any processing, as it occurs. This is important.

For example, Baumgarten describes this very accurately in his aesthetics: "to give form to feeling," "to transform a dark feeling into a bright structure."

So here's what (a completely emotional statement): what if it's simply something else, and not structural at all? That it lies, as it were, outside of experience, outside of chess, outside of logic, and any attempt to force it into these frameworks is like combing your hair with a comb—that is, involuntarily shaping your hair into the shape of the comb's teeth?

I want to say again that I am writing exactly what I feel, perhaps all of this looks very unstructured.

I’d like to tell you one more interesting thing about the Russian language. A lot of people think that since Russian doesn’t have a strict, fixed word order like English, you can just throw the words in any sequence you want. That’s not true at all. Let me show you how it actually works with a simple example.

The neutral, emotionally flat version:

Я пошёл спать → “I’m going to bed” (or literally: “I went to sleep”). Now the same phrase with different word order — each one carries its own emotional coloring:

Я спать пошёл → “Alright, I’m making myself go to bed.” lt feels like an internal command, almost forcing yourself: “Enough, time to sleep, no more excuses.”

Пошёл я спать → “I’m off to bed” or “That’s it, I’m going to sleep.” Usually expresses tiredness, boredom, or mild irritation: “Everything’s got on my nerves, I’ve had enough, I’m out.”

Спать я пошёл → “I’m going to bed, period.”
Can sound like a claim or even a small protest: “Don’t bother me anymore, I’ve decided — bedtime.”
These are just a few ordinary permutations of the same three words. And when you add the right intonation, the number of shades multiplies even more.

So, in the end, how do you figure out what was going through my head when I chose a particular order? Very simple: the main thing for a native speaker is not “what is grammatically correct,” but what exact feeling or attitude I want the listener to pick up. The word order is one of the main tools for that — it puts the emotional emphasis exactly where I need it.
In Russian, we don’t just convey information with words — we paint the emotion directly into the sentence structure. That’s why the same objective statement can sound neutral, decisive, annoyed, or defiant depending on how you shuffle the words.

D

I've tried to think about this, but it's incredibly difficult. I've established for myself, and found it sufficient, the following: when I speak or write, I kind of imagine what I want my interlocutor to feel. This doesn't come in the form of words or even images, but rather in the form of emotions. That is, each subsequent word must be such that it evokes the response I intend in the other person's mind. Let me clarify how this works. In Russian, the everyday language of a normal educated person, there are about 40,000 words. This isn't bragging; it's the breadth of how subtly I can express what I feel. This makes me want to read literature, to master the language so that I can express precisely this feeling I've intended, down to the subtlest details. Incidentally, I think this is why Dostoevsky is so popular. He expresses himself incredibly precisely.

Here on the forum, I see that there are also people who speak incredibly precisely and use English to do so. And they achieve this not by the quantity of words, but by the ability to use fewer.

To answer your question, it's more about the emotional image I want to evoke in the interlocutor, and the words themselves emerge.

An interesting topic, very much in line with my research into languages.

According to AI and the articles I could locate, languages compress over time, with the more "evolved" languages showing great reliance upon contextual clues and less extraneous words like articles and the like — Hanover

In my opinion, this is quite controversial, since the very method of predicting future events based on hindsight is quite dubious. As we know, history develops in fits and starts, and some languages ​​that existed 1,000 years ago (and were even considered global) are no longer used at all. This point is important to emphasize.

Mandarin, for example, is a highly compresed language, which is why native speakers translate English in a compressed way. As in they might say, "I bring two chair" instead of "I will bring you two chairs," often eliminating pronouns, plural designations and the like. — Hanover

This observation is interesting, but it may be related not to a desire to simplify, but to the native speaker's language itself. Specifically, in Chinese, tenses are expressed differently than in English, and the use of prepositions or copulas in many languages ​​is replaced by suffixes. Therefore, when English is learned rather than acquired from birth, the native speaker's knowledge of their native language undoubtedly makes a difference. For example, as a native Russian speaker, I have great difficulty correctly placing words in sentences when I try to speak English. If we consider the differences with Turkic languages, such as Kazakh, it's difficult to grasp the use of copulas and prepositions (there, everything is done with suffixes). I also have difficulty expressing thoughts within the three cases that English has, and it seems that in my native language, what I want to say sounds more phenomenological, that is, more sensual. Although, of course, all this is mitigated by a more advanced knowledge of English.

What would I like to say about the current state of language? The constant invention of new, specific terms or different interpretations of words in narrow areas of human activity already easily leads to misunderstandings between representatives of different professions, even within the same language. This is easily verified: try philosophizing using a philosophical dictionary on a factory floor or in a boardroom—most listeners will say, "Interesting man, but what the hell did he say?"

What then does the hyper-compressed vehicle look like if not letters, words, and sentences? How does that shrug look prior to my shoulder shrugging? — Hanover

In my experience, I've noticed that expressing your thoughts in nuanced language is always slower than the thought itself. I like the flow of complexity and duration, because as I speak, I have time to think about what I'll say next.

See above.

Can you give one reason why what you're talking about shouldn't be considered simply your personal problem? — baker

Similar to my previous response to you in another thread: I suggest you consider this not as truth or a claim to truth, but as a lens that may or may not have some explanatory power. And just as in the previous thread, the problem I'm naming (and even calling it a problem) doesn't affect me much: it's purely a philosophical reflection.

Generally speaking, identifying the source of an author's problems always leads to greater understanding of the problem they're writing about. But my personal anxiety isn't quite at that level. I believe I'm quite adaptive (as presumptuous as that may sound). My anxiety stems from a kind of resentment toward the time I found myself in. However, this is precisely a scholarly reflection, and publishing this view is likely an attempt to find like-minded people, or at least those who can convincingly point out the error of my judgment.

I get your OP. But I sense a dread and weariness in you, like a solo traveler in a jungle of information and online presence. — L'éléphant

Not at all. This post is a reflection on the external world, but I found solutions for myself long ago. And I live quite well with the understanding that the world isn't cause and effect. This is perhaps a little more difficult. But it's not bad at all. However, I believe it requires sufficient maturity, and I wouldn't recommend it to others.

Take this with a grain of salt: have faith in those with a conviction to do it right with the world. It is true, individually, we are not mighty, but with a community of experts, scientists, mathematicians and statisticians, specialist, philosophy scholars, and sociologists who work during the hours we are asleep, we are in good hands. — L'éléphant

I'm probably too corrupted to view it that way. But I like it. It's a completely different matter when others believe and continue to get burned. I sincerely feel sorry for them, but I can't help them either.

The idea of ​​this post is diagnostic. It would be interesting to hear other people's opinions on the existence of such a problem in society. I offered this perspective. Other contemporary philosophers offer theirs. Well, well. But sometimes it seems to me that all this is about the same thing.

In fact, this post was inspired by a book I recently came across, "The Man Without Qualities" by Robert Musil. The novel is set in Austria, 1913. The world is on the brink of war. The protagonist is a reflection of that era among intellectuals—a man without qualities.

"The Man Without Qualities" does not denote a lack of talents or qualities, but rather the absence of a clear, fixed identity in the world in which he lives. Unable to "assert himself" or find a permanent calling, the protagonist explores various fields of endeavor. Critics have argued that the protagonist is a mirror of the decaying Austro-Hungarian society and the crisis of European culture in the early 20th century. His amorphousness, detachment, and cynicism reflect the confusion and loss of direction during a period when old values ​​were crumbling and new ones had not yet been invented. The book is imbued with the question posed by contemporaries of that era to the authorities: "Give us a national idea" or "an idea of ​​being." But society received no idea in response.

As we know, war came in response to this demand. It's likely that the state often uses this method of gaining subjectivity in an era of declining values ​​or "ontological foundations." I'm not claiming this is happening consciously. Rather, I would call the "decline of values" a sign of impending catastrophe.

Of course, the described "identity crisis" at that time concerned only the intelligentsia and, to a lesser extent, the average person. However, as writers of contemporary history, we have the opportunity to find out the answer to this question: can a person live peacefully with a private understanding of truth, instead of global narratives?

Thank you for your comment. May I ask you what decision you made for yourself?

In this context, I had no intention of asserting what gender is. My goal was to provide an example.

I might add that we were also taught that if you want a higher chance of certainty and predictability in your world, you need to be rich. Predictably is a by product of power and wealth is how you obtain control. I think that has a certain logic to it, though it never left me with a motivation to make money. — Tom Storm

In fact, as I can tell from your comments, you have done a great job of addressing the issue I raised at the beginning of this thread.

And they came to similar conclusions:

Outside of this, my education left me with a view that certainty is there to be overthrown and the world is chaotic. — Tom Storm

and

Now, Order is perceived as a short-lived, fragile, localized accident amidst universal, fundamental Chaos. — Astorre

Perhaps for some people, this problem seems academic, theoretical, and not particularly interesting.

However, I'll give a striking example from our modern era. A question that resonated prominently at the last Olympic Games, and which resonates in locker rooms and public restrooms in some countries.

"Is this person in front of me a man or a woman?"

This is no longer a philosophical abstraction. Moreover, the old positivist tools (look at chromosomes/genitals) no longer serve as a universal arbiter, and the new ones (asking how a person identifies themselves) only work within certain bubbles and provoke outrage beyond them.

Perhaps I received an outdated education, but it taught me that gender is an objective biological fact, as solid as the periodic table. And now I live in a world where I can be publicly destroyed for asserting this fact, and physically destroyed for denying it (depending on the country and region). And yet, no one, absolutely no one, can clearly and universally define where the line lies.

The same person is simultaneously both completely female (by self-identification, documents, hormones, social recognition) and completely male (by chromosomes, gametes, bone structure, and athletic category until 2020).

Whether these issues concern a small number of people is unknown to me, as I'm not familiar with sociological surveys. However, this is just one real-life example. I wouldn't want to touch on this topic at all, but even with my thick armor, the situation doesn't seem abstract or isolated.

Some will say the overarching problem is religion or the human tendency to form dogmatic ideologies, and of course, others will say the overarching problem is the loss of religion — Janus

This is where I highlight the problem: claiming one or the other as true; claiming the truth of both, or claiming the futility of everything. That's the problem.

For the first time in history, an external, universal, generally accepted authority (God, Reason, Inevitable Progress) has disappeared, one that would say, "None of this is accidental; it's all part of a greater, meaningful plan."

Before, Chaos was an accident amidst necessity (God, Law). Now, Order is perceived as a short-lived, fragile, localized accident amidst universal, fundamental Chaos.

And at the center of this is a contemporary, raised on the positivist notions of the 19th century.

But even the beginning of focusing on these questions is impossible without naming the underlying problem. Isn't that so? It's great when someone can stop and reflect. But many people need a starting point to do so.

Does Reason Know what it is Missing?. — Wayfarer

A very interesting paper that succinctly complemented my reflection:

The borrowings and one-way concessions Habermas urges seem insufficient to effect a true and fruitful rapprochment. Nothing he proposes would remove the deficiency he acknowledges when he says that the “humanist self-confidence of a philosophical reason which thinks that it is capable of determining what is true and false” has been “shaken” by “the catastrophes of the twentieth century.” The edifice is not going to be propped up and made strong by something so weak as a reminder, and it is not clear at the end of a volume chock-full of rigorous and impassioned deliberations that secular reason can be saved. There is still something missing.

It's very difficult to argue with this. Moreover, I've met philosophers who, while lecturing at university, acknowledge the tragedy of postmodernism (the impossibility of a return to religion), but then, upon leaving the classroom, try to offer religion as a solution to all problems.

This phase of Habermas' thought - he has a massive corpus - is associated with the phrase 'post-secular'. I think that's an interesting phrase. — Wayfarer

I don't quite like the terms "secular" or "post-secular," since they're talking about social structure, whereas I intended this topic to be about the structure of the individual.

In fact, speaking in this vein, I don't even know what the solution should be: social or individual. In a world without truth, the only thing that seems appealing to me is to somehow "awaken" the individual's desire to independently seek their own truth. While this may not be the best solution, at least it doesn't cause pain for others.

Thank you for your comment, I really appreciate it.

My post turned out to be a bit long, as I tried to fit a lot into it. Yes, the main point I wanted to make is that it's quite difficult to reconcile positivist thinking with the reality that surrounds me every day. Of course, there are many more ways to adapt than I listed in my ten points. And the thing is, the problem I outlined is called by different names: philosophers talk about an ontological crisis, some call it an "epistemological paradigm shift," others call it a burnout society. But, as a reader of such literature, I saw this common theme—which I named, as in the thread title.

Yesterday, we had a lively discussion about this topic in my circle of friends, and overall, we came to full agreement with your idea of ​​a fantastic acceleration compared to ancient times. Perhaps humanity has always been accompanied by this feeling of "the impossibility of prediction," "the inaccuracy of experience," and generally "the inexplicable," but the scale of modern phenomena has elevated it to a completely different level of ubiquity, to which our Newtonian-Cartesian "concept of correctness" has been added.

And, I'm not at all sure that there is any answer to the problem I've posed.

Speaking of auto-training, for myself, I've chosen "limiting the flow of incoming information." Some seriously minded acquaintances of mine even specifically purchased push-button phones, giving up gadgets. They claim this helped them escape this "fertile stream of nonsense" and return to ordinary contemplation, which is so costly for modern people.

"What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it? After all, shadows come from objects and people. Here's the shadow of my sword. But there are also shadows from trees and living things. Do you want to strip the entire globe bare, wiping out all the trees and all living things because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light? You're stupid."

These are the words Woland (the lord of darkness) used to reply to Matthew Levi from Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita.

My opinion on your question will probably differ somewhat from what people expect to hear at a psychologist's office, but I'd like to share it with you.

What you called "the empty bucket inside you" is called "the will to life" by Schopenhauer, and "the will to power" by Nietzsche. Schopenhauer, in his time, demonstrated how the presence of this very will to live leads to suffering and proposed a solution in the form of suppressing it. Nietzsche, on the contrary, argued that this will is the basis of movement, and whoever has more of it is stronger.

I don't like either of these hints. The thing is, as far as I know, humanity still doesn't know what fills this "bucket" or the exact nature of this phenomenon. If humanity knew the answer to this question, the world would long ago have been filled with artificial creations—like robots with their own wills.

Christianity also has much to say about working with the will. But it's more about harnessing your willpower than about creating it from nothingness.

In the army, there's also a way to awaken your willpower if it's completely absent: create such unbearable living conditions that it's born, even on the brink of losing your life.

I think in your case, it's all a bit different.

From the way your post is written, from the way you described it, I believe you've done a great deal of self-reflection. And you did it with the goal of filling that "empty bucket," or more precisely, finding something with which to fill that empty bucket. And so that this something would be truly important. At the same time, I suggest you look at your "empty bucket" differently.

This emotional anxiety, fatigue, confusion, dread felt as more real than anything I've ever felt before. It showed me not how things are, but how things are not — GreekSkeptic

The words are very reminiscent of modern books on psychology or psychiatry. This text is used in these books to describe the phenomenon they call "depression."

However, as I said above, I’d like to offer a different perspective: you do not lack a “will to live” at all — the very fact that you keep trying to fill that empty bucket proves the will is there, and it’s strong. This very striving already indicates that you have a will to live. You just haven't yet found what to fill it with—something worthy, meaningful, and important. This means that what you're describing above is consistent with the absence of something you believe is worthy in your "bucket," or with the fact that you haven't yet found it, but not with the will to fill that "bucket."

Your will isn't aimed at "living," but at "understanding why to live." It's truly a different kind of will—almost exploratory, almost scientific (congratulations, you're a philosopher!).

The thing is, like probably many participants here on the forum, and I myself, too, are searching for what to fill that bucket with. It's not scary to live in this search. This state is similar to “The Man Without Qualities” by Robert Musil (maybe I’ll write a separate topic about this).

All I can recommend to you now is not to panic and not to rush. Moreover, as you will gradually discover, even if you read 8-10 hours of various books every day, you will always find something surprising to behold the following day. Unless you forget how to be surprised.

I don't disagree with your point of view, nor do I consider mine to be the truth.

Cinema is art, and some people see it one way, others another. I didn't intend to argue with that.

The purpose of this post was rather to offer a new lens. If it's not new/offers nothing interesting/is empty, then that may be true for some and not for others. And it doesn't even matter who is in the majority.

Once, as a student, I went to an art exhibition. I looked at the drawings on the walls and, confused, asked my companion, "Where's the art here? (It was just some scribbled mess.)" She replied, "Look at this painting, then step away, look again. Do you feel anything?"
I replied that I felt indignation. "Then the artist achieved his goal—he evoked emotion in you," she replied.

I'll definitely check it out. Judging by the description, it looks interesting.

Do you think we'll see a true survival show by 2035? Like deathmatches or frantic races?
The participants could be death row inmates, debtors, or the terminally ill, and the action could take place in third-world countries. The technical details aren't so important; what matters is whether modern society is ready for such a show.

Do Islamic extremist leaders really think they are putting forth the will of God, or is it just a way to produce a short-sighted adrenaline rush? — ProtagoranSocratist

My understanding is different. It's neither adrenaline nor pure religion; it's both, plus ten other factors. It's a multifactorial phenomenon that can be grasped within the context of multiple layers.

I'll give you a philosophical example. Imagine you're observing a shopper in a supermarket filling a large basket with groceries. Your task is to determine what they're planning to cook. Now the question is: did they buy olives for solyanka (a soup made with olives) or did they simply want to eat them?

Any discussion of these topics is speculative, a priori. What can we do about all this? My answer to this question is to find our own subjectivity, outside of any ideology. How can this be achieved? By exactly the same method that ideologies operate: if they use the individual as a tool, then why can't the individual use ideology as their own tool?

This probably won’t surprise you, but reading your post reminded me of a personal experience.

Some time ago, while browsing job postings, I stumbled upon one from a well-known local blogger who teaches business skills and “personal development.” The blogger needed a philosopher. Among the requirements were things like “ability to create meaning” and “ability to construct a methodology.”

It struck me because about ten years ago I watched this person, listened to him, and genuinely believed what he was saying. Only later did I realize how deliberately those messages were crafted and how strongly they shaped people’s thinking.

How does this relate to your topic? Your distinction between levels of ideology made me think that many ideologies are not merely spontaneous or “organic.” They are often created, refined, and maintained by people who are quite skilled in philosophy, communication, and narrative-building. Concepts like good and evil become tools in that process — instruments used by those who design and legitimize the ideology.

So your framework resonates with my experience: what looks like a natural emergence of beliefs often turns out to be the product of intentional work by experts who know how to shape collective meaning.

I like how it's implemented here. There are topics that don't interest me and are an eyesore, but I go into them and learn something new or interesting. That's great for me.

On the other hand, could you tell me if there will be a way to fine-tune the settings to hide topics I don't want to see (in case I want to create an echo chamber and not know what people think about certain things?)

I also wanted to suggest, if appropriate, adding more sections—for example, metaepistemology or axiology—so that I could narrow my choices a bit more.

There's a fine line here. Rogues are people who break the rules and thus evoke sympathy (something like Jack Sparrow). They remain within the rules themselves. The current conversation isn't about morally black (bad) people, but about morally gray people. That is, those who live entirely outside the good/bad paradigm. The phenomenon I'm talking about has a somewhat different nature. These heroes seem bad, but they are a reflection of us—they're just like us, with everyday problems. And we no longer know whether they're bad or not, or whether we can justify them (because we're all a bit like Walter White).

If a government allows a subject to have a child without ensuring they are aware of all the reasonable dangers in this world, that government is at fault. But. They'll be called "tyrannical" or "authoritarian" just for trying to protect the well-being of human life by making the tough decision of who can reproduce and who should not right at the moment. If we say "oh freedom" and let people do whatever they want (as it is currently) we blame the parent for not educating the child as to how to avoid things that are dangerous. Some people have addictive tendencies. This is an indisputably and universally intrinsically negative and disfavored quality over those who can consume an otherwise addictive product that may lead to permanent harm if not used in moderation. — Outlander

I wrote about this before, in another thread, but I'll repeat it here since you brought it up.

Deciding how someone lives carries with it the responsibility for the consequences. Let's say I'm someone in authority over you, and I command you (and the rest of my subordinates): "You must all bow to God number 32, and you will be happy." You begin praying according to my instructions, time passes, and happiness doesn't come. Then you come back to me (with a pitchfork) and ask: "Hey, where's our happiness?"

If I were a wise ruler, I would have foreseen this in advance and told you: "You are free to do whatever you want!" That would relieve me of all responsibility. Basically, this is what the world has come to: the ruler grants such a degree of freedom that only the bare minimum is required of them.

Now a little about the starting point. Modern culture, including popular TV series, assumes that the world is not divided into black and white. Morality is good, but what about it if we don't do everything morally? How are we supposed to live then? What are we supposed to eat, for example? I especially want to ask this of those who attribute the existence of consciousness/soul to plants or animals, which, therefore, cannot be killed today.

You've hit the nail on the head: modern culture gives us the opportunity to rethink everything. Actually, that's exactly what I wanted to say: be morally gray, because you determine your own destiny.

But has the time come when we (humanity) are ready to admit this?

Won't this usher in a "moral decline" we can't even imagine?

Think of love as the purpose of freedom. No such thing as freedom, and there is no such thing as love. But no such thing as fixed knowable boundary, and there is no such thing as freedom. (I’m moving too freely now, so I’ll set my boundary right here…) — Fire Ologist

This is a wonderful act of self-determination, something only a truly existing, becoming subject is capable of. (I'm actually working on a related ontology project.)

By the way, recently in another thread here on the forum, someone posted a link to a study in which scientists demonstrated the non-algorithmic nature of the world.

https://arxiv.org/pdf/2507.22950

And it was a great inspiration to me. For there are things in the world that we have yet to discover, things to be disappointed in, things to criticize, or things to repent of.

Frankly, there's no methodological precision in presenting these statistics. I was simply suddenly intrigued by the question: what if we compare the indices of two very similar countries, but with different political regimes? There was no one to compare the US with.

I agree. There is a yin of conservative permanence (boundaries and limits) needed for the yang of liberal progression (marked by new boundaries and new limits). And vice versa. Breathing is both in and out. — Fire Ologist

I agree. I'll try to expand on my idea a bit.

Shifting boundaries, rethinking boundaries—that's truly necessary. This is the very essence of the process of becoming: humans, culture, and society exist in a mode of constantly refining and clarifying limits. But the abolition of boundaries is not the same thing. Shifting is work, responsibility, choice. Abolition is a renunciation of responsibility, replacing becoming with dissolution.

I think this can be clearly seen in a simple example. Let's imagine someone deciding, "The skeleton limits human flexibility." They could even hold a rally demanding "freedom from the skeleton." I have a feeling nothing good will come of it. Because some boundaries are conditions for movement, not obstacles.

Here's an example of rethinking boundaries. With age, joints wear out, and some can be replaced. This is an intervention in boundaries, yes. But it is a conscious action that requires calculating risks, understanding the consequences, and taking responsibility for the body. We are not abolishing joints as a class of phenomena.

The same is true in a political-cultural sense. No being exists in an ontological void. When we shift boundaries, we always do something else: either we make room for another, or we take space from another.

And this is something that is often forgotten within the framework of that very "freedom from everything": that any gesture of liberation is always a gesture of redistribution of space between beings. And remembering this is no less important than remembering one's own rights and one's own development.

Today, liberalism has no ability to recognize what is worth preserving and cultivating. — Fire Ologist

This is the key point. How can this be surpassed from within the ideology of freedom from everything? I have no idea.

As long as the Western world had a solid skeleton of everything it was gradually freeing itself from, everything looked wonderful. Today, it's become clear that not everything is as simple as it seemed.



I'd also like to introduce a bit of honesty. We're so intent on exaggerating that rereading this text might give the impression that the world will collapse tomorrow. (It's not for nothing that governments around the world try to exclude criticism of their own ideology.) But no. For now, this looks like just the intuition of a small number of people. Tomorrow, the world could take a turn no one could have imagined.

Is this your paper? Is there a discussion on this forum?

This topic intrigued me. Phenomenology is good because it provides new keys to understanding. Now let's take these keys (which I suggested above) and check the numbers. I'll use two countries as an example: Singapore, with its soft authoritarianism and paternalism (one party for 65 years, elections, but don't get involved in politics, paternalism - housing/healthcare in exchange for loyalty) and South Korea, with its liberalism (22nd place in the world on the Democracy Index and the birthplace of Byung-Chul Han) and burnout society. And AI helped me with this:

Overall happiness level (on a scale of 0-10):
Singapore - 6.52 (30th place in the world),
South Korea - 6.06 (52nd place).
Singapore wins by 0.46 points.

Percentage of people who consider themselves happy:
Singapore - about 62%,
South Korea - 48%.
Singapore is ahead by 14%.

Youth happiness (under 30):
Singapore - 31st in the world,
South Korea - 62nd.
Young people in Singapore are happier.

Senior happiness (over 60):
Singapore - 26th,
South Korea - 10th.
Seniors in Korea are happier.

Life expectancy:
Singapore - 83 years,
South Korea - 82 years.
Singapore +1 year.

GDP per capita:
Singapore - $84,500,
South Korea - $35,000.
Singapore is 2.4 times richer.

Birth Rate (TFR, 2024)
Singapore: 0.97
South Korea: 0.75
Source: Statistics Korea, Reuters, The Guardian (February 2025).
Singapore is 29% higher

Youth Suicide Rate (10-29 years, 2024)

Singapore:
Overall: 5.91 per 100,000 (all ages).
Youth: ~9.14 per 100,000
South Korea:
Overall: ~24.6 per 100,000
Youth (10-29): ~7-9.1 per 100,000

Sources:
World Happiness Report 2024 (Gallup/Oxford), Ipsos Global Happiness Index 2024, World Bank, WHO.

Draw your own conclusions

Thanks for bringing this up as I hadn't read it before (I joined the forum late).



I'd also like to comment on the topic of the opening post. These will be a few comments on liberalism "from the outside."

First, I'd like to thank the author for the content. Your post, as always, is systematic and phenomenological, which in itself sets your posts apart from the more pragmatic approach that dominates this forum.

Now, regarding the content itself. Before joining this forum, I hadn't noticed the fact that, within liberalism, the concepts of authoritarianism and totalitarianism are often conflated. This seems very maximalist for a representative of a "non-Western culture," because for my region, these two concepts are crucially different. Not that you specifically did this, but I wanted to point this out for clarity.
I'll try to explain my understanding of this distinction and why I think it's important. Sources cite various characteristics that can be used to distinguish one from the other (for example, Linz on types of non-democratic regimes), but it's difficult to discern the difference until you've experienced it firsthand. I'd like to highlight one key characteristic (among others):

Totalitarianism is a phenomenon whereby a person, citizen, or individual is transformed into an instrument of the state's dominant idea (a person is reformatted to fit the ideology, and if not, is subject to repression; for those ideologically loyal, the task must be accomplished at any cost. A person is a tool).

Authoritarianism is a phenomenon when an individual, citizen, or personality can pursue their private lives without interfering in state affairs (a strong hand, but I can live my own life).

Soft authoritarianism is characterized by paternalism: here, unlike liberalism, social benefits are provided not through competition, but in exchange for loyalty or non-interference in politics.

As for me, at the moment, I'm inclined to believe that soft authoritarianism may be preferable to liberalism under certain conditions. Unfortunately, this is an extremely unstable construct (external interference or resource depletion quickly destroys it), but sometimes it lasts for decades—like the "stagnation" of the Brezhnev era in the USSR. I'm not promoting this, but it's worth considering the social guarantees of that era: housing was free (although there were waiting lists); education was free; healthcare was free (with sick leave paid up to 100%); plus sanatoriums and children's camps. This, at the very least, makes you wonder: is it worth "shouting about freedom" or is it better to focus on stability? At the same time, internal ideological criticism (so-called "righteous anger") remained permissible. Here I mean criticism of individual government officials for not fulfilling party standards.

All these benefits, which could be achieved without excessive competition, evoke sentiments opposite to those described by Khan in his book, "The Burnout Society." You don't need to be the best—just do your usual duties, and you'll have everything you need. People don't need to "burn out," but stagnation sets in: the economy slows, lags behind technological progress, and the system gradually collapses (unless there's a constant resource like expensive oil). The "burnout society" gives way to a "sleep society." And we know what happened to the USSR.

But a more interesting question arises: hasn't the individual in the "burnout society" become a "tool," as in totalitarianism?

Another problem with liberalism (and in this it's no different from other ideologies) is its hostility to any "supra-ideological" criticism. You can confidently criticize Republicans or Democrats, but if you criticize the ideology itself, the state, or its consensus, you risk marginalization (not in the mines, as in totalitarianism, but social isolation).

Here I would like to say that the myopia of liberalism, which you initially write about, in my opinion, is being overcome from within extremely slowly—so slowly that there simply may not be enough time for change. I think the solution to the problem (by the way, you are proposing roughly the same thing) lies in the honest recognition by liberalism of the following idea: Freedom from everything (that is, the loss of all boundaries or limits) leads to dissolution into nothing.

In my opinion, modern people have almost forgotten what it's like to "feel shame." Films, books, and philosophers merely document its absence. Perhaps the times are now inappropriate, and shame as a tool is no longer necessary, as it is irrational by nature.

I once had occasion to criticize Kohlberg. The ideas at the time were roughly as follows: the approach is "Western-centric," ignoring, for example, the ethic of care as the foundation of community. In Asia or the East, people may be at stages 3 or 4, while stages 5 or 6 would be completely unacceptable for these societies. Renouncing family for the sake of universal values ​​in Asia is far from ideal.

The second point is this attempt to objectify ethics (cognitivism and logic); its post-conventional level assumes that the highest morality is a cold calculation of universal principles. Whereas a person can be characterized by "choice under uncertainty," for example, when you simply emotionally decide to act. For objectivists, this is a flaw (imperfection). Religion suggests that "bad" choices are not a human error, but part of its "sinful" nature that must be overcome.