The Philosophy of Silicon Valley

We Are As Gods: The Philosophy of Silicon Valley

“We are as gods and might as well get good at it.” — Stewart Brand, 1968

Stewart Brand wrote that in the first Whole Earth Catalog — the bible of the counterculture. The same counterculture that dropped acid hoping to dissolve hierarchies, that saw the personal computer as the new LSD, that genuinely believed technology could liberate humanity from the prison of industrial capitalism.

Fifty-six years later, Elon Musk personally decides which posts 300 million people see on what used to be our version of the public square. Jeff Bezos owns the infrastructure through which over 40% of American e-commerce flows, collecting a cut of every transaction like a feudal lord taxing river crossings. Mark Zuckerberg runs a machine that knows you’re pregnant before your family does, that predicts your politics with more accuracy than you could articulate yourself, that shapes your reality through algorithms you’ll never see.

Brand was right. These men are gods. They got good at it.

But he never defined “we.” In the 21st century, it’s obvious: “we” never meant all of us. The hippies didn’t destroy the hierarchy — they built a new one. The libertarians didn’t eliminate authority — they privatized it. The tech utopians who promised to democratize everything created the most concentrated power structure in human history.

When we dreamed of the future, we imagined liberation. What we got was technofeudalism.


The Californian Ideology

In 1995, British academics Richard Barbrook and Andy Cameron noticed something strange happening in the West and published an essay about it: The Californian Ideology.

Their argument was simple and explosive. The hippies and the yuppies — the acid-dropping communalists and the free-market fundamentalists, the people who wanted to burn the system down and the people who wanted to optimize it — had inexplicably merged into a single ideological force.

This shouldn’t have been possible. These two groups had been at war.

On one side: conservative capitalists. Reagan Republicans. Believers in unfettered private enterprise, supporters of the Vietnam War, people who saw hippies as a genuine threat to American civilization. On May 15, 1969, Reagan literally sent the National Guard to raid Berkeley radicals protesting the war on campus. One man was shot dead. Over 125 needed hospital treatment. This wasn’t a policy disagreement. It was a pseudo-civil war.

On the other side: the counterculture. Dreamers who opposed imperialism, sexism, mindless consumerism, and everything the establishment represented. Deeply influenced by Marshall McLuhan, who argued that the convergence of media, computing, and telecommunications would produce a virtual democracy free from inequality. They believed technology would overthrow big business and big government — not through organizing or fighting for state power, but automatically. The tools themselves would do the liberating.

Twenty-five years after Reagan’s National Guard raid, Barbrook and Cameron argued these two sides had synthesized. And the glue was technological determinism — the shared belief that technology, by its very nature, produces freedom.

You could be anti-establishment and pro-market. A rebel and an entrepreneur. You could rage against institutional authority while building your startup. Drop acid on the weekend, optimize stock options on Monday. As Barbrook and Cameron wrote: “The Californian Ideology happily answers this conundrum by believing in both visions at the same time — and by not criticising either of them.”

This caught fire because most participants in both movements were skilled information workers — programmers, engineers, marketers — who worked within or adjacent to the emerging tech industry. Unlike assembly line workers, they couldn’t easily be replaced. They had autonomy, creative control, good pay, interesting problems. They had power over their labor in a way most people didn’t.

There was no need to keep protesting. This was the dream. And when these hippies got burnt out of corporate culture, they became entrepreneurs themselves. They stopped demanding public solutions and started trying to fix problems individually. They accepted that liberation depends on your personal talent, your hustle, your ability to surf the wave of technological change.

But for this mythology to hold — for the self-made entrepreneur to feel real — you have to ignore how Silicon Valley was actually built.

The first computer was funded by a £17,470 British government grant in 1834. IBM only built the first programmable digital computer because the U.S. Defense Department commissioned it during the Korean War. The entire internet was built with taxpayer dollars through DARPA. GPS, touchscreens, voice recognition, search algorithms — all came from publicly funded research. When Japanese companies threatened American dominance in microchips in the 1980s, the libertarian computer capitalists of California had no ideological qualms about joining a state-sponsored cartel to fight them off.

Silicon Valley didn’t invent DIY culture. They commercialized it. They took the collective achievements of hobbyists and privatized them for profit.

The new left’s suspicion of institutions wasn’t wrong. Governments do fund the military-industrial complex. Corporations do exploit workers. But their response — exit the system, build alternative digital communities, let tech do the liberating — led them to abandon the fight for collective power. And that vacuum was filled by privatized power that put all its faith in markets.

Treating technology as a force of nature, inevitable and beyond politics, sounds like optimism. It’s actually surrender. It’s saying: we shouldn’t try to collectively shape the future. We should let whoever owns the tools decide.

The Californian Ideology is the con. It’s how you get people to accept oligarchy while believing they’re living through liberation.

The hippies who built it — the ones who genuinely thought they were creating freedom — ended up building institutions more powerful and more oppressive than anything the 1960s radicals were fighting against. Facebook controls public discourse more effectively than any government propaganda. Amazon dominates retail more completely than Standard Oil ever dominated energy. Google surveils you more thoroughly than the FBI ever dreamed of.

And the people running these companies still see themselves as rebels. Outsiders. Disruptors.

They didn’t escape the Man. They became the Man — just with better PR.


From Ideology to Infrastructure

Silicon Valley companies all say the same things: “We’re building tools that empower individuals. We’re creating open systems where anyone can compete. Information wants to be free.”

What they actually built: platforms that require you to surrender control to use them, walled gardens with switching costs so high you’re essentially trapped, and a surveillance apparatus that rivals the NSA.

Ideology alone doesn’t build monopolies. You need mechanisms. Three of them, specifically.

Engineering Dependence

Mark Zuckerberg didn’t invent social networking. What Facebook figured out was how to make your relationships proprietary.

MySpace was first and bigger. But it was a mess — fake profiles, bots, catfishing. Facebook’s innovation was requiring mutual friend connections. Someone had to vouch for you. This created a verified social graph: a network of authenticated relationships. And once you built that graph, it became impossible to replicate elsewhere.

You don’t use Facebook because you like Facebook. You use it because your family, your friends, and your colleagues are on it. The software isn’t special. The network — years of connections, photos, memories — is irreplaceable.

Internal emails obtained by the FTC reveal Facebook understood this explicitly. January 2012: “Photos are perhaps one of the most important ways we can make switching costs very high for users… it will be very tough for a user to switch if they can’t take those photos and associated data/comments with them.”

They weren’t subtle about it. The FTC called it the “ratchet effect” — switching costs that increase over time. The longer you use Facebook, the more trapped you become.

Google+ proved the trap works. Google spent $585 million building a competitor. Unlimited resources, billions of users, the best engineers on earth. It failed spectacularly — 90% of users couldn’t stay on the platform for more than five seconds. Why? As Facebook’s internal emails noted: “People who are big fans of G+ are having a hard time convincing their friends to participate because switching costs would be high due to friend density on Facebook.”

You could build a technically superior product with infinite money and it wouldn’t matter. Facebook won not because it was better, but because it achieved critical mass first. Network effects at scale make you invincible.

Google operates on the same logic, different mechanism. More users generate more queries. More queries produce better training data. Better algorithms attract more users. Repeat. The August 2025 DOJ ruling revealed the scale: Google receives nine times more web queries per day than all rivals combined. Nineteen times more on mobile. Over 90% of unique search phrases on the web are only ever seen by Google — giving them an insurmountable algorithmic advantage their competitors will never close.

Amazon’s version: external sellers pay up to 50% of each sale back to Amazon, yet can’t leave because their customers are all there. A 2023 FTC lawsuit revealed Amazon was copying external vendors’ products, selling them cheaper, and burying the competition in their own algorithm. It’s not a marketplace. It’s a managed extraction system where the emperor decides who lives and who dies.

Regulatory Arbitrage

Did you know Uber and Lyft aren’t classified as transportation companies? They’re “technology platforms that connect riders with drivers.” The semantics matter because taxi companies follow taxi regulations — vehicle safety, background checks, commercial insurance, labor laws. Technology companies don’t.

When California passed a law requiring gig companies to classify drivers as employees, Uber, Lyft, and DoorDash responded by threatening to shut down operations and raising over $200 million for a ballot initiative. Proposition 22 passed with 59% approval — built on a campaign of consumer incentives, discounts, and manufactured dependence. A UC Berkeley study found drivers post-Prop 22 earn an average of $5.97 per hour after expenses.

When legislative lobbying fails, you take it directly to voters with overwhelming spending. When that’s not enough, you hire the government itself. Tech lobbying went from $19.2 million combined in 2010 to $124 million in 2020. Meta alone spent $25 million in 2024. Six major tech companies employ roughly 300 lobbyists — one for every two members of Congress. 86% of Facebook’s lobbyists previously worked in government. 94% of Congress members with jurisdiction over privacy and antitrust received money from Big Tech PACs or lobbyists.

What that money buys: performative congressional hearings where CEOs give non-answers. Privacy bills so watered down they’re meaningless. Enforcement actions that result in settlements — fines that sound enormous but represent fractions of revenue, with no admission of wrongdoing.

Surveillance Capitalism

Harvard professor Shoshana Zuboff spent years studying Google and concluded they invented a new economic logic she calls surveillance capitalism: “the unilateral claiming of private human experience as free raw material for translation into behavioural data.”

Before 2001, Google used your data to improve search. Symbiotic — you get better results, they get better algorithms. After 2001, they realized that same data could predict which ads you’d click on. Those predictions were worth money. So they started keeping behavioural surplus — data not needed to improve their service, just valuable to advertisers. Google went from $19 million in revenue in 2000 to $3.5 billion in 2004.

But it goes beyond prediction. As Zuboff writes: “The shift is from monitoring to what data scientists call actuating. Surveillance capitalists develop economies of action, as they learn to tune, herd, and condition our behaviour with subtle cues, rewards, and punishments that shunt us toward their most profitable outcomes.”

You think you’re choosing. The algorithm is studying what makes you click, what makes you buy, and engineering your environment to produce more of both. You’re not the customer. You’re the raw material.

In January 2012, Facebook conducted what may be the largest psychological field experiment in history: they manipulated the emotions of 689,003 users without consent by altering their news feeds. When positive content was reduced, people produced fewer positive posts. When negative content was reduced, the opposite occurred. Facebook demonstrated it could systematically alter your emotional state at scale by controlling your information environment. When this came to light in 2014, they pointed to their data use policy as consent.

The antitrust framework was completely unequipped to respond. Under the Consumer Welfare Standard, antitrust lawsuits can only focus on consumer prices. But these companies don’t charge for their services. It wasn’t until Lina Khan published Amazon’s Antitrust Paradox that people began to understand how inadequate the framework was — and by then, the monopolies were too entrenched, the switching costs too high, the political will too weak.

Three mechanisms. Engineering dependence. Regulatory arbitrage. Surveillance capitalism. Built deliberately, carefully, profitably. The Californian Ideology became infrastructure.

And that infrastructure ushered in something scholars are only now finding words for.


Technofeudalism

Amazon takes 45% from third-party sellers as of 2024. Not 45% of profit. Not 45% of revenue. 45% of an entire sale. If you sell a $100 product, Amazon takes $45 before you’ve paid for manufacturing, shipping, storage, or your own time.

In 2014, Amazon took 10%. In ten years they more than quadrupled the tribute. Not because Amazon got better at anything. Not because it started providing more value. Simply because it could. Because once you’re on Amazon, leaving isn’t an option. Your customers expect Prime shipping. Your competitors are there. The algorithm has learned your business. You’re trapped.

This isn’t capitalism. Capitalism is about competition — businesses fight for market share by offering better products or lower prices. Amazon doesn’t compete anymore because it owns the market itself.

Greek economist Yanis Varoufakis calls this technofeudalism.

To understand the shift, you have to understand what capital has become. Traditional capital — factories, machines, assembly lines — was physical. It took raw material and labor and transformed them into commodities. The most valuable capital on the planet today is cloud capital: the algorithms, platforms, servers, and data structures that hold the world’s information. Cloud capital doesn’t produce commodities. It produces behaviour.

As Varoufakis puts it: “Cloud capital is not there to produce, but it is there to modify your behaviour.” Amazon’s algorithm doesn’t make products — it shapes what you want to buy and how much you’ll pay. Facebook’s feed doesn’t create content — it trains you to keep scrolling. TikTok doesn’t produce videos — it learns exactly what will keep you watching until 3 AM on a work night.

This is the first form of capital in human history that accumulates without requiring waged labor. It just needs you. Scrolling. Clicking. Training the machine to train you.

Under traditional capitalism, profit comes from production — you exploit labor, make things, sell them for more than they cost. And profit is vulnerable. Competitors can undercut you. Workers can organize. Markets shift. Under cloud capital, income comes from rent. Rent comes from owning the land where economic activity happens. You don’t compete. You own the territory and extract payment from anyone who wants to use it.

Medieval lords didn’t compete in markets. They owned the fiefdom. If you wanted to farm, trade, or live there, you paid tribute.

Apple takes 30% of every App Store transaction — not because Apple built the app, not because Apple competed and won, but because if you want to reach iPhone users, you must go through Apple’s land. That’s rent. Amazon copies successful third-party products, promotes its own versions, and crushes the competition — not through better production, but through control of territory. That’s rent. Google doesn’t create content. It taxes everyone trying to be found. That’s rent.

The shift from profit to rent is the shift from capitalism to feudalism. And it happened so smoothly most people didn’t notice.

Varoufakis describes Amazon as “an algorithmically constructed Panopticon where, unable to see each other, we only see Jeff’s all-seeing algorithm.” You search for running shoes. Your friend searches for running shoes. You get completely different results — not because Amazon is showing you the best options, but because the algorithm has calculated which shoes will extract the maximum money from you specifically, based on your browsing history, purchase history, estimated income, and how desperate it thinks you are.

You’re not shopping in a market. You’re in a personalized extraction chamber.

Cloud capital replaced industrial capital. Behavior modification replaced production. Rent replaced profit. Fiefs replaced markets. Lords replaced capitalists.

We called it innovation.

But here’s the question the ideology still has to answer: how do you extract rent from billions of people generating your wealth for free and still believe you’re the hero? How do you justify this to yourself and to the world?

You need a religion.


The Theology of Exit

On November 15, 2016, Peter Thiel walked into Trump Tower — not as a donor looking for access, but as a kingmaker. He’d backed Trump publicly, spoken at the Republican National Convention, donated $1.25 million to the campaign. Now he was helping staff the transition team.

But in his own mind, Thiel wasn’t playing politics. He was executing an exit strategy.

Thiel has spent decades funding projects that sound like science fiction: seasteading (sovereign nations on floating platforms in international waters), life extension research, New Zealand doomsday bunkers, parallel governance structures, crypto as escape from government currencies. Every single one shares the same premise: the system is broken beyond repair, so the enlightened must exit.

Don’t reform democracy. Exit from it. Don’t accept mortality. Exit from it. Don’t work within institutions. Build parallel ones and leave.

Political scientist Albert Hirschman identified two responses to broken systems. Voice: stay and fight, organize, reform from within — fundamentally democratic, because you can’t leave, so you have to make things better for everyone. Exit: find the door and go somewhere else — fundamentally individualistic, because if you have the resources, you’re gone.

Democracy requires voice. Silicon Valley’s entire mythology is built on exit.

Don’t like working for IBM? Exit and start Apple. Don’t like regulation? Exit to crypto. Don’t like Earth? Exit to Mars. When you’ve exited from everything except reality itself, you just aim exit at bigger targets: democracy, mortality, human limitations, the present tense.

Three theologies underpin this impulse.

The Singularity is Ray Kurzweil’s religion. He’s 76, takes 100 supplements a day, and believes he’s going to live forever — literally. His logic: technology accelerates exponentially, AI is approaching the Singularity (where artificial intelligence becomes self-improving), and at that point death becomes optional, consciousness can be uploaded, biology is just a phase we’re passing through. Kurzweil works at Google as Director of Engineering. What this theology means in practice: present-day problems are rounding errors. Why fix healthcare or climate change when AGI will either solve everything or end everything? Therefore, the people building AI are doing the most important work in human history and shouldn’t be constrained by regulations, ethics committees, or democratic oversight. Sam Altman recently secured $7 trillion in funding commitments for AI infrastructure. You don’t raise $7 trillion to make a better chatbot. You raise it because you believe you’re ushering in the Kingdom of God.

Longtermism started reasonably enough — use evidence and math to do the most good — then Oxford philosophers got involved. The logic: the future could contain trillions of people, so a 0.01% reduction in existential risk is worth more than saving a million lives today. Therefore, accumulating vast wealth is ethical if you’ll donate it to the right causes. Therefore, the ends justify the means, and the future matters infinitely more than the present. Sam Bankman-Fried stole $8 billion from customers and convinced himself it was moral because he planned to donate to AI safety research. When caught, he genuinely seemed confused that people were angry. In his framework, he was maximizing expected value across possible futures. The fraud wasn’t a deviation from the theology. It was the theology taken seriously.

Yarvinism is the political theology. Curtis Yarvin argues under the pen name Mencius Moldbug that democracy is a failed experiment, elections are theater, and countries should be run like corporations. If you don’t like how your country is run, exit to a better-run one. Turn citizenship into a subscription service. His readers include Peter Thiel, parts of the Trump administration, and a significant chunk of tech elites who won’t say his name in public but know his ideas. Thiel funded Yarvin’s work. He backs politicians like JD Vance who discuss these ideas openly. In 2009, Thiel wrote: “I no longer believe that freedom and democracy are compatible.” That’s not a warning. It’s a mission statement.

Three theologies, one impulse. They differ in target but share the same DNA: technological determinism (progress is inevitable, just accelerate it), elite vanguardism (only a small group understands), contempt for democratic deliberation (too slow, too stupid), and escape as the answer (don’t reform, exit). They all transform might into right. If you’re rich enough to fund life extension, you deserve immortality. If you’re powerful enough to exit democracy, democracy must have been failing anyway.

Look at the pattern. Thiel: made his fortune in tech, funds life extension research, influenced by Yarvin, backs Trump and Vance, funds seasteading and New Zealand bunkers, invests in AI. Musk: buys Twitter to control public discourse, promotes crypto as escape from government currency, builds rockets for literal planetary exit, develops AI while warning about it. These aren’t contradictions. They’re all the same philosophy. They’re all exit.

Without the theology, what they’re doing sounds monstrous: we’re billionaires extracting rent from your unpaid labor while escaping all democratic accountability, hoarding resources while the world burns, accumulating power that would make feudal lords jealous.

With the theology: we’re building the future. Democracy is too slow for existential challenges. Present suffering is a rounding error compared to infinite future value. The enlightened few must guide humanity to the Singularity. You’re trapped in the present. We’re thinking in centuries.

The theology transforms oligarchy into sacred duty. Rent extraction becomes shepherding humanity. They’re not lords. They’re prophets.

Sam Bankman-Fried is the clearest example of what happens when the theology is taken to its logical conclusion. He genuinely believed the math. Future people matter infinitely more than present people. Therefore, accumulating wealth through fraud was ethical if deployed toward the right causes. He’s now serving 25 years.

Did the theology fail? Or did it work exactly as designed?

Both. It failed in the obvious sense. But it worked in the sense that mattered: it gave him permission. Permission to steal billions. Permission to lie to investors and regulators. Permission to believe normal rules didn’t apply because he was working on the real problems. The theology didn’t prevent his downfall. It caused it. It gave him a framework where destroying himself and everyone around him felt like moral clarity.

And the goalposts always move. Kurzweil has been predicting the Singularity since the 1990s — currently estimated 2045. Thiel has been talking about seasteading since 2008. Still on land. The Mars colony, the uploaded consciousness, the escape from democracy, the end of mortality — always twenty years away, always just over the horizon.

But that’s the point. The exit doesn’t need to arrive for the theology to work. As long as it’s perpetually imminent, it justifies anything today.


What We’re Left With

The Californian Ideology promised liberation through technology. Disruption. Decentralization. Power to the people.

What we got was cloud capital extracting rent. Platforms replacing markets. Feudalism with better marketing.

And when you ask how they justify it, this is the answer: they built a religion where they’re the prophets and we’re too primitive to understand.

They exit from mortality while we die from preventable diseases. They exit from democracy while we lose what little voice we had. They exit from ethics while we suffer the consequences. They exit from the present while we’re trapped in it.

Stewart Brand said “We are as gods and might as well get good at it.”

Some people took him seriously.

The rest of us are living in the world they built — a world designed for their exit and our captivity.


References

Barbrook, R. & Cameron, A. (1995). The Californian Ideology. Mute Magazine.

Hirschman, A.O. (1970). Exit, Voice, and Loyalty. Harvard University Press.

Khan, L. (2017). Amazon’s Antitrust Paradox. Yale Law Journal.

Kurzweil, R. (2005). The Singularity Is Near. Viking.

McLuhan, M. (1964). Understanding Media. McGraw-Hill.

Varoufakis, Y. (2023). Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism. Bodley Head.

Zuboff, S. (2019). The Age of Surveillance Capitalism. PublicAffairs.

Investigating the Fort Bragg Cartel

109 Soldiers Dead. Only Four of Them Overseas.

Between 2020 and 2021, 109 soldiers assigned to Fort Bragg died. Only four of those deaths occurred in overseas combat. All the rest took place stateside. Rolling Stone Murders. Overdoses. Suicides. The military filed them under “non-combat deaths” and moved on.

America’s largest military base was killing its own soldiers faster than any enemy could.

This isn’t a story about bad apples. It’s a story about a factory. One that takes in patriotic young people, trains them in violence, deploys them repeatedly, prescribes them opioids, teaches them the drug trade, then abandons them to die. Investigative journalist Seth Harp spent five years documenting this story. What he found was the Fort Bragg Cartel.

From Patriot to Dealer: The System That Built Freddie Huff

The clearest window into how this system works isn’t William Lavigne, the Delta Force operator found executed on a Fort Bragg training range in December 2020. It’s the man investigators immediately suspected in his death: Freddie Wayne Huff II.

Former cop. Former DEA agent. By 2020, one of the largest cocaine traffickers on the East Coast.

Huff’s career trajectory is not an anomaly. It’s a logical outcome. Over 13 years in law enforcement he reportedly seized over $9 million in drug money, and when he joined the DEA’s El Paso Intelligence Center he learned everything about the drug trade: the routes, the players, the smuggling methods, every hole in the system. Then his dying mentor told him the quiet part out loud. “What you think you’re doing is noble. But they want it here. You’re a pawn. Everything you’re doing is in vain.”

Not long after, Huff was fired for pulling over a drunk driver who happened to be a major donor to the North Carolina governor. The official pretext was selling an old pair of state-issued boots on eBay for $0.99. The most successful cop on the East Coast, fired for a $0.99 eBay listing. If you search police boots on eBay right now you’ll find hundreds of pairs sold by active and former officers nationwide.

The government took his job, his pension, his identity. So Huff applied his training to the other side. He already knew where every hole in the system was because he’d spent 13 years plugging them. By 2016 he was trafficking 50 to 100 kilos of cocaine across the border every seven days through a partnership with Las Zetas, Mexico’s most militarily sophisticated cartel. Over a million dollars a week.

His distribution network? Fort Bragg soldiers. Special operators with firsthand knowledge of drug networks from protecting poppy fields in Afghanistan, unparalleled access to military vehicles and security clearances, and the tactical training to sell drugs in situations that would kill an average civilian.

[INTERNAL LINK OPPORTUNITY: link to the Hell’s Angels philosophy essay when discussing how systems produce criminals through the same logic they claim to fight]

The Machine That Made Them

To understand why Fort Bragg soldiers were lining up to work for a cartel, you have to understand what Fort Bragg did to them first.

By 2007, Afghanistan was producing 93% of the world’s non-pharmaceutical opiates. Wikipedia That number didn’t exist before the US invasion. The Taliban had nearly eradicated poppy cultivation by 2001 through religious conviction and a desire for international legitimacy. Then American soldiers arrived, needed the warlords who controlled the poppy trade to fight the insurgency, and the fields came back. Fort Bragg special operators found themselves in an impossible position: fighting a counterinsurgency while protecting the very drug networks fueling the global heroin trade.

They came home broken by that contradiction. PTSD. Traumatic brain injuries. Chronic pain. And opioid prescriptions. Between 2001 and 2009, opioid prescriptions in the military quadrupled, with service members prescribed at rates significantly higher than civilians. The department responsible for overseeing all of this was, per a 2024 GAO report, understaffed by 30%, with no accurate data collection standards and incomplete personnel information. Nobody was tracking how many prescriptions each soldier was receiving from different providers. Nobody was watching the totals add up.

When the prescriptions weren’t enough, soldiers reached out to their networks. The same military colleagues selling drugs could hook them up with a path to sell themselves. A single Freddie Huff cocaine run could net a soldier’s entire annual salary. These are people who survived IEDs and Taliban ambushes. Selling to their Fort Bragg colleagues wasn’t even the most dangerous thing they’d done that week.

Hannah Arendt watched Adolf Eichmann’s trial and was struck not by his monstrousness but by his sheer mediocrity. He was a bureaucrat who never stopped to ask whether his job was good for the human condition. He was just following orders. Lavigne, Huff, the 13 other Fort Bragg soldiers later confirmed as part of Huff’s distribution network, they’re all Eichmann. Ordinary people processed through a system that normalized atrocity, never given the tools to think beyond it. Prosecuting individuals ensures the cycle repeats. The machine keeps running.

This Is What Foucault Warned Us About

Michel Foucault argued that modern state power doesn’t announce itself like a king ordering an execution. It operates through optimization and management. The state decides who lives and who dies based on their value to the system.

Fort Bragg is a perfect case study. The military protected William Lavigne through failed drug tests, a bar fight, a domestic violence case, and a murder, because indicting a Delta Force operator meant admitting Fort Bragg had a problem. It was only when Lavigne became a liability too large to contain that he ended up executed alongside Timothy Dumas on a training range, and the military wasted no time framing both deaths as an isolated incident committed by a 20-year-old civilian named Kenneth Quick. All court documents remain sealed. No one is asking who benefited.

The dead soldiers’ families have had their life insurance policies revoked. Rolling Stone The wives insist their husbands had no drug habits until they were stationed in Fayetteville. The system made them. The system broke them. The system is still running.

The war on terror and the opioid crisis aren’t two separate problems. They’re one system with two faces. Both enrich the powerful while destroying the vulnerable. Both run on lies. And both are designed to continue indefinitely.

If Seth Harp hadn’t spent five years on this story, the Fort Bragg Cartel would have stayed exactly where Fort Bragg intended: buried.


Sources

Books

Harp, Seth. The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces. PublicAffairs, 2024.

Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. Viking Press, 1963.

Journalism

Harp, Seth. “These Kids Are Dying: Inside the Overdose Crisis Sweeping Fort Bragg.” Rolling Stone, 2022. https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/inside-the-overdose-crisis-sweeping-fort-bragg-1396298/

Harp, Seth. “Exclusive: Army Files Charges in Mysterious Fort Bragg Beheading Case.” Rolling Stone, 2022. https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-news/ftbragg-army-beheading-charges-filed-1283450/

Harp, Seth. “Mission Impossible.” Harper’s Magazine, October 2025. https://harpers.org/archive/2025/10/mission-impossible-seth-harp-trump-military-parade/

Scott, Peter. “Pipe Hitters.” The Baffler. https://thebaffler.com/latest/pipe-hitters-scott

Lutz, Catherine. Homefront: A Military City and the American Twentieth Century. Beacon Press, 2002.

“The Rot at Fort Bragg.” The Nation. https://www.thenation.com/article/society/rot-fort-bragg/

WRAL Investigates. “From 2020 to 2021, Suicides and Drugs Killed Fort Bragg Soldiers at Higher Rate Than Combat.” https://www.wral.com/story/from-2020-2021-suicides-drugs-kill-fort-bragg-soldiers-at-higher-rate-than-combat-training-and-training-deaths/20510635/

Academic and Government Sources

United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime. Afghanistan Opium Survey 2007. UNODC, 2007.

Wikipedia. “Opium Production in Afghanistan.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Opium_production_in_Afghanistan

U.S. Government Accountability Office. Special Operations Forces: Observations on Oversight Staffing. GAO Report, 2024.

Book Reviews and Additional Sources

Washington Independent Review of Books. “The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces.” https://www.washingtonindependentreviewofbooks.com/

Kirkus Reviews. “The Fort Bragg Cartel.” https://www.kirkusreviews.com/

The Literary Compass. “The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces.” https://theliterarycompass.com/

Academic Theory

Foucault, Michel. “Society Must Be Defended”: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1975 to 1976. Picador, 2003.

Using Dune to Analyze the Iran War

Herbert Saw It Coming. Nobody Listened.

On February 28, 2026, the United States and Israel launched nearly 900 strikes in the first twelve hours of what the Pentagon dubbed Operation Epic Fury — killing Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei in the opening wave and triggering hundreds of Iranian retaliatory missiles across the Persian Gulf. Encyclopedia Britannica

Frank Herbert saw it coming in 1965. In his 1980 essay Dune Genesis, he wrote it plainly: “The scarce water of Dune is an exact analog of oil scarcity. CHOAM is OPEC.” Tombsofkobol He published Dune eight years before the OPEC embargo made resource dependency a household terror. He’d been watching since 1953, when the CIA overthrew Iran’s democratic government to keep the oil flowing. Seventy-three years later, the same resource logic has produced an active shooting war.

This isn’t a coincidence worth remarking on. It’s a system doing exactly what systems do.

This wasn’t accidental prophecy. Herbert was doing research. He worked as a political speechwriter in Washington in the 1950s, where he observed what his son Brian later described as “the megalomania of leadership and the pitfalls of following magnetic, charming politicians.” His first novel, Dragon in the Sea (1956), was explicitly about Cold War submarine crews fighting over enemy oil reserves.

The geopolitical material was all there. In 1953, the CIA and MI6 executed Operation Ajax — overthrowing Iran’s democratically elected Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh and reinstalling the Shah, all to protect Anglo-American oil interests. OPEC was founded in 1960, five years before Dune hit shelves. Herbert absorbed every piece of it and built a universe around one central insight: when imperial powers fight over a desert’s most valuable resource, the desert people always pay the price.

The Harkonnen extraction regime on Arrakis isn’t metaphor. It’s history. The Anglo-Iranian Oil Company reported £40 million in after-tax profits in 1947 while paying Iran £7 million. Workers earned fifty cents a day without running water. The fiction and the facts are the same document.

[INTERNAL LINK OPPORTUNITY: link to the Silicon Valley essay when discussing imperial resource extraction and who actually profits]

Every Layer of Dune Maps Onto Iran with Uncomfortable Precision

The structure is schematic, not symbolic.

CHOAM is OPEC, Herbert told us himself. The Padishah Emperor needed the Landsraad’s cooperation to control it — just as no single Western nation could overthrow Mossadegh without a partner. The Spacing Guild’s monopoly on transportation mirrors how the Strait of Hormuz — which carries roughly 20% of global petroleum — functions as a chokepoint that constrains even the most powerful resource owners. Encyclopedia Britannica When Iran partially closed it in February 2026, oil and gas prices surged to their highest levels since the 1970s energy crisis. Wikipedia

The Fremen revolution happened twice. In 1979, Ayatollah Khomeini returned from fifteen years of exile. Millions greeted him. His rise carried explicit messianic overtones — crowds claimed his face appeared on the moon, that he was the Hidden Imam returning. A journalist noted he never claimed to be that imam, but never bothered to reject the allusion either. That calculated ambiguity is precisely Paul Atreides with the Lisan al-Gaib prophecy. The revolution that followed was immediately swallowed by war — the Iran-Iraq conflict killed up to a million people. Herbert’s warning about revolutionary fervor consuming its own people was not theoretical. It was a calendar.

Then there’s the Bene Gesserit. Their Missionaria Protectiva plants religious myths on vulnerable planets so they can be exploited later — what Herbert called “religious engineering.” Operation Ajax was the Missionaria Protectiva in action: CIA operatives planted fabricated propaganda in Iranian newspapers, posed as communists to bomb religious leaders’ homes, and bribed street mobs to manufacture the conditions for a coup. The CIA then created and trained SAVAK — Iran’s secret police — which Amnesty International later described as running one of the world’s worst human rights records. They didn’t force compliance. They engineered the cultural conditions so the myths became self-sustaining. The Bene Gesserit genius. The Langley playbook.

The Resource That Makes You Powerful Is the Same One That Destroys You

Academic economists have a term for it: the resource curse. Countries rich in natural resources tend to end up with weaker institutions, more corruption, and greater conflict than countries without them. Iran is the textbook case. Oil revenue funded the Shah’s authoritarian modernization and the Islamic Republic’s repression apparatus with equal enthusiasm. The rentier state theory explains the mechanism: when governments derive revenue from oil rather than taxation, citizens lose their leverage. No taxation, no representation. The resource that makes Iran strategically vital to the entire world is the same resource that invites foreign intervention, funds its own oppressors, and keeps its people poor.

This is Dune‘s central mechanism. The spice makes Arrakis the most important planet in the universe and the most miserable place to live. Herbert knew. He told us.

The uncomfortable question isn’t whether Dune predicted the Iran war. It’s why seventy years of warnings produced the same outcome anyway. Herbert’s answer was grim: we don’t follow charismatic leaders into disaster by accident. We do it because the systems that produce those leaders are designed to make the alternative unthinkable.

The full podcast episode goes deeper — the history, the parallels, and what Herbert’s warning actually means for what comes next.

Sources

Primary Texts

Herbert, Frank. “Dune Genesis.” Omni, Vol. 2, No. 2, July 1980, p. 72.

Herbert, Frank. Dune. Chilton Books, 1965.

The 2026 Iran War

Encyclopaedia Britannica. “2026 Iran War.” Britannica.com, last updated April 25, 2026. https://www.britannica.com/event/2026-Iran-war

Wikipedia. “2026 Iran War.” Last modified April 2026. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2026_Iran_war

NPR. “The U.S. and Israel Launch a Major Attack on Iran.” February 28, 2026. https://www.npr.org/2026/02/28/nx-s1-5730333/

U.S. Department of State, Office of the Legal Adviser. “Operation Epic Fury and International Law.” April 2026. https://www.state.gov/releases/office-of-the-legal-adviser/2026/04/operation-epic-fury-and-international-law/

Historical Context

Wikiquote. “Frank Herbert.” https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Frank_Herbert

Academic Sources

Ross, Michael L. “Does Oil Hinder Democracy?” World Politics, Vol. 53, No. 3, April 2001, pp. 325–361.

Karl, Terry Lynn. The Paradox of Plenty: Oil Booms and Petro-States. University of California Press, 1997.

Said, Edward W. Orientalism. Pantheon Books, 1978.

Herman, Edward S., and Noam Chomsky. Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media. Pantheon Books, 1988.

The Philosophy of the Hells Angels

They Aren’t What You Think.

“Everyone believes in something. Some believe in god, I believe in the Angels.” That quote comes from a woman named Mama Beverly, who hung around the Hell’s Angels Oakland chapter in the 60s. She said it before the club sold her for twelve cents.

Hold both of those things at the same time. The devotion and the brutality. Because that tension — that’s the whole story.

The Hell’s Angels aren’t a motorcycle club. They’re a criminal-cult-enterprise that looks like a family, operates like a corporation, and functions like a religion. And once you stop trying to fit them into a box, something uncomfortable starts to emerge: their contradictions don’t make them alien. They make them a mirror.

The Ideology That Shouldn’t Work, But Does

Here’s the thing about the Hell’s Angels philosophy that nobody wants to sit with: it’s riddled with contradictions that somehow cohere.

They’re anarchists who enforce a strict internal hierarchy. They’re the most aggressively individualist organization in America — and they practice something closer to communism than capitalism. When an Angel gets arrested, the chapter pools its money for his defense. When he goes to prison, the club supports his family. When he gets out, there’s a place to sleep and a role to fill. As Hunter S. Thompson observed, the fiscal logic of the Angels runs on the same principle Marx spent volumes trying to articulate: from each according to his ability, to each according to his need. They just got there through methamphetamine distribution instead of theory.

Then there’s the swastikas. The easy read is that the Angels are ideological Nazis. The accurate read is that they’re not — they’re shock artists who figured out the most efficient way to communicate total social rejection. As Sonny Barger himself put it, the swastikas “don’t mean nothing.” They’re a “fuck off” sign. The problem is that symbols don’t stay ironic forever. When you wear the uniform long enough, you start to become what the uniform represents — and over the decades, their ironic use of Nazi imagery attracted people who weren’t being ironic at all.

And then there’s this: in 1965, the same men who refused to pay taxes, ignored every American law, and built their own civilization outside the state — sent a telegram to President Lyndon Johnson volunteering for “behind-the-lines gorilla duty in Vietnam.” They hate the American government but love American violence. They’re patriots without citizenship. Tribal nationalists in leather jackets.

What Their Contradictions Are Actually Telling You

This is where the Hell’s Angels philosophy stops being about bikers and starts being about everyone else.

The Angels took every myth America tells about itself — the frontier spirit, the self-made man, the warrior code, the outlaw hero — and refused to let those stories die when the suburbs arrived. They’re what happens when you take American mythology seriously enough to actually live it. And what you get isn’t freedom. You get a closed system with no exit, funded by violence, sustained by collective loyalty, and photographed by a media industry that needed a boogeyman more than it needed the truth.

The media didn’t just cover the Hell’s Angels. They created them. Before 1965 they were a regional nuisance. After Time and Newsweek got hold of them, they became America’s nightmare — and the Angels, who understood image better than most PR firms, couldn’t resist. They became exactly what the coverage said they were. Which raises an uncomfortable question: were they ever anything more than what we needed them to be?

The deepest thing their philosophy reveals isn’t about crime or violence or counterculture rebellion. It’s about the social contract itself. The Angels looked at the deal civilization offers — work hard, follow the rules, defer gratification, trust the system — and called it a sucker’s game. And looking at the world they were handed? It’s hard to say they were entirely wrong.

The only difference between an Angel and someone having a panic attack on the subway is that the Angel already made peace with meaninglessness. He’s not waiting for the system to reward him. He stopped pretending it would.

They’re Not America’s Opposite. They’re America’s Conclusion.

The Hell’s Angels are what you get when American individualism runs its logic all the way to the end, strips away the social cushioning, and decides to stop performing. They’re not monsters. They’re us, without the self-delusion.

That’s what makes them worth studying. And it’s what the full documentary goes into — the history, the philosophy, the contradictions, and what all of it says about the country that built them.

Sources

Books

Thompson, Hunter S. Hell’s Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga. Ballantine Books, 1966.

Barger, Ralph “Sonny.” Hell’s Angel: The Life and Times of Sonny Barger and the Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club. HarperCollins, 2000.

Dobyns, Jay. No Angel: My Harrowing Undercover Journey to the Inner Circle of the Hells Angels. Crown Publishers, 2009.

Articles & Academic Sources

Lyman, Michael D., and Gary W. Potter. “Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs: Aspects of the One-Percenter Culture for Emergency Department Personnel to Consider.” National Library of Medicine, PMC, 2014. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4100862/

Websites & Official Sources

Hells Angels Motorcycle Club. “The Founding of The Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club.” hells-angels.com. https://www.hells-angels.com/

 Why is Everyone Copying Basquiat?: The Lack of Originality in ArtTok

April 2011

When I was 10 years old, my mom took me to see the Jean-Michel Basquiat exhibition at the AGO. Like most art-obsessed kids, I was immediately transfixed by these ginormous canvases so blatantly breaking every rule I thought I understood about art. I was having a mental orgasm trying to decode the layers of meaning woven within the art straight from Basquiat’s soul like I was Indiana Jones searching for the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

This little snot-nosed white kid from upper-middle class Toronto was learning about the history of racism, colonialism, rampant unchecked capitalism, etc. likely for the first time in his life because Basquiat brought chaos to an industry once obsessed with order two decades prior. 

Basquiat’s art inspired a deep passion for all things radical. It taught me art is only as beautiful as the message and sanctity behind it. I no longer looked at DuChamp’s urinal, or Picasso’s cubes, or Warhol’s soup with a sense of bewilderment. I finally understood them for what they are. RADICAL & REVOLUTIONARY TRIUMPHS OF THE SOUL. 

Art became the ultimate symbol of humanity for me. When I had trouble comprehending life wasn’t fair, art reminded me it never was. Whenever I got a little down on myself or my ego got a little too strung out, art levelled me off. I studied it like a religion.

May 2025

Looking at art like a quasi-religious experience is the only way I know how to live life. So, like any passionately religious person, I can’t help but get slightly irritated to borderline irate when the essence of a work of art is manipulated for whatever reason. 

We see corporations and governments do it all the time.  To stick with the Basquiat theme, here’s Tiffany & Co using an unreleased Basquiat painting to advertise their new diamond necklace:

Jay-Z, Beyonce, & Tiffany using an unreleased Basquiat painting for their diamond campaign

This painting could’ve been one of the few paintings that changed my and millions of other people’s lives. But nope, some blood diamond company thought it’s better off sitting in their warehouse for 30 years instead. 

Boo hoo. I know I sound like the “Monster Energy is Satan” lady we all know and love. But the meaning behind a work of art is important. Stories are how we communicate. 

There are good stories and bad stories. Unfortunately, when I go on social media and come across the art that’s so popular there, the majority seems to make up the latter. 

I know I know, if Connor McGreggor was reading this he’d probably say something like “Who the fook is this guy???”. wELL aCKcHUALY, I’m OG Bubby Jaustin, Mr. McGreggor. I curated multiple exhibitions for Toronto Metro University, one of the dopest art schools in Canada, bitch. 

When I talk of bad “storytelling” in the art industry I merely mean redundant storytelling. We’ve all seen it. The 16 year old white kid inspired by Basquiat innocently mimicking the aesthetic with at best zero semblance of substance and at worst ignorantly racist. 

TikTok artists mimicking Basquiat's style

Although Social media likes to gang up on these people it’s hard to blame someone who doesn’t know any better. I also can’t blame social media as it’s entirely dependent on aesthetics. Of course a Basquiat or Harring copycat will rise to the top because that’s what’s popular. Radicalism doesn’t reward the algorithm.  

So if it’s not the fault of the artist nor of social media, why is it that so many people are copying Basquiat and his contemporaries? Why is the popular art on social media stuck in the past? I can tell you with confidence today’s contemporary galleries aren’t struck by this phenomenon. So why are artists choosing to abide by the algorithm instead of reality??? 

It took a lot of research but I think I’ve come up with a solution.

The Ghost of Rebellion: Mark Fisher’s Hauntology

“The past cannot be forgotten, the present cannot be remembered”

― Mark Fisher, Ghosts of My Life: Writings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures

Mark Fisher’s concept of “hauntology” perfectly captures what’s happening with the Basquiat copying phenomenon on social media. For Fisher, our culture is haunted by the ghosts of lost futures—times when artistic rebellion seemed capable of creating genuine change.

Basquiat represents exactly this kind of lost possibility—a moment when art could still shock, disrupt, and manifest something truly new.

When Fisher writes about “the slow cancellation of the future,” he’s describing our current inability to produce cultural forms that don’t reference the past.

ArtTok creators aren’t just copying Basquiat’s aesthetic; they’re grasping for the rebellious energy his work once embodied, an energy that seems increasingly impossible to generate anew in our algorithmically-optimized present.

In “Capitalist Realism,” Fisher argues that capitalism absorbs and neutralizes all resistance to it.

Nothing makes this clearer than watching Basquiat’s anti-establishment art—once a genuine threat to institutional power—transform into a set of recognizable visual tropes perfectly suited for garnering likes and followers.

The radical has been domesticated, commodified, and returned to us as content.

Beyond Reality: Baudrillard’s Simulation

“We live in a world where there is more and more information, and less and less meaning.”
― Jean Baudrillard, Simulacra and Simulation

This brings us to Baudrillard’s theory of simulacra, which helps explain why these Basquiat copies feel so empty despite their technical proficiency.

Baudrillard described four orders of simulation, with the fourth being the most relevant here: representations that bear no relation to any reality whatsoever.

The Basquiat copycats on TikTok exist in this fourth order. They’re not trying to represent Basquiat’s reality or even mask its absence.

Instead, they’ve created a pure hyperreality where the “Basquiat style” circulates as a set of floating signifiers completely divorced from their original context.

The crown motifs that once symbolized Black excellence become mere design elements.

The anatomical diagrams that spoke to the exploitation of Black bodies under capitalism become trendy visual tropes.

As Baudrillard might put it, we’re witnessing the death of the original reference.

When these artists copy Basquiat, they’re not referencing Basquiat himself or the social conditions he was responding to—they’re referencing other copies of Basquiat.

This creates a closed system of reference that spirals further and further from any grounding in lived experience or political urgency.

The Performance of Art: Debord’s Spectacle

“Where the real world changes into simple images, the simple images become real beings and effective motivations of hypnotic behavior.”
― Guy Debord, Society Of The Spectacle

Guy Debord’s concept of the “society of the spectacle” completes our theoretical picture. For Debord, authentic social life is replaced by its representation.

The Basquiat copying phenomenon exemplifies this perfectly. What we’re seeing isn’t art in the traditional sense but the performance of “being an artist” for social media consumption.

Crucially, Debord’s concept of “recuperation” explains how capitalism and mainstream culture absorb and neutralize radical ideas.

TikTok has transformed Basquiat’s anti-establishment art into a trendy, marketable style—”recuperating” its revolutionary potential and rendering it harmless.

The platform doesn’t just distribute these copies; it actively shapes their production through its algorithmic incentives.

The spectacle isn’t just the images being shared but the entire ecosystem around them:

The artist performance videos showing the creation process

The engagement metrics

The comments section debates about authenticity

The merchandise links in bios

Basquiat’s actual art has disappeared, replaced by what Debord would call the “pseudo-world” of representation.

The Cycle of Cultural Recuperation

These three theoretical perspectives combine to reveal a disturbing cycle of cultural recuperation:

Authentic artistic rebellion emerges (Basquiat’s original work)

It gets stripped of its aura through reproduction

These reproductions create a hyperreal simulation (Baudrillard)

The simulation becomes spectacle for consumption (Debord)

The culture becomes haunted by the loss of authentic rebellion (Fisher)

The most important insight from this theoretical synthesis is that social media platforms aren’t neutral spaces where this copying happens to occur—they’re active agents that accelerate and intensify these processes.

TikTok’s algorithm, with its preference for visually striking, immediately recognizable content, creates the perfect environment for the flattening of Basquiat’s multidimensional critique into easily reproducible visual tropes.

What results is a situation where:

Authentic artistic rebellion becomes increasingly difficult (if not impossible)

Copies seem more “real” than originals

Art is valued not for its conceptual depth or political significance but for its ability to generate engagement

The horrifying conclusion is that these Basquiat copies aren’t just aesthetically derivative—they represent the complete inversion of everything Basquiat’s art stood for.

The Broader Implications For Contemporary Art & Culture

This Basquiat copying phenomenon isn’t isolated—it’s emblematic of a broader shift in how art functions in the digital age.

When algorithms determine visibility, authenticity becomes secondary to recognizability.

What we’re witnessing is not just aesthetic mimicry but the collapse of art’s critical function.

As social media platforms reward visual immediacy over conceptual depth, we see similar patterns of flattening across all art forms.

The tragedy isn’t just that Basquiat’s style has been reduced to a template, but that the very possibility of genuinely disruptive art becomes increasingly remote.

What This Means for Artistic Originality in the Digital Age

We find ourselves in a paradoxical moment: never have more people been creating and sharing art, yet never has originality seemed more elusive.

This isn’t about blaming young artists for copying Basquiat—it’s about recognizing the systemic forces that make such copying inevitable.

Perhaps genuine artistic rebellion today means rejecting algorithmic logics altogether—creating work designed to be unshareable, unquantifiable, or invisible to digital metrics.

Or maybe it means creating within these platforms but against their grain, using their tools to expose their limitations.

Whatever form it takes, the next artistic revolution won’t look like Basquiat’s—because it can’t. It will need to find new ways to confront a system that has already incorporated rebellion into its business model.

Dan Simmons’s Creative Genius: Hyperion Book Review (Podcast)

While I was in university looking for internships, I stumbled across the media company Embreate, and their award-winning brand Future Now. Future Now is a Science-Fiction based content creation team that seeks to explore the future through the lens of storytelling.

Being the Sci-Fi nerd I am, I knew it was the perfect fit for me to begin my media career. So I put everything I had into my application & eventually landed a role as an intern video editor.

That was a few years ago. Since then, Scott (the creator of Embreate) and I have worked together on a variety of projects, and I’m happy to say he’s became a mentor and friend.

Anyways, while Embreate has focused their attention behind the scenes, as of late they took a backseat on content creation. While producing other projects, the Future Now social medias ended up going cold, leaving their audience hanging.

Scott has asked me to change this and bring Future Now back to life.

Instead of going Dr. Frankenstein on the operation, the two of us have decided to take more of a Dr. Morneau approach instead. What I mean is, we’ve decided to rebrand FN.

While Future Now used to be an interactive Sci-Fi concept where creators all across the world wrote & produced their stories in an ever-connected universe. It is now the hub for exploring the all things related to the future, through the lens of storytelling.

Scott & I don’t just want to create stories for the sake of creating stories. We want to create content that actually seeks to examine & solve today’s most crucial problems. This is exactly what all quality Sci-Fi does right. They don’t just ask “What If”, they ask “What Now”.

In order to explore the future, we can’t just rely on the stories we & our team creates. So we’ve decided to bring it back to the basics and explore What Has Sci-Fi Taught Us from it’s infancy.

Along with uploading our stories to our ever-expanding Patreon, we’re also beginning to create Sci-Fi related content exploring the genre’s greatest masterpieces, unpacking what makes them so transcendent, and how these stories have impacted & predicted the future.

Scott & I have been A/B testing a variety of methods to go about this. One such method is a “What Has Sci-Fi Taught Us” podcast where we pick a random Sci-Fi topic and go ham discussing everything we can about it.

As a trial run, we decided to record a podcast on one of my favorite Sci-Fi books, Dan Simmons’s “Hyperion”. We’ve started uploading clips from the test-pod, you can see them below.

What’s so Dark About The Heart of Darkness? Heart of Darkness Book Review

“The horror! The horror!” – Captain Kurtz, (Part III, Page 12)

Introduction

Written in 1899 by Joseph Conrad after his journey up the Congo River, Heart of Darkness is a fictional recount of the colonization of the Congo by King Leopold II of Belgium. The book is one of the most impactful stories of our time, most famously known to be the inspiration and the original adaptation of Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. That said, everywhere the book goes, its controversies follow. To some, it may be the modern Moby Dick its supporters claim it to be. But to others, it’s a vile, racist piece of literature that emphasizes the atrocities of the 2nd Industrial Revolution. To me, it is the harshest, most frightening, and arguably the most evil story I’ve ever read. However, it is also one of the most important. 

Heart of Darkness masks itself as an adventure story through the Congo River, which is why I decided to read it in the middle of the Canadian outback four hours away from my city, Toronto. But in reality, it is a journey into the psyche that leaves no stone unturned in its quest to expose the shadows underneath the soul. Heart of Darkness clashes the most heinous aspects of humanity with such poetic prose I was left dumbfounded. How can an individual [Marlow] with such backward and contradictory ideologies have such a grasp on not just the self but society at large? Through coarse and painful writing that feels like a nightmare, Joseph Conrad shows us that this complex understanding of the human psyche and its inevitable corruption can be seen by those paying close enough attention. It doesn’t require some fantastical setting like the 19th-century colonization of The Congo Free State. It can be seen anywhere and everywhere, all it requires is a keen perceiver.

Plot Overview

Heart of Darkness is a story within a story. Taking place at the turn of the 20th century, the book opens upon a tugboat on the Thames River where a seaman named Marlow recounts his adventure through the Congo river years prior. On this particular journey, Marlow was hired by the Belgian ivory trading company and tasked to traverse the Congo River in search of the ivory agent Colonel Kurtz who has seemingly vanished from his post leaving his superiors worried he has gone rogue. Kurtz is one of the most successful ivory traders within the African Jungles, netting significant earnings for the British while exercising their colonial interests. So, his sudden departure leaves tremendous profits on the table and triggers a range of fear and anger amongst his European contemporaries. 

As Marlow travels upriver deeper into the Congo, he sees the European conquest of Africa for what it was—a depraved, inhumane exercise of tyranny where greed and corruption masked themselves as tools for survival. At his first meeting post, Marlow encounters Africans for the first time and sees how they and their land are truly treated. They were forced into slavery to pillage their land just for their resources to be shipped to Europe. The Africans were viewed as a subhuman species. Marlow himself is prone to these same prejudices. Though he sees what’s happening as morally wrong, he views it more like taking candy from a baby so to speak. He’s just as ignorant of the cultures within the Congo and their ways of life as any other European conqueror. 

“They were no colonists; their administration was merely a squeeze, and nothing more, I suspect. They were conquerors, and for that you want only brute force – nothing to boast of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others. They grabbed what they could get and for the sake of what was to be got. It was just robbery with violence, aggravated murder on a great scale, and men going at it blind – as is very proper for those who tackle a darkness. The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, it is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much.” – Marlow

Roughly halfway through his journey upriver 100km deep into the Congo, Marlow’s boat breaks down and he’s forced to dock it while making repairs. Here, he learns more about the man Kurtz and develops a strange fascination not just with him, but with the jungle that has swallowed the man whole. Within the shadows of the jungle, power is free for any man willing to embrace the darkness. We learn Kurtz is a man who not only embraces said darkness, but thrives in it. Kurtz isn’t your typical ivory agent pseudo salesman, he’s a conman of the largest degree, one who twists and bends the branches of the jungle to his whim. Instead of wielding blatant violence to colonize the land and the people like the majority of his contemporaries, he uses his presence. He has molded his face in the shape of a god to his innocent victims, offering them a life with purpose, their purpose being to bow down and serve the deity that so happens to be this white man named Kurtz. 

After fixing the tugboat, Marlow and his crew travel closer to their destination where they’re suddenly hit with a barrage of arrows. Though some of his crew parishes, Marlow survives and they push onward until they finally reach Kurtz’s last known destination. Unlike the rest of the station camps, Kurtz’s camp is much more fleshed out, like an oasis in the middle of the desert. The first individual Marlow comes across is a Russian who stumbled into the heart of the Congo on a Dutch exhibition years prior. The Russian, who has taken care of Kurtz during a bout of sickness, believes wholeheartedly in Kurtz’s greatness. He is one of the few individuals to witness Kurtz’s ascension, from ivory agent to God. Kurtz offered the Russian what no other man did, a purpose, an ideology to subscribe to. The Russian divulged that the Natives of the Congo attacked Marlow’s boat because they didn’t want Kurtz to leave. Through his rituals and his words, Kurtz’s standing as a god among men infects all, whether you are from the depths of the Congo Free State or the Tsarist autocracy of Russia.

Before entering Kurtz’s hut, the Russian asks Marlow to crawl, a ritual all of Kurtz’s followers must do if they wish to speak to the deity. Dumbfounded, Marlow refuses to give in to Kurtz’s rituals. Suddenly, Kurtz is carried out on a stretcher and brought directly to Marlow’s boat where he tells Marlow he is glad to see him, indicating he knew Marlow was coming all along. Clearly, Kurtz is beyond a mere case of sickness and is on the brink of death. Kurtz argues with the ivory company manager, one of Marlow’s crewmates and superiors, claiming they are only here for his ivory and do not care for his life. The boat quickly gets moving and Kurtz is returning to civilization. 

Docked in the middle of the night for rest, Marlow wakes up to the sound of drums and the sight of fire on the nearby shore. Immediately weary of Kurtz and his pilgrims, he checks Kurtz’s stretcher to find he has vanished. Following a trail, Marlow discovers Kurtz crawling on all fours, mere feet away from the native’s camp. Marlow contemplates strangling him right then and there, knowing the natives would hear and quickly kill him too. He decides not to not because he is worried for his fate, but because he too, like the Russian and the people of the Congo, genuinely sees Kurtz as a remarkable individual. Marlow’s infatuation with Kurtz isn’t Godlike, but he recognizes that he is the only thing standing between Kurtz and his final step into madness. He is so far removed from the European civilization that he and Marlow were raised on, to judge him right or wrong, to either let him embrace the darkness of the jungle or to kill him right there, is a futile juxtaposition. The man infected by the heart of darkness has seemingly “kicked himself loose of the earth,” he is free from any sort of judgment and preconceptions society deems. By letting go of everything, he opened the door to madness.

Kurtz, overwhelmed with sickness and the grief of his foiled plans, follows Marlow back to the steamboat, and they proceed downriver. Left with nothing but his ideas, Kurtz spills his philosophical musings to an eager Marlow, who is left both profoundly moved and painfully irritated. Kurtz’s grandiose theories on everything from love to the economy are littered with childish aspirations of fame and fortune, revealing the contradictions that lie within the Heart of Darkness. Eventually, Kurtz foresees his death and delivers one of the most famous and debated quotes in all of fiction before perishing on that steamboat. 

“It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror—of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision—he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath: ‘The horror! The horror!’” – Marlow

After Kurtz’s death, Marlow gets violently sick himself. On the brink of death, Marlow realizes what makes Kurtz so remarkable. Marlow had nothing to say, of himself, or his ideas. If he were to die, he would be transplanted back into the earth in the same fashion he was born from it. Kurtz on the other hand, the man who “kicked himself loose from the earth” had everything to say, and so he did. To Marlow, Kurtz through his descent into madness let go of everything, but in doing so found himself, something most individuals spend their lives chasing. In himself was surely a heart of darkness, but said heart was pampered with candor and conviction. The darkness made him blind to the subjectivity of the world we’ve built, but painfully aware of the objective truths of the universe.

Historical Significance; The Scramble For Africa

Cetshwayo, king of the Zulu, under British guard after the end of the Anglo-Zulu War in Southern Africa, 1879. Drawn by F. Daad.

Heart of Darkness (1899) takes place amid the 2nd Industrial Revolution (1870-1914). This period was characterized by rapid industrialization, technological advancements, and social changes that were built upon the innovations of the First Industrial Revolution (which occurred from the late 18th to early 19th centuries). Essentially, new sources of energy like electricity, oil, and gas led to breakthroughs in the production of steel. Subsequent innovations like railroads, cars, ships, and planes, as well as communication devices like the radio and telephone, began sprouting up across the world. This was the first time in history we could communicate and travel across vast distances, leading to the first instances of globalization. Governments were quick to realize that these newfound technological advancements required tremendous amounts of resources to be deployed effectively. Europe simply didn’t have the raw materials necessary to produce their industrial goals. At the same time, the major players within the continent (Belgium, France, Germany, Britain, Italy, Portugal, and Spain) were in skirmishes amongst one another trying to flex their imperial power. For example, events like the Congress of Vienna (the fall of Napoleon), The Franco-Prussian War (France vs. Germany), and the unification of Italy and Germany all led to bitter resentment among the major European factions. 

After seeing the success of the British in the Americas and India, in the 1830s France makes the first move towards Africa by occupying Algeria. After colonizing Algeria, France moved eastward to take Tunisia, provoking Italy to join in this conquest. While France and Italy wage war over Northern Africa, King Leopold II of Belgium announces his plans to “rescue” The Congo Free State. Unlike the other European empires, King Leopold II vowed not to make it a part of the Belgian empire, but instead, chose to make it his own domain so that he personally could “aid and civilize”  the people of The Congo, presenting his conquest as a humanitarian effort. King Leopold II’s reign over The Congo is known to be one of the most brutal, inhumane exercises of depravity known to history. While personally owning The Congo, the king netted over $200 million francs (over $1 billion in today’s money). There are so many lessons to be learned from this period of history, but the fact that he passed it off as a humanitarian effort goes to show how just how naive we humans can be. 

After Leopold II of Belgium, also known as the “Two-faced King” announced his conquest of The Congo, the major European powers convened in Berlin to establish official claims for what is now deemed as “The Scramble For Africa”.  Belgium, France, Germany, Britain, Italy, Portugal, and Spain all agree on makeshift borders representing the new reaches of their empires. The African kingdoms and rulers fought to retain control of their land, but 9 times out of 10 though they had the terrain advantage, they were overwhelmed by Europe’s newfound technological achievements like the inventions of bombs and machine guns. In just 40 years, Africa went from 10% European control to 90%. It wasn’t until the outbreak of World War I that European colonies began losing their grip on Africa. A wave of economic and military strains as well as increased scrutiny of colonialism and a growing African nationalist movement came together to dissolve European colonial control in Africa. 

Responding to Controversies; Is HoD a Critique or Complicit in Colonialism?

It should be no surprise Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is a highly controversial book. It depicts the brutal injustices of King Leopold II’s reign over The Congo Free State from an entirely Eurocentric perspective. Routinely the African characters in the book are referred to as cannibals, savages, and “the others”, reinforcing racist tropes so prevalent at the start of the 20th century. Beyond the palpable racism portrayed by the book’s main characters, Joseph Conrad’s decision not to give any African characters a voice throughout the entire story represents the larger issue.  The racist bigotry of the European colonizers would be far easier for readers to digest if we could juxtapose their sentiments with African characters and culture. But that never happens. The only perspective we see is the Eurocentric one, where the jungles of Africa are prehistoric and the people are primitive, compared to their civilized culture back home. It’s impossible to read Marlow’s journey as any sort of pro-colonization propaganda, but the question remains; Does Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness do enough to present a sound critique of colonialism, or does it merely serve as a mundane reminder that this so-called “darkness’ is within all of us, as demonstrated through history? 

In 1975, Nigerian novelist and poet Chinua Achebe wrote “An Image of Africa: Racism in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness”. Achebe’s scathing critique of Conrad’s story does an excellent job of highlighting its inherent biases. He does not hold back his disdain for the ignorant racist he believes Conrad to be. Achebe calls for a closer inspection of the constant juxtaposition at play. The first river we’re introduced to where Marlow tells his tale is the Thames River running through London. The Thames River is depicted as a place highly regulated for commerce, ordered, and civilized. Contrast this river with the Congo River where the heart of the story takes place. The Congo River is the antithesis of the Thames River, it is a chaotic mess, closer akin to the Wild West than any official trade route. The juxtaposition spreads to the supposed lack of laws and customs in The Congo compared to the much more “civilized and cultured” Europe. Everything we learn of Africa in the story only serves to be the foil for Eurocentric ideals. The very few actual Africans in the story not only have zero dialogue but serve as symbolic objects and superficial tropes to the “superior” European mind. 

Chinua Achebe And His-Book “Things Fall Apart”

I believe Chinua Achebe does a better job explaining what’s flawed with the book better than I ever can, which is why I recommend reading his paper yourself. Achebe asserts that Conrad’s depiction of Africa in Heart of Darkness only prolongs the negative and stereotypical sentiments of Africa being this so-called place of “darkness” where savegry and bouts of evil are societal norms. Taking away the direct racism within the book, at first glance the story seems to be concerned with two individuals (Marlow & Kurtz) descent into madness when placed in a situation so far removed from what they consider home. Implying this inevitable “descent into madness” occurs when trolling through the uncivilized rivers of The Congo seems to come with a fair bit of veiled racism. It leads one to believe that the jungles of Africa aren’t fit for the cultured Europeans and it should be left to the wild Africans. It’s hard to ignore that interpretation, but by the end of the book, Joseph Conrad litters tidbits of clues within his philosophical monologues that seem to imply it wasn’t The Congo that brought madness on these Europeans, their madness was within them all along. On Kurtz’s deathbed, he utters delusions of grandeur, he talks of dining with kings and disseminating his ideas to the farthest reaches. So all this talk of Kurtz being the man who “has kicked himself loose of the earth” is total baloney. He’s just as conscious and longing for these arbitrary societal norms as before he ever stepped foot in Africa. In fact, he was so greedy for fame, fortune, and power, that he was willing to sacrifice everything else he knew and loved to move to Africa and manipulate its people. The insatiable appetite for more Kurtz demonstrates isn’t something that evolves over time, especially in a place like the 20th century Congo Free State where traditional lappings of luxury are few and far between. Kurtz’s ambitions were within him far before his time in The Congo. It’s these ambitions, part of the archetypical European colonial mindset that spurred his descent into madness. At its core, the book isn’t the adventure narrative it’s trumped up to be. It’s a psychological breakdown of what corrupts the soul. The answer to that question isn’t some fantastical setting like The Congo River during the 2nd industrial Revolution. It’s a far more nuanced answer that leaves you questioning your desires. It wasn’t The Congo that made these men mad, these men brought madness to The Congo. 

The Darkness

If the true theme of the story centers around the human psyche, the recurring symbol of darkness within Conrad’s prose should be analyzed from a new perspective. Multiple times the novel’s main character Marlow uses darkness to describe his environment; The geography of the jungle, the color of its inhabitants’ skin, and the morality of their actions are all repeatedly described as dark. In storytelling, darkness is what we associate with evil. So, it’s easy to assume that in placing these characters in this “dark” situation, they are running head-first into evil. However, Conrad subverts expectations by juxtaposing the darkness of The Congo with the blinding lightness of European civilization. As Marlow’s journey progresses, the “enlightened” European society he comes from becomes more and more a facade, a superficial beacon of light that blurs the truths of colonialism behind the glitz and glare of economic progress. In Conrad’s story, the light represents a shallow reflection of false desires, while the darkness reveals, the deeper, more complex, and uncomfortable truths of humanity. 

Conrad’s use of light and darkness not as a tool for disseminating good versus evil, but rather as a metaphor to critique Eurocentric ideals, plays directly into Carl Jung’s theory of the Collective Unconscious. The Collective Unconscious can be understood as this layer beneath our consciousness where we all share the same understanding of universal patterns that come intuitively with being human. The universal patterns we innately recognize come in the forms of symbols and archetypes. For example, the archetype of “the hero” as brave and triumphant doesn’t come from any culture, religion, or story. “The hero” is something we all understand regardless of our background. Another archetype we share is “the shadow”. The shadow represents the dark, hidden side of the human psyche, the part of us we wish to ignore. For example, traits like anger, fear, greed, or being self-conscious are all things we may try to suppress. We don’t suppress these traits because they are inherently evil or morally bad, but only because they don’t align with how we want to be perceived. Although everyone’s shadow is comprised of individual experiences, the mere fact that we can recognize this shadow as an archetype proves that it lives in the collective unconscious. Carl Jung believed that to become a healthy person psychologically, one must confront the shadow and integrate it into their conscious awareness. This is exactly what Marlow went through on his journey through The Congo. 

The light of Europe represents conscious awareness while the darkness of The Congo symbolizes the collective unconscious. Our conscious awareness pampers us with falsehoods and ideals whether it be on a personal level; i.e. “I’m not selfish”, or on a societal level; I.e. “We are civilizing The Congo”. While the collective consciousness, free from any rational constraints, lets loose the archetypes and shows things for what they really are. Here, the shadows reveal themselves as the ugly truths we try to sweep under the rug. When Marlow traverses through The Congo, he has no choice but to confront the darkest aspects of human nature; the cruelty, greed, and lust for power go hand in hand with the enlightened and civilized European culture. While The Congo is a symbol of the collective unconscious, Kurtz is the physical embodiment of Marlow’s shadow and everything he and Europe sought to suppress. Kurtz was once a man status, enlightened by Eurocentric ideals. But when he faced the darkness he abandoned his conscious beliefs and embraced his primal instincts. In Jungian terms, Kurtz lived up to the archetype of a tyrannical god, cementing himself within the collective unconscious. But when Marlow confronts his shadow, Kurtz, he sees in him his potential for darkness, an inescapable truth. While Marlow confronts his shadow, Kurtz is consumed by it. Kurtz’s absolute will to power blinded him to the truth, just like how the enlightened Europeans were blind to what was happening in The Congo. It isn’t until Kurtz’s famous last words on his deathbed, that he finally decides to see the darkness for what it is, thereby confronting his shadow.

Summary

When I picked up the book that inspired one of my favorite movies I knew I’d be in for a ride. But the downright racist and evil one-sided depiction of the colonization of The Congo is not at all what I expected. It caught me so off guard I had no idea what to make of it. In fact, immediately after finishing, I rated it 1 star on Goodreads. But it’s been over a month and I still can’t get the story off my mind. For better or for worse I’ve always believed that the more a piece of art provokes you, the more important it is. That said, the more I’ve thought about this story the more I come to grips with its purpose and see it for what it is. A horrific fictional account of one of the most brutal periods of history, but also a necessary one.  Just like Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son, or Caravaggio’s Judith Beheading Holofernes, it’s a haunting portrayal of our past. Without such works of art, our perceptions of the past would change, hindering our understanding of reality today. Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness forces you to face the uncomfortable truths of reality, acting as a collective shadow overcasting society. Through this story, Conrad shows us that there is a period in time before the abyss gazes back into you where you can discover the truth within the darkness. 

Free Will in a Fragmented Self: Exploring Determinism and Autonomy in Apple TV’s Severance

In a world where consciousness can be surgically divided, can either half truly be free?

“You feel this now, this pain? It’s real. You feel it because you’re alive, Mark S., and you are real. Only I, and Lumon, can remove your pain.”

These words, uttered within the sterile confines of the Break Room, strike at the philosophical core of Apple TV’s “Severance” The scene depicts an innie (work self) being psychologically tortured through forced repetition of a corporate apology—a moment that perfectly encapsulates the show’s exploration of free will, determinism, and autonomy.

As I watched Severance, I couldn’t help but feel like I was witnessing a philosophical thought experiment come to life—one that challenges our most fundamental assumptions about consciousness, identity, and freedom. This isn’t just prestige television; it’s an existential laboratory where concepts debated by philosophers for centuries are tested through compelling narrative.

In this analysis, I’ll examine how Severance brings to life the tensions between free will and determinism, explore the fragmented nature of autonomy, and consider what it means to be free when the self is literally divided.

The Philosophical Cage: Determinism in the Severed Floor

Spinoza’s Determinism and the Innies’ Reality

Baruch Spinoza, the 17th-century philosopher, argued that free will is essentially an illusion—that humans are part of a larger deterministic system governed by causality. In his view, our actions are determined by prior causes, even if we perceive ourselves as making free choices.

The severed floor at Lumon Industries functions as a perfect Spinozist environment. Here, the innies exist in a tightly controlled ecosystem where every aspect of their experience is deliberately engineered:

Their physical movements are restricted to designated areas

Their knowledge is limited to what the company permits

Their social interactions are carefully monitored

Their emotional responses are manipulated through rewards (waffle parties, finger traps) and punishments (the Break Room)

When Helly R. repeatedly attempts suicide, only to have her outie record a video message telling her she will never be allowed to leave, we witness determinism in its most brutal form. Her attempts at exercising free will are systematically thwarted by forces beyond her control.

As Helly pleads in one devastating scene: “I’m a person; you can’t just keep me here!” The response, delivered through her own outie, is chilling: “I’m happy here… please stop sending resignation requests.”

This interaction perfectly illustrates Spinoza’s determinism—Helly’s innie can attempt resistance, but ultimately, her agency is constrained by pre-existing conditions she cannot control.

Laplace’s Demon and Lumon’s Surveillance State

Gustave Doré, 1860

Pierre-Simon Laplace proposed a thought experiment involving a hypothetical demon who, knowing the precise location and momentum of every atom in the universe, could calculate all future events with perfect precision. On the severed floor, Lumon assumes this demonic role, approaching omniscience through:

Constant surveillance of the innies’ activities

Detailed tracking of their emotional states and productivity

Controlled information flow limiting what they can know

Physical architecture designed to control movement

The scene where Dylan discovers the security room—with its control panel capable of activating different modes of consciousness—reveals the extent of this deterministic control. Lumon doesn’t just monitor the innies; it can actually manipulate which version of consciousness is activated at any moment.

This surveillance apparatus transforms the severed floor into a deterministic cage where the variables (environment, knowledge, stimuli) are controlled to produce predictable outcomes—a human Petri dish where the illusion of choice masks the reality of determination.

Resistance in Confinement: Free Will Against All Odds

Sartre’s Existentialism and the Innie Rebellion

Jean-Paul Sartre would argue that freedom exists even in the most confined circumstances. For Sartre, existence precedes essence—meaning we define ourselves through our choices rather than being defined by predetermined qualities.

Mark, Helly, Irving, and Dylan’s gradual rebellion against Lumon represents a Sartrean exercise of freedom. Despite their constrained environment, they manage to:

Form genuine connections with each other

Question the nature and purpose of their work

Develop curiosity about the outside world

Coordinate acts of resistance

The pivotal moment comes when the team discovers the Overtime Contingency—the ability to temporarily awaken an innie in the outie’s world. This discovery represents a crack in the deterministic system, allowing for genuine choice.

When Dylan sacrifices his opportunity to learn about his outie life to instead help his friends, we witness what Sartre would call an “authentic choice”—a decision made with full awareness of its consequences that defines who he is. Dylan chooses solidarity over self-interest, exercising free will in defiance of the system designed to control him.

Kant and the Innies’ Moral Rationality

Immanuel Kant argued that free will is tied to rational moral agency—our ability to act according to principles we set for ourselves. For Kant, freedom isn’t about doing whatever we want but about acting rationally according to moral law.

Despite being denied information about themselves and the outside world, the innies gradually develop moral principles that guide their rebellion:

Mark maintains his skepticism and intellectual curiosity

Helly refuses to accept her imprisonment

Irving pursues truth about the company’s history

Dylan seeks connection with his unknown children

In one telling scene, after discovering a coworker being “reset” (essentially mind-wiped), Mark comments: “Whatever they’re doing, they shouldn’t be doing it to people.” This simple moral judgment, arrived at through rational consideration despite limited information, exemplifies Kant’s concept of autonomy—the ability to derive moral principles through reason, even in oppressive circumstances.

The Divided Self: Can Fragmented Consciousness Be Autonomous?

Mill’s Harm Principle and the Ethics of Severance

John Stuart Mill’s harm principle states that individual liberty can only be justifiably limited to prevent harm to others. The severance procedure creates an ethical paradox: the outie consents to the procedure, but this consent directly harms another consciousness—the innie.

The outies of Severance commit what philosopher Derek Parfit might call “future self harm”—only in this case, they’re harming a partitioned version of themselves rather than their future self. This raises questions about consent:

Can one version of consciousness consent on behalf of another?

If the innie never had a choice, was genuine consent ever possible?

Does the outie’s “freedom” come at the expense of the innie’s imprisonment?

When post-reintegration Petey tells Mark, “They’re taking people’s souls, Mark… dividing them in half,” he’s articulating the core ethical problem through Mill’s lens—the severance procedure fundamentally harms people by fragmenting them, violating the harm principle regardless of consent.

Frankfurt’s Hierarchy of Desires and the Severed Will

Harry Frankfurt proposed that autonomy involves aligning our actions with our “second-order desires”—our desires about what we want to desire. The severed state creates a profound disconnect in this hierarchy:

The outie may have a second-order desire to be productive at work without emotional involvement

The innie has no access to these second-order desires, operating with first-order desires disconnected from the outie’s values

Neither self is fully autonomous because neither has access to the complete set of desires that would constitute a whole person

This severed hierarchy of desires manifests dramatically when we learn Helena Eagan (Helly’s outie) is actually an Eagan family member who underwent severance as a publicity stunt. Her outie’s second-order desire (to promote severance as ethical) directly conflicts with her innie’s first-order desire for freedom.

When asked why she hates her innie, Helena responds: “She’s not a person… she’s me without the context that makes me me.” This chilling statement reveals how the severance procedure creates what Frankfurt would consider a profoundly non-autonomous state—neither self has the necessary context to align their actions with their complete set of values.

The Cage Within: Innies’ Constrained Autonomy

Kant’s Rationality and the Information Deprivation

For Kant, autonomy requires access to information—we can only make rational choices when we understand the context and consequences of our actions. The innies are systematically denied this context:

They don’t know who they are outside work

They don’t understand the purpose of their mysterious work

They can’t access memories of their personal history

They lack knowledge of the outside world

When Irving discovers a testing room containing a terrified, newly-severed employee, his horror stems from his growing realization that their autonomy is fundamentally compromised. The scene represents what Kant would consider a profound violation of human dignity—people being used merely as means (workers) rather than respected as ends in themselves (complete persons).

Hobbes and the Social Contract of the Severed Floor

Thomas Hobbes famously argued that freedom is the absence of external impediments to motion—in other words, freedom means not being physically prevented from doing what you want to do. By this definition, the innies are profoundly unfree:

They cannot leave the severed floor

They are physically restrained if they attempt to escape

Their movements are tracked and restricted

Their bodies are literally controlled by different consciousness outside work hours

The severed floor represents what Hobbes would consider an artificial state—one where the natural liberty of humans is constrained by artificial boundaries. The difference is that, unlike Hobbes’ social contract where citizens surrender some freedom for security, the innies never consented to this arrangement.

As Mark’s innie gradually discovers his outie’s grief over his wife’s death, we witness his growing awareness of this lack of consent. The company has exploited his outie’s emotional vulnerability to establish control over his innie—a perversion of any legitimate social contract.

Integration as Liberation: Toward a Unified Consciousness

One of the most profound philosophical statement of Severance comes through Petey, who manages to reintegrate his severed selves. His painful but enlightening experience suggests that true autonomy requires integration—a unified consciousness that can access all aspects of the self.

Reintegration represents:

The reunification of episodic memory (knowing one’s complete history)

The alignment of conflicting desires (resolving the tension between innie and outie)

The restoration of context necessary for meaningful choice

The regaining of a coherent personal narrative

When Petey tells Mark, “There’s a whole world out there… I’ve seen both sides, and I’m choosing to stay integrated,” he’s making a claim about the relationship between integration and autonomy. True freedom, Severance suggests, requires wholeness.

FAQ: Philosophical Questions About Severance

Are the innies different people from the outies?

From a philosophical perspective, this depends on your theory of personal identity. John Locke would argue that identity is tied to psychological continuity and memory—by this standard, the innies and outies could be considered different people since they don’t share memories. However, Derek Parfit might argue they’re the same person in different psychological states, similar to how we might not remember our early childhood but are still the same person.

Does the severance procedure constitute a form of slavery?

By most philosophical definitions of slavery—especially those emphasizing the absence of consent and the treatment of humans as property—yes. The innies are forced to work without consent, cannot leave, and are treated as resources rather than persons. What makes this morally complex is that the “slave owner” is technically a version of themselves, creating a unique ethical problem not addressed in traditional slavery discourse.

Would reintegration be traumatic for both the innie and outie?

Probably. From a psychological perspective, reintegration would involve reconciling potentially conflicting self-narratives and values. The outie would need to process everything their innie experienced, including any resistance or rebellion, while the innie would need to assimilate the outie’s reasons for choosing severance. This reconciliation would likely involve significant psychological distress as the integrated self reconstructs a coherent identity.

Is the severance procedure a form of philosophical zombie creation?

Philosophical zombies (p-zombies) are theoretical beings that act like humans but lack consciousness. The innies clearly have consciousness, emotions, and inner lives. However, severance does create a situation where the outie might view the innie as something less than fully human—a troubling perspective that raises questions about what philosopher David Chalmers calls the “hard problem of consciousness.”

Could severance ever be ethically justified?

Under extreme circumstances, perhaps. A utilitarian might argue that if a person needed to perform crucial work that would cause them severe psychological trauma (like diffusing bombs or performing high-risk surgery), severing the work-self might prevent suffering. However, this would require truly informed consent and robust protections for the innie’s welfare. The show clearly portrays Lumon’s implementation as deeply unethical, prioritizing corporate interests over human dignity.

The Fragmented Self in Modern Society

The philosophical questions raised by Severance extend far beyond the show itself. In our increasingly compartmentalized lives, we all experience minor forms of “severance”:

The division between professional and personal personas

The fragmentation of attention across multiple digital environments

The compartmentalization of knowledge in specialized fields

The temporal severance of our present self from our past and future selves

What makes Severance so philosophically compelling is how it literalizes these metaphorical divisions, forcing us to confront the implications of our fragmented existence. When we adopt a “work personality” different from our “home personality,” are we engaging in a mild form of self-severance? Do our different social media personas represent a fragmentation of our unified self?

As philosopher Galen Strawson argues, the very notion of a single, continuous self might be illusory—perhaps we are all, in some sense, “severed” from moment to moment, constructing an artificial narrative of continuity to make sense of our disjointed experiences.

Conclusion: Freedom Through Integration

Severance ultimately suggests that true autonomy requires integration—a wholeness of self that allows for informed, contextual decision-making. The show’s narrative arc bends toward reintegration as liberation, implying that the severed state is fundamentally one of compromised freedom.

This perspective aligns with holistic philosophical traditions that view humanity as necessarily unified—from Aristotle’s concept of eudaimonia (human flourishing through the realization of one’s full potential) to Eastern philosophical traditions emphasizing the integration of mind, body, and spirit.

The final episode of the first season’s cliffhanger, with innies temporarily awakened in their outies’ lives, represents not just a plot twist but a philosophical statement: only through confronting our whole selves, with all their contradictions and complexities, can we move toward genuine freedom.

I wonder—what parts of ourselves have we “severed” in our daily lives? What would it mean to reintegrate these fragments into a more cohesive whole? Perhaps the most valuable philosophical lesson of Severance is that true freedom comes not from escape or division, but from the courageous act of becoming fully ourselves.

What aspects of your life feel “severed” from your core self? Do you think complete integration is possible—or even desirable—in our complex modern world? Share your thoughts in the comments below.


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Labor and Alienation in Severance: How Apple TV’s Hit Show Brings Marx’s Theory to Life

labor and alienation thumbnail by BM
labor and alienation thumbnail by BM

Labor and Alienation in Severance: How Apple TV’s Hit Show Brings Marx’s Theory to Life

When the elevator doors close and severed Lumon employees transform into their “innies,” we witness the most literal manifestation of Marx’s theory of alienation ever depicted on screen. Apple TV’s “Severance” doesn’t just flirt with Marxist concepts—it takes them to their terrifying logical conclusion.

Mark Scout turning into his innie in the elevator of Lumon in the Apple TV show Severance

What Is Marx’s Theory of Alienation and How Does Severance Illustrate It?

Karl Marx’s theory of alienation describes how workers become estranged from their humanity under capitalism. In “Severance,” this alienation isn’t just psychological—it’s surgically enforced. The show provides the perfect lens to understand Marx’s four dimensions of alienation:

1. Alienation from the product of labor

2. Alienation from the act of production

3. Alienation from species-being (human essence)

4. Alienation from other humans

Karl Marx Dr. Manhattan Meme

Let’s explore how the show brilliantly illustrates each dimension through its dystopian workplace drama.

Alienation from the Product: What Are the Lumon Employees Actually Making?

In traditional Marxist theory, workers are alienated from the products they create because these products become someone else’s property. In “Severance,” this alienation reaches an extreme.

The Macrodata Refinement (MDR) department employees sort “scary numbers” into digital bins with:

No understanding of what these numbers represent

No knowledge of the final product

No comprehension of how their work affects the world

No ownership of what they produce

When Dylan asks, “What do we do here?” Mark can only reply, “We’re refiners. We refine.” This tautological explanation highlights their complete disconnection from their output.

Unlike factory workers who at least see the cars or clothes they make (even if they don’t own them), Lumon’s severed workers exist in a state of complete epistemological alienation. Their work is so abstracted that they can’t even articulate what they’re producing or why.

Alienation from Production: When Work Becomes Your Entire Existence

For Marx, alienation from the act of production occurs when work becomes an external, forced activity rather than a fulfilling expression of creativity. In “Severance,” this alienation becomes literal imprisonment.

The innies experience several extreme forms of production alienation:

Spatial confinement: They cannot leave their workplace—ever

Existential limitation: Their entire consciousness exists solely within Lumon’s walls

Temporal totality: They have no existence outside of working hours

Procedural absurdity: They perform tasks based on how numbers “feel,” a process they can’t explain

The severed workers don’t just work at Lumon—they only exist at Lumon. They have no life outside work because, for them, there is no outside. When Helly attempts suicide rather than return to work, she embodies the extreme of this alienation—preferring non-existence to continued labor under these conditions.

Alienation from Human Essence: The Severed Self

The most profound innovation of “Severance” is its literal severing of consciousness, creating the ultimate form of alienation from what Marx called “species-being”—our essential nature as creative, social beings who find fulfillment through meaningful work and community.

The severance procedure creates workers who are alienated from:

Personal history and identity

Family relationships and friendships

Creative expression and leisure

All context for their existence

When Irving discovers an outie life filled with painting—creative expression completely absent from his innie experience—we see this alienation in stark relief. His fundamental human essence, his creative nature, has been surgically removed from his work self.

This alienation is doubly tragic because the innies intuitively sense something is missing. As Dylan poignantly asks after glimpsing his outie’s child: “I have a fucking kid? And I don’t get to be with them?” He grasps that his humanity has been stolen to make him a more efficient worker.

Alienation from Others: Corporate Division by Design

Marx’s fourth dimension of alienation involves separation from other human beings. Capitalism transforms social relationships into market relationships, fostering competition rather than cooperation.

In “Severance,” Lumon deliberately manufactures division through:

Departmental segregation: Workers are physically separated

Induced paranoia: Departments are taught to fear each other

Regulated interaction: Social contact is strictly controlled

Prohibited fraternization: “Romantic fraternization” and “excessive discussion of personal lives” are forbidden

The “perpetuity wing” with its cult-like worship of Kier Eagan codifies this division as corporate dogma. The four “tempers” (woe, frolic, dread, malice) are kept separate in Kier’s mythology just as the departments are kept separate in the office layout.

A still from the perpetuity wing in Severance

The Corporate Panopticon: Surveillance and Self-Policing

Building on Marx’s theory of alienation, Michel Foucault’s concept of the panopticon helps us understand how Lumon maintains control. In “Severance,” surveillance takes multiple forms:

Physical surveillance: Cameras and monitoring by management

Psychological surveillance: Break room “reintegration” sessions

Self-surveillance: Innies policing themselves, knowing outies may disapprove

When Dylan gains temporary consciousness in his outie life and discovers he has a son, it creates what we might call a bifurcated panopticon. His outie self becomes both jailer and judge, making decisions that his innie self must live with but cannot influence.

This surveillance extends to the most intimate possession—their own bodies. The innies are alienated from their physical selves, which become vessels temporarily occupied before being reclaimed by the outies at 5 PM.

Resistance Through Community: Finding Humanity in Connection

Despite this extreme alienation, the severed workers find ways to resist. Their rebellion emerges not through traditional labor organizing but through reclaiming their humanity through connection.

Key forms of resistance include:

Building relationships: Irving and Burt’s connection challenges departmental division

Sharing information: Mark and Helly’s mutual support and knowledge exchange

Creating meaning: Dylan’s obsession with perks and office trinkets

Asserting identity: Collective efforts to discover who they are beyond work

When Mark tells Helly, “The point is, we’re not just livestock. We’re people,” he articulates their fundamental resistance—a demand for recognition of personhood despite being created solely for labor.

The Break Room: Ideological Reprogramming and Total Control

The “break room” scenes represent perhaps the most disturbing extension of Marx’s theory. When Helly is forced to repeat “I am sorry for the trouble I have caused” until she genuinely “feels it,” we witness alienation from one’s own emotions and moral autonomy.

This goes beyond Marx’s concept of alienation and enters territory explored by later Marxist theorists:

Repressive desublimation: The channeling of desires into forms that reinforce control

Ideological state apparatuses: Institutions that indoctrinate subjects into dominant ideologies

Hegemonic consent: The manufacturing of agreement to one’s own exploitation

Lumon doesn’t just want the innies’ labor; it wants their complete psychological submission.

Consciousness as Commodity: The Ultimate Capitalist Frontier

“Severance” shows us that the final frontier of capitalism is not just the commodification of labor but the commodification of consciousness itself. The outies sell not just their time or skills but fragments of their very existence.

This represents what Marxist theorist Mark Fisher might call consciousness as commodity—the ultimate extension of capitalist logic, where subjective experience becomes a resource to be exploited, fragmented, and sold.

When Dylan tells his colleagues, “We’re not just parts of the whole; we are the whole,” he rejects this commodification. He asserts that the innies are not mere labor fragments but complete persons deserving of agency and self-determination.

What Can Severance Teach Us About Modern Work?

“Severance” doesn’t just illustrate Marx’s theory of alienation—it radically extends it for our contemporary moment. The show suggests that in our rush to compartmentalize work from life, we risk severing ourselves from our own humanity.

The series resonates because it reflects trends already in motion:

Work-life integration: The blurring of boundaries between professional and personal

Digital presenteeism: The expectation to be always available

Identity fragmentation: Maintaining different personas across contexts

Surveillance capitalism: The monitoring and commodification of human experience

Frequently Asked Questions About Marxist Themes in Severance

How does the severance procedure relate to Marx’s concept of alienation?

The severance procedure physically enforces the separation that Marx saw happening psychologically under capitalism. By literally splitting consciousness, it creates workers who experience the ultimate form of alienation—from their very selves.

What would Marx think of the “work-life balance” that severance claims to provide?

Marx would likely view the “work-life balance” promised by severance as the ultimate capitalist deception. Rather than truly balancing work and life, it completely subordinates one fragment of consciousness to labor while allowing another to believe it’s free.

How does Severance critique modern corporate culture?

The show critiques modern corporate culture by exposing its underlying logic: that workers are valued only for their productivity, not their humanity. The meaningless perks, corporate jargon, and wellness initiatives at Lumon parallel contemporary workplaces that offer superficial benefits while demanding ever more from employees.

What does Helly’s rebellion symbolize from a Marxist perspective?

Helly’s rebellion represents class consciousness—the awareness of one’s exploitation that Marx saw as necessary for revolutionary change. Her refusal to accept her condition, despite having no memory of choosing it, symbolizes the inherent human drive toward freedom and self-determination.

Conclusion: The Ultimate Question of Personhood Under Capitalism

The brilliance of “Severance” lies in how it transforms abstract Marxist theory into visceral human drama. By literalizing alienation through the severance procedure, the show forces us to confront fundamental questions about work, identity, and freedom.

As Helly desperately writes to her outie: “I’m a person. You can’t do this to me.” That plea articulates the essential struggle against alienation in all its forms. It’s not just a worker demanding better conditions; it’s a consciousness demanding the right to exist beyond its utility as labor.

In our increasingly fragmented, work-dominated world, “Severance” reminds us that Marx’s 175-year-old theory of alienation remains eerily relevant. Perhaps more than ever, we need to question systems that treat human beings as resources to be optimized rather than persons to be fulfilled.


What aspects of Marx’s theory of alienation do you see in your own work experience? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Interested in more philosophical analyses of popular media? Check out our articles on The Greatest Concert You’ve Never Heard and Matt Johnson’s “Blackberry” as Modern Canadian History

March Madness Bracket Tracker: Live Updates

Current Record: 28-4

Day 2: March 21st (Round of 64)

Baylor (9) vs. Mississippi St. (8)

My Prediction: Baylor

Superior ball school.

Updates:

– Baylor looking beautiful at half. Norchad Omier is him.

Robert Morris (15) vs. Alabama (2)

My Prediction: Bama

Robert Morris has serious underdog potential but I am bought into this Bama program. Over the past decade their ball program has came out of nowhere.

Lipscomb (14) vs. Iowa State (3)

My Prediction: Lipscomb

The name “Lipscomb” is simply too good to pass up on. The march madness gods will be on their side today. I’m sure of it.

Colorado State (12) vs. Memphis (5)

My Prediction: Colorado State

Big fan of the Colorado green jerseys.

Mount St. Mary (16) vs. Duke (1)

My Prediction: Duke

God it would be so cool to see MSM take down Duke. But I can’t see it. Duke will survive, for now.

Vanderbilt (10) vs. Saint Mary’s (7)

My Prediction: Vanderbilt

My memory might be fading me but I feel like Vanderbilt has been on the cusp for quite some time. This years gonna be their year.

North Carolina (11) vs. Ole Miss (6)

My Prediction: Ole Miss

UNC are the biggest frauds this year. There time is up. Kick the can UNC.

Grand Canyon (13) vs. Maryland (4)

My Prediction: Maryland

Part of me regrets not taking Grand Canyon, I forgot about them last year. However, Maryland’s jerseys are iconic, I think I’m in good shape.

Norfolk St (16) vs. Florida (1)

My Prediction: Florida

“Gators in 5” – Shannon Sharpe.

Troy (14) vs. Kentucky (3)

My Prediction: Kentucky

Kentucky is king.

New Mexico (10) vs. Marquette (7)

My Prediction: New Mexico

I watched Marquette play last year and they are overrated as hell.

Akron (13) vs. Arizona (4)

My Prediction: Arizona

Arizona is going deep, I am sure of it. If not, you probably won’t hear from me for a couple weeks.

Oklahoma (9) vs. UConn (8)

My Prediction: UConn

Of course I’m taking the defending champs.

Xavier (11) vs. Illinois (6)

My Prediction: Xavier

Went to a Xavier game last year. Certified fan for life.

Bryant (15) vs. Michigan State (2)

My Prediction: Michigan state.

The two Michigans are going to run the south this year.,

Liberty (12) vs. Oregon (5)

My Prediction: Liberty

Oregon is the definition of all hype 0 substance. Pack your bags Oregon, it’s gonna be a quick dance for you.

Day 1: March 20th (Round of 64)

Creighton (9) vs. Louisville (8)

My Prediction: Creighton

Why? Because I saw them play once at MSG a few years ago. That’s the extent of my analysis. I’m basically a Bluejay for life at this point.

Updates:

– Creighton is god damn cooking. I did not expect them to look this good holy cow. Up 15 at half.

– Even after a Louisville fan put his body on the line and threw a water bottle on the court to try to dampen Creighton’s run, it wasn’t enough. Creighton wins

– Final score: 89-75 Creighton

– Jaustin Record: 1-0

High Point (13) vs. Purdue (4)

My Prediction: High Point

Why? Because this isn’t the same Purdue as last year. They lost a good chunk of their team over the offseason. For example NCAA & North Toronto Legend Zach Edey is now dominating the NBA in Memphis.

Updates:

HIGH POINT WAS LEADING UNTIL I TWEETED ABOUT THEM. SORRY HIGH POINT FANS, I BOTCHED THIS ONE.

– Jaustin Record: 1-1

Montana (14) vs. Wisconsin (3)

My Prediction: Wisconsin

Wisconsin is simply a bonafide March Madness school. No Ifs, ands, ors, or buts.

Updates:

– The two guards Tonje & Blackwell on Wisconsin are ELITE

SIU Edwards (16) vs. Houston (1)

My Prediction: Houston

Need I elaborate?

Updates:

– This game is super boring I will not be watching any more. Go Houston.

Alabama St. (16) vs. Auburn (1)

My Prediction: Auburn

Again, need I elaborate?

Updates:

– Also a pretty boring game. Go Auburn.

McNeese (12) vs. Clemson (5)

My Prediction: McNeese

The Ill-fated 12vs5 matchup. Of course I’m picking the 12. Also, McNeese an all-time college name.

Updates:

VCU (11) vs. BYU (6)

My Prediction: BYU

I read somewhere BYU spent an absurd amount on recruits this year. Always gotta ride with the soakers.

Updates:

Georgia (9) vs. Gonzaga (8)

My Prediction: Zaga

Zaga is simply a basketball school to the core. Georgia can have football, Zaga’s got this.

Updates:

Wofford (15) vs. Tennessee (2)

My Prediction: Tennessee

Wofford sounds German and Germans aren’t very good at basketball.

Updates:

– Boring game. Go Vols.

Arkansas (10 vs. Kansas (7)

My Prediction: Arkansas

Kansas is so overrated it’s not funny at this point. Arkansas will take them down a peg.

Updates:

– Warning: By this time into the day I was pretty hammered, so my analysis gets a little fuzzy to say the least.

Yale (13) vs. Texas (4)

My Prediction: Texas

I really wanted to pick Yale but I didn’t have it in me.

Drake (11) vs. Missouri (6)

My Prediction: Drake

Drake has had a bad run in the media lately. As an individual who resides in the 6, I have a feeling he’ll turn things around. In order to do so, Drake basketball must shine.

Updates:

– As you can see, i was too faded I accidently called Drake, Butler. Sorry Drake

Utah State (10) vs. UCLA (7)

My Prediction: UCLA

If you thought I was taking some ranchers from Utah over one of the best basketball programs in history, you are sorely mistaken my friend.

Updates:

– Had to put my phone down for a moment and enjoy the beautiful game by itself.

Omaha (15) vs. St. Johns (2)

My Prediction: St. johns

If Omaha was playing any other team besides Rick Pitino’s Red Storm, I would’ve taken Omaha. St. Johns simply got that juice.

Updates:

– I threw up in my mouth when St. Johns was loosing to start the game. I may have overreacted a tad.

UC San Diego (12) vs. Michigan (5)

My Prediction: Michigan

Michigan has mob ties, or so I’ve been told.

Updates:

– Why does Michigan have to make every single sporting event a nailbiter god damn

– I severely regret taking Michigan to the final 4

NC Wilmington (14) vs Texas Tech (3)

My Prediction: TT

No school affiliated with Patrick Mahomes is leaving the dance first round. Simple as that.

Updates:

– After a scary first half, I reminded TT who they’re playing for and they seemed to get it together.