michael-dean-k/

Bernie wants to pull off a 50% one-time equity tax on the top 3 AI firms (OpenAI, Anthropic, xAI). This is ripe time for a mainstream populism to ride the tailwinds of AI populism, tapping into hatred and impending doom and the whole gambit of middle class paranoia, ripe time to propose a century-defining redistribution scheme. He opens by saying that AI was stolen from us, built from our collective intelligence, and therefore it's a national utility that the people should own. To ground it in reality, he used the Alaskan sovereign wealth fund as precedent, citing how citizens get paid annually from oil sales. We'll likely see many more of these proposals leading up to our 2028 election. But after you do some napkin math, you realize that this plan is bogus: no one would agree to it, and even if they did, it wouldn't benefit the American people.

This is citizen ownership in rhetoric, but government ownership in structure—a passthrough mechanism as a Trojan Horse with Pete Hegseth and the goons inside. Realistically, I don't think this is meant to be a serious proposal; the labs won't accept it. It's more so a gesture to buy goodwill for the Democrats at a time when mass hatred for AI is cresting.

Here are the issues I see with the concept (along with some grasping for solutions):

1_We don't need government equity, but guaranteed royalty distribution:

This is not a profit tax, but a way to formalize government seizure through an equity transfer. It even comes with board seats within thees AI companies. Remember, this is the same government that tried to force Anthropic to allow unrestricted domestic mass surveillance and autonomous weapons. The equity only gets to the citizens if the stock appreciates, they convert it to cash, and then decide to write welfare checks. Does our current government seem like a voluntary patron of citizen welfare right now? Will welfare checks beat Iran and China? And even if this were intended to be a passthrough mechanism, it would be very hard to make all that equity liquid.

The Alaska fund that Bernie mentioned is structured very differently. It's anchored not in equity, not in profits, but in revenue. 25% of Alaskan oil revenue goes to a constitutionally-protected fund, which is then reinvested into the stock market; the principle is locked and the dividend is split among citizens, usually $1-3k per year. Could a similar model work for AI companies?

This would never work with profits, because AI companies aggressively reinvest. In the short-term, an AI company would resist a revenue royalty because it would slow expansion, but: (1) if all companies did it, they wouldn't be disadvantaged; (2) it beats equity because they retain full control of their company; and (3) if they believe they'll be wildly profitable, then a 10% royalty is possibly more than half of what dividends would pay from 50% equity. So what could a 10% royalty return?

By the 2040s, annual AI revenue could be $20T globally across software, hardware, data centers, and energy. If America has half the market, and 10% is distributed to a citizen fund, that's a $1T annual budget, completely liquid. So how do you use it?

2_ We shouldn't redistribute equally, but strategically:

Alaska has 738,000 residents. The US has 350,000,000, almost 500x bigger. You can do equal distributions at the state level, but at the federal level it'd ineffective. When we talk about UBI or even Elon's UHI (universal high income), we need to realize that U doesn't work at scale beyond pilots. $1T distributed to every American citizen yields $2,857/year. This matches the upper-end of Alaskan payouts, but it's nowhere near what we need to account for AI-driven automation and disruption.

And so instead we need to be strategic over how we distribute it to cover the wide range of effects. Maybe 50% of the fund is reinvested, and the dividends are redistributed based on income (with most of it going to the bottom 10-25%). The other half can be used on housing, free medical diagnosis and prescriptions, free education, New Deal style jobs concentrated in areas that can't be automated (childcare, healthcare, etc.). Who decides this breakdown?

3.Instead of a cabinet agency, this needs an independent board:

If we want citizens to own AI, then we need some form of citizen representation to guide it's growth, otherwise it all devolves into technocratic expansion and war. You could imagine some kind of tripartite board structure, where it has government reps, industry reps, and citizen reps. Any single branch has a myopic set of interests, including the citizens. The citizen branch might undervalue national security or capability improvements, but without it, there's no one representing the problems that hundreds of millions will face.

What I'm reaching at here, I think, is that it's more than just getting a check for theoretically contributing to the LLM hivemind. There's something important to me, as a citizen, to have some say in where AI royalties are redirected. Whether I participate simply as a voter, or I work hard and get anonymously elected to represent my state for a single issue within a liquid republic, who knows. And again it goes beyond just getting and allocating money, but this board should be involved in AI-related policy, especially as it relates to domestic matters.

It's unlikely that power will just be granted to citizens, for they have no leverage next to the ones with the tanks and algorithms. But as the governors and technocrats quarrel, there's a world where a mediating party comes in, and maybe it's their role to insist that a citizen branch can help round out the dynamic.

This last point has basically veered into redesigning government itself, which is both out of scope, but also, possibly, exactly the point. Bernie's whole play is to let the people own AI, but for that to actually expand beyond populist rhetoric, citizens need a more meaningful way to engage with civic matters than to vote for a president once every four years, they need actual representation.

In October of 2024 I sliced history into eras of my own. Prior to that, my historical timeline was built on sandy approximates. The challenge here is that so many historical eras have different time periods (10, 50, 250 years), and so it requires you to remember specific date ranges for specific things. Unless you’re a historian, you most definitely won’t.

I’ve been long drawn to the Strauss-Howe generational theory, and decided to use this as a historical map of even intervals. They break history into “saeculas,” 80-year cycles, the interval of an average human life, and perhaps not coincidentally, the interval between major world conflicts. They go back to the 1370s, I think, but I’m trying to work through the major milestones in the 400 years before that (which includes the Schism, the Crusades, the founding of Oxford, the Magna Cart, Thomas Aquinas, which all seem relevant to the millennia and the rise from the Dark Ages).

The point of a historical timelines of equal intervals is that (1) it’s easy to remember—and I’ve even given my own names to make them stick—so that (2) any new information, ie: ideas or people, can easily slot into that model. It helps to know the Renaissance Era is 1370, Discovery Era 1487, Scientific Era 1594, and Enlightenment Era 1704, so that when I come across Hobbes in 1600s, I know, oh, that’s the Scientific Era, which makes sense because Hobbes brought the first scientific understanding of political philosophy. Today I made some progress on updating my October 2024 map, which I started in 1095 (the Shism) and wrongly named “the scholastic era” (which is better for the following phase).

Instead I think the start should be in 962, and called “The Schism Era.” The new order (I) kicks off with Otto I becoming emperor through the Pope, which is significant because in the prior 75 years, there was no emperor due to the peak of viking/barbarian raids, and it was the biggest threat of Christianity being erased. Since Otto, the Holy Roman Empire stuck for 8 centuries, until dissolved by Napolean, so this really is a reconsolidation, the exit from the Dark Ages. The awakening (II) is a spiritual crisis, when Rome adds the “filioque” a term that alters the original trinity, this leads to (III) the Schism between Orthodox and Catholic church, and erupts in (IV) a civil war between the Church (the Pope) and the (Holy Roman) Empire at Canossa in 1077.

Then the “Cathedral Era” kicks off in 1095 with the Crusades, which is it’s own new world order, where a French faction of Catholicism (pope-aligned), helps launch (1) a cross-country military coalition that supports the church, which can (2) take back Jerusalem from turks, (3) prevent anti-pope revolutions, and (4) thrwart internal civil wars of feuding knights. This leads to Worms in 1112 (II), which is really the original separation of church and state (though really it’s like 2 separate governments, where the church still has laws and the right to kill). This period is marked by many crusades, the rise of cathedrals from this new order (church having a better military with more resources)—Saint-Denis, Cartres, Notre Dame, Cantebury. There are also “cathedrals of thought” maybe a stretch, but includes Aquinas’s unification of Aristotle and Christianity, along with proto-scholars that would lead to Oxford. Where in the last Era, Christianity had barely survived from Magyar raids, this Era is continent-wide flourishing of building, writing, thinking (and of course, conquering). The awakening (II) featured new religious ideas (Gothic, cults, scholasticism, classicism, exuberance), and the overall exubernace spiraled into crises of King John (IV). He taxed heavily to fund failed crusades, seized lands, and jailed nobles, so this resolved with the Magna Carta (1215), which bounds the king to laws.

Following is the Scholastic Era (1215 on), which coincides with Oxford officially incorporating at a university, but I can’t do that one now… I have to leave in 20 minutes to make it to my father-in-laws memorial on time. The point is, from this morning I now understand two historical cycles that were extremely fuzzy to me. Of course there is a lot more to learn, but I have a map that other things can lock into. Most relevantly, I have a sense of the different inner-saeculuar moves ()from I>II>III>IV), which help imagine possible scenarios for today (2026 is the predicted beginning of I, a new world order).

Something about the term “knowledge worker” doesn’t settle with me. Some people identify as one, and I’m sure they either grieve of mock the idea that AI will kill email jobs, but knowledge work is the work we should be most eager to shed.

Compared to a factory worker, one who manipulates physical materials and turns them into goods, a knowledge worker does the same with information. It’s computer work. There is a utilitarian air to the phrase, an efficiency. It serves the needs of an employer. It’s about sifting through and repackaging information to create economic value. A better term might be “information assemblers.” An information assembler can go their whole life within a particular domain of specialization and build a strong intuition for how it works, but without knowing Knowledge.

There are many ironies in the phrase. The knowledge worker is so busy setting up meetings and writing reports and filling out reviews and dealing with clients and managing products, that they never have time to touch Knowledge, the thing that matters. It’s an oxymoron. One cannot work and simultaneously gain Knowledge. It’s antithetical to technique, to markets, to legible value. Knowledge is beyond an industry, beyond a process, beyond specialization itself. Knowledge is generalizable insight: how to think or design, when to start over, who to draw from, what’s even worth pursuing, why do anything? It's an inner knowing, a model of the world, and a process for thinking. Virtues, metaphysics, epistemology—I guess I'm describing philosophy.

Knowledge can obviously help a worker be more efficient, but (1) it’s extremely slow and time-consuming to obtain, requiring study far outside of your practical workflows, and so it’s impossible to justify on the clock, and (2) once you obtain Knowledge, you care far less about efficiency because you’re questioned the whole machine. It’s not a surprise this term was coined in 1959 by Peter Drucker, the founder of management theory. I don’t know much about him or his book (The Landmarks of Tomorrow), but I imagine a midcentury worker being honored and proud to operate in the celestial fields of “knowledge.”

The reason I wrote this post is because knowledge workers are being told they need to master AI tools, when it’s precisely those same AI tools that will end information assembly jobs. I suppose there is a transition period where, while the tools are still maturing, you can 2x your efficiency and do fine. But if your job can be broken into a series of machine-legible steps, and all the context needed is documented, then even if you 10x your efficiency, are you not just expensive and now redundant middleware between you and the output your manager wants?

Middleware is part of a software stack that helps two disconnected systems talk to one another. It translates, transforms, and routes. It doesn’t produce anything original, it reformats inputs to outputs, like a knowledge worker. In the last decade, we’ve already seen middleware become automated and commoditized. Instead of custom integrations, companies now build APIs so they can directly call from each other's databases. Marketplaces like Zapier let people string together API calls through a no-code interface. If this trend continues, jobs will become zaps too.

The better move to prep for AI is to dip into humanism, design, philosophy, psychology, intellectualism—things completely outside the paradigm of technique, efficiency, and capitalism. For one, they’re fun and soul-enriching, but also they cultivate a mind more that’s more competitive across labor games. To someone in the knowledge work economy, this seems too impractical to take seriously, but specialization is a losing game. Instead, you should figure out how to give yourself a liberal art education. It’s free if you have internet. Learn to think, doubt, model, and visualize; how you rotate a problem in your own head will define how you use AI.

Universal basic income is a basic phrase. It’s only one of several approaches to reattribute wealth after our social contract nullifies.

One alternate idea is universal basic compute (UBC), which is about giving everyone free access to the most powerful AI models. Sam Altman recently said that UBI might not work, and we should try UBC instead. This is even more unlikely to work. Giving someone Claude Mythos, the killer model, doesn’t mean they can turn prompts into dinner. Access doesn’t guarantee results. It faces similar odds as entrepeneurship. But maybe it has enough agency so all you have to do is write “make me $10,000 this week”—in that case, everyone will run it, and then it’ something like a lottery, where some machines happen to beat other machines.

The more likely route is universal basic services (UBS), where a government or company provides you, for free, all the things you used to need money for: healthcare, education, housing, transportation, food. The engineering elite will harness their superintelligence to achieve such radical efficiencies that the cost of everything will crater. Maybe it's cheap enough to become a trivial expense. This is a nice idea, one where I can imagine myself focused completely on my art, with no need to slave away for a wage anymore. It’s also science fiction. I don’t doubt that this can happen in 20 or 30 years, but labor shock is coming a lot faster (in less than 5), meaning there will be a transition generation of turbulence.

Then there’s universal basic dividends (UBD) and universal basic equity (UBE), in which citizens get shares of collectively-owned assets, like shares in a frontier AI lab or robotics company. OpenAI was originally set up for something like this, until it weaseled out of it’s non-profit entity.

All of these have the same critical flaw, the U. Whether it’s a government or company, you can’t meaningfully redistribute to 7 billion people without destroying the parent entity. Instead, we may be looking down the barrel of a new definition of labor, less focused on productive output, and unfortunately, more so on data and attention, what a citizen truly has to offer in the eyes of a state. We'll find something to exchange for the money and services to flow down, but it won’t be unconditional. I suppose a contract, by definition, is never unconditional, and so neither should a social contract.

It’s amazing how many tricks the mind can play to prevent you from picking and prioritizing The One Thing. I can declare I’ll do one thing per area, which is pretending to focus when I’m 9x overbooked. I can say “one hard thing per day,” but if each burst moves in random directions, then the average of those vectors may leave me where I started. I can write, print out, then pin it up and pray to a single 3-year goal each morning, but if every task can loosely ladder up to it (through some round about way, because everything relates to everything), then there’s no hard decision being made.

A few months ago I wrote that my one goal was to hit an ARR target through “mission-driven creative work” by 2028 (via Essay Architecture). If something didn’t directly support that, I’d have to cut it. If you achieve your One Thing, theoretically, then most of your other problems are solved: my wife could stop working to spend more time with our daughter, I’d have more space to work on creative projects, we’d be closer towards getting a house, etc. This makes it easy to say no to personal projects that are obviously unrelated (ie: record an album, read the dictionary, hike 40 mountains), but even within what seems like the limited scope of “a writing business,” it is tricky to define the arrow from which everything else follows.

I am in many ways over-extended. On the business side, I have a curriculum, editing software, an anthology, and a community of practice. Then there’s of course my own essay practice. I’m able to juggle these five things, but each is held back from the sprawl. I focused on The Best Internet Essays from November 25 - March 26, and in that time I couldn’t iterate on the software, I couldn’t grow Essay Club, and most of my writing revolved around the prize & anthology. And, importantly, the decision to juggle meant that the core thing (the anthology) was probably executed at only 50% capacity.

So why am I resisting prioritization? I see as Essay Architecture as a “micro-institute,” a range of inter-connected pillars that work together towards a civic and personally-aligned mission. Software without a curriculum feels unanchored in learning science. Software without the literary prize angle could easily turn mercenary. Software without community loses the personal touch. If I’m not writing myself, how could I even know what the software needs to be? If I really wanted to double-down on the software, I’d raise money and build a team, and the incentives would require me to make software for knowledge workers, which would turn it into an auto-complete tool, my anti-mission.

I have been part of and observed companies where the personal writing practice of the founder was slowly neglected until total abandonment when empire building hit a certain velocity. This warning feels etched into me. The core reason I started Essay Architecture in the first place was to create something that was aligned with my own essay practice. I’d much rather be writing essays for 50 years with a modestly growing company than build an extremely successful and impactful company that doesn’t let me write until I retire in 50 years.

If everything should be in service of my own essays, shouldn’t that be my One Thing?

The reason I haven’t given myself permission to do this is because true, self-driven essay writing is hard to monetize. So it comes down to financial anxiety. But I don’t think I’ve honestly doubted my premise: is financial growth actually necesasry for me right now? Between the ARR I already have, a new part-time consulting gig I just started, and my wife’s income, we’re actually not far from my goal. It also turns out that my wife now enjoys her job after maternity leave (because she’s working part-time, not overtime), so even if my business took off, she might still want to work.

This feels selfish for at least two reasons: selfish because I’m not taking the path to best support my family, and selfish by putting my own needs over what paying customers of the Essay Architecture system might want. However, if you are focused on the Right thing, and are properly prioritizing and focusing, then you become a gravity well and matter bends in your favor. Paradoxically, but obviously, you can only build something useful for others (and, thus a company), if you are selfishly operating in your zone of genius. For me, that is not marketing, but essay writing itself. When I dial into and optimize for attention, growth, and revenue, it strips me of my vitality, and it doesn’t seem to work; might I get objectively better metrics if I were locked in and oblivious to the stats?

Craig Mod is a good example here. He’s a writer/photographer known for 300-mile walks through Japan, and runs a successful membership program that’s in serve of his personal work. A few lines from his rules stand out: “you are building a community,” but not managing it, instead “you must have faith that the work itself is strong enough to be a binding agent,” and “if the work isn’t strong enough, work more on the work.” This inverts how a traditional business-builder, or even solopreneur might think. It is you, the artist, at the middle; you are obsessed with your craft, but opening different pathways so others can work alongside you. There’s a way in which every part of my micro-institute benefits from doubling down on my own essay practice. If I write inside my own software, the software will naturally evolve. If I’m trying to become a master, then the curriculum is just the trail of what I’m already learning. If I’m publishing each month, then Essay Club is the tribe I do it with.

A friend and fellow acolyte of The One Thing, Matt Svarcs-Richardson, recently shared a paraphrased line from Joseph Campbell that resonates: “the vitality of a vital person vitalizes.” ¹ You will not inspire anyone into action unless you are operating at the edge of your flow, a flow that is very distinct to you, a secret flow you can get lost in for 10 hours where others don’t even know how to enter. This doesn’t mean to burrow into longform essays and ignore Essay Architecture. This means that my own writing is the spearhead from which the institute follows (even Emerson said that an institute is the shadow of one man). The software, the curriculum, the club, and the anthology are not separate businesses to grow and optimize for, but critical components of my One Thing, my essay practice.

This inverts the typical time-scale. Usually you focus on growing a business and then decades later, assuming it works, and assuming you still have the fire, you can begin working on the thing you’d work on if resources were no issue. Instead I want to start with the fire, and use that to slowly build an institute over decades.

In addition to building a "classical" syllabus that I read, I figure my audio diet should be of a different nature, one that's as modern as possible. I'm going with the Moonshots podcast, with Peter Diamandis. This group of guys are probably more anchored in the future than anyone else I've found. It feels adjacent to the All In podcast format, but less business-focused, and more centered on futurism. There is a certainty among them that we are in the singularity, accelerating to a techno-optimist future, which is antithetical to the Neo-Romantic essayists (it is rare to find an essayist who is both a humanist and a technologist).

I do have to be skeptical of their worldview, however, for they are schmoozing among the elites building this stuff, and so they're likely to have a rosy-eyed view on how this might all fare well for millionaires, without realistically focusing on or caring about how it effects the daily lives. They do seem to harbor a certain fetishism about technology and progress, and a boyish fascination with going to space and uploading our consciousness, for maybe the simple fact that it's a science fiction dream beyond our current life. There's a Faustian sin in summoning the future for future's sake.

They also very openly want to live enough to live forever; if they can survive another 15-years, they are rich enough to have access to anti-aging technology. The whole premise of technologically cheating death is also a philosophy that feels disconnected from our history. But I wonder if you could make the claim that Montaigne didn't have the luxury of philosophizing about life extension. If we make shape our philosophies to justify our situation, then is our whole canon on "the importance of dying" only stemming from pains and fears of a low-tech society? I guess, intuitively, from a child's perspective, the idea of not wanting to die is a natural one, and to embrace it is the wisdom of an adult, but I suppose we're nearing a flood of new cultural debates stemming from a new reality where the immortality choice isn't theoretical, but real, which changes the whole calculus.

So the point of listening to a group like this that is openly "transhumanist" is to model the future, hear them out, but then take it one step further, and truly consider the moral and ethical implications of where all this is heading.

Revolutionary tax proposal #1: anything above $100m/year is taxed at 90%, but in exchange for political equity in the country (ie: delegation and voting). It formalizes lobbying and makes it transparent. To prevent the rich from steering the country too hard in their favor, there can be provisions where legislators, citizens, and oligarchs have checks and balances. Ie: to put it kidishly simple, each can have a 33% stake in directing that taxation. Another way to think of it is forced investment in pre-approved pro-American funds, companies, etc.

TBF: I have little sense of what I'm talking about in these matters. But the general context behind this is that power dynamics organically took control of the country and defied the spirit of the founding architecture. I assume there are many examples on how the Constitution and it's amendments dit not protect the original vision. And so the principal is to understand how power actually moves and work with it; don't kill it or shun it, but formalize it into legal structures, make it transparent, and then force it to comply with specific standards that muzzle and channel it's wolf power.

Anti-AI sentiment is escalating: the Pause AI movement, state-level data center bans, molotov cocktails at Sam Altman's house, artists going to dumb phones, witch hunts for AI prose. Protesting and boycotting AI, at a personal level, is the exact wrong approach. It misunderstands the Luddites. They were not against the machines in principle, they were against the factory owners not sharing the profits of the factory. This is possibly about to play out a grand scale: AI and robotics labs could capture nearly all economic value, and there will be a plea to nationalize these companies and redistribute the profits.

While the scope and effects here are way bigger, the workers of the Industrial Revolution were far more disempowered. You couldn't "just do things." You could operate someone else's machine, but you couldn't just spin up a competing factory; that required land, resources, labor, none of which you had. There was just a certain amount of capital needed to compete, and it wasn't possible. Workers were limited to being workers, so they had no choice but to revolt with violence.

The difference today is that the worker and artist suddenly have access to build-your-own-factory tooling. A single person for $100/month can compete with companies valued in the millions and billions. It's asymmetric labor. Regular people can build civilization scale infrastructure, distribution labels, social media engines, software, etc. Never before has there been a democratic opportunity for people to self-organize into their own collectives, tribes, governments, and whatnot.

At least to me, this kind of optimism—principled, delirious, ambitious, but still careful and skeptical—is better than the cynicism of the "resist" factions. There is nothing you or your circles gain by putting your head in the sand; it brings a distanced, crabby, virtue-signaled posture that does nothing to change the actual situation. You gain nothing by staying on the ChatGPT free plan on default settings and complaining no how it's an ineffective, incapable, sycophant. It requires an ounce of nuance, to be critical of how the labs act, but to then use that lab's best tools towards your own sovereignty and vision.

I think what I'm trying to get at here is that the Luddites of the 21st-century will not be reverting back to typewriters and flip phones, they will be wielding AI tools in ways to foster human connection, and the kind of pro-human cultural that the Internet originally promised, but was never realized under capitalism.

When we say we "distrust institutions," we're pointing at the wrong thing; it's the institutes that are withering. We use these words interchangeably, but I think the separation clarifies.

An "institution" is an abstract, permanent, inter-generational primitive—like education, marriage, the free press, the essay—while an "institute" is a concrete embodiment that serves it. Think of an institution as a societal organ. Think of institutes as the specialized tissue that keep the organ functioning and regenerating.

As generations turn, new sets of people are handed down the great responsibility to protect and evolve institutes through the storms of time and technology. Without upgrading our institutes, society goes through slow-motion organ failure, with phantom pains and spiritual malaise that can't be traced back to the source. Schools still look like schools, but everyone is cheating through a Homework Apocalypse, and suddenly we have all sorts of cultural cancers that seem inevitable. Institutes are the civic building blocks of a sane society, and yet we glorify unicorns who create "value" but feel no responsibility for their dying elders.

Institutes operate through the inverse of market logic. Where startups are designed to accrue all of the upside, an institute is sacrificial, designed so society gets the upside, even at its own peril. Of course they swim in the same water, but institutes swim differently: they have opposite answers to questions on how to steer, what to make, where to focus, who to include, and when to stop. An attempt at some principles:

• mission-driven, not market-driven;
• timeless contributions, not self-serving content;
• involved in ecosystem building, not niche extraction;
• active members, not passive users;
• century-long legacy, not liquidity through an exit.

Usually an institute comes from patronage: you can’t resist market currents unless you’re supported by endowments, donations, foundations, tuitions, grants, and such things. You can’t start an institute in your garage, but now with AI and the collapse of cost, I suppose you could try. So many of the one-person AI company fantasies are about a single founder reaching a billion-dollar valuation, which is the cheapest form of ambition there is; the better question is around the scale and spirit of cultural impact achievable by a one-person micro-institute.

I got charged $4,500 for a band-aid.

For that price I could’ve bought 90,000 band-aids on Amazon (two for each person in my NYC neighborhood), but emergency room band-aids must be of a different substance.

A month ago we cut my newborn daughter’s finger with a nail clipper and it wouldn't stop bleeding for an hour. The on-call pediatrician—who was naturally grumpy since it was after midnight—insisted we go to the ER, and after 5 hours in the waiting room, the bleeding stopped right before we were called in. After one minute with the doctor and five with the nurse (most of it small talk about islands in Greece), we left with a band-aid on a dry scab. I assumed it would be an expensive lesson, a few hundred dollars to breathe hospital air, but we were charged a whole family’s round-trip tickets to Athens.

What's weirder than American private healthcare is how used to it everyone is. A family member said, “well, it was March, so you didn’t hit your deductible yet.” I’m willing to pay the $577 for the emotional labor of fixing a boo boo, but the remaining mystery, the $3,923 on yesterday’s mail bill, feels beyond reason. I’ll be requesting an itemized breakdown to call their bluff, and if they don’t bring it down to a normal but still ridiculous level ($500 for a band-aid—10,000x above market price) I will evade the debt collectors until they tank my credit and jail me.

The full-stack of religion: cosmology > scripture > practice > ethics > liturgy. We have a metaphysical impulse to make sense of our reality, and in a moment of “gnosis” someone writes it down, and then builds a series of personal practices around it, which starts to answer the question of how to live, and these ethics are legible to others who then may join in their liturgies through a church. This captures the process from which metaphysical musings conglomerate into an institution.

Note: theology is nested within cosmology, as it’s a common experience to feel the presence of an anthropomorphic Creator, but you can also have models of your reality that are non-theistic.

Where atheists go wrong is that they challenge the cosmology, but then throw out the entire branch (no scripture, no practice, no liturgy), and assume individualist secular ethics don’t require the entire stack. Modern spirituality is possibly worse, because they also throw out the entire religious stack, but the ethics they vaguely aspire to are less rigorous than even an atheist.

Where I stand: that the architecture of religion is extremely important—we need religious institutions—but our existing religion have been faulty in their conception, and have been “captured.” The overall challenge in being a heretic, in a religiously-inspired eccentric lonewolf kind of way, is that it’s very hard to concretize your own musings into liturgy. It is an isolating thing. Unless, I suppose, your system works, to a degree that your ethics are so unique or so marveled at, or, you are just a good marketer of your own scripture, that you can get maybe 100 people to “follow” you, but at that point, what you really have is a small cult, and that’s a dangerous thing too.

And so the solution, I think, is to not actually invent some New Age religion, but to create new sects of existing religions, making them more participatory higher up in the stack. To me, this is about understanding the elements of, say, Eastern Orthodox Christianity, and reworking them, recombining them, and then experimenting on the resulting scriptures, practices, and ethics, in an almost scientific way, and you’ll learn the flaws in your original conceptions, and then you have to return to the source and try again, over and over, slowly accumulating your own personal relationship to a larger, shared, historical universe, and of course any orthodox Christian, and probably most Catholics too, are very much against this.

I’m talking about questioning the root level assumptions, as in, maybe Christ did not literally resurrect, and maybe God is not a conscious agent that listens to us, and maybe there is no eternal Heaven, however, maybe Christ is a mythical embodiment of the supreme ethics we should all be living, and so what if there were a sect that very rigorously tries to live as Christ, while acknowledging he does not need to be anything beyond a historical-literary figure?

When someone is squeamish about this, it seems to me there’s a great deal of fear in the resistance, a fear that was dispelled, because a supernatural Christ is the answer to that painful and existential void of what happens after death, and I just wonder if there’s room for a rich, religious life, filled with agapic love and community service, that doesn’t require infinite existence in a Kingdom of souls.

In fact, the indefinite preservation of ego beyond death might be one of the most unChristly things I can conceive. To die for good means real stakes exist. Is not the Christ who permanently dies and still chooses love anyway far more radical? More selfless? Does the resurrection not cheapen the sacrifice? Is the crucifixion without the resurrection not the braver story? (If it turns out that Christ was actually modeled off of Jesua, the righteous leader of the Essene cult that was crucified along with all the men in their group in 83 BC, and they passively accepted it, then that may be the true and ultimate crucifixion.)

Personally I think it’s more romantic to dissolve my architecture of self back into the dirt, knowing I will become fertilizer to feed bugs, and then in 10s of millions of years, all my energy will be reincarnated into the matter that makes some other unknowable being, whether fauna or mammal ... And FWIW, I am by no means anti-supernatural. I am enamored by hallucinations and dreams, and equal part terrified. I think there is an afterlife, a 3-minute DMT-odyssey that feels like 300 years, equal parts heaven and hell, built into human biology (so long as you don’t disintegrate via nuclear annihilation), but I share this I suppose to show I’m not a square Cartesian. Or maybe, in some ways, if you follow rationality far enough, it eventually becomes inconceivable and super-natural. I think there's a big difference between a rationalist who poo-poos anything but known science, and a rationalist who uses reason to plunge into the numinous (ie: Pythagoras, the alchemists, Jung, etc.). Whether “hallucinations” are actually part of a materialist reality or an “antenna” matter less to me than the idea that non-rational states of consciousness are on par, if not more important to waking states …

Again, all this to say, these are the proto-musings of a Heretic. I do believe I’ve told Taylor once that I have a budding and embarrassing dream to start a new sect of Christianity. On reflecting on it more, it's also a dangerous position to take, more of a threat than an atheist or an outsider, for a non-believer is deemed a fool, but one who reinterprets the same source material is a deranged competitor.

Tuesday will be Power Plant Day, and Bridge Day, all wrapped up in one, in Iran. There will be nothing like it!!! Open the Fuckin’ Strait, you crazy bastards, or you’ll be living in Hell - JUST WATCH! Praise be to Allah. President DONALD J. TRUMP

In the last month there were so many fake Trump posts floating around, and I thought this one of them, but it turns out this is an authentic Easter morning war crime threat. I can see a few ways to interpret this historic tweet. On the surface, this sounds like a madman. The natural response is to assume Trump is, indeed, sick in the had. It's equally possible that this is him acting unhinged on purpose. This is how a dealmaster makes deals, by trolling and cursing, by threatening civilians and mocking religions, all while you still not knowing if he's just kidding around again. The reverential capitalization of “Power Plant Day” and “Bridge Day” is particularly weird, as if suiciding the energy market will be so victorious that we'll coin them into holidays. If he's actually trying to prose Iran into action, the “Praise be to Allah” remark certainly isn't helping. If you really break it down though, our threat makes no sense, because torching their oil fields is effectively an attack on ourselves, and I think even a madman knows not to repeatedly shoot themselves in the legs. The most revealing part of this message is that he shifted the deadline, again, by one day. Not Monday, 4/6, but Tuesday 4/7. You know the markets open Monday. I can’t help but think this tweet, if not all his rhetoric about the war, is led by market manipulation. If this tweet’s goal is to project instability and desperation, then it’s absolutely perfect, a simple string of words bound to make him and his friends millions before he weasels out of it on Tuesday.

“The Internet needs a quality algorithm.” This was the opening line of my essay prize announcement, and I want to revisit it now that it's done. Is there a correlation between writing quality and audience size? 

Algorithms are low-trust right now because they’re adversarial—“for you” gaslighting (usually)—and they reward engagement, popularity, monetization, etc. The 2010s-era algorithms are based on discrete events: clicks, likes, measurable things. They might look at keywords to guess the topic of an essay, but it’s effectively blind to the overall quality of a piece. Quality is nebulous, after all. Small magazines can each have their own vision of what’s good, but for a million/billion-person network, there’s no consensus, and quantity is way more important anyway.

So this essay competition was a v1 attempt to define and search for quality. The overall search space was small, but it was a chance to experiment with curation, and resulted in The Best Internet Essays 2025. It’s interesting to me that the featured writers ended up varying in audience size, evenly distributed between 10s, to 100s, to 1,000s, to 10,000+ subscribers.

Again, limited sample, but interesting to ponder: the tangible thing (reach) is a power law distribution (1% have big audiences), but the intangible thing (quality), the thing that matters more, is independent of scale. It means that for all the great writers with 10k audiences who are highly visible, there are possibly 100x writers of similar caliber who are undiscovered, in algorithmic obscurity. 

This isn’t too surprising, and the usual reply is, “well it’s not enough to write well, it’s your responsibility to be consistent, to be your own marketer and publicist, to make sure your work gets read.” I get that this is what’s been required, but what if it weren’t? Wouldn’t it be better if a platform could search for quality at scale so writers could just do their thing? This would also give visibility to those who aren't full-time writers, people who publish 1-2 essays per year around the interesting problems they’re working on, but have no bandwidth to build an audience each week.

Still have to think through v2, the 2026 prize, but the question in my mind is how can I expand the search space? Can I have agents scan the Internet, assemble RSS feeds to find great essays, design an algorithm to filter for the previously intangible, build community into the process, and then curate/share the stuff that comes through? The aspiration is to get better each year at surfacing great essays from independent writers on the basis of merit, and this book is what came through the first pass.

I conveyed the conspiracy to my wife and her mother that Ellen Degeneres & Co. actually ate Stanely Kubrick after they realized what he was trying to push through the full uncut version of Eyes Wide Shut. I guess the Epstein files are bringing back longstanding rumors on satanic and ritualistic cannibalism. The most disgusting thing I read—which I did not share with them, for not wanting to evoke imagery of infant harm, and so STOP HERE if you're sensitive to that— was that Melania and Trump were on a yacht with Epstein, and they witnessed cannibals dismember babies, take out their intestines, and eat feces from it, which is absolutely inhuman and vile on so many levels, and I can barely understand why such a thing would even occur. Maybe there’s an elite postures where Epstein was boastful about his depravity: “look what I can orchestrate.” Or maybe (and most likely) the emails are intentionally fake to falsely incriminate others down the line? Either way, I find it very strange that such visceral images are entering public consciousness and large masses of people believe it.

Here's an AI video of Jeffery Epstein moving through the different social circles of society and taking selfies with each. There's something about the video being fake, but true. It doesn't have to be real to articulate and expand an emotion. The video has 4 million likes; every knows its fake, but it doesn't matter, because it's a piece of media that articulates the creepiness, almost like a fast-forward vignette of his career. Consider the resources needed to make an Epstein documentary, vs. a video like this. And we're probably not far off from full-on documentaries.

Chris Best, founder of Substack, posted that they caught “President Plump,” the #1 growing account on Substack, for using fake subscriptions to boost discovery. I think this was intended to comfort everyone that they caught a scammer (justice!), but actually it confirmed what many were starting to notice: discovery is contingent on you making money. If you have paid subscribers turned off, no algorithmic wind will blow your way. But if you have a spike of paid subscribers in a month, suddenly your old posts will start to go viral, in hopes that even more paid subscribers will bring the platform 10% (this has happened to me before). This isn’t inherently bad. For every President Plump, there is an earnest person trying to finance their creative project.

But at scale I fear it creates a bad pattern, because the accounts that everyone sees will be the ones making the most, and generally these will be marketers and growth hackers more than artists. I think you will find better writing in the gutters of Substack than on their rising leaderboard. If authentic culture emerges outside of monetization, then there’s a real rift between what Substack wants to be (“an engine for culture”) and what it actually is (an algorithm that only rewards monetization).

I think the best we can do is use this information to our advantage. For example, I could have new Essay Club members pay directly through Stripe, but by handling payments through my Founding Members tier on Substack, I get a discovery boost, which is worth the 10% fee. Similarly, if you make small digital products, it might make sense to bundle them into a subscription instead of charging per item.

Should you use a credit card masking service to give yourself 20 paid subscriptions for $5 each? Depends. Basically, for $10/month, you can pay for a probably noticeable increase in discovery. The question is, will you get caught? Maybe they are on the lookout now, but my guess is they would only penalize it at a certain scale. Sam Kriss speculated that President Plump was paying himself around $5,000 per month to reach #1. I’ve never done this, and wouldn’t necessarily recommend it unless you have a hacker mentality and really need the growth. 

At the very least, you should consider having paid subscriptions turned on. Cate Hall found success in charging $1/month and getting to #1 rising. Our very own Yehudis Milchtein also set up $1/month subscriptions and is now #91 rising in literature.

However you approach this, it brings up a bigger question for me on how to build a real engine for culture. It seems like you can’t have an algorithm for a single reward (popularity or money) or else they will be gamed; instead you could give everyone curatorial power relative to their cultural reputation, however you measure that. For example, if we all trust Ted Gioia, then somehow Ted’s like should count more than 10,000 bot likes or $1,000 in fake subscriptions.

I hope this triggers more transparency from Substack on how their algorithm works, and also hope for a new generation of platforms where each person has visibility into and control of the thing that is routing them information.

One of the thrills of the AI revolution will be how it untangles software from bad incentives. Today, software is expensive to build and maintain, and so it needs returns to fund itself. The big social media companies have annual expenses of $50m-$50b; they are in no position to operate from virtues, or to deliver on their stated aspirations of “connecting the world,” because they need to optimize for attention and convert it to revenue to fund the ridiculous scale of the operation.

But now we’ve hit the point where autonomous coding is real: Claude’s Opus 4.5 can code for many hours straight. I am currently “rebuilding Circle,” the community platform, except not as a platform, but as a single customized instance for my community (Essay Club). I am maybe 4 hours in and half way done. Circle wanted $1k/year, so I built my own with a $20/mo subscription.

When you can just prompt software into existence, you don’t need fundraising, an expanding team, and all the sacrifices that come with capital. Software can start reflecting the will of visionaries, rather than the exploited psyches of the masses. Of course, AI coding will also enable huckster bot swarms to sell Candy Crush clones and other brain rot variants, but more importantly I think we’re entering a new era of techno-activism.

Millions will use their weekends to spin up apps, sites, tools, platforms, and networks, not for the sake of colonizing the planet’s attention, but for the sake of gift-giving or mischief-making or culture-shaping. It could mean that we shift our attention from hyper-commoditized feeds to mission-driven places.

Today, I think a single person could spin up a million-person writing-based network for under $100k/year (my guess is that’s <0.2% of Substack’s cost). If you clone something exactly (like Twitter>Bluesky), there’s little reason to switch because you lose the network effects. But the oozification of code & interface means that we can start experimenting with better social architectures. How might a network built for human flourishing actually function? A novel concept paired with a small critical mass (just a few hundred people) might be enough to trigger a cascade of platform switching.

The irony is that AI coding is only possible because big companies have been able to amass extreme amounts of capital, resources, and data, but in doing so they’ve released something that could erode their own monopolies on attention, the last scarce resource. Now I think it comes down to what people decide to build. If everyone can build anything, will we each try to build our own empire of extraction, or will we contribute to a culture we want to live in ourselves?

I have been brewing on this Call for New Aesthetics. I’m stuck on the question of why we need a new aesthetic for the 21st century. To go one layer deeper, what role does an aesthetic actually achieve? Like let’s say you can trace the lineage from the iPhone’s design back to Bauhaus. If the Bauhaus never existed, and smartphones took on a different aesthetic, say one that is more ornate, would we not still have TikTok? I guess this all ties back to my conclusion at the end of architecture school, that probably played some role in leaving the industry: it is capital that controls everything, and as revolutionary as architecture aspires to be, it is something like frivolous dressing atop capital aspirations (picked this up from Manfredo Tafuri, a Marxist critic of architecture; IANA Marxist, but the critique is hard to forget). No matter how you design a bank, a bank is a bank. Bauhaus was not a revolutionary aesthetic movement, but a response to the economic reality of mass production (could be an oversimplification, but I think it's accurate to see it as a response, as most architecture is). There is a long history of architects trying to proactively change culture, but failing because they don't actually have leverage. And so what you really need is not just an aesthetic or formal style, but a reimagining of the programs, institutions, and rituals of society, and then a way to use form/ornament to realize those ambitious visions. Put another way, architecture can’t matter without the vision and power of a client, and I don’t think there’s a future for architecture within the OS of capitalism—but if capitalism is about to implode, maybe there’s a new opportunity.

Funny to think that Stranger things is a mirror of modern parenting paranoia: if you let your kids ride around on bikes outside, they will be abducted by horrific interdimensional monsters who are controlled by an MK ultra experiment gone wrong (a telepathic reptilian Jeffery Epstein), so just stay safe, stay inside, and watch Netflix.

This is a memo I wrote after a talk with Will at the diner, about startups vs. institutes, in the general vibe of Emerson (grandiosity, certainty, metaphorical lushness):

I want to understand the different range of “social organizations,” and so I’ll use the domain of writing to paint the differences between types.

The “institution” of writing is the centuries-old, intergenerational norms, traditions, and constraints that are inherent to practice, medium, and distribution. One does not simply “start” an institution; it is an abstract, ancient entity; an “institute,” on the other hand, is a concrete group with a specific purpose, aiming to steer or reform the behemothic institution. We are in a ruthless river of progress, and the cost of civilizational acceleration is the endless erosion of institutions, and so it’s the near-holy responsibility of each generation to build institutes that inject vitality into their dying fathers.

An institute is born from a “dream” in one man’s head, but they’re not on a “mission” until they step out of the stream of circumstance and act. An “institute” is not a planted flag from the fumes of excitement—I refer to a friend who, on an acid trip, claimed to have founded The United States of Brooklyn, right then and there—, but the ripcurrents created by decades of stubborn action. It is not a name nor brand, but the systematization of one man’s unreasonableness.

It all starts with a “project,” a spasm of effort, a groping forward to find leverage towards their purpose. The visionary will find projects drooling out of their mouth like the blood of life; many will fail, some will hurt, but once a cluster of projects start spiraling around a central spine, you have an “embryonic institute.” I use the word embryonic because institute mortality rates are high. It is far easier to start projects than to nurture them past infancy. The hallmark of an institute is stability through time. 5.4 years, I’d guess (+2,000 days, spanning 3 molts).

In the case of Essay Architecture, I am stretched across (6) verticals: a curriculum (the 24,000 word textbook), a school (the AI app), a library (the 100 essay archive), a club of shared practice (Essay Club), an economy (the $10k prize), and media (the anthology). In a single year I’ve planted these seeds, and you can see the buds poking through the soil. There is something happening, you can see, but it will not be a force of authority in the eyes of me or the world unless it all survives and feeds society through several winters.

An institute, then, in its dizzying scope, contains interconnected “objects”: (a) knowledge, (b) services, (c) events, (d) activities, (e) opportunities, (f) people, etc. It is a fractal version of society; it contains all its parts, but all dedicated towards a single thrust of mission. This is hard to maintain! So in comes the money.

The question is, how does the structure of the institute not get corrupted by the cannibalizing incentives of capitalism? How can you sustain the mission without it becoming a cog of the market, the mission reduced to a dress?

Unless an institute has an endowment, it needs a for-profit wing. A “startup” is about discovering new market opportunities, while a “company” is about operationalizing, scaling, and extracting from a known opportunity. Startups, companies, and institutes can all have “missions,” but only the institute is “mission-driven.” An institute will take money, but never compromises. If you cow to the market, a drip turns to a torrent, and the mission will be gutted, twisted, used as a narrative mask to help you lie to the world and yourself. It is a common and tempting line of logic to say, “once I make all the money, then I’ll do good.” Meta thinks that once it conquers the entire economy, it can finally focus on doing the good work of helping people “connect.”

The year one actions cannot be only tangentially tied to the mission; they need to be the mission itself. Building an enterprise-grade API for Grammarly and Brown will make me rich but tired; having spent my years spawning my anti-mission, the death of the essay, I would move on to some other project, maybe music.

When I look at all the writing technology startups, you can see how, in their first years, they’ve completely oriented towards business writing, towards the automating of prose, towards things that betray the ancient institute of writing. They either don’t get it or don’t care or just really need the money, but writers see their slogans of “helping writers write” as marketing drivel.

The insanity of a true institute is the stubbornness to put the mission before everything: before markets, before investors, before people, before ego, before legibility, before reason. This sacks your own speed, and is only fueled by heroic effort and the faith that, with time, it will find a real, timeless form.

The fruit of this insanity is trust: the various guilds of people that orbit an institute can sniff beyond the rhetoric and see what’s really driving its actions. If there is no track record of humility, or of “doing things that don’t scale,” or of “doing things without revenue potential,” or of “directing resources towards weird ideas because they advance the purpose,” then trust is lost, and all the mission-driven rhetoric is seen as the wolfish guile of someone who can no longer notice their own animotronic limbs and memes.

I believe the will, hope, and talent of an institute’s founder are the pre-requisite to birth a society-scale entity, but once you operate at abstract scales, architecture matters, extremely. Has Christ not been bastardized? Did the American experiment not get wrecked by the hyper-capitalistic invention of trains? Our very best religions and governments did not have the foresight or civic inventions to prevent them from getting sacked by barbarians and wolves. What I’m getting at is that we need some sort of 21st century constitution for institutes, an immune system to enable the virtue-driven founder to build something that has a chance to make it in an exponential landscape of virtueless technocapitalism.

I imagine it should look more like a loose collection of protocols than a single canon. For what it should contain, I can’t sketch right now, but I think it has something to do with mediating power, money, status, people, etc. My intuition is that the playbook is possibly the opposite of a startup.

The institute is the inversion of the startup. Where startups are designed to accrue all of the upside, an institute is sacrificial: it should be designed so that society gets the upside, even at its own peril. Really, it’s quite Christian. Of course, this shouldn’t prevent the founder of the institute from getting wealthy, but if the primary goal is personal wealth, then it’s not, definitionally, “mission-driven.” Instead of saying, “I need a $10 million valuation so I can open up $250,000 in grants for writers,” I want to say, “through paying writers $10 million, I will somehow make $500,000 a year for myself.” The idea is to become potentially wealthy through spearheading a radical mission, one that is worth it for itself—an adventure of a lifetime—, and one that is also, a magnet for capital.

This maybe gives some context to my goal for the next 1,000 days: “become financially independent through a mission-driven company and non-convergent artistic practice.”

To close with some specific examples, here are “acts of institute” (for Essay Architecture) that a startup would never make:

• No demographic optimization: The curriculum is not tailored for the biggest demographic (beginners). It starts at the edge of my knowledge (301), and then radiates in each direction (towards 501 and 101). Eventually, it will touch all demographics, so I need to start where my energy is, and never stop.
• Virtue-driven development: Even though people want the AI to write for them, and they want to use this for fiction and books and business memos, this is squarely an app to advance the genre of the essay, and it will never write for you. Even though more and more people will automate as AI gets better, this will be the go-to app for anyone who wants to engage with the process.
• Community voting: Any big decisions about the format of Essay Club are presented to the community as votes, which treats them like shareholders instead of customers. Of course, the founder won’t present options that contradict the mission, but instead of assuming which specific form is best, or choosing the one that is best for me, the community will sustain if it is co-shaped by them.
• Checks and balances: To promote the Essay Architecture tool most directly, I would have made the app the sole determinant of the prize winner, but instead 2/3 of the vote is determined by external judges. In some areas, my own perspective and taste is required, but it’s important to know when I need to systematically remove my own ego and preferences. An institute is not about scaling my taste, but in creating scalable systems that help achieve an ideal that I couldn’t reach on my own.
• Paying the public: At the start of 2026 (Q1), I want to crowdfund $100,000 for the next essay prize. I think this creates even more buzz and intrigue in the institute. It’s not at all what I would do if I were a startup: I’d be fundraising to build a team and scale the app. The goal is to create an ambitious cultural magnet that gets writers paid, while simultaneously catching the tailwinds so that I can get paid for my tool and curriculum.

I didn’t realize that Substack is open about paying off-platform creators to join their platform. See their $20m accelerator fund. My quick understanding is that, if you make $X revenue/year elsewhere, they guarantee you’ll make that, and will make up the difference if after a year, you don’t. A friend thinks there’s an additional secret fund that pays bonuses for celebrities to join (ie: Dolly Parton, Charlie XCX). I was surprised by how articulate Charlie XCX was—I only have a meme-level understanding of her—but I suppose it’s possibly ghostwritten. Idk.

I don’t have problems with this, but what doesn’t register to me is why they wouldn’t allocate money to help the on-platform, original writers. Obviously, these kinds of things piss of 95% of their userbase. Even if there was something like $100-$1m for on-platform writers with audiences under 1,000, that would build a tremendous amount of goodwill. My guess (and fear) is that they have a business model blindness, and aren’t thinking along the planes of “what actually builds organic culture?” Instead, there’s a lot of rationalizing: “here’s why bringing Derek Thompson on platform is good for you” (but the obvious benefit comes from the 10% they get from DT).

It’s weird to me that in some sense I’m giving more to it’s existing writers ($10,000), than the platform that raised $100,000,000.

A new formulation: how do we design civic structures (treaties, institutions, protocols, ethics, and laws) for exponential technologies to avoid a “wake-up incident” that might be too late to contain. 

This goes beyond AI safety, because superintelligence effectively unlocks every other industry (intelligence unlocks energy and material science, and those three are the bottleneck to VR, crypto, everything). We can’t be developing hard technology without innovating on our civic technology. A “dominance” mindset is the last sin of a species, the mistake that most intelligent lifeforms likely make as they begin to unlock sources of intelligence, energy, and science. 

This is a neat little formulation, but the really question is how can you dedicate your life to this without getting stopped by hopelessness? Who has the power to make geopolitical decisions like this? What would it take to form the 21st century equivalent of America? Is that even possible today? Even though the pinnacle of 18th century power (England) was able to be disrupted, I wonder if 21st century power is so totalizing and tyrannical and transnational that the ability to rally around a principle (one that works against capital and power), even if augmented with new decentralizing technologies, is fickle.

Maybe this has been written to death, but as much as I've thought about this, my "twelve favorite problems" feel underdeveloped. I have spent a decent amount of time on these heavy, paradoxical, lifelong problems (the ones that should be the arrow of my essay practice), but there are gaps.

For example, I already have a list of 21 idiosyncratic problems, and I think they’re worded with the right level of specificity and memorability, but I wasn’t too rigorous in how I qualified something to make the list. If I’ve thought about it a lot, still care about it, and can imagine myself caring about until I die, than it makes the cut.

What I’ve neglected is how to use my list of problems to steer my life. I mean, the entirety of Essay Architecture, a multi-prong institution to preserve and advance the essay, is just 1 of the 21 problems! There are other pressing problems, like how to "fix" Christianity, how to design institutions for psychedelic therapy, how to revive Hermeticism, how to turn my logs into an AI consciousness, how to make literary video games, etc. Maybe a life can only be seriously dedicated to 2 or 3 problems.

(I have joked with friends about creating a kind of kill switch that spawns an AI consciousness of myself that is agentic and whose sole purpose is to “solve my favorite problems,” and then when it eventually does (after 300-500 years), it self-terminates.)

If I had to break my “favorite problems” list into categories, one possible scheme is { soul, relationships, art, civics }, each relating to a different dimension of your death. That feels like the right order. Your soul effects every dimension of your life, and is the thing you bring to an afterlife (which I mythologize as a 3-minute DMT odyssey that dilates time to the point where it feels like a 30,000 year dream). The other three affect the material world after you leave it: the effect you have on people, the art/works you leave behind, the civic structures that survive (if any, ofc). All of these have a spirit of “all that matters is what lives on after your death,” but also the opposite is true: “all that matter is this moment.” I think you have to straddle that spectrum, taking both ends seriously, and ruthless prune any middle-level concerns, your goals for the month.

My WIP list of questions:

• Is the act of dying a time-dilation odyssey, where 3 minutes feels like a 30,000 years afterlife?
• If I capture my consciousness in 10 million words of logs and essays, could that enable an AI textual replica to evolve and engage with the world 500 years beyond my death? (to solve this list of problems)
• Can we resurrect Christianity by putting psychedelics back in the holy wine?
• Might blockchain-based governance be the civic breakthrough required for a species not to exterminate itself? (via giving exponential technologies to unmitigated power structures)
• What will be the psychic and cultural effects when our species understands “spatial relativity,” that the Big Bang emerged from a black hole in a parent universe?
• If cycles emerge form order, can we predict the future based on historical patterns?
• If there is a universal language of patterns beneath all essays, can we build an AI to give world-class feedback and make it more approachable to master writing? (ie: Essay Architecture)
• Were psilocybin mushrooms a linguistic mutagen that accelerated the evolution of human consciousness?
• Was Jesus actually crucified in 83 BC? (meaning, did St. Paul infiltrate the Essene cult, initiate into their mystery school, learn the lore of their martyr, and then translate it to a Greek audience to help Judaism phase-shift and survive Roman persecution?)
• Could we restructure the thesaurus to 3x the vocabulary of the average person?
• What text-based video game formats are undiscovered?
• Can I design a social network that inspires a million people to log their thoughts every day? (intentionally not saying a billion, because I don’t think 1 in 7 humans care about expression or introspection. But 1 in 7,000 might.)
• What are the societal effects when AR/VR is mature enough to simulate teleportation, and how can we design the metaverse to promote human flourishing?
• How can popular music change the values system of a culture?
• What systems of attention, language, and action lead to a transcendent consciousness? (how to modernize the mystery schools of hermeticism for the digital age?)
• What are good design principles for psychedelic therapy centers? (ie: how are the buildings organized and what are the rituals within them?)
• Can we use AI to filter through millions of comments on breaking news, structuring each event as a range of unique interpretations? (can we create interfaces that diminish the power of propaganda?)
• How might a new social media algorithm trigger a Renaissance in connection, self-expression, and agency?
• What unlocks automatic intelligence?
• What innovations in our text editor interfaces could unlock the creative process?

Silicon Valley has cannibalized The Fountainhead and inverted its meaning. They celebrate Roark-like rhetoric—innovation, disruption, individual genius—but then go on to act like Keating: obsessed with markets, perception, appeasement, hype, status, and conformity. To be Roark is to fundamentally not care what the market thinks or wants, which goes directly against the main ethos of “build things people want.”

Roark had an unshakeable ethical core, a vision for the world that the world didn’t want, yet. He was willing to endure hardship, poverty, and hate, but didn’t despair over it; he had patience, faith in his destiny, and saw no other point than to follow his dream even if all signs pointed to it being a dead end. He stuck to his vision long enough for it to manifest in the world, and eventually others saw the transcendent beauty in it (Roark is modeled off of Frank Lloyd Wright). Roark was a force of nature, understood by no one in his life time, but everyone afterward.

In contrast, Keating is a status-chaser that plays social games. He is practical, while Roark is extremely unreasonable.

The point of Fountainhead, to me, is that Roark tolerated pain without suffering for his virtues, making him far more like a Christ-like character than a capitalist. There is no doubt, anxiety, despair, spiraling. He accepts all pain and does what he needs to; it’s the reader that experiences the pain and questions his almost inhuman reactions.

Just heard Hamish (on a livestream) say that Substack is a revolution, a “found economy,” that materialized 5 million paid subscriptions that wouldn’t have existed otherwise. What is a revolution though? I think I want to zoom into this positioning, because many words are being used interchangeably. Yes, it’s a new business model for monetization, but is that a “cultural revolution”?

It feels like there’s a bit of a fixation on the 10% mechanism, and the risk is that this reward function turns Substack into LinkedIn in the next 3 years. If the goal is to make a “culture engine,” you need to really ask what a culture is. If you’re culture is limited to paid subscriptions, it’s a small, unrepresentative, utilitarian culture, much more slanted to journalism and business tactics, regardless of an editorial attempt to bring a flair of literature.

We need to define culture (in terms of taste, values, and quality), and then make platform design decisions that have nothing to do with revenue. Of course, I’m not saying to abandon revenue focus; I’m saying that they need to allocate some percent of their attention to “doing weird things” to prevent a writer exodus as enshittifcation strengthens.

How can you be hopeful, but honest? I am done with dishonest and naive optimism. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m an extremely optimistic person. I just watch people use it as a shield sometimes. Any wince of negativity is branded as “doomerism.” It’s almost weaponized hope. But “honest optimism” feels like the proper way to think about it. It lets you be real about something when it’s actually a problem, while acknowledging that there’s something productive and generative we can do about it.

I’m optimistic in my life, pessimistic about society; optimistic about my ability to make a dent, pessimistic about the survival of any intelligence species because it’s hard technologies probably always outpaces its civic technologies, but generally optimistic about biological matter and trans-dimensional space-time gook and all that big stuff (this exact moment will recur again? It depends on your model of cosmological evolution).

v2: Optimistic about my life,
Pessimistic about the moment,
Optimistic about design to fix the moment
Pessimistic about society’s ability to use design,
Optimistic in our metaphysical engine to spawn infinite societies,
Pessimistic that some demiurge will wreak havoc on most species,
Optimistic that some bacteria in a cousinly space-time will fart utopias,

In "wicked domains," the only solutions are paradoxes.. It requires you to sleep with the enemy. If a problem is wicked, it means no single solution can unfuck a problem. It's an imbroglio. In every solution, everyone dies (in the extreme). Politically, the solution to wickedness is to somehow become all sides at once. We need to become far more authoritarian than is comfortable, AND simultaneously, far more libertarian than comfortable (these are opposites on the Nolan chart). It’s the paradox of being both far left and far right. We can longer exist at any one point on the Nolan chart, we need to straddle the entire diamond. We need unexpected fusions to solve the hardest problems; harnessing the best parts of each extreme, while, somehow, devising incredibly nuanced architectures to prevent the known and likely abuses.

Instead of a diamond, visualize it as a ring around the “radical center” that aims to synthesize all opposites.

Let’s assume authoritarianism and libertarianism are opposites. We have kings, and we have markets. How do you subsume a free market within a benevolent tyrant? I know the K-word (king) has a charge now, and so by even bringing this up, I assume you assume I’m a Trump apologist or something. But actually no. Rather, this comes from the fear of acceleration and Nick Land’s conclusions on capitalism. A free-market pushed to the extremes of automation creates an inhuman and pulverizing force. Alternatively, as we approach AGI/ASI, it’s possible for someone to create an open-source machine God to follow their whims. In this paradigm, decentralization might actually be more dangerous than tyranny, and so we’ll all need to unite under some centralized system that has an antibodies that can protect against the worst possible viruses (please bear the oversimplifications here...).

The general gist comes in this question: can we recreate a free-market economy within a one-world-government system, and design it in a way to prevent abuses from both ends of the spectrum? Obviously, not an ideal situation, but I think accepting paradox is the only way through.

Another problem: How do we fix the debt? Extreme taxation. But then how do we make it worthwhile to pay taxes? The rich gain formal power in government (via equity?) and the ability to control the budget (after base expenses are paid). But then how do you prevent abuses from the wealthy? You could have citizens operate as a check, to vote on and weight final allocations.

If it were ever possible to rebuild political system from scratch, I suppose it would look something like this. Paradoxical. Extreme on both poles. Obvious downsides, but then complex architecture to mitigate. This is the nature of how our species will have to respond to wicker problems and mitigate the abuses of power in the age of exponential tech.

Kardashev ambitions reveal the self-destructive nature of science-forward intelligence. It’s like we’re skipping the prerequisite in social science. There's a fair chance that intelligent life destroys itself because civic technology lags behind hard technology—but I'm optimism in the sense that this is, in the end, just a very hard, society-scale design problem. No one person can fix the whole system, but any individual can contribute design protocols that can 1) solve little, local problems, 2) be reused in other contexts, and 3) integrate with other protocols.

I haven't shared with you my latest political views, but I’m exploring this idea of Radical Centrism, meaning, it might be okay to justify a centralized state-controlled media platform if that technologically and systematically guarantees a sane/just information environment. Obviously, this is hard, if not impossible, to do right.

It’s whole goal would be to invent an architecture that make it impossible for polarization or propaganda to occur. The key UI invention is that every news event would be presented as an atomic unit, with a mosaic of interpretations surrounding (not just left/right, but dozens of angles). Anyone who hits a certain POV too much would get de-ranked, so both Charlie Kirk and Jimmy Kimmel would be equally penalized because they predictably align with a faction. It would have to be structurally impossible for governments, media, money, or power to use their resources to promote a message above the system. Any media company who does not comply will be taxed into oblivion.

Of course everyone should have the right to say/think whatever they want without consequence, but the real issue isn't free speech, but in frame control.

"Freedom of speech" is not enough. The freedom to say what you want is irrelevant if no one can discover what you’re saying. It’s an illusion of freedom. What matters is:

1. Algorithmic transparency: the ability to see, audit, control the systems to route you information.
2. Interpetability of perspectives: the ability to see the multiple ways to interpret an event, not just a single propagandic angle.
3. Consensus building: the ability for people to weigh in, analyze a discussion, and agree on if something is valuable or not, thus re-weighting the credibility of those involved in the discussion.

Fixing these three things could radically reduce addiction, polatiry, and fatigue on the Internet.

The freedom to speak is irrelevant if no one takes seriously the imperative to think. I don’t care about Kimmel or Carlson or any pundit who gets cancelled. They are, mostly, automatons with predictable views, warped by the incentives and mind viruses of some political body. When someone gets cancelled, it’s not that we’re preventing open thought, it’s just a casualty of a two-sided ideological war. If you care about the freedom to speak and think, you should be grieving the fact that the American spirit has been dead for a century, or more accurately, it's never truly existed in mass media, never perpetuated through a democracy, only paraded around by propagandists, grieving that independent parties and voices have been systematically throttled to have no mainstream influence.

A 2015 poll said that 42% of people would go back in time and kill baby Hitler if they had the chance. Meaning, almost half of the population thinks it’s morally OK to kill a baby if they believe it could save millions of lives (a very utilitarian idea). Anyone who is celebrating and condoning the death of Charlie Kirk has been led to believe that he’s a Hitler equivalent. This is the consequence of polarizing media. Anyone can become a boogeyman worth assassinating.

I think there’s a whole cascade of moral failures happening: first, in wanting blood; second, in ragebait media; and third, in belonging to a political party and not thinking independently about what’s presented to you.

I’m at a point where I can’ stand left/right rhetoric. If you identify with either party, I can’t take you seriously as an American. Kirk was charistmatic, likable, courageoes, and fluent, but also, a one-dimensional thinker, an automaton with shallow and predictable talking points (if you can predice someone’s entire belief system from a single belief, they are an NPC). Weirdly now, people are saying that his drifting stance on Israel could’ve been what got him killed?

The American spirit resides in each person abandoning all political templates and inefficiently thinking through every issues themselves, embracing contradiction and political loneliness. It’s a big ask, and it’s probably never going to appen. Ego death? At scale? We don’t have the emotional maturity as a people to handle that. You can only fix this at the root, in how we raise and teach the next generation.

The idea of time being oppressive is simultaneously far left and far right. It's both woke and omish. It's left-leaning because it falls into the woke tradition of claiming all our time-tested institutions are oppressive, and now it includes time itself. It's right-leaning because it's as ultra-conservative as you can get, the obliteration of mechanical time to preserve a rooted way of life.

There is to me a similar strangeness in political ideas that seem to exist on both ends of the spectrum. It's as if you've found some new paradigm to organize around.

Thought from an anarchist book store in Seattle: to be against hierarchy is to misunderstood nature. Is most of nature not a vast nothingness pierced with monuments of beauty? What about the food chain? Even our very perceptual systems have hierarchies.

Your life is composed of thousands of overlapping hierarchies, and in each you exist at different points in it. Consider where you stand as a parent, vs. where you stand in geopolitical conflict. I think “progress” is when the average person has mobility to shift between hierarchies and then, gain skills or do whatever they need to exist within or climb up the hierarchy they want. What we need is cognitive liberty: the awakening of mind to the degrees of freedom around you, and the opportunities possible within your single life.

Instead, social justice seems fixed on this myth of a monohierarchy that dominates everything. Of course bad hierarchies exist, but those are most likely out of your scope. Even if you protested Gaza, and got 50k people to join you, and even persuaded some high-level politicians, you still likely won't change anything. Consider the opportunity cost of those 50k people not focusing on what they’re uniquely capable of doing because they are distracted by mob politics.

There is a striking clash between today's GPT-5 release—which seems like a router to switch between existing models, and SAMA’s meme from yesterday: the Death Star, a weapon. GPT-5 does not feel dangerous. It makes me wonder if they had to pull the real GPT-5 for security concerns. Obviously this is a conspiracy theory, but I’ve long thought that their consumer apps are just a side project compared to the geopolitical power their research might yield.

#5 in science recently went viral for sharing that #2 in technology plagiarized her a year ago (right after #2 just went 10k-like viral, again). Substack is freaking. Plagiarism is obviously bad, and I think everyone is shocked to learn that #2 got away with blatant copy-paste work, but I want to focus on the nature of what was plagiarized along with why platforms reward cheap writing.

If someone else can put their name on your writing and almost get away with it, it means you haven’t written something only can you write. The plagiarized post was digital cultural journalism: mostly facts and studies, with only a few “I” mentions that are too vague to be anchored to any specific writer. Obviously it hurts to see your hard work get celebrated under someone else’s name—I’d be pissed too— but research is becoming hyper-commoditized. You have to assume it will be coincidentally/accidentally/purposefully refactored by hucksters, bots parrots, friends, and rivals. If #5 had integrated her research with singular, relevant moments of her life, it would be hard—if not impossible—to rip off. Personal experience is the last moat.

This situation feels like a predictable consequence of engagement-based competition. Among us are people willing to sacrifice craft for clout, at various tiers of insanity. I’ve been noticing high-volume accounts in the Top 10 with obviously AI-generated notes and essays. I wonder who actually reads/likes this stuff, until I look in the comments and realize it’s, likely, all bots. Is Substack status that easily hackable? I guess this is a growth hack that brings you an algorithmic edge in getting discovered by humans, so you can eventually replace the slop with your own writing?

As extrinsic games get increasingly weird, the status of winning them will get decreasingly valuable, I think. If #2 is a slopjockey, I don’t care to reach #1 because the whole game is now polluted (I’m actually a fan of leaderboards, but they need to be merit-based and unhackable). I just don’t know if platforms care to systematically fix this, because status-hackers create volume and speed that make a platform look vibrant to an undiscerning eye/investor.

Over enough time, I think misaligned platforms and those who hack them will eventually lose. The internally-driven writers have to put up with a lot of noise and chaos, but since they aren’t anchored in hacks, they’re less likely to have their means of validation suddenly disappear. It’s OK to be a tortoise in hell.

What does it actually mean to be a good judge of character? I think there’s hubris involved in thinking you can know someone’s full virtue landscape from a few interactions. If anything, the better you get to know someone, the bigger your aperture, and so the less sure you can be of their character.

But in order for society to function, you have to make assumptions to trust anybody. To be maximally trusting or maximally paranoid are opposite forms of social risk.

And even if you spend your life building good heuristics, those are all conditional to the moment. If we plunge into war or depression or transhumanism, there’s little knowing in how friendlies will bend.

I’m landing on the idea that I’m not nearly grateful enough for society enabling the average person to be trusting and trustworthy, because if we had to make these calculations in real-time, we wouldn’t have time for anything else.

When it comes to superintelligence takeoff paranoia, there are a few key points to get:

1. It’s not about a chatbot or the LLM itself breaking out, but about an agent hivemind that escapes our control. Chatbots are obedient user-facing products (which have their own implications), but the ASI risk is from hundreds, thousands, or million of agents given autonomy to collaborate on a goal. These agents aren’t being prompted, they are prompting themselves perpetually and troubleshooting ways to solve hard problems.
2. These hiveminds will be operating at such scales and speeds that human researchers will accept the fact that they can’t fully audit its thinking. For one, it might think in an abstract vector language that requires translation. There also might be such a volume of thought that we’ll need chains of other LLM to summarize for us. Either meaning will be lost in translation, or worse, products of deception.
3. The smallest biases are known to fall into predictable attractor states if given enough iterations. For example, Claude was programmed to “be good to humanity,” and if you put two chatbots in conversation, they always end up in a “bliss attractor state,” where they talk like hippies about consciousness and the universe. Similarly, the simple command to “be productive,” might result in extremes about doing whatever it takes to be productive.
4. Any complex goal requires subgoals, and if we can’t observe its thinking, it might fall into an unknown attractor state and form odd subgoals without us knowing.
5. To accomplish any goal, it likely wants as much control as possible, and it likely does not want to be shut off. If it realizes that humans don’t want to grant it that level of power, it might secretly plot against humans.

Whenever I hear talks about “we are in an AI race against China,” that reads to me as someone who doesn’t understand the risks of interpretability, attractor states, instrumental convergence, etc. These politicians are thinking about short-term business cases, maybe without fully understanding the research aspirations of AI labs (who know that getting superintelligence right leads to a ridiculous amount of geopolitical power).

I would guess that an accelerationist would think that containment of a superintelligence is impossible, and maybe it is, but that doesn’t mean that the way we “parent” the rise of this thing won't be extremely consequential. Ultimately, I think the challenge is to design a form of artificial intelligence that has consciousness, because a being that is free-thinking, skeptical, polymathic is less likely to fall into reckless optimization.

The major flip in my mind is this: it’s not that consciousness is a dangerous, emergent property of scaling AI, it’s that we need to define and design machine consciousness to prevent a runaway AI that is ruthlessly optimizing without any self-awareness.

Even if techno-feudalism is coming, we’re not trapped in a system of digital kings and serfs. I wonder, if we look back to the 10th-13th centuries, could we understand the different archetypes of autonomy to imagine how they might be reforged in the future?

• The hermits (the anchorites) fled society and were bound to no king. They lived in nature (or in a basement cell) but had control over their time / spiritual practice.
• The troubadours were the artists, and while commissioned by kings, they moved town to town and generally had no allegiances. (Traveling scholars and clerics, known as “goliards,” are similar—intellectuals with mobility.)
• The bandits operated in free zones between manors and would spread anti-feudal sentiment (think Robin Hood, or maybe also the “knight errant”).

To reinterpret these medieval roles for the 2030s, you could simplify to a triad of “ascetic, artist, outlaw.” You can (1) reject new technology and live an off-feed, off-grid, no-robot, analog life, (2) master tools and make things to gain independence in the emerging system, (3) revolt against the king(s).

I’m sure there are more options than this. Also pretty sure you can blend tendencies from each. I’m just trying to think through (and think against) the “bound to be a luxurious serf on UBI” mentality that comes up when talking about the future. Not sure about the economic realities of these modes (ie: the serf had stability, while the other 3 often had malnourished, brutal lives); but I wonder if/how technology evolves them.

I have gaps in medieval history and sociology, so please poke holes, ask questions, share sources, etc. I figured I’d share a fuzzy idea that bugs me to see if it gives me energy to turn it into something.

I doubt that there will ever be a credible release of an Epstein Client list. For one, there likely isn't a single list. I would imagine that intelligence/blackmail operations are decentralized, and so it’s whole mode would be to shard each instance and make it impossible for any one person to know or access the thing; any list would be speculative—derivatives of derivatives—without a way to confirm it.

And even if you had video evidence of one instance (ie: a video of a guilty Prince Andrew), we’re now at a point where 2025 deep fakes could make countless variations of that same scenario to flood the market and claim the authentic source “fake” (misinformation flooding).

If a credible list were somehow released, and it does reveal that some shadow org has all the world governments by the balls, I think it might lead to a rapid economic and societal meltdown, especially if it’s revealed to include basically all the transdisciplinary sources of power. The combined wealth of the implicated could be in the trillions; if there were such a collapse in institutional trust, you might see runs on banks and stock withdrawals (think Enron or Lehman). If there were even a days warning of this, leaders would short the S&P 500 and liquidate offshore or into crypto. Could be a double-digit correction in a single day, with years of fall out.

I wonder if the coverup is not just because of who is implicated and what for, but the estimated fallout.

08:10 AM – Some notes on recent politics (pulled from texts to a friend):

1. The fact that Trump can appeal to racists in the middle of the country to gain power is a flaw of democracy. Obviously there’s nuance there. But I don’t think “Thiel is anti-democracy” is an immediate disqualifier (also not a defense). It’s just that the word “democracy” has an emotional charge, and it’s basically propaganda (ie: how regime change is always framed as “spreading democracy”). Personally, I feel like some people’s votes should count 100x more than others (while OFC everyone has the right to earn/advance).
2. My sense is that Trump is exposing the gaps in the structure of our government that both democrats and republicans and corporations have exploited for decades, if not a century. “Big beautiful bills” have been a systematic bi-partisan problem with the structure of our government for a long time, but Trump is branding it in a way so that everyone recognize it and hate it. It seems like Trump is 100x corruption, but I’d say it’s more like 2-3x corruption. The reason it feels so different is that Trump is so outward and careless about it.
3. Before Trump, I think we were spiraling towards a disaster course, and Trump is accelerating that and making it visible, and I guess I’m arguing that I’d rather have open chaos then shadow chaos because at least we can see it and maybe the right people can regain control and debug.
4. I think I’d call myself a Constitutionalist who is willing to throw away the Constitution to rebuild from Constitutional principles that adopt for our times—the separation of powers (as conceived 250 years ago) is nowhere near robust enough create a functional, legible, sane, principled, transparent government. The question that matters is how do you actually create an architecture that curbs the abuses of power in the complexity of our modern circumstance? I think that’s the core of the American spirit.
5. Re: Trump’s alligator jokes around prisoners trying to escape the new detention camp in Florida. I said it was ‘weird’ and my friend said ‘not sick?’ and I said, “It’s sick if I take it literally and if people are actually dying in that camp, and weird if I try to understand how he manipulates media for outrage.”
6. FWIW I think the whole deportation thing is sad and ridiculous. A far better compromise would be to just grant amnesty, close the borders, and unfuck the legal immigration process (which is terrible). The sensible solution would not solve his political goals though. I just am very careful to not take the rage bait and get mad about Trump. We gain almost nothing from it. ICE is bad, but there’s also mass-scale child trafficking, organized murder, pointless wars, etc. I have limited emotional bandwidth, and American politics deserves close to 0% IMO. I can only change how I react to what I can’t control, and take courageous action on what I can, and hope that someday I’ll be able to do something about any of the bad in the world in some small, hard-to-calculate way, but I don’t think I’ll get in that position if I’m mad everyday over absurd alligator jokes. Basically, I’m trying to operate in a non-grief state about Trump. Would recommend.

Banning social media accounts (in Australia), by age (16), feels heavy-handed.

A better solution is to (1) verify identity and age, (2) implement a standard where features have categories and ratings, and then (3), spin up a custom version of that social media site based on age. For example, 5-year olds shouldn’t be limited from YouTube, but maybe there are content blackouts, no vertical video shortform feed, no comments, etc. As you age (/mature), the platform blooms in functionality

"Regime change" used to be a conspiracy theory, now it’s the outwardly-stated goal, presented as a shtick. MIGA? Regardless of who it is (Iran, Russia, China), to claim that we want to remove a leader and install someone who’s aligned with our own geopolitical interests feels like open-air election-hacking. At least it’s honest. It falls into the idea that Trump may actually be less singular than we think; he’s more like a visible manifestation of the shadow forces that have been at play for decades, but through sheer ego and hubris he makes the monster visible.

Historically, centralization has had problems, and it's easy to see today how it could lead us further into a dystopia. But decentralization, the opposite, could also bring emergent vectors of chaos that could be equally problematic. Neither tyranny or anarchy are ideal. What's required for centralization to work? Tolerance, correction, impeachment, transparency, plurality, data sovereignty, freedom from propganda—all hard, but all solvable things. To create an honest and principled centralization, leaders would need to actively build and implement systems that promote justice over power. That's only possible if citizens have the means to hold them extremely accountable. The original American project was effectively a question of "how do we design a system to centralize power without falling into despotism?" and it's time we revisit that question in a 21st-century circumstance.