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.

If God is morally perfect, then God has the desire to eliminate all evil.
Evil exists.

Although this topic is somewhat old, I'll leave my comment here (in case anyone finds it interesting).

Not from a theological perspective, but from a layman's perspective, there's a flaw in this premise. If He is morally perfect, then He desires to eliminate all evil. Why does moral perfection require eliminating all evil as such? What can we know about moral perfection? Does moral perfection require us to intervene in the actions of another subject to reshape their behavior within the framework of moral perfection?

I believe that attempts to answer these questions will prompt a rethinking of similar issues.

I sincerely sympathize with your way of thinking. Moreover, I assure you that I hold similar views regarding such shows.

The problem is probably something else: I read a few naive books and decided I could philosophize. Don't take the latest town madman seriously.

They showed a madman and warned: "Don't be like him."
B.B. shows a madman and whispers: "Be like him, only smarter—and everything will be fine."

The horizon of the possible has truly expanded. In the 90s, a person who wanted money and respect had three culturally approved paths: education → career, sports/show business, or honest business. Today, a 16-year-old from any suburb has five to seven paths in mind, and two of them are "gray internet schemes" and "crypto scams/dropshipping/onlyfans." He doesn't consider this evil—he considers it the fourth and fifth elevators to the top, simply demonstrated by Netflix and TikTok.

The main trick isn't glorifying evil, but removing shame.

Walter White shows that shame is for suckers. Once shame dies, morality turns into a simple risk calculation. That's why the phrase "if you're smart enough, you can do anything" isn't an exaggeration; it's the precise formula for a new moral code.

It's not about neighborhoods or local differences—people everywhere are subject to the same influences, especially in the age of global media. My point isn't really that viewers don't understand the difference between good and evil or confuse entertainment with reality in the literal sense. I'm talking about a more subtle, subconscious level of behavioral normalization.

Take your example of the difference between screen and real life: yes, most people won't start cooking meth after watching Breaking Bad. But the show (and others like it) introduces into cultural discourse the idea that morality isn't absolute, but a matter of risk calculation. As I've written before, the message is: "If you're smart, prudent, and creative enough, you can bend the rules—law, ethics, society—and prosper until chance intervenes."

It's similar to the smoking example: the question "Should I smoke or not?" doesn't even arise if you've never seen anyone smoking and didn't know it was possible. Media expands the "horizon of the possible": they don't force us to directly emulate evil, but they sow the seeds of doubt—"What if I, too, could do anything if I outsmarted the system?" Ultimately, this shifts society's moral boundaries: instead of "This is wrong," we more often think, "This is risky, but if I don't get caught..." And this isn't about "bad" people, but about how culture shapes our questions and choices.

I'm afraid that this is true only for a small part of society capable of self-reflection.

I had a thread on this a while back, although the essay it focused on had some serious issues with trying to cram the issue into a Marxist framing (which works for some aspects, but not for others) — Count Timothy von Icarus

A very interesting essay that covers the same issues that I tried to cover here in a much deeper and more subtle way.

Yes, but I think the Joker, Tyler Durden of Fight Club, and other similar characters play to a slightly different ethos. The Joker burns all the money he receives in the Dark Knight. He isn't pursuing meglothymia through a sort of "capitalism by other means," but is turning against society itself (often to point out its own fraudulence). He is beyond the need for recognition. There is a bit of "divine madness" there ("holy fools" also shunned custom to engage in social commentary, although obviously in a very different way). I think these sorts of characters are extremely relevant to the appeal of "trolling" mentioned in the other thread on that topic. — Count Timothy von Icarus

I think you won't disagree that the Joker from "The Dark Knight" and the Joker from "Joker" are completely different stories. The first Joker is a villain who demonstratively tries to expose the true nature of modern society, while the second is simply a mentally ill and misunderstood character who decides to do what he wants.

The problem though is that, as these notions are taken to their limit, and you get characters that are ever more superhuman in intellect, cunning, self-control, etc., and ever more beyond/above all custom and morality, they actually start to become incoherent, because there is no reason why someone, so liberated, should want to do one thing instead of any other. Realistically, they might as well decide to sit down until they expire from exposure. This can happen with the Joker in some forms too, which is why he needs his insanity to keep him moving. — Count Timothy von Icarus

So, it turns out that there's no (or we don't know) ontological justification for such behavior, making it impossible? If I understand you correctly, that's an intriguing idea.

Essentially, in your essay, as I noted above, you've already identified all the problems I'd like to address. The only layer I could add (and it's, of course, the most speculative) is the question: what if the "engineers of our world (state; society)" are deliberately using the techniques we've discussed to aestheticize evil for their own purposes?

Isn’t Breaking Bad kind of old-fashioned storytelling? Crime doesn't pay. In real life, the “bad guy” might well succeed with little cost to themselves or their families. And sometimes they even become president. — Tom Storm

Don't you think this has become the norm for us today? Success is already the highest good. In pursuing success, sacrifices can be made, as long as they are acceptable. This is called "collateral damage." For many contemporaries, this has evolved into a willingness to do any dirty work, as long as it is paid fairly.

Here’s my question for you: should Breaking Bad have been made, or is it glamorising immoral behavior? — Tom Storm

Not at all. Here, in the past, and in the future, I'm not trying to moralize. I'm not trying to teach the right way, but rather to examine phenomena through different lenses and test whether these methods work.

A worthy critique and an interesting comment. You're bringing me back down to earth, saying that statements require empirical support. Moreover, the approach I used to interpret them may indicate a cognitive error—I could have easily imagined something and selected facts to support it.

Your criticism is valid.

At the same time, I'd like to justify myself a bit. The point is that, as I believe, art is, first and foremost, about feelings. In interpreting BB, in this case, I've applied a new lens. That is, I've proposed not an accumulation of empirical data about the phenomenon, but a rethinking of its very foundation. Is this speculative? Perhaps. But that's also a way of philosophizing.

Returning to the comment itself—you criticize the lack of empiricism in your statements. But my statement is at the level of rethinking the idea of ​​interpretation. Is this prohibited?

The world has changed forever for me now.

I agree with you. In "Lolita," the aestheticization of evil (page after page of beautiful descriptions) doesn't lead to "redemption" or normalization, as in BB, but rather emphasizes its emptiness. But that was only the beginning of the genre.

A TV series is about emotion, pulling us into dilemmas and relationships that keep us guessing, speculating, and wanting more. The best ones show us something new and unexpected, exploring situations we hadn’t considered. In that sense, Breaking Bad, as a multi-layered, expectation-defying narrative, achieved exactly what it set out to do. — Tom Storm

The idea for this post arose from a conversation about a local TV series centered around the justice system: it meticulously depicts abuses of power by law enforcement officers, a judge masturbating under his robes, and bribes, bribes, bribes.

Of course, in the end, as the genre dictates, justice is restored, but again, it's not because of the officials' vices, but simply because of accidents or technical errors.

And I'm talking about a disconnect here. A kind of cultural fracture: you won't be punished for your vices, but for an accident you miscalculated. So, it doesn't matter how bad you are; what matters is how sensible and prudent you are.

And the second point. This series (produced by order of the government) also carries a hidden message: "This is how it is here, be prepared, know that this is how it is here." This seems to remove any questions or demands on the authorities, as represented by the average person. You may disagree, but you know what you're dealing with.

Many countries around the world ban smoking in films and on TV. By anyone, whether villains or heroes. Frankly, I approve of this. Although it is censorship. After all, by simply showing the undesirable behavior itself, you're essentially saying, "What's the big deal? Everyone does it."

Breaking Bad ended 12 years ago. Will we be learning that someone is appalled by The Sopranos next (it ended in 2007)?

The anti-hero has been a fixture in "modern cinema" for decades. A fixture in literature far longer. It's difficult to take such "what's wrong with people these days?" complaints seriously. — Ciceronianus

As you may have read, this example is given as a vivid illustration. The topic I touched on concerns not the series but a cultural phenomenon.

I think your thesis is generally correct. I don't know Breaking Bad, but another example commonly given is the way that the Batman nemesis Joker has now become his own offering, with standalone Joker characters and films that have no relation to Batman. Tolkien writes well about the phenomenon. I may try to dig up some quotes. — Leontiskos

Yes. I wanted to mention Joker, too. It's truly a phenomenon. Just like "Perfume."

For me, the earliest such example was Nabokov with "Lolita." There you have it, page after page of aestheticization of pedophilia. A striking example of how, using literary talent, you can vividly and thoroughly describe the feelings of sick people. I didn't finish reading it at the time because I couldn't take it anymore after page 10.

But what a storm of emotion and criticism this work provoked at the time! If the author's goal was to make a name for himself, he achieved it.

I would suggest that a move away from the strict rules of separation of heroes and villains, white hats and black hats, cowboys and Indians, is long overdue. — unenlightened

I agree with this, just as I agree that this isn't exactly news.

For example, in another well-known series, "Game of Thrones," each character does something morally reprehensible (at least according to our understanding of medieval and even modern morality). And for modern cinema, this is something of a quality mark. On the surface, this adds realism. The creators tell us, "You can't be a saint, we're all sinners," "the world is a complicated place," "not everything is so clear-cut." It looks cool.

But that's just on the surface. At its core, every such creation contains a metanarrative: "no one is responsible for evil deeds," "there is no justice," "you can do whatever you want, as long as you're careful."

Sin, bad deeds, immoral behavior seem to become the norm. There's no punishment, and if there is, it's later.

Here on the forum, topics about morality, ethics, and morality are very popular, focusing mainly on classic trolley problems and the like (I think everyone is familiar with these themes). But I'd like to talk about something else. After watching such films or TV series, it feels like morality has been completely sidelined in decision-making today.

That is, when solving a hypothetical trolley problem, a modern person doesn't ask themselves, "What should I do?" but rather, "Who witnessed my actions?", "Can I justify this action to the people I care about?", "Do I even have to justify myself to anyone?", "Which decision will be most beneficial to me, and not to someone else?"

That's where I see the problem. That's what I'd like to discuss.

The MC is conspicuously named Walter White, and considering this is an American series I'm sure there's a clumsy attempt at societal commentary in here somewhere that we're missing. — Tzeentch

I'm really curious if this was the creators' intention. Can you elaborate on your idea?

I asked this because I face this question daily, even in my everyday life. The point is that any assessment of a system you find yourself in from the inside is very difficult. I even have a rule – not to provide legal services to my relatives (even though I'm a lawyer myself). Why? Because it's incredibly difficult to distance yourself from your own reflections on a legal issue when it affects your own life. With ordinary clients, it's easier – you can simply be honest, presenting the picture as objectively as possible, and then leave the solution to them. I think I'm not alone in facing this problem.

Returning to the topic of the thread. For example, when we find ourselves in state X, is it possible to challenge its dominant approach to understanding reality, while essentially being an element of that state X? As you indicated above, it's possible (using the method of comparison with other states or history), but is it possible to purely compare, and are you capable of immersing yourself in a different paradigm just as purely?

This is the classic paradox of Crete in epistemology: "All Cretans are liars," said the Cretan. "Paradigm P is true and final," says the person fully formed by paradigm P. Any attempt to go beyond it will be perceived by system P as heresy, madness, or "you just haven't fully understood P."

"Belief is a fictitious category." I'm intrigued by how your proof will look. I hope there's a flaw in your perfect syllogism that can be criticized, otherwise I'll have to stop feeling anything for my wife, my family, my community, and God.

I'm interested in your topic.
Essentially, the discussion revolves around the opposition between "I believe" and "I think"—and, importantly, the unspoken priority of analyticity over the sensory. Logic is placed above the irrational, the rational above the intuitive. I'd like to contribute by adding an aesthetic and epistemological layer to the discussion—through Alexander Baumgarten. In Baumgarten's time (the 18th century), the assertion "rational = good, sensory = nonsense" was not yet self-evident. On the contrary, he demonstrated that logical representation is formal perfection, but it is achieved at the cost of a loss of completeness. Sensory, "obscure" knowledge is the foundation of everything. It grasps the object in its entirety, immediately, in its concreteness and complexity.
Logical knowledge, on the other hand, is an extension, an abstraction, a rationalization, which impoverishes the original richness.

The more obscure the representation, the more complex, complete, and richer its attributes. The clearer it is, the poorer, but more structured it is.

For example: When we first meet a person, we grasp them sensorily—a general impression, a "feeling." We can only recall their eye color or height.
With each new encounter, we rationalize more: their character, habits, voice, facial expressions. But the initial, irrational feeling doesn't disappear. It is enriched, becomes deeper, more precise.
It is not replaced by logic—it feeds it.
This is the binary opposition: "holism" (sensory, holistic, primary) versus "analyticism" (logical, dissected, secondary).

Evaluating a statement using rationalism as the highest and only value is too impoverished an approach.
Faith is not a "hallucination," not a "psychosis," not a "thought defect."
It is holism, the first act of cognition, the foundation of action.
Without it, there is no trust, no society, no science—after all, a hypothesis begins with intuition, not proof.

Can the world be built on "I think" alone? - No.
Can it be built on "faith" alone? - Also no.

Second, there’s the assumption that before we “took the wrong fork in the road,” everything was fine and that if only we hadn’t taken it, we would never have ended up in this mess. — Tom Storm

The very word "crisis" carries a negative connotation. It sounds like the loss of a familiar good. For example, illness is a health crisis, and death is a life crisis.

But what if "crisis" is something bad, but inevitable? For example, our civilization depends on oil, which is finite. When will it run out, will there be a crisis? I hope that by then, we'll be ready and have come up with something. If we take the finiteness of good as a rule, then when creating any system, we should also consider that it's a temporary solutiosolution.

It's funny, but when humanity is offered a new socio-political or social order, no one mentions that it's temporary. Doesn't it seem like we're being fooled every time, and the truth isn't being told?

By the way, I've never heard any advertising like this: this iPhone is the best temporary solution (until the next model comes out)

Namely, a critical examination of a paradigm would require stepping out of that paradigm; but such stepping out would be in conflict with one's committment to said paradigm. — baker

Yes, that's exactly how I put the question. And moreover, what needs to be done to "go beyond the boundaries," to see from the outside? Is it possible?

I started out writing this OP as a kind of valedictory, as it is really one of the main themes I’ve been exploring through all these conversations. I’m nonplussed that it was received with such hostility when I think it is pretty well established theme in the history of ideas. I’m also getting tired of having the same arguments about the same things with the same people. It becomes a bit of a hamster wheel. — Wayfarer

I read this with a heavy heart. But consider: have you ever considered that what you're doing isn't just, or even primarily, an argument, but rather a manifestation of your experience, your lived and learned knowledge, into the world? Perhaps your argument "about the same things" is something more for many? For example, I admit, thanks to you, I've thought about a lot. What if the contribution you make is essentially gratitude to the world for allowing us to reflect on its metaphysical foundations? After all, your arguments also provide a good education and training for ordinary readers like me!

Do you think that full reflection is possible for a person who is inside a paradigm?

There are any number of middle-aged, male monomaniacs in philosophy circles with no real expertise, but an unshakable belief that they’re uncovering reality and answering questions no one else can. Misunderstood geniuses. This must be a common type of human being, which is how George Eliot so magnificently satirised that style of person in her character Mr Casaubon in Middlemarch. — Tom Storm

I sympathize with your reflection on this matter. I often wonder, "By engaging in philosophy, am I finding meaning or simply engaging in intellectual masturbation?"

It seems a fine line.

In my opinion, an idea is worth expressing if it offers some heuristic benefit. If it doesn't, then there's no point in expressing it. At the same time, I often see myself and others "catching a sparrow in a field" – logical iterations for the sake of iterations, without any "going beyond." Entire books are written on this topic. People even defend their doctorates.

On the other hand, without this "noise," without this "environment," truly worthwhile ideas would have no place to thrive.

Returning to the "metaphysical" (transcendental, Divine) justification, I still agree with you: it doesn't necessarily have to be called "Faith." Atheism does the same thing, it just calls it something else.

I also hold that my experience of the world does not have need for most metanarratives; I am a fan of uncertainty. I am also a fan of minimalism and think that people overcook things and want certainty and dominion where knowledge is absent and where they have no expertise — Tom Storm

In the context of exposing your atheism (as I promised earlier in another thread),

So, you're not asserting God or something definite, but something indefinite, as a metaphysical justification?

Does it matter to you how a person defines God? I like the concepts of logos or quantum physics, and the Creator is also good. The Aztec gods are so unfamiliar to me, I have a hard time relating to them. I believe those gods are inacting concepts that have an interesting notion of our relationship with the universe. — Athena

It's not a simple question. Of course, I'm always curious about how exactly the person I'm speaking with calls the transcendental. Most often, it has to do with its origin (but sometimes it's different). To better understand the person I'm talking to, I believe it's important to consider and understand their views on this matter. But for me personally, I've given up on trying to name God. 2,500 years of philosophy haven't been able to do so. The likelihood that I'll be able to is very slim. Therefore, in such matters, I prefer to strive not to comprehend matter (substantia), but to understand the properties of the dynamics of the manifestation of divine design.

What is "it" that happens? — Athena

What is happening, I think, is that the author of the original post is trying to fit life into logic. At this point, he’s drawing a boundary between the Rules of Man and the Laws of Nature — calling the former mutable and the latter immutable.

I must admit, I don’t quite see the scientific novelty or practical applicability of this distinction, though to be fair, there’s no mention of God in his original post.

As for me, I have no firm opinion regarding the metaphysical essence of being. Yet I’ve never met anyone who could explain anything at all without, in some way, appealing to metaphysics or to something transcendent — in the broad sense, to God.

I noticed that the term "Law (of Nature)" is misleading in your otherwise logically sound post. The term itself comes from 17th-century theology and jurisprudence (Descartes, Newton), when the world was seen as a divine code. But nature doesn't prescribe—it occurs. The term "Law (of Nature)" seems like a linguistic artifact. A more accurate expression would be "stable regularities of the physical world" or simply "physical invariants."

This also raises the question: why does our understanding of a so-called law of nature (including mathematics) suddenly constitute that law of nature itself? I see it somewhat differently: our formulas are not a law, but the best approximation to how it happens. And if a new, more precise description is found, we will replace it (this is consistent with Popper).

Let's say this isn't a criticism, but a suggestion for clarification.

You distinguish between logical and empirical necessity, but it seems to me you fail to notice that even your "logical necessity" doesn't exist in a vacuum—it itself presupposes a condition of applicability, that is, the presence of a subject of action and an environment in which that subject is capable of acting.

When you assert that "A must not kill" is a logically necessary conclusion from consistent axioms, you thereby presuppose the very possibility of the existence of living agents with goals, interests, and consciousness. But this is not a logical constant, but an ontological given that can disappear or change.

The "eternal foundation" you propose rests on a premise that itself belongs to the world of becoming, not the world of pure logic. You appeal to the eternity of the conclusion, but fail to note that its axioms can cease to be true.

Even if life as such persists, its strategy can change.
For example, during war, the act of killing ceases to be a violation of the principle of survival—on the contrary, it becomes a condition for it. In this context, the very "necessity" on which your original "ought" was based disappears. Another example: the state has weakened and can't maintain order. Neighbors break into your house and steal your food. Do they still have a "right to life" in you?

Therefore, your theory is not eternal—it is simply temporarily universal, as long as conditions exist in which "action for a purpose" is possible.

You speak of "normative principles" independent of the form of society, but I am saying that the very possibility of a norm depends on the form of existence. And in this sense, everything "eternal" in your model is nothing more than a stable fragment of a changing world.