michael-dean-k/

Aristotle’s virtues are structured as the mean between two vices; “temperance” is the mean between indifference and indulgence; “courage” the mean between “cowardice” and “recklessness.”

I’ve been working out a system of virtues where paradox is the organizing element. It’s not about finding the mean of a spectrum, but about simultaneously straddling two opposites, two ends of a spectrum. But the spectrum here doesn’t run vice-to-vice—you wouldn’t want to be cowardly and reckless—, it covers two opposite modes of thinking: right brain, left brain.

Right brain virtues are about embodied presence, where left brain virtues are about abstracted principles. Both matter, and if I lean towards one mode or the other, I find myself untuned, either scrambling through passion, or strangled by structure. The solution isn’t to shift from order to chaos or chaos to order, but to be maximally orderly and maximally chaotic.

Kairos is about being aware of a moment and boldly taking it (it’s a military term) where agape is about unconditional love (a Jesus term), and so when I repeat the prayer “Καιρὸν θεωρῶ, ἀγάπην σπερῶ,” it’s a paradox embedded in a single phrase: “I recognize the moment, and will bestow love as a gift.”

I haven’t mapped the other virtues into sayings yet, but there is the spontaneous, generative, and wild ecstasy (ékstasis) paired with a prudent and monk-like systemization of everything, logos. There is the serene inner stillness, the now without thought, hesychia (ἡσυχία) paired with the striving towards your destiny, your purpose, your final end, your telos. There is the immersion into the inner dream-world of images, fantasia (φαντασία) paired with the builder mentality to order and craft your environment to shape your mind, cosmesis (κόσμησις).

Now that I write this, I see the difference between cosmos and cosmesis. Cosmos is an abstract, left-brained noun, the order of matter, it's physical configuration; cosmesis is the embodied, right-brained verb, the participatory act of ordering matter yourself (ie: making your bed, shaping your government, designing your church). It's important for all of these virtues to be verb words, because they are not static nouns, but actions to take. In that spirit, I should change logos to logismos, telos to teleiosis, and agape to apagan.

This is turning into a pattern language of virtue, and though there are many differences with the Essay Architecture pattern language—it’s made of spectrums and not triads—there are similarities too: each virtue telescopes into more sub-virtues, virtues are interlinked, they all combine to create a nameless quality. I think only through making many types of pattern languages, across different fields, will I be able to understand the different constraints and components of any system: the patterns of pattern languages.

I like the word experimental because it fuses two halves of a process we don't usually link. What we typically mean is divergence, deviance, tinkering, norm-breaking. Weird stuff. Think avant-garde John Cage soundscapes where he makes music with only kitchen appliances. But also, the word points directly to the scientific process: to run an experiment means to set boundaries, gather insights, and test a hypothesis. Either mode alone falls short. Endless mutations burn you out, and rigid systems can't take you anywhere interesting.

Many of the original experimental artists were scientific. Kandinsky didn't just make abstract shapes, he developed a systematic theory on how colors/geometry provoked specific feelings, and then at the Bauhaus he used questionnaires to test which of his theories were true. I don't know exactly when this happened, but as weird works became mainstream, the word shifted from a process to a genre; the way it was made mattered less than the fact that it was unusual.

Experimental drifted into a contronym, a single word that contains opposite meanings. The power in the word comes when you re-unite both halves, entering strange territory with an analytical eye.

I've always thought 'writing shows you what you think and editing helps you change your mind'—and maybe that’s a decent heuristic—but it’s more complicated than that. I think it’s possible for writing to do the opposite of what we hope, to lead to self-deception. A few thoughts on how:

1. Premature convergence: When you start drafting, you unlock a new stream of thoughts, but once you find a new center of gravity (a potential thesis), it’s common for all further thoughts to reinforce the thing you happened to stumble on, regardless of its substance. Beyond a point, writing can ossify & lock you into a frame.

2. Aesthetic attachment: Once you’re trying to make a ‘good’ essay around your thesis, it’s easy to become enamored by phrases, sentences, images, and sources. Expression (vibes/voice) is an entirely different thing than thinking. You can dress up a static/wrong thought to be beautiful/persuasive.

3. The sunk cost fallacy: after you spend hours on an essay and share it, it’s likely that you’ll continue to believe it. If you’re wrong, you’ll have ‘wasted’ that time. If you change your mind, your readers will have an outdated model of you (OFC, views evolve over time, but I wonder if publishing leads to short-term friction in your evolution).

One possible way around this is to, as soon as you think you found your thesis, to rigorously consider and explore the antithesis (not as a rhetorical strawman, but to really, earnestly, consider the opposite). It means a given draft will be scatter-brained and contradictory, but it’s how you find a synthesis, a more refined thesis. And once you find that, you start over, and repeat, until you end up somewhere that is far more nuanced, interesting, and weird than where you started.

The thing I’m grasping at is that thinking & expression are often at odds, and before you commit to an idea worth expressing, you need to go through rounds of unglamorous self-interrogation. There is probably a mode where thinking _is_expression, but the risk is not wanting to shed something that is elegantly said. One way through this it to get meta and explicitly express your doubt and your evolving POV; I think this is what separates essays from articles and propaganda, and it stops you from brainwashing yourself.

You cannot be serious without a jester.

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.

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.

My core value is contradiction, for there’s no other trait that leads to freer-thinking. If you are so stable in your beliefs, you run on auto-pilot. But if you are a Christian atheist, a Luddite technologist, a scrappy perfectionist, or any other kind of walking-paradox, a legless man, then you really have some explaining to do. In resolving the conditions between the two true but opposite things you harbor in one body, you think to make sense, and write to speak truth. This is where you find the work that matters. 

Why am I so inspired by the reckless and irresponsible Neal Cassady? It will take me years to find that out, if ever, but in that pursuit I invent some value system that is uniquely my own. This sort of embrace is, by the way, brand suicide. Your consumers are slow to update their mental model of you, and in the high-speed pizza counters of the Internet there is only small talk and one identity per person. To write for a niche, to stay on brand, to hit the same message, to do the things required for you to dominate the soul-gutting mediasphere is to mistake banal desperation for your alien soul. Do not trade oneiromancy for efficiency. Do not have one mind across all essays, let alone in one essay.

I’m fascinated with the idea of being an “atheistic Christian.” It’s a paradox, and this stance makes you ideologically homeless. A Christian would likely say, “well if you don’t believe in God, and that Christ is His son, then you’re not Christian.” They will not accept you. An atheist who scoffs at God has no respect for esoteric ritual, talks of destiny, Christ worship, etc. and so they will deem you a loon.

Mainstream religions package everything together—theology, mysticism, history, ritual, etc.—and you have to subscribe to the whole ecosystem. In that way, Christianity is like Apple. I think a person is more engaged with religious ideas if they’re skeptical and free-thinking within each branch, while still operating within and respecting a traditional faith.

I’ve heard some people say “God is whatever you want it to be, it’s your relation to Him.” I don’t find that useful. I’d say that I’m actually more a theist than atheist, but theism comes with certain assumptions—God as an omnipotent, omniscient, benevolent “agent”—where as I’d say God is the entire arena and therefore not conscious, though still baked with intelligence.

My fuzzy notion: it’s not that God has a kingdom of heaven, but God is the kingdom of heaven, but also unfortunately, this kingdom isn’t some place your soul goes to; I think two things happen at death: (1) you lose your individuality and biologically merge back into the arena, fueling other evolutionary processes over millions of years, and (2) the monent of death is an experience of time dilation that, experientially, feels like a rather Christian afterlife, and also demands proper ethics in our waking life).

"Conditional identity" is the idea that the self is a construction of nested if statements. You can’t accurately describes yourself through a series of variables (“I am kind, fearful, Orthodox, etc.”). Every attribute depends on circumstance. If X, I do this, but if Y I do that. Maybe this sounds obvious, but when you take this seriously, you realize that you behold opposing beliefs that can’t possibly go together. When you embody conditional identity, it’s impossible to be “open-minded” without realizing that you are also its inversion, depending on context.

I wonder if the main bug in the human OS is that there are psychological and sociological incentives to define yourself through variables instead of functions.

You save glucose by automating your thinking. The process of self-discovery requires you to retarget your CPU to optimize its own code (instead of processing incoming tasks with cached CSS). It requires a real-time awareness to re-evaluate your identity logic in every new contexts. It’s tiring, but it’s rewarding.

Socially, it’s hard to have tribal meme wars with conditional identity. If you say, “typically I believe in X, Y, Z, however if A is big enough problem, that I will consider L, M, N, O, P, but if that crosses a threshold D%, then I’ll default to F until it collapses,” it’s much harder for the pack to know whether to welcome or kill you. To fill in these variables, that might look something like “typically I’m libertarian, but if shadow power conglomerates, I’m open to a transparent authoritarianism so long as it’s deployed on a public blockchain.” That is a salad of contradictions unless you really dig into it. It takes far less bandwidth to process “I”m a Democrat,” or “I’m a Christian,” but while cached thinking is convenient, it severs you from reality, and from the solutions needed for complex problems.

On the Internet, everyone judges you through split-second impressions, and there’s no time for them to work through your nuanced takes. You have a choice: to be understood as a false idol, or to be misunderstood as your true self. While there are ways to turn yourself into a 64-bit self without feeling too phony, I think the real lasting work comes from knowing yourself, which means being okay living in realms of paradox, ambiguity, and burdensome complexity.

I think the key reframe here is to not see the uncertainty of conditional identity as a source of fear, paralysis, and alienation, but as the only place where you sit at the edge of becoming.

Regardless of which side you're on, I don’t think one-sided pleas will work anymore. You can’t just say “here are 7 solid points on Trump’s insane corruption.” A flurry of comments will come in, “but what about DOGE?”

Communication is impossible when bias is baked in, unless you immediately identify how a POV is in a unique position. Such as: “what if corruption exposers are in a position to shield their own corruption?” It frames the question in a way that DOGE is doing good work, and yet also, perpetrating the same thing it’s exposing.

Only by immediately identifying with your opponent (both with who they favor & how they critique), will you be able to slide in a nuanced, synthesized point of view that can help them around their bias.

Relatedly, I think there’s a lot of spin/distortion around RFK/republicans. Of course, Elon/Trump are doing the same (or worse) media distortions. That’s just the environment we're in. Both extremes are wrong (American golden age vs. devastating coup). I’d say overall though, there are more good than bad things happening, and RFK is (potentially) one of the good things.

Reality is more like a paradox than a simple narrative.

For example: Elon can simultaneously be a hero for American democracy (on par with George Washington) and the worst dictator ever. I have to assume both can be true. The second you cling to either/or, your vision gets clouded to make sense of all future information.

By clinging to either, I get a false optimism or a false doomerism — both of which are definitely wrong. The reality is somewhere in the middle, and so by stretching across the spectrum, I have a worldview that’s likely more attuned to reality than either side.