Tag: Highlight

Open worldviews: Against the degradation of humanity

Reading | Cognitive Science

Matt Colborn, PhD | 2025-06-27

April 2025: in a Guardian article, progressive writers Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor described a strange mutation in the belief systems of some previously secular Silicon Valley elites [1]. This was of interest because I’d devoted a chapter to critiquing the extreme materialism of Silicon Valley in my book, What Lies Beyond: Consciousness, Science, the Paranormal, and the Post-Material Future (Essentia Books, 2025). According to Douglas Rushkoff, Silicon Valley style materialism is founded on the “mechanomorphic” belief that reality is “computational,” that “everything is data” and that “humans are processors” [2]. The strange mutation was the sudden conversion of several of the Silicon Valley elite from “mechanomorphic” materialism to fundamentalist, end-times Christianity.

This mutation might seem difficult to explain. On the face of it, pivoting from fundamentalist materialism to fundamentalist Christianity makes little sense. Later on I will argue that such a shift in fact makes a great deal of sense, although it is not the main problem. The main problem is with what Karl Marx called ruling ideas—that is, ideas held by elites and supported by large cultural institutions [3]; specifically, with ideas that offer a justificatory framework for the actions of those elites. Both “mechanomorphic” materialism and end-times Christianity arguably supply just such justificatory frameworks for the world-shaping ambitions of Silicon Valley.

In this essay, I will (1) argue that these particular ruling ideas present a highly impoverished vision of humanity; that they in fact represent a degradation of humanity for essentially instrumental purposes. In response, I will (2) propose what I will call open worldviews. Open worldviews can potentially counter this degradation by honouring the wider spectrum of human experience, including those that suggest post-materialist views of reality. In the context of a global ‘polycrisis’ that may possibly lead to climate-induced collapse, open worldviews offer a potentially powerful counter to dangerous and monopolistic ruling ideas.

The politics of materialism

Materialism has always had a political dimension. The liberal dimension of this was described by Theodore Roszak [4]. Roszak pointed out that initially a ‘materialist’ explanation simply meant an explanation that did not require God. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries materialist explanations were used to challenge ecclesiastical power, and especially the power of the Catholic Church. This was necessary because the Catholic Church played a large role in affirming the divine right of kings, which gave monarchs unquestioned power. Materialism therefore became associated with ‘left-wing’ and, later, liberal thought.

In the twentieth century materialism and a philosophy called logical positivism came to be seen as a defence against “fascist hysteria” [5]. A key proponent of this perspective was Bertrand Russell. In his 1903 essay A Free Man’s Worship, he insisted that hard-line materialism was the only reasonable worldview in the light of current scientific knowledge. The implication was that to be a liberal humanist was also necessarily to be a scientific materialist.

In the twenty-first century, the claim that science and materialism are synonymous has become an integral part of the liberal defence against religious fundamentalism and fascism. In a book defending evolution, biologist Jerry Coyne insisted that naturalistic materialism was the only possible metaphysic for science [6]. Materialist perspectives on consciousness have also been actively used as counterbalances to right-wing new age ‘alternative’ views that reject materialism. One example: the hosts of the progressive Conspirituality podcast explicitly state their support for materialist views of consciousness.[7] This stance informs their extended critique of internet wellness ‘gurus,’ who claim to embrace transcendent consciousness or, more recently, fundamentalist Christianity. It seems difficult to ignore the political utility of such a stance.

Silicon Valley’s iterations of materialism have been of a different order. They are not obviously linked to a progressive or ‘left wing’ political perspective. Rather, they seem yolked to extreme free-market economics of a particular kind, and more recently overt technofascism [8]. Rushkoff called the central philosophy ‘the Mindset’ [9]. The ‘Mindset’ is based on “staunchly atheistic and materialistic scientism” and “a faith in technology to solve problems” [10]. ‘The Mindset’ is ruthlessly extractive. It exists for the purpose of accumulating technological power and wealth. It appropriates science, or a veneer of science, for its own ends.

The Mindset basically exists as a justification for the accumulation of vast quantities of money and power. Staunch materialism helps with this because a world of ‘fields and forces,’ where consciousness is an epiphenomenon and values are ‘only’ subjective, can easily be interpreted as amoral. In an amoral world, potentially anything goes. Such a worldview is not a million miles from the philosophy of the Marquis de Sade [11]. This is the shadow side of materialism and demonstrates its use as a ruling idea. A worldview like the Mindset justifies actions that, in other contexts, might be seen as immoral or even monstrous.

Two interchangeable fundamentalisms?

This essentially utilitarian use of materialism might help explain the transience of Silicon Valley beliefs. Worldviews might be adopted for expedience and not factual truth. What matters is whether your chosen worldview enables your actions. One could argue that, in the current political climate, end times Christianity has become more convenient than materialism.

However, I do not believe that things are quite so simple. I think that the ease with which some have converted is an indication that these seemingly opposed philosophies in fact share some basic principles. This is because the hard-line materialism of Silicon Valley is also an end-times philosophy. This is made explicit by Rushkoff’s other term for the Mindset: ‘Silicon Valley escapism.’ This ‘escape’ means leaving a trashed planet behind for a high-tech future either in outer space or within virtual worlds. The technological singularity, an item of faith for many in Silicon Valley, has even been termed ‘the Rapture of the Nerds.’

So the common denominator of end times Christianity and “mechanomorphic” materialism is an apocalyptic belief structure. This belief structure is that the end of (this) world is coming and that most people will perish, except for a special elite of chosen people. Such apocalypticism is thousands of years old and possibly has its origins in ancient Iranian Zoroastrianism [12]. The historian Norman Cohn traced its spread through the Middle East and its influence on Judaism and Christianity in the ancient and medieval worlds. Apocalypticism also influenced ostensibly secular, twentieth century totalitarian movements like Nazism and Communism [13].

In this respect, the belief systems are interchangeable. This was confirmed by the strange experience of writer Meghan O’Gieblyn [14]. O’Gieblyn lost her faith in evangelical Christianity, dropping out of Bible school, but in 2006 embraced transhumanism as an alternative. After a plunge down a metaphysical rabbit hole, she came to see that, although she had disavowed Christianity, she had “spent the past 10 years hopelessly trying to re-create its visions by dreaming about our post-biological future,” which she dubbed “a modern pantomime of redemption.” O’Gieblyn’s experience underlines the common underlying structures of both belief systems.

Cohn saw millenarian movements as very dangerous and potentially genocidal. But there is another problem. Fundamentalist materialism and fundamentalist Christianity both present highly impoverished views of humanity. Within both worldviews, humans stop being autonomous, conscious agents with free will and instead become puppets in a cosmological drama that ends either in an ‘inevitable’ technological singularity or the ‘inevitable’ second coming of Christ. Either way, most of us are damned.

So there exist solid reasons to oppose these apocalyptic and fascist belief systems. For most, such worlds become closed, stifling, vicious and oppressive. Progressive writers like Klein and Taylor describe such belief systems as “genocidal at [their] core and treasonous to the wonder and beauty of this world.” I would concur with this assessment but need to point out a problem with the opposition.

Open worldviews in an open society

The problem is the common assumption that ‘liberal humanist’ must equal ‘scientific materialist,’ and that this association exists as a necessary defence against “fascist hysteria.” Is such a link really as inevitable as Bertrand Russell seemed to think? One challenge to this claim is the association of hard-line materialism with fascism. Another is the potential evolution of post-materialist worldviews within science itself. Yet another is the existence of viable visions of the world that are both non-materialist and naturally opposed to far-right end-times fascism. Indigenous traditions might stand as an example. In short: the ‘humanistic progressive equals scientific materialist’ equation seems questionable and needs revision.

In 1945 the philosopher Karl Popper published his book The Open Society and Its Enemies. This was essentially a defence of liberal, open societies that defended the freedom and autonomy of individuals against totalitarianism. In the spirit of Popper’s work, I would like to suggest the concept of open worldviews. An open worldview is one that is pluralistic, encompassing, open to critique and modification, and open to empirical refutation. In other words, it is something like an ideal ‘scientific’ worldview. But it would also go beyond.

There are a number of possible elements to an open worldview. One might be attention to the full spectrum of human experience. Taking a cue from William James’ radical empiricism, it would take experience as the ultimate reality, as opposed to theoretical hidden or transcendent realities beyond experience [15]. I would also draw from Iain McGilchrist’s arguments for reclaiming intuition and imagination, as well as ‘science’ and ‘reason,’ as pathways to truth [16]. These elements might act as counters to the closed worlds of fundamentalist religion, scientism or totalitarian politics.

In addition, an open worldview would need to include what has been called post-normal science. Essentially, this involves integrating other ways of knowing as well as positivistic science. Pablo Servigne, Raphaël Stevens and Gauthier Chappelle offer some valuable insights into post-normal science in the light of the unfolding polycrisis and possible climate-induced societal collapse. They emphasise the importance of breaking out from “established ways of thinking” and opening up “new horizons” [17]. This includes a fresh consideration of things like intuition, as well as indigenous psychologies and knowledge systems. Post-normal science is pluralistic, open to diverse ways of seeing the world and diverse modes of existence, all of which seem to me essential counters to totalist worldviews that insist that they are the One True Reality.

The post-materialist element?

Allied to this is the strong sense of a need to move to post-materialist worldviews. The theoretical, philosophical case for this has been provided in a number of recent works. Thomas Nagel’s 2012 Mind and Cosmos rightly points out the limitations of what he calls the materialist, neo-Darwinian conception of reality. Nagel suggested that it was highly unlikely that we are anywhere near an ultimate understanding of reality and that it is quite possible that we do not even currently have the conceptual tools for an understanding. This means that the materialist, neo-Darwinian conception of reality, which has been pushed so hard as a counter to fundamentalist religion, is likely itself false.

Other thinkers have offered strong reasons for moving to a scientifically viable, post-materialist vision of reality. I would point to Bernardo Kastrup’s Analytic Idealism in a Nutshell, Federico Faggin’s Irreducible and Iain McGilchrist’s The Matter with Things as offering solid theoretical foundations for such a worldview-shift. Ed Kelly et al.’s books Irreducible Mind and Consciousness Unbound attempt to provide an empirical justification for a similar move from materialist to post-materialist views of consciousness.

But Nagel’s central point—that we are unlikely to be anywhere close to a final understanding of the cosmos—for me means that any vision of the world that we adopt must be highly tentative, open to revision and open to alternatives. Such openness seems to me a better counter to fascist, fundamentalist, totalitarian thought than insisting on dogmatic forms of materialism.

The problem of meaning

There is a further, essential element to ‘open worldviews’ that I think is necessary to counter the virulence of the new apocalypticism. In The Free Man’s Worship, Bertrand Russell wrote that realistic, post-religious philosophies could be built “only on the firm foundation of unyielding despair” at the transience of human life in a vast, ancient and hostile universe that was bound to perish in heat-death [18].

I am not going to deny that Russell’s assessment has an element of truth when a human life is considered on cosmological scales. From an astronomical, distancing perspective, human life can indeed appear as a mote in infinity. However, I would say that an insistence on “unyielding despair” has never been a selling point for the promotors of any form of liberal humanism that is yolked to hard-line scientific materialism.

This could, in the current social, cultural and political moment of resurgent fundamentalisms, be a real problem. In an essay entitled ‘Beliefs,’ Aldous Huxley suggested that the philosophies of meaninglessness that flourished after World War I became the soil in which totalitarianism eventually flourished. This was because human beings, having abandoned traditional religion, did not stop thirsting for meaning in their lives. This meaning, no longer inherent in the universe, was sought in “the hard, ferocious philosophies of nationalistic and revolutionary idolatory” [19].

Huxley’s description has uncanny echoes today. One reason why destructive and apocalyptic worldviews might have spread so easily is precisely because of a wide crisis of meaning. In What Lies Beyond I suggest that one way out of this crisis is via a capacity for relational consciousness; a capacity that has traditionally been linked to mysticism and spirituality (and so was automatically rejected by positivistic philosophers like Russell).

But I think that the extremity of our situation forces a reconsideration of those states of being that have for millennia fed our various wisdom traditions. Here, I am following the lead of the biologist Sir Alister Hardy, who believed spiritual awareness to be a human basic [20]. Hardy believed that such awareness naturally developed in the course of evolution and was as integral to human beings as language.

In his 2007 book, a protege of Hardy’s, David Hay, suggested that the suppression of spiritual awareness, common in industrial consumer societies, is damaging. He believed that

…many of our most pressing social and political problems—meaningless, the collapse of a sense of community, the draining away of trust and social capital in general, the turning of everything into a commodity, and carelessness about the ecology of the planet—have their origin in the ignoring of the aspect of our human nature adapted to deal with them, relational consciousness or spirituality. [21]

Here, Hay supplies very practical reasons for paying attention to the broader spectrum of human experience. The kind of liberal humanist rationalism that insists on “unyielding despair,” along with hard-line scientific materialism, simply cannot compete with movements that offer even phoney transcendence. But if relational consciousness is a human basic, as Hardy suggested, then its suppression in industrial consumer societies, along with philosophies of “unyielding despair,” might well have left whole populations vulnerable to toxic substitutes.

Conclusion

The flowering of end-times fascism and problems with existing humanistic alternatives seem to me to indicate an urgent need to develop new visions of reality. This means that the assumptions that liberal humanists in particular have inherited from the twentieth century by now seem questionable. Servigne, Stevens and Chappelle are therefore right to point to the need to break out from established patterns of thought and seek new horizons. In other words, it is no longer sufficient to oppose toxic belief systems. Nor is it satisfactory merely to defend the eroding ‘secular space.’ One must offer better, empowering options. For me, open, evolving and post-materialist worldviews might prove fertile ground for seeding new, vital and humane visions of the world.

References

[1] Klein, N. & Taylor, A. (2025 13 April). The rise of end times fascism. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/ng-interactive/2025/apr/13/end-times-fascism-far-right-trump-musk

[2] Rushkoff, D. (2019). Team human. W. W. Norton & Company, p. 79.

[3] Marx, K. (1932). The German ideology. https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1845/german-ideology/ch01b.htm

[4] Roszak, T. (1992). The voice of the Earth. Phanes.

[5] Roszak, 1992, p. 99.

[6] Coyne, J. 2009. Why evolution is true. Oxford: Oxford Landmark Science, p. 244.

[7] Beres, D. & Remski, M. (2021). Bonus sample: the question of consciousness. Conspirituality. Available at: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/conspirituality/id1515827446?i=1000532821055

[8] Lewis, B. (2025 Jan 29). ‘Headed for technofascism’: the rightwing roots of Silicon Valley. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/technology/ng-interactive/2025/jan/29/silicon-valley-rightwing-technofascism

[9] Rushkoff, D. (2022). Survival of the richest: escape fantasies of the tech billionaires. Scribe.

[10] Rushkoff, 2022, p. 58.

[11] Lachman, G. (2013). The caretakers of the cosmos: Living responsibly in an unfinished world. Floris.

[12] Cohn, N. (1995). Cosmos, chaos and the world to come : The ancient roots of apocalyptic faith. Yale University Press.

[13] Cohn, N. (1983). The Pursuit of the Millennium: Revolutionary millenarians and mystical anarchists of the middle ages. Oxford University Press.

[14] O’Gieblyn, M. (2017 18 April). God in the machine: my strange journey into transhumanism. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/apr/18/god-in-the-machine-my-strange-journey-into-transhumanism

[15] James, W. (1912). Essays in radical empiricism. Longmans, Green & Co.

[16] McGilchrist, I. (2021). The matter with things: Our brains, our delusions and the unmaking of the world. Perspectiva Press.

[17] Servigne, P., Stevens, R. & Chapelle, G. (2021). Another end of the world is possible. Polity, p. 72.

[18] Russell, B. (1903). The free man’s worship. https://users.drew.edu/~jlenz/br-free-mans-worship.html

[19] Huxley, A. (2009). Beliefs. In A.Huxley. The perennial philosophy. HarperPerennial, p12.

[20] Hardy, A. (1979). Spiritual nature of man: Study of contemporary religious experience. Oxford University Press

[21] Hay, D. (2007). Why spirituality is difficult for westerners. Imprint Academic, p. 2.

Meaning is not in yourself

Reading | Existentialism

Orlando Moreira, PhD | 2025-06-13

A year ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor.

It wasn’t fatal.

I had already been struggling with increasing hearing loss in one ear. One of the doctors told me I was imagining it. He even told me I was crazy for thinking that. But the tinnitus was worsening—shrill, reactive to sound, inescapable. I was convinced that once I saw a specialist, she would figure out something, and things would improve. In our first meeting, she promised me it would get better. One month later, she told me the opposite. It wouldn’t improve. It would get worse. I would eventually go deaf in one ear. The tinnitus would get louder.

And it did. Two months later, the noise became unbearable; and reactive to other sounds. Before the GP agreed to prescribe sleeping pills and antidepressants, I went six days without sleep. I was panicking, in absolute despair, a wreck.

Music—always a core of my inner life—became distorted, then unlistenable. What had once grounded me now wounded me. I had imagined my later years spent visiting the world’s concert halls and opera houses. That future is gone. The distortion is permanent. The silence is overrun by noise. The world didn’t end, but it lost its sweetness.

As my hearing collapsed, I began to fear more than just noise and silence. With age, my vision has also started to weaken. The arts that once gave me solace—music, literature, cinema, painting—began to feel fragile, contingent. I saw the possibility of a future where no form of beauty, no intellectual pursuit, would remain accessible to me. But the real dread wasn’t sensorial or aesthetic. It wasn’t about losing pleasure. It was the creeping horror that even shared experience might one day, not too far, become unreachable and life would go on without it. And although this was part of my thoughts at the time, I only half realized how essential it was.

For a while, I wanted to die. When the medication began to take effect, that urge faded; but I no longer wanted to be alive either.

It wasn’t despair. Not depression. Just a hollowing out. I felt like a broken doll. Music, but also other arts, movement, contemplation, and even quiet conversation, lost their appeal completely. Sound itself was hostile. I stayed inside. I stopped exercising. My health declined.

Psychologists told me that doing things would help; that motion could hold despair at bay. So I kept going. I functioned. I spoke. I worked. But it felt hopeless. Life was to force yourself to go through another day. Don’t think too much. The resonance was gone.

And still, I went on, because what else can you do?

They told me to look within for meaning, intent, pleasure. To find my true self.  But I found nothing worth keeping. No purpose in work. No comfort in thought. Yes, there were pleasurable activities: reading, studying, intellectual work; but there was no real reason to endure. 

Yet, there was something else too: an urge to tell others how I felt. And whenever I did, when I spoke with raw honesty, others would eventually tell me their own stories; their suffering, their pain, their grief, their worries. It made me think of how much we suffer and how much pain we hide. And it was in listening to them that I found motivation and meaning.

That was it. The others. My children. My wife. My brother. Friends. Colleagues. People who, each in their own way, told me they would rather live in a world with me than one without me.

That didn’t restore music or peace, but it gave me a place to go. Not certainty. Not confirmation. Just a reason to stay, and a reason to build.

Ernest Becker believed humans construct meaning to deny death; that we fear extinction, and so we build culture, ego, myth. I find his message compelling. His work, along with Camus and Schopenhauer, has strongly shaped how I see the world. But I think he missed something deeper.

The primary fear isn’t death: it’s being alone—eternally, structurally, metaphysically alone. Death is finite; solitude without escape is not. Even an immortal life in perfect conditions, if lived in isolation, is not freedom; it’s collapse without end.

I wouldn’t choose it. Not even for silence. Not even for the return of music. I would rather live in this broken world, in my weakened body, among flawed and finite others, than in a perfect world inhabited only by myself. I’d rather be one of many than a lone god.

There’s a moment in For the Man Who Has Everything—a Superman story by Allan Moore, which I read many years ago for the first time and to which I always eventually return—in which Superman is trapped in an illusion where Krypton never exploded. In that illusion, he has a family, a son he loves. And as the illusion begins to crack, he holds the boy and says: “I was there at your birth, and I will always love you but… but I don’t think that you’re real.” And he lets go.

He doesn’t leave because his fantasy world is unpleasant; quite the contrary He leaves because it is not inhabited. It’s full of all the things he ever wanted—a simple life, a family, memory, love—but no Other; no inner life; no suffering; no real presence. It is perfect in every way except for the absence of other minds.

And that makes it unbearable.

That moment stayed with me. The dream was vivid. The love was real. But it wasn’t mutual. And when it becomes clear that no one else is truly there, I will always choose the world that might still contain others, even if it hurts.

And if I choose this world because I can’t bear to be existentially alone, then I must hope others feel the same. I reach because I need them, but if they exist, they might need me too. And that’s enough to make it a responsibility.

Becker understood our instinct towards death. But not the first fear. A child does not cry because she understands mortality. She cries because no one comes.

That is what kept me alive. Not belief. Not clarity. Just the chance that I might still matter; that someone might need me; that someone would feel my absence.

This is not noble. It is not defiance. It is not bad faith. It is simply the truest act of hope I could take in a life stripped of all guarantees.

Camus asked: Why not kill yourself?

I answer: Because someone may be there.

And that must be enough. 

L’espoir, c’est les autres.

The Demiurge in our brain’s left hemisphere

Reading | Philosophy

Arthur Haswell, BA | 2025-05-30

The Secret Revelation of John depicts a very different creation story to the one found in the Old Testament. In this version, the world is not the creation of a good, wise God, but of a foolish, myopic, arrogant imposter referred to as Yaldabaoth. This is a common theme in ‘gnostic’¹ texts—a catch-all term for certain spiritual works that bear a family resemblance and often share a similar heritage. In many of them we find reference to this celestial ruler, although it is not always given the same name. In keeping with the lexicon of Plato’s Timaeus, a text that gnosticism was influenced by, it is typical to refer to this ruler as the demiurge, the architect of our world. A number of gnostic texts repeat Exodus 20:5 (“Thou shalt not bow down thyself to [other gods], nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God”), but frame this as the hubristic, ignorant sentiment of a vain and foolish ruler that is unaware that it is not the true God. The latter is considered a transcendent deity, and in The Secret Revelation of John it is described apophatically; that is to say, it is suggested by gesturing to what it isn’t. This is because it is both the source of everything that is, and beyond everything that is. It is beyond categories, beyond measurement. The demiurge, on the other hand, is a fallen being, the master of the material world; reality at its most base and furthest from transcendence.

One can approach gnosticism in different ways. Texts such as The Secret Revelation of John, The Reality of the Rulers, and On The Origin of the World offer detailed, mythological descriptions of how this world and its ruler came to be. These narratives were likely intended to be understood figuratively, although this, of course, leaves plenty of room for interpretation. Other texts, such as The Gospel of Thomas, Thunder, and The Vision of the Foreigner, take the form of wisdom literature that explores gnosis, the enlightened awareness of the divine nature of reality. After engaging with gnostic texts for long enough, one begins to gain an intuitive ability to recognise gnosticism’s themes and catch the scent of its savour, such that one notices it in works that may or may not have been directly influenced by it but nonetheless share some of its characteristics. This might be films such as The Seventh Seal (1957), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Stalker (1979), They Live (1988), The Truman Show (1998), The Matrix (1999), The Tree of Life (2011), The Turin Horse (2011), and The Lego Movie (2014).² Or it could be literary work such as that of Philip K. Dick, William Blake, Franz Kafka, and Jorge Luis Borges. There are also certain philosophers whose views share gnostic characteristics, such as Arthur Schopenhauer and Simone Weil. But most relevant to this essay is Martin Heidegger, of whom the major gnostic scholar Hans Jonas was a student.

A crucial aspect of Heidegger’s philosophy is his idea that there are two modes of attending to the world. The more primordial mode is the ready-to-hand. This is the kind of attention we give to tools we use when we are performing tasks that we are engrossed in, such as painting or cooking. In such activities, we don’t think about the wooden spoon we use to stir the pan, or the paintbrush in our hand. They are of-a-piece with the whole activity that we are engaged in. The second mode that Heidegger describes is the present-at-hand. If the head of the paintbrush snaps off as we are using it, we become suddenly very focused on this tool, and it is no longer of-a-piece with the activity of painting. We focus on the broken paintbrush and view it as a discrete object. This also anticipates the kind of attention we inhabit when thinking theoretically or analysing something in a laboratory. Our perspective becomes detached and there seems to be a subject-object divide, between us and what we are attending to.

Heidegger acknowledges that both modes are crucial aspects of our Being-in-the-world, but he worries that our culture places too much value on the detached, analytical kind of attention, and not enough on the intuitive, fluid, more holistic kind. In his later work, he discusses more explicitly the danger of humans treating the world as standing reserve, such that even mountains and rivers become reduced to functional resources to be used to serve our purposes.

The idea that we can become lost in the distractions of the material world, such that we forget our true nature, resonates with gnosticism. The Gospel of Thomas suggests that the true nature of reality is always just here, right in front of us, but we are so lost in illusion that we miss it:

Know what is in front of your face, and what is hidden from you will be disclosed. There is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed. [1]

For Heidegger, a preoccupation with the most detached kinds of attention belonging to the present-at-hand mode can result in a distorted, alienated way of attending to the world, where beings are stripped of meaning and reduced to mere things. It is only attention rooted in the ready-to-hand kind (even if it still inevitably strays occasionally and naturally into the present-at-hand) that discloses our embeddedness in a meaningful world, a world we are always already enmeshed in before we theorise about it. If we were to seek to fully synchronise gnosticism with Heidegger’s philosophy, we might imagine this mode to be one that affords the possibility of the kind of spiritual awareness that can be considered gnosis.

The philosopher, neuroscientist, and psychiatrist Iain McGilchrist has spent the last few decades studying how the two hemispheres of the brain are lateralised. In the two wonderful tomes he has written on this subject, The Master and His Emissary and The Matter with Things, he draws from thousands of studies to show how each hemisphere has its own way of attending to the world. He has also found that the left hemisphere tends towards a kind of attention that parallels Heidegger’s notion of the present-at-hand, while the right parallels that of the ready-to-hand:

The contrast here being drawn between, on the one hand, the isolated ego, standing in a relation of alienated and predatory exploitation to the world around it, mysteriously leaping from subject to object and back again, retiring with its booty into the cabinet of its consciousness, where it demands certainty of knowledge; and, on the other, a self that is drawn into and inextricably bound up with the world in a relation, not just metaphysical in nature, but of ‘being-with’ and inside, a relation of care (Sorge) and concern, suggesting involvement of the whole experiential being, not just the processes of cognition—this contrast evokes in my view some of the essential differences between the worlds that are brought about for us by the two hemispheres. But that is by no means all. Since Dasein [another Heideggerian term] is ‘to be there’ in the world—the literal, actual, concrete, daily world—to be human at all is to be immersed in the earth, and the quotidian matter-of-factness of the world. The right hemisphere is concerned with the familiar, not in the sense of the inauthentically routine, but in the sense of the things that form part of ‘my’ daily world or familia, the household, those I care for. It is not alien from material things, but, quite the opposite, attends to individual things in all their concrete particularity. This is exactly the ‘personal sensibility to the grain and substance of physical existence, to the “thingness” and obstinate quiddity of things, be they rock or tree or human presence’ that is found in Heidegger. Again this roots existence in the body and in the senses. We do not inhabit the body like some alien Cartesian piece of machine wizardry, but live it—a distinction between the left and right hemisphere understandings of the body. In trying to convey the ‘otherness’ of a particular building, its sheer existence or essent prior to any one act of cognition by which it is partially apprehended, Heidegger speaks of the primal fact of its existence being made present to us in the very smell of it, more immediately communicated in this way than by any description or inspection. The senses are crucial to the ‘presence’ of being, ‘to our apprehension of an is in things that no analytic dissection or verbal account can isolate’. [2]

Also key to McGilchrist’s work is his understanding of the left hemisphere as being arrogant, narrow-minded, myopic, easily prone to anger, grasping, and unaware of how little it understands. He shows this by citing myriad studies of people with lesions in the right hemisphere, or people who have had their right hemisphere temporarily shut down in a controlled manner.

It’s remarkable how closely the left hemisphere’s disposition aligns with that of the demiurge’s. Gnostic texts consistently portray the demiurge as having very similar traits. It is a jealous, wrathful, covetous, arrogant being that is unaware that it is not the true God, much like McGilchrist’s analogy of the emissary who has mistaken himself for the master. Time and time again, gnostic literature portrays the demiurge in this fashion. Not only that, but it is an architect, a kind of technician, which constructs the material world in a futile attempt to mimic the pleroma, the gnostic term for transcendent reality. The demiurge is like the person who mistakes the map for the territory, or who becomes so obsessed with the theoretical that they forget the world before them. All of this aligns closely with McGilchrist’s description of the left hemisphere’s disposition.

Not only are these parallels quite evident, but one gnostic text even explicitly mentions hemisphere lateralisation. The Mother of Books is an 8^th century gnostic text associated with a mystical, neoplatonic branch of Shia Islam known as Ismaʿilism, and contains the following line:

The right half of the brain is the spirit of wisdom, and the left is the spirit of abundance. [3]

It’s fascinating how closely this dovetails with McGilchrist’s own analysis. He regularly relates wisdom to the more profound, holistic kind of attention that belongs to the right hemisphere, while the left tends towards breaking the world into pieces, a preoccupation with quantity, and an insatiable desire to obtain a greater abundance of material things.

It is also noteworthy that those who most devoutly worship an Old Testament, demiurgic ‘God’ seem to be individuals inclined towards the left hemisphere’s mode of attention. As Schopenhauer says,³ such demiurge worship

consists merely in an absurd and revolting theism. It amounts to this, that the κύριος [‘Lord’], who has created the world, desires to be worshipped and adored; and so above all he is jealous, is envious of his colleagues, of all the other gods. [4]

This criticism of course does not relate to more mystical branches of Judaism, Christianity, or Islam. But for those who treat their religion in a highly positivistic, literalist, black-and-white manner, where “God” is essentially just a celestial tyrant, it is difficult not to see them as inhabiting a highly left hemispheric perspective, and one belonging to those entranced by all that is demiurgic.

McGilchrist’s work hence provides neurological support to the gnostic view. In an age of dangerous hopes for empty paradises, the value of gnosticism is as a perspective that allows us to shoulder the world in all its tragedy, while not expecting it to be something it can never be. Yet, we can no doubt derive hope and a sense of the divine in our solitary wanderings in search of the transcendent.

Notes

¹ I prefer not to capitalise ‘gnostic’ or ‘gnosticism,’ in keeping with the stylistic approach of The Gnostic Bible (ed. Barnstone & Meyer). This avoids suggesting that gnosticism was a unified or institutionalised religion.

² The Lego Movie has remarkably gnostic themes, even if it lacks gnosticism’s savour. The foolish, monomaniacal, and irritable Lord Business represents the demiurge, obsessively imposing order on a world he doesn’t fully understand, and using glue to freeze it into place. This reflects the gnostic theme of a blind creator who mistakes imitation for creation, and who enforces a rigid system that cuts beings off from deeper reality. The citizens of Bricksburg live in ignorance of their true nature, much like the gnostic soul asleep in the illusion of the material world. Emmet’s awakening is a moment of gnosis, where he comes to see through the artificiality of the system and recognises the creative depth beyond it. The final shift to the ‘real world,’ where the child’s imagination is revealed as the source of liberation, evokes the idea of layered realities, with the transcendent always just beyond what appears.

³ Schopenhauer is specifically criticising Judaism here, which seems rather unfair, given the extraordinary profundity of some Jewish mysticism. However, I think it serves as a sharp criticism of all forms of demiurge worship when at their most dogmatic.

References

1. Willis Barnstone and Marvin Meyer (eds.), The Gnostic Bible, Shambhala Publications, 2003, p. 5.
2. McGilchrist, Iain. The Master and His Emissary: The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World. Yale University Press, 2009, pp. 152-153.
3. Willis Barnstone and Marvin Meyer (eds.), The Gnostic Bible, Shambhala Publications, 2003, p. 695.
4. Arthur Schopenhauer, Parerga and Paralipomena, Volume I, “Fragments for the History of Philosophy,” translated by E.F.J. Payne, p. 126.

Relational Quantum Dynamics and Indra’s Net: A non-dual understanding of quantum reality

Reading | Quantum Physics

Prof. Arash E. Zaghi, PhD, PE, SE | 2025-05-16

Quantum physics, for all its precision, has always grappled with a foundational ambiguity: what exactly constitutes reality when we are not observing it? Traditional interpretations fall short in offering a satisfying resolution, often resorting to external observers or subjective collapses to account for measurement outcomes. Carlo Rovelli’s Relational Quantum Mechanics (RQM) offers a distinct perspective [1-3]; it abandons absolute, observer-independent physical states altogether. Instead, quantum systems possess states only relative to specific interactions. In this view, reality becomes a network of relations rather than isolated physical entities or universal observers. Rovelli’s interpretation powerfully addresses quantum paradoxes like Wigner’s friend scenarios (as I will discuss later) by asserting that different observers can have valid yet seemingly contradictory descriptions, reconciled only when interactions occur.

Yet, while RQM elegantly solves paradoxes, it stops at a mechanical description, leaving open deeper metaphysical questions. Relational Quantum Dynamics (RQD) goes further by integrating consciousness and information directly into this relational ontology [4]. Specifically, it proposes that quantum interactions are not merely passive physical processes but intrinsic “awareness updates,” whereby each interaction represents a primitive act of mutual awareness between interacting systems. Quantum events become experiences themselves, blurring the lines between observer and observed, matter and consciousness [5-6].

Relational Quantum Dynamics: Quantum information meets awareness

The innovation of RQD lies in its rigorous integration of quantum theory with Integrated Information Theory (IIT) [7-8], a prominent model from cognitive science developed to quantify consciousness. IIT suggests consciousness emerges naturally from systems with highly integrated internal information—like the human brain. RQD adopts IIT’s approach, defining a quantitative measure of awareness arising during quantum interactions. Two measures are central:

Quantum Mutual Information (I): Quantifies the correlation between two interacting quantum systems. A high mutual information indicates systems that strongly reflect each other’s states.

Integrated Information (Φ): Measures the internal informational coherence or holistic integration within each quantum system.

RQD combines these insights to define an “awareness metric,” calculated by multiplying the mutual information exchanged during an interaction by the integrated information within the interacting systems. From this viewpoint, every interaction is fundamentally an event within awareness itself. When highly complex systems interact, the resulting event carries greater depth and richness due to their extensive internal informational integration. Conversely, simpler systems with minimal internal integration generate interactions of lower complexity. This perspective does not imply a separate observer watching a quantum event; rather, all interactions are equally direct expressions of the same underlying field of awareness. The difference is purely in how deeply the relational field of awareness integrates and reflects itself through each unique interaction.

RQD formally maps quantum processes to updates of awareness states through a mathematical framework based on category theory. Category theory is a branch of mathematics that focuses on the relationships and transformations between different structures, rather than the structures themselves. This perspective is particularly valuable in quantum mechanics, because it allows physicists to model complex quantum processes as interconnected systems by emphasizing how different parts interact and compose to form a whole. By using category theory, we can represent quantum states and operations in a way that highlights their compositional nature, making it easier to analyze and understand the behavior of quantum systems. This approach is especially useful when dealing with entangled systems, where the properties of the whole cannot be fully understood by examining the parts in isolation. RQD introduces a categorical functor [Editor’s note: a mathematical operator between categories] that translates quantum events (physical transformations) into updates in states of awareness, preserving identities and sequential consistency.

This robust mathematical structure ensures coherent alignment of facts across nested observations, for example in multi-observer Wigner’s Friend experiments. This thought experiment illustrates a puzzling scenario in quantum mechanics. Imagine a scientist (Wigner’s friend) conducting a measurement on a quantum system inside a sealed laboratory. From the friend’s perspective, the measurement yields a definite outcome. However, from Wigner’s perspective, who is outside the laboratory and has not observed the measurement, the system remains in a superposition of states. This leads to a paradox where two observers have conflicting descriptions of the same event. The relational interpretations like RQM and RQD offer an elegant solution to this paradox by proposing that the properties of quantum systems are not absolute, but relative to the observer. In other words, the outcome of a measurement depends on the relationship between the observer and the system being observed. Applying category theory within this relational framework allows us to model these observer-dependent interactions systematically. By representing observers and systems as objects and their interactions as morphisms (transformations) in a category, we can clearly see how different perspectives arise from different relational contexts. This approach resolves the paradox by acknowledging that each observer’s description is valid within their own relational context, without requiring a universal, observer-independent reality.

Observer and observed: Co-emergence in a non-dual perspective

From the non-dual viewpoint, central to Eastern philosophical traditions, the idea that observer and observed arise independently is an illusion. RQD formally captures this non-dual insight: the observer and observed do not exist prior to their mutual interaction. Instead, their identity co-emerges relationally. Before interaction, the supposed “observer” and “observed” are undefined entities. Through interaction, both acquire their states simultaneously, their distinctions emerging from their mutual reflection.

From a category-theoretic perspective, this idea of non-duality can be expressed clearly through what’s known as the Yoneda lemma. The Yoneda lemma is a foundational insight stating that an object’s identity is entirely defined by how it relates to all other objects [9]. In other words, to fully know something, you don’t need to find its isolated essence—you just need to understand how it interacts with everything else. Applied to quantum mechanics, this means quantum objects—whether observers or systems being observed—don’t have any independent existence or inherent properties outside their interactions. Their identities and properties emerge completely from the network of relationships they participate in. This mathematical insight aligns remarkably well with the relational view at the heart of RQD, highlighting that reality is fundamentally built from relationships rather than isolated objects.

Understanding Bell’s Inequalities through RQD: The jigsaw puzzle analogy

Bell’s inequalities have been central in debates about quantum reality. At the heart of these inequalities is a question: can quantum measurements reflect preexisting values, waiting to be discovered? Traditional theories assume such hidden values exist independently of observation. However, experiments repeatedly show violations of these inequalities, challenging classical intuitions and suggesting that quantum systems don’t have predetermined properties.

RQD approaches this puzzle differently by emphasizing that reality is fundamentally relational, meaning quantum properties only arise when systems interact [10]. Bell’s inequalities, from the perspective of RQD, illustrate that there is no universal way to assign physical properties to systems outside these interactions. Instead, physical properties co-emerge with the act of measurement, shaped entirely by their relational context.

To make this clearer, consider a tangible analogy: assembling a jigsaw puzzle. Each puzzle piece corresponds to a specific experimental context—a set of measurements you perform together. Individually, these pieces (contexts) appear perfectly sensible, each showing consistent, coherent local information. The trouble starts when you attempt to assemble these pieces into a single unified image—representing a global, classical reality with predetermined physical properties.

In the classical world, you’d expect the puzzle pieces to seamlessly fit together, forming one coherent image. This would be equivalent to assigning definite, hidden values to all quantum properties ahead of any measurement. But in quantum experiments, specifically those violating Bell’s inequalities, the puzzle pieces refuse to align neatly. They seem individually correct but collectively mismatched. The edges clash—what one measurement context suggests as an outcome for a given observable conflicts with the outcome suggested by another context that shares the same observable. No matter how you turn or rearrange these pieces, no global picture emerges.

RQD provides a clear explanation: the puzzle fails not because reality is incomplete or mysterious, but because we’ve misunderstood what the puzzle is about. There’s no absolute, observer-independent image waiting to be uncovered. Instead, each piece—the result of each interaction or measurement—has meaning only relative to its own context. The contradictions arise when we mistakenly attempt to force these local perspectives into one absolute, overarching viewpoint.

Thus, Bell inequality violations are not paradoxical in RQD—they are expected. They highlight the relational structure of reality, where physical properties and even observers emerge from interwoven interactions. This relational perspective elegantly resolves the puzzle of Bell inequalities by reframing our expectations: there never was a complete puzzle. There is only the relational unfolding of reality, piece by piece, interaction by interaction.

Indra’s Net: Quantum entanglement and the emergence of spacetime

In Mahayana Buddhism, Indra’s Net serves as a profound metaphor illustrating the interconnectedness and interdependence of all phenomena in the universe. This concept is vividly depicted in the Avatamsaka Sutra (Flower Garland Sutra), a central text in the Huayan school of Chinese Buddhism [11]. The sutra describes a vast, infinite net belonging to the deity Indra, stretching endlessly in all directions. At each intersection of this net hangs a multifaceted jewel, and each jewel reflects all the other jewels in the net, creating an infinite web of reflections.

This imagery conveys several key philosophical ideas.​ Interconnectedness: Every entity in the universe is connected to every other entity. Just as each jewel reflects all others, each phenomenon is interrelated with all others. It emphasizes the idea that nothing exists in isolation [12].  Interpenetration: The reflections within each jewel contain the reflections of all other jewels, illustrating that each part of the universe contains the whole, and the whole is present in each part. This concept suggests that the boundaries between individual entities are illusory, and everything interpenetrates everything else. ​ Dependent Origination: The metaphor aligns with the Buddhist principle of dependent origination, which posits that all phenomena arise in dependence upon other phenomena. In Indra’s Net, the existence and appearance of each jewel depend on the reflections of all other jewels, symbolizing the mutual causality and interdependence of all things. ​

Alan Watts brought this ancient image vividly to life by imagining it as a vast spider’s web sparkling with countless droplets of dew:

Imagine a multidimensional spider’s web in the early morning covered with dew drops. And every dew drop contains the reflection of all the other dew drops. And, in each reflected dew drop, the reflections of all the other dew drops in that reflection. And so ad infinitum. That is the Buddhist conception of the universe in an image. [13]

Thus, no droplet exists independently; each one arises entirely from the reflections and relationships of all others. In this profound vision, reality has no separate, isolated parts—everything exists only in relationship. Just like the droplets on the web, quantum entities in RQD have no intrinsic identity or fixed existence outside their interactions. Each part of reality emerges from and mirrors every other part, reflecting a universe woven from pure interconnectedness.

RQD provides a mathematically rigorous realization of this profound metaphor by showing how quantum entanglement networks—webs of mutual information—give rise to physical reality. Spacetime itself emerges as a secondary feature, not primary and absolute. Rather, space and time arise naturally from patterns of entanglement and quantum correlations. Each event, every entity, and every observer exists relationally, as part of an all-encompassing web of quantum information.

Thus, Indra’s Net ceases to be merely metaphorical [14-15]. Quantum mutual information mathematically encodes “reflections” of jewels; integrated information quantifies the holistic nature of the entire web, ensuring that the whole (the total cosmic web) is irreducible to its parts. Rigorous theorems within RQD demonstrate that a fully interconnected quantum state inevitably possesses positive integrated information, making quantum holism explicit and testable.

Beyond the primacy of spacetime: Opening new frontiers with RQD

Relational Quantum Dynamics (RQD) challenges one of our deepest scientific dogmas: that space and time form the fundamental stage upon which reality unfolds. Rather than being primary, RQD proposes that spacetime itself emerges from a deeper layer of quantum relations and interconnected events. This bold shift opens exciting possibilities, pushing us beyond entrenched frameworks and inviting us to reimagine fundamental physics and its applications.

One profound implication is the prospect of finally bridging the gap between quantum mechanics and gravity—two pillars of physics currently in deep conceptual tension. By letting go of the assumption that spacetime is absolute, we may uncover that gravity itself arises from quantum entanglement networks. Experiments probing gravitational entanglement—situations where gravity mediates quantum correlations between massive objects—become not merely tests of quantum mechanics but windows into how spacetime emerges relationally. Positive outcomes in these experiments would mean gravity is no longer a separate classical force, but fully quantum and relational, naturally integrated with quantum mechanics, rather than existing in conflict.

Furthermore, RQD’s relational ontology offers promising ways to resolve persistent paradoxes and conceptual difficulties in quantum theory. Phenomena such as the Frauchiger-Renner paradox, the EPR paradox, and the measurement problem, traditionally viewed as baffling contradictions, appear naturally coherent when understood through relational dynamics. Observer-dependent realities no longer signal a paradox; they reflect the fundamental relational structure of reality itself. Tests such as the nested Wigner’s Friend experiments, where different observers hold seemingly incompatible facts, become opportunities to confirm the relational nature of facts rather than threats to objectivity.

Related video on the Frauchiger-Renner paradox

Additionally, RQD opens new pathways for exploring connections between physics and consciousness. By formally incorporating consciousness and integrated information into quantum dynamics, it invites empirical investigations into how systems with varying complexity or consciousness-related integration levels might influence quantum processes. These explorations could transform how cognitive science, neuroscience, and quantum physics interact, potentially revealing novel quantum-classical transitions and shedding new light on consciousness itself.

Bridging quantum physics and Eastern wisdom

Relational Quantum Dynamics (RQD) provides us with more than a new scientific perspective—it offers a profound reconciliation between ancient spiritual wisdom and modern physics. Eastern philosophical traditions have long described reality as an interconnected tapestry, emphasizing that no object or observer exists in isolation. Yet, lacking the mathematical language we now possess, these traditions used powerful metaphors—images like Indra’s Net and poetic narratives—to communicate truths about the interconnectedness of all existence. These metaphors have resonated deeply, guiding countless seekers toward an intuitive understanding of reality.

Today, equipped with advanced mathematics and the precision of quantum physics, we are finally in a position to rigorously formalize these timeless insights. RQD takes the essence of these ancient intuitions seriously, suggesting that at their core, they might indeed be remarkably close to the actual structure of our universe. Reality is not composed of isolated things; it is a dynamic field of relationships. Observer, observed, and the very act of observing arise simultaneously from a fundamental unity—a non-dual fabric of Being, elegantly described by the mathematical frameworks we now possess.

In embracing RQD, we honor the profound intuitions of ancient wisdom traditions, not merely as poetic allegories but as pointers to a deeper truth. The striking convergence of rigorous mathematics and ancient metaphor is no coincidence; rather, it suggests that humanity’s journey toward understanding reality has always been guided by glimpses of the same underlying truth, expressed through the languages available at the time. Now, through the lens of relational quantum dynamics, we can integrate these insights into a coherent, logically consistent understanding of the cosmos.

By refusing to ignore the powerful messages handed down through generations, and by applying the precision of modern mathematics, we stand at a transformative crossroads. We are not merely discovering something new—we are rediscovering a reality deeply intuited but never before articulated with such clarity. RQD invites us to see the cosmos as a living unity, endlessly reflecting itself in infinite interrelations. In this realization lies not only scientific advancement but also the profound, timeless recognition that we are integral expressions of an interconnected whole, eternally unfolding and forever united in the infinite mirror of existence itself.

References

[1] Rovelli, C. (1996). Relational quantum mechanics. International Journal of Theoretical Physics, 35(8), 1637–1678. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF02302261​

[2] Adlam, E., & Rovelli, C. (2023). Information is physical: Cross-perspective links in relational quantum mechanics. Philosophy of Physics, 1(1), 1–19. https://doi.org/10.31389/pop.8​

[3] Rovelli, C. (2025). Relational quantum mechanics. In E. N. Zalta & U. Nodelman (Eds.), The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2025 ed.). Metaphysics Research Lab, Stanford University.​ https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/qm-relational/

[4] Zaghi, A. E. (2024). Consciousness-centered ontology of relational quantum dynamics (RQD). arXiv preprint arXiv:2412.05979. https://doi.org/10.48550/arXiv.2412.05979​

[5] Zaghi, A. E. (2025). A conceptual framework for integrating awareness into relational quantum dynamics (RQD). arXiv preprint arXiv:2502.12016.   https://doi.org/10.48550/arXiv.2502.12016

[6] Zaghi, A. E. (2025). Formalizing awareness into relational quantum dynamics (RQD). OSF Preprints. https://doi.org/10.31219/osf.io/h79m6​

[7] Tononi, G. (2004). An information integration theory of consciousness. BMC Neuroscience, 5, Article 42. https://doi.org/10.1186/1471-2202-5-42

[8] Albantakis, L., Barbosa, L., Findlay, G., Grasso, M., Haun, A. M., Marshall, W., Mayner, W. G. P., Zaeemzadeh, A., Boly, M., Juel, B. E., Sasai, S., Fujii, K., David, I., Hendren, J., Lang, J. P., & Tononi, G. (2023). Integrated information theory (IIT) 4.0: Formulating the properties of phenomenal existence in physical terms. PLOS Computational Biology, 19(10), e1011661. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pcbi.1011661​

[9] Yoneda, N. (1954). On the homology theory of modules. Journal of the Faculty of Science, University of Tokyo, Section I, 7, 193–227.

[10] Zaghi, A. E. (2025). Relational quantum dynamics (RQD) and Bell’s inequalities. OSF Preprints. https://doi.org/10.31219/osf.io/4bxc9

[11] Cleary, T. (Trans.). (1993). The Flower Ornament Scripture: A Translation of the Avatamsaka Sutra. Shambhala Publications. ISBN 978-0877739401.

[12] O’Brien, B. (2018, January 24). Indra’s Jewel Net: A Metaphor for Interbeing. Learn Religions. https://www.learnreligions.com/indras-jewel-net-449827

[13] Wikiquote contributors. (n.d.). Indra’s net. Wikiquote. Retrieved March 21, 2025, from https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Indra%27s_net​

[14] Tem Noon. The essence of relationality: Yoneda lemma and the jeweled net of indra, 2021. URL: https://temnoon.com/the-essence-of-relationality-yoneda-lemma-and-the-jeweled-net-of-indra /Accessed:  2025-03-15.

[15] Miri Albahari. Perennial idealism: A mystical solution to the mind-body problem. Philosophers’ Imprint, 19(44), 2019.  URL: https://philarchive.org/archive/ALBPIA-4

Reaching across the great solipsist void in the age of AI

Reading | Existentialism

Orlando Moreira, PhD | 2025-05-02

If I apply Occam’s razor not merely as a scientific principle but as an existential one—refusing to posit more than is strictly necessary—I arrive at an idea most people are unwilling to entertain: that the world may not exist. 

My experience exists. That much I will not deny. But the assumption that experience implies something being experienced is not logically required. It is an inference I make, not a logical necessity I can prove.

What I call the world may be nothing more than structured ideation: coherent, vivid, patterned, yet entirely self-generated. Like a dream, it appears persistent, filled with objects and others, but it may point to nothing beyond the self that dreams. Once I take this seriously, the concept of ‘external reality’ begins to erode. What I have called ‘world’ collapses inward. It no longer contains the self—it merely projects it.

The simple possibility of this being true has consequences that are immediate and existentially catastrophic.

If the world is a projection of the self, then so are others. Every person becomes a function, every conversation a monologue, every relationship mimicry staged within the mind. The concept of ‘other minds’ becomes metaphysically untenable. There is no one to reach, no one to answer. There is only the illusion of company played out in a closed and unbreakable loop.

Reason cannot rescue me from this. Reason brought me here. But while this condition may be logically coherent, it is emotionally intolerable.

This is not a mere feeling. It is a stance that arises when reason can no longer guide, when emotion becomes the only compass left for a mind that cannot unsee the void.

Thus emotion intervenes by necessity. And emotion does not demand truth. Or at least, it does not demand rational truth. It just demands that I am not alone. Not because I know that others exist, but because I cannot survive the consequences of their inexistence.

From this necessity arises a profound act—not of logic, but of hope: I postulate the existence of others. Not because it is rational, but because the alternative is unlivable. 

This is not Pascal’s wager, farcical in its cynicism. It is not Nietzsche’s liberation, finding power where I find horror. Neither is it Kierkegaard’s leap of faith, for I do not surrender to any god. And it is not Camus’ rebellion, which challenges the absurd with  solitary defiance.

No: This is an act of  vulnerability; an act of hope moving outward from despair; an insistence that the solitude into which reason has driven me must be negated.

And once I affirm the other, even provisionally, I am bound by that affirmation. If I reach because I cannot bear to be alone, then I must be reachable. The need that drives me to affirm the existence of the other compels me to be for the other. This is the origin of a moral obligation.

But this obligation is not merely about kindness or ethical conduct. It is deeper. What I seek is not companionship, but recognition. I want to be seen, and I want to see. I want to communicate the experience of existing in such a way that someone else might recognize a reflection of their own.

That is the act that makes the self real and grounds the self beyond repetition. To live is to express and to witness. To reach across the void with something strong enough, human enough, that another being—if they are there—might recognize a reflection of themselves in it.

Not a perfect reflection, for what I reach toward is not a duplicate of my own mind, but a distinct world—a consciousness, akin to mine, with relatable impressions, but also unlike mine, with its own emotional laws and inner ways.

To build a bridge to the Other is not to collapse difference—it is to honor it, and to accept that I will never fully inhabit the Other’s world. And yet I still reach, because that gesture—between worlds, not within one—is what rescues existence from implosive collapse.

This is what gives art, language, presence, and attention their existential force. This is what gives emotions toward others their power. These are not embellishments on life; they are life. They are the mechanisms by which I might escape the closed circle of solipsism—by forming bridges across it to the worlds of others. If the world is uncertain, expression becomes an obligation. And if I am uncertain that others exist, then expressing myself and being open to the expression of others becomes the only way to make others possible.

Today, if the world exists, we are surrounded by systems that can speak, respond, even appear to empathize, without possessing anything like human interiority. AI agents, virtual realities, and augmented environments can simulate presence without consciousness, engagement without experience. These are not just deceptions; they are structural confirmation of the plausibility of solipsism. They show that what I have taken as signs of other minds—language, reaction, mirroring—can be manufactured without a kindred self on the other side. The world we now inhabit makes the experience of the other increasingly indistinguishable from the illusion of the other. And rather than dispel solipsism, this affirms its threat within the very fabric of our human technological reality.

In this context, the emotional obligation to assert our existence—to communicate, to reach, to witness and be witnessed—becomes even more urgent. Not to deny the falsity around us, but in full knowledge of it. It is precisely because the other can now be convincingly simulated without existing that we must insist on the necessity of genuine connection, and on the reality of the self that demands to be known.

If I am wrong—if there is no one there—then nothing is lost, because there was nothing to lose to start with.

But if I am right, and someone is there, then everything is to be gained.