Dear Son..

tiwaryshailesh

The books, frameworks and ways of thinking I most want my son to encounter, preserved before I forget why they mattered. tiwaryshailesh.substack.com

  1. 23 Jul

    On Revolution

    There is a mode of thinking that treats a revolution not as an explosion of accumulated misery but as a coordination problem that was suddenly and often invisibly solved. Most people read a revolt backward. They see a regime fall, assume the anger that toppled it had been rising toward a threshold and conclude that suffering plus injustice eventually produces revolt the way heat plus pressure produces steam. This is the volcano model and it is close to worthless. It cannot explain why the same grievance sits quiet for decades and then ignites in a week, why the poorest and most oppressed are rarely the first to rise, or why almost no expert forecast the fall of the Shah, the collapse of the Soviet bloc or the Arab uprisings of 2011. The person who has internalised this field sees what the volcano model hides - grievance is nearly constant and what actually varies is the capacity to act together, the belief each person holds about what everyone else secretly believes and the willingness of the state’s own agents to keep obeying. The single insight that unlocks most of the field is this. A revolution is a withdrawal of cooperation, cooperation runs on beliefs about other people’s beliefs and those beliefs are hidden until the moment they are not. Understand that and the field’s central puzzles, from the free rider problem to the sudden unpredictability of collapse, stop being separate mysteries and become one. The Grammar of the Field: Why the Question Is Action, Not Anger The foundational move, the one without which nothing else in the field parses, is to stop asking why people are angry and start asking why they act. Discontent is everywhere and always. Charles Tilly built his career on demolishing the assumption that grievance explains anything, arguing across works from The Rebellious Century to From Mobilization to Revolution that collective action is produced by organisation, resources, opportunity and repertoires of contention rather than by the intensity of suffering. His concept of the repertoire is load-bearing. People do not invent protest from raw emotion. They draw on a limited, historically specific menu of learned forms, the strike, the petition, the barricade, the occupation and that menu changes slowly across centuries. The Tilly programme, extended with Sidney Tarrow and Doug McAdam into the political process synthesis of Dynamics of Contention, replaced the psychology of frustration with a sociology of capacity. The reason capacity is the hard part and not anger was established by Mancur Olson in The Logic of Collective Action. Olson showed that a shared grievance does not produce shared action, because the benefits of a successful revolt, freedom, a new regime, lower taxes, are public goods that flow to everyone whether or not they personally took the risk. The rational individual therefore free rides, letting others face the bullets while reserving the reward. If everyone reasons this way no one moves and the regime survives on a discontent so universal it is politically inert. This is the collective action problem and it is the true engine room of the field. Every serious theory of revolution is, at bottom, an account of how this problem gets solved - through selective incentives, through dense social networks, through organisation, through emotion or through a shift in what people believe others will do. Grievance is the precondition that explains almost nothing. Solved coordination is the variable that explains almost everything. The State Is the Real Variable: Structure Over Will Once the question becomes capacity rather than anger, attention moves to the entity whose capacity matters most, the state. Theda Skocpol’s States and Social Revolutions is the pivot of the modern field and its central claim is deliberately deflating. Revolutions are not made, they come. The great social revolutions in France, Russia and China were not caused by revolutionary vanguards willing them into being but by the breakdown of state administrative and coercive power under the combined pressure of international military competition and the resistance of landed elites to reform. When a state loses a war, goes bankrupt paying for one or fractures between its rulers and its own upper class, the coercive apparatus that normally makes revolt suicidal stops functioning and the peasantry, organised in autonomous village communities, pours through the gap. The revolutionaries mostly arrive to administer a collapse they did not cause. This structural logic runs backward through Barrington Moore’s Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy, whose comparative account of how landlord and peasant class configurations produced democratic, fascist or communist paths yielded the compressed dictum “no bourgeoisie, no democracy,” and forward through Jack Goldstone’s Revolution and Rebellion in the Early Modern World, which added the demographic engine. Goldstone showed that sustained population growth in early modern agrarian states outran their fixed fiscal and administrative capacity, producing state fiscal crisis, intra-elite competition for a stagnant pool of offices and rising popular grievance at once, a conjunction that recurred across England, France, the Ottoman Empire and China. The unifying claim of the structural school is that the timing and success of revolution track the condition of the state and its elite far more tightly than the condition of the masses. Alexis de Tocqueville had already seen the sharpest edge of this in The Old Regime and the Revolution. The French monarchy fell not when oppression was worst but when it was easing, because reform reveals a regime’s weakness, raises expectations faster than it can meet them and turns endurable conditions into intolerable ones. The most dangerous moment for a bad government is when it begins to reform. The Deprivation Fallacy: The Seductive Wrong Theory The field’s most instructive dead end is the theory that feels most obviously true. Ted Robert Gurr’s Why Men Rebel gave rigorous form to the intuition that revolt springs from frustration, building on Davies’s J-curve hypothesis that revolutions occur when a long period of rising prosperity is followed by a sharp reversal, opening an intolerable gap between what people have come to expect and what they now get. This is relative deprivation and its appeal is that it matches how injustice feels from the inside. It failed as an explanation for a precise reason. Deprivation, relative or absolute, is so widespread that it cannot discriminate between the societies that revolt and the many more that endure identical or worse conditions in silence. Tilly’s critique was decisive. Frustration is a constant, action is a variable and you cannot explain a variable with a constant. The mismatch does not tell you when people will mobilise, who will lead, whether they can overcome the free rider problem or whether the state will crack. Relative deprivation survives as a description of the emotional texture of grievance, not as a theory of revolution and its long dominance is the field’s standing warning that the most psychologically satisfying account is often the least predictive. The same warning applies to the oldest psychological tradition, the crowd theory of Gustave Le Bon’s The Crowd, which portrayed the revolutionary mass as a single irrational organism in which the individual dissolves, loses judgement and is swept by contagion into barbarism. Le Bon’s model flattered elites by pathologising dissent and it has been dismantled by empirical crowd research showing that riots and revolts are patterned, socially structured and governed by shared norms and grievances rather than by mindless contagion. Its residue lingers wherever a commentator calls a protest a mob and thinks the word is an explanation. Elias Canetti’s Crowds and Power is the richer literary descendant of this tradition and even it is better read as phenomenology than as causal theory. Preference Falsification: Why the Volcano Was Always Hollow Here the field turns counterintuitive and here sits the concept that does more explanatory work than any other. Timur Kuran’s Private Truths, Public Lies introduced preference falsification, the act of misrepresenting one’s true preferences under perceived social or political pressure. In a repressive regime almost everyone conceals their real opposition, professing loyalty they do not feel, because the cost of speaking out is high while the effect of one voice is nil. The consequence is a society whose private discontent is enormous while its public opinion appears solidly loyal and, crucially, no one can see the discontent, not the citizens, not the rulers, not the analysts. Everyone underestimates how many others share their views. This solves the central paradox the volcano model could not touch. It explains why stable dictatorships and impending collapse look identical from the outside right up until the end. The mechanism of collapse is the revolutionary cascade. Kuran, drawing on the same logic Mark Granovetter formalised in his threshold models of collective behaviour, showed that each person has a private threshold, the number of others they must see resisting before their own fear is outweighed and they too go public. Because thresholds are hidden and distributed, a small trigger that moves a few low-threshold individuals into the open can lower the perceived risk for the next tier, whose defection lowers it for the next, in a chain that can flip a society from apparent unanimity of loyalty to open revolt within days. The 1989 collapse of Eastern Europe, which Kuran analysed under the title Now Out of Never is the paradigm case. This yields the field’s hardest truth, argued directly by Charles Kurzman in The Unthinkable Revolution in Iran. Revolutions are structurally unpredictable, not merely hard to predict. When everyone is watching everyone else to d

    On Revolution
  2. 19 Jul

    Chokepoints: How Chips, Code and Coalition Decide Who Wins the AI Century

    In July 2026 a private company in San Francisco decided who in the United States government would get early access to a model capable of finding and exploiting software vulnerabilities faster than any human team. Not the Pentagon. Not Congress. Anthropic. Within weeks the same administration that had promised the most permissive AI regulatory regime in the world found itself running something close to a licensing system it had never voted for and did not control. Six thousand miles away, Beijing watched the same capability arrive at its own labs and prepared to route it through an agency that had been quietly building the machinery to handle exactly this moment since the year after ChatGPT launched. Same technology. Two governments. Two entirely different responses, shaped less by strategy than by which coalitions each government happened to have already built. That gap is the subject of this essay. It sits underneath a supply chain for advanced chips concentrated in a handful of firms that could, if severed, freeze a rival’s military and AI development overnight. It sits underneath a decade of cyber weapons that blurred the line between war and peace so thoroughly that a piece of malware aimed at Ukraine ended up costing global companies billions. It sits underneath a race between the United States and China that most people still describe as a contest over who builds the smartest model, when the real contest, the one with the shorter fuse, is over who controls the chokepoints - the chips, the export lists, the access rosters, the agency with the standing authority to say yes or no before a model that can hack anything reaches the open internet. The books referred in this piece here follow were written to explain how power actually moves through complex systems long before anyone had heard of Claude Mythos. What happened this summer is simply the first time you can watch every one of their arguments play out in real time, in public, with both superpowers running the experiment at once. The World Runs on Silicon and Whoever Controls It Controls Everything Else Begin with the physical layer because everything else is downstream of it. Chris Miller’s history of the semiconductor industry is the most important strategic document written in the last decade dressed up as business history. The central argument is simple and devastating. Every meaningful capability in the modern world, military precision, artificial intelligence, financial infrastructure, communications, surveillance, logistics and medicine, runs on chips. And the supply chain that produces those chips is among the most geographically concentrated and technically fragile systems ever built. The design of leading-edge chips is dominated by a handful of American firms and a Taiwanese company called TSMC. The manufacturing equipment required to make them is controlled largely by a Dutch company called ASML, which makes machines that no other organisation on earth knows how to replicate. The rare earth materials flow primarily through China. The assembly happens across East and Southeast Asia. This is not a resilient supply chain. It is a single point of failure wearing the costume of a global network. The policy implication is that semiconductor access is now a primary instrument of national power. When the United States restricted ASML from selling its most advanced machines to China, it was not an export control. It was a strategic weapon aimed at freezing Chinese military and AI development at a specific technological moment. The response from China has been a multi-hundred-billion dollar programme to build domestic chip capability from scratch. Whether they succeed or not will shape the balance of power for the next thirty years more decisively than most military acquisitions. The lesson here is that technology policy and defence policy are no longer separate domains. The country that controls semiconductor manufacturing controls the ceiling of every other country’s military and economic capability. Decisions about domestic chip investment, export controls, alliance structures around technology and the terms of trade with China are all, at their core, national security decisions even when they are framed as economic ones. Cyber Weapons Changed the Rules of War and Most Governments Have Not Caught Up The second foundational layer is understanding what happened to warfare when code became capable of physical destruction. Stuxnet was the moment everything changed. A piece of software, almost certainly built jointly by the United States and Israel, physically destroyed Iranian centrifuges by making them spin themselves apart while reporting normal operations to their operators. No bombs. No soldiers. No declaration of war. A nation’s nuclear programme damaged by a USB drive and a few thousand lines of code. Zetter’s account of this is the essential text because she traces not just the what but the why and the what next. Once Stuxnet was discovered and reverse engineered, the blueprint was public. Every sophisticated state actor and eventually many non-state actors now understood that physical infrastructure could be attacked through software. What followed is documented by Greenberg in Sandworm. Russia’s military intelligence unit systematically used cyber operations against Ukraine as a testing ground with steadily escalating ambition. They took down the Ukrainian power grid twice. They interfered with the election infrastructure. And then they deployed NotPetya, ostensibly a ransomware attack against Ukraine, which escaped its intended boundaries and tore through the global economy. Maersk lost almost its entire global shipping infrastructure. Merck lost production capability. FedEx sustained massive damage. Total global losses approached $10 billion from a weapon that was not even aimed at most of its victims. This is the critical concept that most policy frameworks have not yet fully absorbed - in cyber warfare, collateral damage is not an accident or an acceptable side effect. It is a structural feature of the domain. Code does not respect borders. A weapon deployed against one target propagates through every connected system that shares its vulnerability. The interconnectedness that makes the global economy function is simultaneously the attack surface that makes it catastrophically vulnerable. Perlroth adds the market layer that makes this worse. Governments discovered that they could purchase unknown software vulnerabilities, zero-days, from a grey market of researchers and brokers and use them as weapons before the software manufacturers could patch them. The NSA stockpiled hundreds of these vulnerabilities. When a Shadow Brokers breach released many of them publicly, those same government weapons were immediately weaponised by criminal and state actors against the entire world. The policy failure here is profound. A government agency sat on vulnerabilities in software used by hospitals, power plants and banks because those vulnerabilities were more valuable as weapons than the public was protected by their disclosure. EternalBlue, an NSA-developed exploit, became the engine of both WannaCry and NotPetya. American taxpayers funded the development of a weapon that then attacked American hospitals. The combined lesson of these three books is this. Cyber is not a domain that exists alongside conventional military, economic and diplomatic power. It is the connective tissue running through all of them. Offensive cyber capability can achieve strategic military objectives without triggering the international response that a kinetic attack would. It can destroy economic value at scale with plausible deniability. It can undermine democratic processes without a single soldier crossing a border. And the defences against it require a fundamentally different architecture than the defences against conventional threats because the attack surface is every device, network and human operator connected to the system you are trying to protect. Clarke and Knake, writing from direct experience building US cyber policy, crystallise this into a framework that should inform every national cyber strategy. The goal of cyber security policy cannot be to prevent all attacks. That is not achievable in a connected system. The goal is resilience. The ability to absorb attacks, degrade their impact, recover rapidly and deny adversaries the clean strategic victories they are seeking. This reframes the entire policy question. Instead of asking how do we stop attacks, you ask how do we ensure attacks cannot achieve strategic objectives. That requires investment in redundancy, segmentation, rapid response capability and an honest assessment of which systems are so critical that they must be air-gapped from the broader network regardless of the operational inconvenience. The public-private tension Clarke and Knake identify is perhaps the most practically difficult policy problem in this space. Critical infrastructure in most democracies is privately owned. Power grids, water systems, financial networks and telecommunications are run by companies whose primary obligation is to shareholders. The security investments required to protect these systems against nation-state level cyber threats are expensive, reduce short-term profitability and protect externalities that the individual company does not fully capture. Market incentives alone will not produce the level of investment that national security requires. Some form of regulatory mandate, liability framework or direct government investment is necessary. Designing that intervention without creating compliance-theatre, regulatory capture or innovation stagnation is the central challenge. The AI Race Is Not What Most People Think It Is The AI competition between the United States and China is consistently misunderstood in public debate because it is framed primarily as a race to build the most powerful models. Kai-Fu

    Chokepoints: How Chips, Code and Coalition Decide Who Wins the AI Century
  3. 17 Jul

    On Ridley's Work

    Matt Ridley is a British science writer, journalist and hereditary peer (Viscount Ridley) whose work spans evolutionary biology, genetics, economics, and the history of innovation. Since the early 1990s he has written eight major books and thousands of articles, all united by a single animating conviction: that complex order arises from the bottom up, not the top down, and that this process – whether in genomes, markets, ecosystems or cultures – is the most reliable engine of progress humanity has ever found. He is not a practicing scientist, but he reads the primary literature with unusual rigour and translates it without dumbing it down. The result is a body of work that is simultaneously intellectually serious and accessible to general readers. Ridley trained as a zoologist at Oxford, wrote a doctoral thesis on the mating system of pheasants, then spent years as science editor and American editor of The Economist before turning to books full-time. That background – evolutionary biology crossed with free-market economics crossed with science journalism – explains almost everything about his intellectual DNA. Before surveying each book, it is worth identifying the small cluster of core ideas that recur, mutate and deepen across his entire output. These are not conclusions so much as lenses. Master them and every Ridley book becomes more legible. Spontaneous Order and Bottom-Up Emergence The single most consistent thread in Ridley’s work is a hostility to top-down, intentional design as an explanation for complex beneficial outcomes. He draws heavily on Friedrich Hayek’s insight that market prices encode distributed knowledge no central planner can aggregate and generalises it far beyond economics. Sexual reproduction, genetic regulation, language, common law, the internet, the city, scientific knowledge itself – all are examples of systems that improve through decentralised trial-and-error rather than directed control. For Ridley, the instinct to find an author behind every good outcome is a cognitive error with real costs. It leads us to trust planners, regulators and visionaries over processes that are messier but more adaptive. This idea appears embryonically in The Origins of Virtue (where cooperative norms emerge without a sovereign), matures in The Rational Optimist (where trade and specialisation self-organise into civilisation), and becomes the explicit thesis of The Evolution of Everything (where every chapter argues that a given domain – money, morality, technology, government – evolved rather than was designed). Evolution as Universal Metaphor Ridley is a Darwinian not just about biology but about almost everything. The core Darwinian algorithm – variation, selection, heredity – operates wherever there is replication with error and differential fitness. Ideas mutate and compete. Technologies undergo selection pressure from markets and users. Institutions evolve by retaining practices that work and discarding those that do not. This is not metaphor for Ridley; it is mechanism. He takes seriously the claim that cultural evolution follows rules analogous to, but distinct from, genetic evolution. He is influenced by Richard Dawkins’s meme concept and by the broader tradition of evolutionary epistemology running from Karl Popper through David Deutsch. The payoff is significant. If beneficial change is evolutionary, then it is incremental, combinatorial, unpredictable in detail but directional in aggregate. Blueprints and five-year plans fail not because planners are stupid but because evolution cannot be shortcut. Exchange, Specialisation and the Collective Brain The central argument of The Rational Optimist – arguably Ridley’s most influential book – is that human prosperity is a product of exchange. When people trade, they specialise and when they specialise they get better at what they do. Each trader effectively has access to the skills and knowledge of everyone they trade with. Ridley borrows the anthropologist Henrich’s concept of the “collective brain”. No individual knows how to make a computer mouse or a pencil from scratch, but the market coordinates millions of specialists whose combined knowledge makes such objects trivially cheap. The richer and more connected a population, the larger its collective brain and the faster its technology improves. Conversely, isolated populations – Easter Island, Tasmania after rising seas severed it from Australia – lose technology they once had. The implication is that trade, globalisation and economic integration are not optional extras but are the mechanism of cultural and material progress. Nature Via Nurture, Not Nature Versus Nurture Ridley’s genetics books (Genome and Nature Via Nurture) systematically demolish the false dichotomy between genetic determinism and blank-slate environmentalism. His key insight – stated most sharply in Nature Via Nurture – is that genes are not fixed blueprints but dynamic switches. They respond to environmental signals. A gene for aggression may only be expressed under conditions of stress and poor nutrition. IQ has high heritability in wealthy families (because environment is relatively uniform and genetic variation is what differentiates outcomes) but low heritability in poor families (where environmental variation dominates). Genes cause some people to seek out certain environments, which then further shape them – a process called gene-environment correlation. The upshot is that nature and nurture are not opponents but collaborators. Ridley credits this insight partly to the work of Robert Plomin and the behavioural genetics tradition. Rational Optimism Grounded in Data Ridley’s optimism is not temperamental cheerfulness. It is a claim about empirical trend lines. Global average life expectancy, child mortality, per capita income, literacy rates, violence rates, famine deaths, hours worked per unit of consumption – all have improved dramatically over the past two centuries and most are still improving. He is a fierce critic of what he calls “the doom industry” – the recurring tendency of intellectuals, activists and journalists to extrapolate from short-term setbacks or local trends to global catastrophe. He catalogues a long list of predicted catastrophes that did not occur. The population bomb, resource exhaustion, acid rain’s destruction of forests, the ozone hole triggering mass cancer, peak oil ending civilisation. This does not make him a complacent denier of problems. He takes climate change seriously as a phenomenon (less seriously as an imminent catastrophe). His point is that the same processes of innovation and adaptation that have solved every previous resource constraint will continue to operate, provided markets, property rights and free inquiry remain intact. The Gradualism and Serendipity of Innovation How Innovation Works (2019) is the most focused expression of a theme present throughout Ridley’s career. Genuine innovation is never the product of a lone genius having a eureka moment. It is almost always incremental, builds on prior work, involves multiple independent discoveries (steam power, calculus, natural selection, the telephone – all had near-simultaneous independent inventors) and is driven by practical tinkerers rather than academic theorists. Invention follows demand and availability of enabling technologies; it does not precede them. The steam engine was improved by people who worked with steam engines, not by thermodynamicists. The Wright brothers were bicycle mechanics, not aeronautical theorists. The implication for policy is that innovation cannot be planned or directed but can be enabled by keeping barriers low, allowing failure, protecting intellectual property modestly (too much IP protection stifles recombination) and preserving freedom of inquiry. Book-by-Book Survey The Red Queen: Sex and the Evolution of Human Nature (1993) This book asks the oldest question in evolutionary biology - why does sex exist? Asexual reproduction is twice as efficient (no males needed). Ridley’s answer draws on the Red Queen hypothesis, named for the Lewis Carroll character who must keep running to stay in the same place. Sex exists because parasites exist. Parasites evolve rapidly to exploit host genomes. Sexual reproduction shuffles the host’s genome every generation, making it a moving target. The parasite that cracked last generation’s immune system finds this generation’s immune system has different locks. This arms race – parasite versus host – is the engine that keeps sexual reproduction advantageous despite its cost. Ridley extends the argument to human sexual behaviour. Mate choice, sexual jealousy, promiscuity differentials between sexes, male ornamentation (wealth, status, wit as peacock tails) and the evolution of the human brain itself as partly a product of sexual selection. He draws on Robert Trivers’s parental investment theory – females invest more per offspring and are therefore choosier – and applies it with unusual rigour to human data. The book also covers Geoffrey Miller’s hypothesis that human intelligence, language and creativity are sexually selected traits. Costly signals of genetic quality that attracted mates and thereby spread through the population. Whether or not every claim holds up, the book introduced a generation of readers to the power of sexual selection as an explanatory framework. Key concept: The Red Queen dynamic – co-evolutionary arms races that force continuous change just to maintain fitness – recurs in Ridley’s later work as a metaphor for competitive markets and technological change. The Origins of Virtue: Human Instincts and the Evolution of Cooperation (1996) This is Ridley’s most philosophically ambitious early book. Its central puzzle is the one that obsessed Hobbes, Rousseau and every subsequent social philosopher. Given that individuals pursue self-interest

    On Ridley's Work
  4. 11 Jul

    Frontier Talent Paradox - HR Management for Edge Domains

    There is a mode of thinking about talent acquisition and workforce management that, once internalised, reveals why most organisations hiring in cyber security and artificial intelligence are structurally guaranteed to fail at it. The mistake most hiring managers and HR leaders make is treating these domains as variants of ordinary technical recruitment. Write a job description, post it, screen for credentials, run a competency interview and select the person who best matches the specification. What the person who has genuinely internalised this mode of thinking sees instead is that high-skill adversarial and generative domains operate on fundamentally different talent economics than the rest of the technical workforce. Credentials lag capability by years. Interview processes designed to assess competence in stable domains actively select against the dispositions that make someone exceptional in dynamic ones. The job descriptions organisations write for red teamers and AI researchers describe, almost perfectly, the kind of person who will not be exceptional at either role. The central insight that unlocks most of the value in this field is this - in domains where the work itself is to think in ways that haven’t been formalised yet, the standard HR apparatus, built for repeatability and legal defensibility, is not merely imperfect but actively counterproductive. Managing it requires building a parallel talent system that runs on different logic. The Domain Problem: Why High-Skill Technical Roles Break Standard HR Logic Geoffrey Moore’s distinction in Crossing the Chasm between technology enthusiasts and pragmatists maps, with some modification, onto a more fundamental divide in technical hiring - between roles where the work is to execute within a defined system and roles where the work is to operate at or beyond the system’s edge. Cyber security, red teaming and AI research are edge-domain roles. The value they produce comes precisely from the practitioner’s ability to think in ways the organisation has not anticipated. Roger Martin’s The Opposable Mind frames this as the capacity to hold two conflicting models simultaneously and produce a resolution that neither model alone would generate. A red teamer who can only think like a defender, or an AI researcher who can only iterate within the current paradigm, is not producing the output the role exists to generate. The HR function, as codified in David Ulrich’s business partner model and operationalised through competency frameworks like the SHRM Body of Applied Skills and Knowledge, was designed for a different problem. Its logic is one of specification, matching and verification. You define what good looks like, you find candidates who demonstrate it and you build processes that are defensible, consistent and legally compliant. This works when what good looks like is stable and when past performance is a reasonable predictor of future performance in similar conditions. In cyber security and AI, neither assumption holds. The threat landscape in offensive security changes faster than any competency framework can be updated. The frontier of AI capability shifts on a timescale measured in months. A red teamer credentialed three years ago who has not stayed at the edge of their practice is, in operational terms, a different person from the one who was credentialed. The competency framework has no mechanism to capture this. Cal Newport’s So Good They Can’t Ignore You makes the distinction between passion-driven and craftsman-driven career development, arguing that rare and valuable skills are built through deliberate practice at the edge of current ability. The implication for hiring is that the candidates who are most valuable in high-skill technical domains are those who have been running their own deliberate practice regime, often outside formal employment, in communities, in competitions, in personal research and in open-source contribution. The HR process that screens for formal credentials and employment history systematically misses them. The Talent Pool: Where Exceptional Practitioners Actually Come From Edward Luce’s The Retreat of Western Liberalism is not a talent management text but its central observation about the bifurcation of economic returns to skill is directly relevant here. In domains where the distance between median and top-decile performance is large, the returns to finding and retaining the top decile are asymmetric. In cyber security, a single exceptional red teamer who identifies a critical architectural flaw before an adversary does may generate value orders of magnitude larger than a team of adequate practitioners who do not. Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow documents the consistent finding that expert performance in complex domains is poorly predicted by the kinds of structured interviews that HR processes favour. The cognitive processes that produce insight in adversarial domains are not the same as those that produce coherent answers to behavioural interview questions. The talent pool for exceptional red teamers and AI researchers is characterised by several features that standard recruitment processes treat as liabilities. First, non-linear career paths. The most capable offensive security practitioners frequently have histories that include periods of self-directed learning, participation in capture-the-flag competitions, independent vulnerability research and sometimes legally ambiguous activity in their earlier careers. The background check and clean-record requirement that HR compliance functions treat as non-negotiable filters cut deeply into this pool. Bruce Schneier’s work on security culture, particularly Secrets and Lies, frames the adversarial security mindset as one that requires deep familiarity with how systems fail, which is not a mindset that develops in environments of pure compliance. Second, community embeddedness. In both offensive security and AI research, the primary epistemic community is not the employing organisation but the broader professional network. DEF CON, Black Hat, the NeurIPS and ICLR conferences and their associated workshops and side channels are where the actual frontier knowledge lives. Practitioners who are not embedded in these communities are not at the frontier, regardless of their seniority within a corporate structure. Third, intrinsic motivation structure. In Drive, Daniel Pink identifies autonomy, mastery and purpose as the three components of intrinsic motivation in complex cognitive work. The employment structures that organisations default to, fixed hours, defined scope, hierarchical approval processes, systematically undermine all three. The implication is that the talent pool for these roles is not defined by geography, by educational pedigree or by formal employment history. It is defined by participation in a set of communities and by evidence of self-directed work at the frontier. Recruiting processes that do not reach into these communities are fishing in the wrong water. The Credential Problem: What Certifications Do and Do Not Signal The certification ecosystem in cyber security is extensive. CISSP, CISM, CEH, OSCP, GPEN, GXPN and the Offensive Security family of certifications represent decades of institutionalised effort to create verifiable signals of practitioner competence. In AI, the equivalent markers are degrees from recognised graduate programmes, publications in peer-reviewed venues and contributions to widely used frameworks. These credentials are not worthless. They signal a baseline of structured learning and, in the case of Offensive Security certifications, demonstrated ability to complete practical tasks under time pressure. But they are systematically misused in hiring, in two directions. The first misuse is treating certifications as proxies for current capability. Ryan Naraine and the team behind the annual Verizon Data Breach Investigations Report have documented consistently that the attack techniques most commonly used in successful breaches are not the most technically sophisticated ones. They are the ones that work against the defensive posture that certified practitioners have been trained to implement. The certification curriculum is always behind the current threat. An OSCP holder from two years ago who has not continued active practice knows how to compromise the environments that existed when they trained, not the current ones. The second misuse is treating the absence of credentials as a signal of incompetence. The most capable offensive security researchers and AI practitioners are frequently the people who were too busy doing the work to sit the exams. Bug bounty programmes, coordinated vulnerability disclosure records and competition results are stronger signals of current offensive capability than most certifications. In AI, a GitHub repository with a meaningful implementation of a recent technique or a thread of technical commentary on arXiv papers that demonstrates genuine comprehension, signals more about frontier capability than an MSc from a programme whose curriculum was designed five years ago. David Epstein’s Range makes the case that in complex, wicked domains, breadth of experience and cross-domain pattern recognition produce more adaptive capability than narrow deep specialisation. The implication for hiring is that the candidate whose background does not fit the job description template may be more capable in the role than the candidate who fits it perfectly. The practical correction is not to abandon credentials but to use them as threshold filters rather than ranking criteria, and to supplement them with domain-specific assessments that test current capability rather than historical learning. The challenge is that building such assessments requires internal expertise that many organisations lack, which generates a dependency. You need people who can assess frontier capability to hire people

    Frontier Talent Paradox - HR Management for Edge Domains
  5. 3 Jul

    On Death

    Death is the only subject that is simultaneously the most universal human experience and the most comprehensively avoided topic in modern culture. Every human being who has ever lived has died. Every human being alive now will die. Every relationship you have will end either in your death or in the death of the person you love. The loss is total, the timeline is uncertain and the fact is absolute. And yet the dominant culture of the modern developed world has organised itself with remarkable thoroughness around the project of not thinking about this. The books referred in this piece collectively constitute the most serious available confrontation with what death is, what it does to the living, what it reveals about the lives being lived and what a genuinely mature relationship with mortality makes possible that its avoidance permanently forecloses. This is not comfortable reading. It is, in the precise sense of the word, the most important reading available to any person who takes their life seriously. The Foundation: Death Is Running Your Life Whether You Know It Or Not Becker’s Denial of Death is the starting point because it performs the most important single reorientation in this entire body of work. It does not tell you how to die well or how to grieve well or how to make peace with mortality. It tells you something more fundamental and more disturbing: that the terror of death is already running your life, has been running it since you were old enough to understand that you would die and will continue running it until you engage with it directly enough to choose your response rather than having your response chosen for you by the avoidance mechanism. His central argument, which he developed from the work of Otto Rank and which Solomon, Greenberg and Pyszczynski subsequently confirmed with thirty years of empirical research, is that human beings occupy a unique and uniquely terrible position in the animal kingdom. We share with every other animal the biological drive for self-preservation. Unlike every other animal, we have the cognitive capacity to know that self-preservation will ultimately fail. We know we will die. We know it with certainty. We know it could happen at any moment. And we know that nothing we do will prevent it. This knowledge, which arrives in full force in childhood and which every subsequent decade makes more concrete and more personal, is so existentially threatening that the human mind cannot hold it consciously for extended periods. The response is the construction of what Becker calls immortality projects: the systems of meaning, value and symbolic significance that allow individuals to feel that they are part of something that transcends individual death. Religion is the most explicit immortality project: the promise that the individual self survives physical death in some form. But secular equivalents are equally pervasive. Career achievement that creates a legacy. National or ethnic identity that extends the individual into a collective that will outlast them. The building of institutions, works of art, bodies of knowledge or families that will continue after the individual is gone. Even the accumulation of wealth can function as an immortality project: the feeling that one’s presence in the world has been sufficiently consequential to leave a permanent mark. The Worm at the Core documents the empirical consequences of this theory with a precision that transforms it from a compelling speculative argument into an established psychological mechanism. Mortality salience experiments, in which subjects are primed to think about their own death before being asked to make judgements, consistently show that the awareness of death dramatically increases in-group favouritism, out-group hostility, adherence to cultural worldviews and punishment of those who deviate from them. When people are reminded of their mortality, even subtly and unconsciously, they become more defensive of the meaning systems that protect them from the terror that reminder has activated. They become more hostile to people who challenge those meaning systems. They become more extreme in their identification with the group whose continued existence provides their symbolic immortality. The geopolitical, the cultural and the institutional dimensions of this finding are staggering in their implications. Religious conflict is not primarily about theology. It is primarily about the collision of immortality projects whose mutual exclusivity makes each a threat to the other’s protection against existential terror. Political extremism is not primarily about policy. It is primarily about the mobilisation of mortality terror in service of group identity projects that promise symbolic transcendence of individual death. The cultural hostility to outsiders that drives nativism, nationalism and tribalism is not primarily about economic competition. It is primarily about the perceived threat to the meaning systems that protect each group against the awareness of death. For someone who has read my pieces on geopolitics, cognitive warfare and systems thinking material, this is the missing variable that explains patterns those frameworks describe but cannot fully account for. Why do people support leaders who objectively harm their material interests? Because those leaders offer something more psychologically urgent than material benefit: they offer a story of civilisational significance that makes individual mortality feel less absolute. Why does misinformation spread so effectively even when factual correction is readily available? Because the misinformation is almost always more identity-affirming and therefore more mortality-terror-managing than the correction. Why do institutions resist change with such irrational tenacity? Because the institution is an immortality project for its members and its dissolution feels psychologically equivalent to their own death. The personal application is equally important and equally uncomfortable. One’s career ambitions, one’s drive to operate at the highest levels of national policy, one’s investment in legacy and consequence: Becker would not dismiss any of this as ignoble. He would ask you to see it clearly. How much of this is genuine service and how much is the construction of a significance project that manages the terror of being a finite creature in an indifferent universe? The honest answer for most serious people in serious roles is: both, simultaneously, in proportions that shift across a career and that require continuous honest examination to keep from tipping entirely in the wrong direction. The purpose of this examination is not to destroy ambition or to produce paralysis through existential awareness. It is to ensure that the immortality project you are building is one you would choose if you were choosing consciously rather than being driven by an unexamined terror. That distinction, between the chosen significance and the driven significance, is the difference between a life that is genuinely yours and a life that belongs primarily to your defence mechanism. The Clinical Reality: What Dying Actually Looks Like The terror of death is amplified enormously by ignorance of what dying actually involves. Modern Western culture has removed death from the domestic sphere into the medical sphere so thoroughly that most people in the developed world have never been present at a death, have never seen a dead body outside of a funeral home’s careful presentation and have never had an unmanaged conversation with someone who is dying. The result is that the imagination fills the knowledge gap with the most terrifying available content and the actual experience of dying, which Mannix and Gawande both document with extraordinary care and compassion, remains almost entirely hidden from the people who most need to understand it. Mannix’s thirty years at the bedside of dying people produces the most important single corrective to the modern terror of death available in print. Her account of what the physical process of dying actually involves, in most cases not the dramatic suffering that the imagination projects but a gradual, peaceful withdrawal from engagement with the external world that more resembles deepening sleep than the horror most people fear, is profoundly and practically reassuring in a way that no philosophical argument can be. The body knows how to die. It has been doing it since the first organism died and the process, left uninterrupted by medical intervention aimed at postponing it beyond its useful moment, is almost always more peaceful than its anticipation. The specific dying moments she describes, the mottled skin and changed breathing that signal the final hours, the way that hearing persists after other faculties have gone, the way that pain in terminal illness is almost always manageable with palliative care that most people do not know to ask for, are the practical information that everyone who will die and everyone who will watch someone they love die needs and that the culture’s avoidance of death systematically withholds. Gawande’s Being Mortal approaches the same territory from the policy and medical system perspective that is both his professional position and his personal experience as the son of a father dying of a spinal cord tumour. His central argument is that medicine has redefined a good death as a medically managed death and that the medical definition of success, the extension of biological function for as long as possible, is systematically in conflict with what dying people themselves, when honestly consulted, report that they want. What dying people want, consistently across every study Gawande reviews, is not maximum biological extension. It is the maintenance of enough function and enough freedom from pain to continue the relationships and activities that constitute their sense of who they are. They want to be present at a g

    On Death
  6. 17 Jun

    On Self Awareness

    Self-awareness is the most paradoxical of all human capacities. It is the thing that makes us most distinctively human, the ability to turn the instruments of consciousness back on consciousness itself and to observe the observer. It is simultaneously the capacity most consistently overestimated by the people who most need to develop it. The person who is certain they know themselves well is almost always the person with the most significant and most consequential blind spots. The person who has genuinely developed self-awareness is characterised not by confidence in their self-knowledge but by a deepened appreciation of how much remains opaque and by a sustained and honest practice of looking anyway. The books referred for this piece collectively constitute the most serious available engagement with what self-awareness actually is, what prevents it, what makes it possible and what it produces in the person who develops it genuinely rather than performing it socially. What follows is what they collectively teach. The First Problem: You Are Not Who You Think You Are Begin where every honest investigation of self-knowledge must begin. The self you experience as the author of your thoughts, the continuous narrative identity that feels like the obvious and direct apprehension of who you are, is a construction. It is not a false construction in the sense of being deliberately invented. But it is a construction in the sense that it is assembled from selected memories, inherited narratives, defended stories and the continuous confabulation of a brain whose primary job is to produce coherent experience rather than accurate self-report. Schulz’s Being Wrong establishes the epistemological foundation with unusual precision. The feeling of being right and the fact of being right are completely unrelated states that happen to coincide more often than chance would predict but far less often than the feeling of certainty suggests. The person who is wrong about something important almost never experiences themselves as wrong in the moment. They experience themselves as right, as clearly seeing what others are missing, as having access to a reality that the wrong people are failing to perceive. The experience of being wrong, Schulz points out, is indistinguishable from the inside from the experience of being right. You know you were wrong only in retrospect, when new information or a change in perspective makes the error visible. Applied to self-knowledge, this is devastating. The confident self-assessment, the certain feeling that you know your own motivations, that you understand your own patterns, that you have accounted for your own biases, is produced by the same cognitive system that produces all the other confident wrong beliefs. The person who is most confident in their self-knowledge is not thereby the most accurate. They are the person who has most successfully constructed a self-narrative that feels coherent and true, which is not the same thing as being accurate. Grosz’s Examined Life illustrates this through fifty case studies from his psychoanalytic practice, each showing a different form of the gap between the self a person presents and the self that is actually organising their behaviour. The woman who cannot understand why her relationships always fail in the same way and who has never connected this pattern to the specific emotional dynamics of her childhood family. The man who is certain his anger is always justified and who has never noticed that his certainty itself is the pattern. The professional who cannot understand why their success feels empty and who has defended against the awareness that the success was built in service of a self-image rather than a genuine value. In every case the pattern that is most consequentially shaping the person’s life is the pattern they cannot see because they are inside it. Miller’s Drama of the Gifted Child provides the developmental account of why this blindness is not random but follows a specific logic. The gifted child of her title is not the intellectually gifted child. It is the child who is gifted at reading and responding to the emotional needs of the adults around them, who learns to suppress or perform specific emotional states in order to maintain the love and approval of caregivers whose own unmet needs require a specific kind of child. The child who is not allowed to be angry, sad, dependent, ambitious, separate or any of the other things that the caregiver finds intolerable learns to not be those things, or more precisely learns to not know they are those things, because the awareness would be too costly. The adult version of this child has a false self, a constructed identity that is organised around what the world has rewarded and what the world has punished, rather than around what is genuinely true about them. The false self is not experienced as false from the inside. It is experienced as simply who they are. The genuine self, the needs and feelings and values that were never allowed expression, operates from underground, emerging as depression when the false self is unsustainable, as anxiety when the false self’s performance feels precarious and as the baffling pattern of self-sabotage when the genuine self refuses the false self’s agenda by creating the failure that the performance was designed to prevent. The Body as Witness: What the Mind Cannot Access Van der Kolk’s Body Keeps the Score establishes a dimension of self-knowledge that the cognitively oriented approaches consistently understate. The nervous system stores experience, particularly early and traumatic experience, in ways that do not translate into conscious narrative memory and that are therefore inaccessible to the kind of self-reflection that most self-knowledge practices depend on. The infant who experiences chronic emotional unavailability from a caregiver does not form a memory of being emotionally neglected. They form a nervous system that is calibrated to the expectation of unavailability, that reads neutral facial expressions as threatening, that hyperactivates the stress response in situations that feel relationally ambiguous and that produces the felt sense of being fundamentally unsafe in relationships without any corresponding explicit memory of why. The adult version of this nervous system does not know it was shaped this way. It simply experiences the world as more threatening than others seem to find it and experiences itself as more anxious, more reactive and more difficult in relationships than it would like to be, without understanding the source. The self-knowledge that addresses this layer cannot be achieved through introspection alone because the introspective mind does not have access to the nervous system’s stored patterns. It requires the engagement of the body itself: the practices of somatic awareness that develop the capacity to notice and interpret the body’s signals, the therapeutic relationships in which the nervous system’s patterns are activated in a context of sufficient safety that they can be observed and modified and the physical practices, including movement, breathwork and certain forms of meditation, that work directly with the nervous system rather than only with the narrative mind. Siegel’s Mindsight and Aware provide the neurological framework for understanding why the observing capacity that genuine self-awareness requires is itself a trainable skill rather than a fixed capacity. The prefrontal cortex, whose functions include self-observation, emotional regulation and the integration of information from different brain systems, is the neural substrate of what Siegel calls mindsight: the ability to observe your own mental processes with sufficient clarity that you can respond to them rather than being automatically driven by them. The wheel of awareness that Siegel develops as a practical meditation practice provides a map of the different domains of awareness: the sensory experience of the body, the activity of the mind including thoughts and emotions, the relational experience of being in connection with others and the core quality of awareness itself. Developing the capacity to move attention deliberately around this wheel, to be aware of each domain without being captured by any of it, is both the practice and the product of genuine self-awareness. The person who can observe their emotional state without being identical to it, who can notice the thought without becoming the thought, has developed a relationship with their inner life that produces the genuine choice and genuine agency that the unaware person cannot access. The Observer and the Observed: The Central Distinction Singer’s Untethered Soul and Tolle’s New Earth approach the same territory from the contemplative direction and make the argument that is simultaneously the most simple and the most difficult to actually implement: you are not your thoughts, your emotions or your stories about yourself. You are the awareness that is aware of all of these things. The distinction between the observer and the observed is the most important distinction in the entire domain of self-knowledge and most people have never made it. Singer makes this with disarming directness. Notice that you are aware of your thoughts. You can hear them, watch them arise and pass and observe their content. This means that the part of you that is doing the noticing cannot be the same as the thoughts being noticed. The thoughts are objects of awareness. The awareness itself is the subject. This is not a complicated philosophical position. It is a simple observation that is available to anyone who tries it and that, genuinely made, is the beginning of a relationship with the inner life that is fundamentally different from the identification with thoughts and emotions that characterises ordinary experience. The practical consequence of this distinction is immediate and significant. Th

    On Self Awareness
  7. 16 Jun

    On Power

    The people who openly seek power are rarely the ones who hold it longest. The people who hold it longest are usually the ones who convinced everyone else that they were not seeking it at all. That is not cynicism. That is the first thing you need to understand about how power actually works, as opposed to how it is described. There is a mode of thinking that treats power not as a possession but as a relation, and almost everyone who has not internalised this gets the basic unit of analysis wrong. The common error is to imagine power as a substance: something a person or institution has, like money in a vault, measured by titles, armies or net worth. The person who has internalised this mode of thinking instead asks, in any situation, who needs what from whom, who can withhold it and at what cost, what each party would do if the other’s cooperation disappeared tomorrow and what each party currently believes about the other that may or may not be true. The central insight that unlocks most of the field’s value is this: power is the structure of dependency between parties, and perception is the medium through which that structure is built, concealed and exploited. Almost everything else, authority, coercion, influence, legitimacy, charisma, reputation, is a special case or a disguise of dependency operating through perception. Once this is seen, hierarchies stop looking like fixed facts and start looking like temporary settlements that hold only as long as the dependencies and perceptions that sustain them remain unchanged, and most of what looks like inexplicable institutional behaviour, irrational decisions, sudden reversals, the survival of the mediocre and the destruction of the capable, becomes legible. The title under which this field is often discussed makes people uncomfortable, and that discomfort is itself the first thing worth examining. There is a widespread conditioning to believe that power, manipulation, strategic deception and the study of how these forces operate are subjects fit only for those who intend to misuse them, and that the ethical person has no need of this knowledge. This belief is not only mistaken. It is dangerous, because it leaves the person who holds it at a permanent disadvantage in every environment where dependency, coalition and perception determine outcomes, which is every environment that matters. The Anatomy of Dependency: A and B Revisited The foundational vocabulary of the field begins with Robert Dahl’s deceptively simple formulation: A has power over B to the extent that A can get B to do something B would not otherwise do. This definition, often dismissed as too thin, is in fact the load-bearing floor on which everything else is built, because it forces attention onto behaviour and counterfactuals rather than onto titles or reputations. The crucial move is to ask what B would have done in the absence of A’s intervention, and this counterfactual question is where most popular thinking about power goes wrong, because it is far easier to observe who gives orders than to observe what would have happened without them. Steven Lukes extended this in Power: A Radical View by distinguishing three faces of power. The first face is the Dahlian one: direct behavioural influence in observable conflicts. The second face, drawn from Bachrach and Baratz’s work on agenda setting, is the power to keep issues off the table altogether, so that B never even raises a demand A would have had to resist. The third face, the most demanding, is the power to shape B’s preferences and perceptions so that B does not want the thing that conflicts with A’s interests in the first place. This third face is why dependency, not behaviour, is the right unit of analysis: a person whose preferences have been shaped need never be coerced, because coercion only becomes visible at the point where dependency is contested, and a sufficiently complete shaping of preferences removes the contest before it begins. Max Weber’s distinction between Macht (Power) and Herrschaft (Domination/Authority) are primarily outlined in his posthumously published magnum opus, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft (Economy and Society). The difference maps onto this same structure from another angle. Macht is raw capacity to impose one’s will even against resistance; Herrschaft is the condition where commands are obeyed as a matter of course, without the need for resistance to be overcome at all, because the relation has been institutionalised into something that looks like legitimate authority. Weber’s three types of legitimate authority, traditional, charismatic and rational legal, are best understood not as three different kinds of power but as three different stories that dependent parties tell themselves about why their dependency is acceptable. The story changes; the underlying dependency structure is what actually has to be tracked. Jeffrey Pfeffer’s organisational research and Robert Caro’s biography of Robert Moses both confirm, from opposite ends of the literature, that authority on an organisational chart and power in this dependency sense routinely diverge, and that the gap between the two is where the most consequential dynamics in any institution actually take place. The Currency Problem: Why Resources Are Not Power A persistent error is to confuse resources with power itself. Resources, money, weapons, votes, information, formal authority, skill, are potential power, convertible into actual power only through a process that can fail at multiple points. This is the paradox of unrealised power: an actor with overwhelming resources can lose every confrontation because those resources cannot be converted into leverage over the specific dependency at stake. The clearest illustration is the BATNA framework from Getting to Yes by Roger Fisher and William Ury. Bargaining power in a negotiation is not a function of overall wealth but of one’s best alternative to a negotiated agreement relative to the other side’s. A wealthier party with no good alternative can be out-leveraged by a poorer party who can credibly walk away, because power in that moment is defined by the relative cost of the relationship ending. Thomas Schelling’s The Strategy of Conflict pushes this further: power often resides not in the ability to act but in the ability to credibly commit to a future action, including one that would be costly to oneself. A threat too costly for the threatener to carry out is no threat at all unless the threatener can bind their own future behaviour, which is why Schelling treats the deliberate reduction of one’s own options, burning bridges, making promises public, delegating to inflexible agents, as a source of power rather than a loss of it. This inverts the naive equation of power with freedom of action. Often the actor who has visibly removed their own options has thereby made their commitment credible and gained leverage over a party who must now adjust to that fixed point. Caro’s account of Moses’s bond covenants is the institutional version of this logic: by writing the revenue structure of his public authorities so that no elected official could redirect their funds without enormous political cost, Moses converted a constraint on himself into a source of power that outlasted every governor who tried to remove him. Expertise is a clear case of the conversion problem and deserves separate treatment. The typology of power bases developed by John French and Bertram Raven distinguishes expert power, knowledge others depend on, from legitimate, reward, coercive and referent power, which derive from position, control over outcomes or likeability. Jeffrey Pfeffer’s Power: Why Some People Have It and Others Don’t develops the relevant implication: expertise converts into power only when it is both depended upon and difficult to replace, and neither condition can be assumed. A specialist whose knowledge is widely shared or easily documented has no leverage regardless of its depth, because the dependency it might create can be satisfied elsewhere at low cost. Pfeffer’s further point is that competence is no substitute for the coalition and positioning work covered later. The skilled person who assumes their competence will be recognised on its own terms makes the same error as the person who mistakes resources for power in general: skill is potential power and, like any resource, requires dependency and irreplaceability to become actual power. The Hidden Curriculum of Hierarchy: Greene, Gracian and the Court The popular literature on power, most visible in Robert Greene’s The 48 Laws of Power, is often dismissed as cynical, but it earns its place because it documents, with unusual precision, how the second and third faces of power operate at the interpersonal scale inside hierarchies. Greene’s emphasis on never outshining the master, on saying less than necessary and on concealing one’s intentions, is, stripped of its packaging, a description of how dependency is managed and concealed within courts, corporations and bureaucracies. Never outshining the master describes a predictable structural dynamic rather than an occasional pathology: authority that rests on insecurity does not reward capability that makes it feel threatened, it eliminates that capability, and the practical response is to frame one’s competence as an extension of the superior’s position until accumulated influence makes that framing unnecessary. Saying less than necessary and concealing intentions both reduce the information leaked about one’s thinking, and since every word spoken is data others use to model and anticipate the speaker, controlling that flow is itself a form of power, the mirror image of the information control Caro documents in Moses. The throughline of this literature, back to Baltasar Gracian’s The Art of Worldly Wisdom and Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Prince, is that visible power i

    On Power
  8. 12 Jun

    On Harari's Work

    Yuval Noah Harari is the most widely read historian alive. Sapiens has sold over twenty million copies and been translated into more than sixty languages. It has been read by Barack Obama, Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg, recommended by heads of state and placed on corporate reading lists across industries and continents. Homo Deus extended that reach. 21 Lessons for the 21st Century made him a de facto public intellectual on questions of technology and democracy. Nexus, published in 2024, addressed artificial intelligence and information networks with the same sweeping ambition that characterises all his work. The phenomenon of Harari’s readership is itself a subject worth examining briefly before the books are. He has achieved something rare: genuine mass readership for intellectually serious historical and philosophical argument. His books are not simplified or dumbed down. They are dense with ideas, structured around counterintuitive claims and willing to reach genuinely disturbing conclusions. The readership reflects a hunger for big-picture thinking that academic specialisation and journalistic short-termism have largely failed to satisfy. Harari began as an academic military historian specialising in medieval and early modern warfare. His doctoral work at Oxford focused on the experience of Renaissance soldiers and the cultural construction of warfare as a narrative form. That training is not incidental to his popular work. The concern with how human beings narrate their experience, how stories and myths structure collective behaviour and how the same events can be simultaneously true in their factual content and false in their cultural meaning runs through everything he has written. The historian of how soldiers understood their own deaths became the historian of how civilisations understand their own existence. His intellectual influences are eclectic and often implicit. Jared Diamond’s biogeographical determinism, Michel Foucault’s analysis of power and discourse, Francis Fukuyama’s teleological liberalism (which Harari accepts and then interrogates), Daniel Dennett’s philosophy of mind and consciousness, Peter Singer’s utilitarian ethics and the Buddhist philosophy that Harari practises as a meditator all leave visible marks. The synthesis is original even when the components are borrowed. Unlike Taleb, Harari is not primarily a technical thinker. Unlike Deutsch, he is not a scientist advancing a theory. He is a historian and philosopher of the big picture: someone who reads across biology, anthropology, economics, philosophy and technology and produces a narrative account of how the human animal got here and where it might be going. The appropriate standard for his work is not mathematical rigour or scientific precision but the quality of the synthesis, the originality of the framing and the intellectual honesty with which uncomfortable conclusions are confronted. Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind (2011/2014) Sapiens covers 70,000 years of human history in approximately 400 pages. This is, on its face, an absurd enterprise. Any such project will involve simplification, generalisation and the suppression of complexity that would qualify or overturn specific claims. Harari is aware of this and takes it as a feature rather than a bug. His explicit ambition is not to produce a comprehensive history but to identify the most important patterns in human development and to offer a framework for understanding how we arrived at the present. The book is organised around three revolutions: the Cognitive Revolution approximately 70,000 years ago, the Agricultural Revolution approximately 10,000 years ago and the Scientific Revolution approximately 500 years ago. These are not arbitrary divisions. Each revolution represents a fundamental shift in the relationship between Homo sapiens and the rest of the biosphere, a shift in the sources of human power and a shift in the cognitive and social structures through which humans organise their lives. The Cognitive Revolution: The Power of Fiction The Cognitive Revolution is Harari’s most original and most influential conceptual contribution. The central question is: why did Homo sapiens outcompete and eventually eliminate every other human species? Neanderthals had larger brains. Homo erectus had a longer evolutionary track record. Other species of genus Homo inhabited the same environments and faced the same selection pressures. What was different about sapiens? Harari’s answer is language, but not language in the obvious sense of the ability to communicate information about the physical environment. Other animals do that. What is distinctive about the language of Homo sapiens is the ability to communicate about things that do not exist: to create and share fiction. Not fiction in the pejorative sense of lies or delusions, but fiction in the sense of intersubjective reality: entities and structures that exist not in the physical world but in the shared beliefs of a sufficiently large community. Money is the paradigm case. A banknote is, as a physical object, a piece of printed paper with negligible intrinsic value. Its value as money exists entirely in the shared belief of a community that it can be exchanged for goods and services. The moment that belief collapses, the banknote becomes physically unchanged but monetarily worthless. Nations, corporations, legal systems, human rights, religions and political ideologies are all fictions in this precise sense: they exist only insofar as sufficient numbers of people collectively believe in them and act as if they exist. This is not a debunking argument. Harari is not claiming that money, human rights or nations are unreal or unimportant. He is claiming the opposite: that these intersubjective fictions are the most powerful forces in human history, more powerful than any physical fact about the environment or any genetic fact about the individual. The ability to create and sustain shared fictions is what enabled Homo sapiens to cooperate in groups of thousands and millions, far beyond the scale accessible to other social animals. Chimpanzees cannot cooperate with strangers. They lack the cognitive machinery to extend trust beyond the small groups in which individual relationships can be maintained. Sapiens can cooperate with millions of strangers because they share common fictions: the same currency, the same legal system, the same national identity or the same religious beliefs. The evolutionary timing of the Cognitive Revolution is important. Around 70,000 years ago, something changed in the structure of the sapiens brain. The fossil and archaeological record shows a sudden explosion of symbolic behaviour: cave paintings, carved figurines, long-distance trade in non-utilitarian objects and, inferentially, the elaborate social rituals that require shared symbolic understanding. Harari argues this reflects the emergence of something like the modern human mind: capable of fiction, capable of narrative and therefore capable of the large-scale flexible cooperation that distinguishes sapiens from every other species. The consequence of this analysis is that human history is fundamentally the history of intersubjective fictions: which ones come to dominate, how they spread, how they interact, how they collapse and what replaces them. The Agricultural Revolution, the rise of empires, the spread of world religions, the Scientific Revolution, the emergence of capitalism and the liberal democratic order are all, in Harari’s framework, the history of changing sets of shared fictions that structure how vast numbers of people understand themselves and coordinate their behaviour. The Agricultural Revolution: History’s Biggest Fraud One of Sapiens’s most provocative chapters concerns the Agricultural Revolution, which Harari describes as history’s biggest fraud. The conventional story is one of progress: the transition from nomadic hunter-gathering to settled agriculture enabled population growth, specialisation of labour, the accumulation of surplus, the development of writing and mathematics and eventually the entire edifice of civilisation. This is true. But Harari asks a different question: was the Agricultural Revolution good for the individual human being? The answer, supported by a substantial body of physical anthropological evidence, is probably no. Hunter-gatherer skeletons show greater average height, fewer signs of nutritional deficiency and less evidence of the repetitive stress injuries characteristic of agricultural labour than early agricultural skeletons. Hunter-gatherers worked fewer hours per day, ate a more varied diet and were exposed to a smaller disease load because they did not live in dense settlements in close proximity to domesticated animals. The transition to agriculture brought population growth, but it also brought famine, epidemic disease, social hierarchy, slavery and warfare at a scale and intensity that hunter-gatherer societies rarely achieved. More precisely: the Agricultural Revolution was not good for individual humans but it was spectacularly good for the genes of the species of plants and animals that were domesticated. Wheat, rice, maize, cattle, pigs and chickens are among the most numerous organisms on earth precisely because their domestication by humans served their genetic propagation regardless of its effects on the humans doing the domesticating. The farmer who cleared a forest to plant wheat and then spent backbreaking days weeding, irrigating and harvesting was, in genetic terms, working for the wheat. The story of agricultural progress, narrated from the perspective of individual human wellbeing, looks rather different from the standard narrative of civilisational advancement. The deeper point is about the gap between what is good for the collective and what is good for the individual. The Agricultural Revolution enabled civilisations but may have made th

    On Harari's Work

About

The books, frameworks and ways of thinking I most want my son to encounter, preserved before I forget why they mattered. tiwaryshailesh.substack.com