Rationality is stereotypically masculine. What about meta-rationality?

Transcript:

Charlie: What’s the connection between gender and meta-rationality?

David: I had never thought to ask that!

The systematic mode of being, or the rational mode of being, is male-coded, or masculine-coded. Meta-rationality involves an openness that surrounds systematicity, or rationality; or may just completely transcend it. And that is possibly feminine-coded? Or at any rate, it’s either feminine or non-gendered.

Charlie: Mm-hmm.

David: I’m thinking actually now, in Vajrayana, how there’s often a sequence of: female-coded, male-coded, non-dual.

Charlie: Mmm.

David: And meta-rationality is analogous in some ways to non-duality in Buddhism. So maybe it is also… it is a little farfetched, but could be analogized to transcending gender; or being— I really don’t like the word “non-binary,” but we haven’t got a better one.

Charlie: Mm.

David: One of the things that is important in Vajrayana is practicing a yidam of the opposite sex. Not exclusively, but that is part of the path: to step into a new alien possibility that shakes up your attachment to the fixed identity that you have.

So, female is analogized with emptiness, and you go from emptiness to form, which is analogized with male, and then to the—

Charlie: Right, so,

David: —non-duality that is—

Charlie: Yeah, so I wanted to pick up on that, and say that you’re starting with the feminine, in Buddhist tantra you’re starting with emptiness, and that is connected to wisdom. And then the male aspect: you’re connecting to form, to compassion. And then the non-duality: to the inseparability of both of those.

And interestingly, in our culture, fluidity is more female-coded. And I wonder now whether the move into meta-systematicity, and beyond highly systematized thinking, is actually difficult, and one of the ways that it’s prevented, possibly, is that for men, moving out of that rigidly defined, very easily legible way of being looks and feels like a move toward “more feminine.” And because things are so clearly segmented culturally and socially, it’s very difficult for guys to do that.

David: Yeah. It’s not a coincidence, presumably, that the tech industry has an awful lot of—a preponderance of—male participants.

Charlie: Mm-hmm.

David: Because this is basic gender psychology: that men are systematizers.

Charlie: Say more about meta-rationality, in terms of our social circumstances, and gender.

David: Well, I mean, before you can move into meta-rationality, you have to have mastered rationality. And to the extent that that is seen as masculine-coded, that could be an obstacle for women.

Empirically, in the research done in the 1970s and '80s, many more men moved into what Piaget originally called “stage four,” which is the rational, systematic way of being, and that actually caused huge trouble at the time. There’s a famous book by the psychologist Carol Gilligan, who was a researcher in adult developmental theory, called In a Different Voice. I read it at the time it came out, which must have been early eighties? I thought it was brilliant then. Now it is hard to know why it seemed brilliant. Basically she just rejected the whole paradigm of rationality being a stage. And said: okay, maybe for men that’s how it works. But for women, there’s a different series of stages. And this was seen at the time as a breakthrough in feminist theory. Now the ways that people understand gender politics, that would be unacceptable; to say there’s separate hierarchies for men and for women. But that was very exciting at the time.

But in her system, women never got to rationality! That just was, that’s a male thing. So, because meta-rationality does require rationality as a prerequisite, in terms of gender one would expect that one would find fewer women being meta-rational.

Charlie: Hmm.

David: However! As you’ve pointed out, there is then a move away from the rigidity that is masculinely coded, and in a direction which might be understood as toward more of a center position, a non-duality of the genders, at the meta-rational level. So maybe once women have accomplished rationality, which certainly a great many do, it may very well be that it’s then easier for them to move to the meta-rational stance.

I don’t know. The problem is, this whole field, as an academic discipline, was abandoned in the wake of Carol Gilligan’s work! It just became too politically hot to handle. And so we have no empirical data on any of this. We’re just kind of guessing on a basis of anecdote.

Charlie: Mm-hmm. So the whole field originally was centering around a relationship with rationality; and it came out of, and in conversation with, the rational tradition. I came at it via systematicity rather than rationality. And for a long time I actually thought of the field as being about systematicity; which is strongly connected to and related with rationality, but is not the same. And it seems to me that if we understand the stages in relation to systematicity, not only in relation to rationality, that there’s a lot more space there for understanding, for example, “stage four” in Kegan’s terms; understanding that as being about a relationship with systems.

And when you look at it from that perspective, there are many ways in which a female-coded relationship with systematicity could be drawn. I’m thinking about some of my female clients and how a lot of the work that we do together is about systematizing emotional experience, systematizing boundaries and perspectives.

David: Yeah. Piaget was a cognitivist, so he thought rationality was what was there. I think Kegan, a big part of his contribution was in extending that to systematicity in the relational and emotional domains.

And my most recent post was about the fact that tech people (who tend to be male) tend to systematize in the work domain before they learn to systematize in the emotional and relational domains, and then they need to catch up.

Charlie: Mm-hmm.

David: And it’s not surprising that for women, they might do the relational and emotional domains first. And I gave the example of high level sales executives, who do have a very systematic understanding of relationship. And a lot of those people are women. That’s a much more evenly split.

Charlie: Hmm. I didn’t realize that.

David: It would depend on the industry, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was disproportionately women.

Charlie: Mm-hmm.

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The common civilizational pattern of a separate priesthood and aristocracy casts light on current political dysfunction.

This video follows “Nobility and virtue are distinct sorts of goodness.” You might want to watch that one first, if you haven’t already.

These are the first two in a series on nobility. There will be several more. Subscribe, to watch them all!

Transcript

Many successful civilizations have two elite classes. They hold different, complementary, incommensurable forms of authority: religious authority and secular authority.

This usually works reasonably well! It’s a system of checks and balances. Competition and cooperation between the classes restrains attempts at self-serving overreach by either.

I think this dynamic casts light on current cultural and political dysfunction. At the end of this video, I’ll sketch how it has broken down in America over the past half century—perhaps not in the way you’d expect! In following videos, I’ll go into more detail, and suggest how we might respond.

Archetypically, historically, and allegorically

First, though, I’ll describe the dynamic archetypically, historically, and allegorically.

Archetypically, the two elite classes are the priesthood and the aristocracy. They hold different types of authority (and therefore power).

Priests hold authority over questions of virtue. They claim both exceptional personal virtue and special knowledge of the topic in general. On that basis, they dictate to everyone else—both aristocrats and commoners—what counts as goodness in personal life, and in local communal life.

Kings, or more generally a secular ruling class, hold authority over the public sphere. They claim to exercise their power nobly. They may consider that’s due either to innate character, strenuous personal development, or both. That would justify a legitimate monopoly on the use of violence, and authority to dictate the forms of economic and public life.

This typically leads to an uneasy power balance. The two classes need each other, but also are perpetually in competition. Priests provide popular support to the aristocracy by declaring that they rule by divine right—or proclaim that the gods are angry with aristocratic actions, so virtue demands opposing them. Priests reassure aristocrats that they, personally, will have a good afterlife—or warn of a bad one when they don’t do what priests say they should. Priests depend on the aristocracy for most of their funding, for protection, and for favorable legislation. The aristocracy can increase or decrease that, or threaten to.

It’s extremely difficult for either class to displace the other entirely. Things generally seem to go better when they cooperate. Especially when priests are, in fact, reasonably virtuous, and the nobility are reasonably noble. Otherwise, they may collude with each other against everyone else.

Sometimes, though, one side or the other is dominant, and subordinates or even eliminates the other class.

Theocracy, in which priests usurp the role of secular rulers, does not go well. Priests try to increase their authority by inventing new demands of virtue. In the absence of secular restraining power, there is no limit to this. Most people do not want to be saints. When priests seize secular power, they unceasingly punish everyone for trivial or imaginary moral infractions. This is the current situation in Iran, for example. It’s bad for everyone except the priests. I expect it is unsustainable in the long run. Eventually there comes a coup, a revolt, a revolution, and the priests get defenestrated. (That’s a fancy word for “thrown out of a window.”)

Secular rulers taking full control of religion also does not go well. A classic example was Henry VIII. He rejected the Pope’s supreme religious authority and seized control of the Church. He confiscated its lands and wealth, dissolved its institutions, and summarily executed much of its leadership. He was able to do that through a combination of personal charisma; the power and wealth that came with kingship; and the flagrant corruption of the Church itself, which deprived it of broad popular support.

After clobbering the Church, Henry’s reign, unconstrained by virtue, was arbitrary, brutal, and extraordinarily self-interested. Economic disaster and political chaos followed.

Henry was succeeded by his daughter Mary, England’s first Queen Regnant. She used her father’s tactics to reverse his own actions. She restored the Church’s wealth and power through brutal and arbitrary executions. For this, she was known as “Bloody Mary.”

She was succeeded by her younger sister Elizabeth I. Elizabeth re-reversed Mary’s actions. She established the new Church of England, designed as a series of pragmatic compromises between Catholic and Protestant extremists.

Elizabeth was, on the whole, a wise, just, prudent, and noble ruler—which demonstrates that the archetype of a Good King has no great respect for sex or gender. Likewise, the reign of “Bloody Mary” demonstrates that women are not necessarily kinder, gentler rulers than men.

How modernity ended, and took nobility down with it

Allegorically, archetypically, such colorful history can inform our understanding of current conundrums. You might review what I’ve just said, and consider what it might say about American public life in 2025.

Now I will sketch some more recent, perhaps more obviously relevant history.

On the meaningness.com site, I have explained how modernity ended, with two counter-cultural movements in the 1960s-80s. Those were the leftish hippie/anti-war movement and the rightish Evangelical “Moral Majority” movement. Both opposed the modernist secular political establishment, on primarily religious grounds. Both movements more-or-less succeeded in displacing the establishment.

Revolutions can be noble. I think the 1776 American Revolution was noble. It was noble in part because the revolutionaries respected the wise and just use of legitimate authority. They accepted power, and ruled nobly after winning.

The American counter-cultural revolution two hundred years later refused to admit the legitimacy of secular authority. Its leaders instituted a rhetorical regime of permanent revolution. For the past several decades, successful American politicians have claimed to oppose the government, and say they will overthrow it when elected; and, once elected, they say they are overthrowing it, throughout their tenure.

This oppositional attitude makes it rhetorically impossible to state an aspiration to nobility. You can’t uphold the wise and just use of power if you refuse to admit that any government can be legitimate. Nobility, then, was cast as the false, illusory, and discarded ideology of the illegitimate establishment. In the mythic mode, we could say that everyone became a regicide: a king-killer. After a couple of decades of denigration, nearly everyone forgot what nobility even meant, or why it mattered, or that it had ever existed outside of fantasy fiction.

Secular authority in the absence of nobility

Secular authority persisted, nonetheless. What alternative claim could one make for taking it? There are two.

First, there is administrative competence. This was an aspect of nobility during the modern era, which ended in the 1970s. “Modernity,” in this sense, means shaping society according to systematic, rational norms. Developed nations in the twentieth century depended on enormously intricate economic and bureaucratic systems that require rational administration. One responsibility of secular authority is keeping those system running smoothly.

Both counter-cultures rejected systematic rationality, as a key ideological commitment. However, it was obvious to elites, inside and outside government, that airplanes need safety standards, taxes must be collected, someone has to keep the electric power on. A promise of adequate management was key to institutional support from outside elites during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. That kept a new establishment in power.

However, it lacked popular appeal. Managerialism is not leadership, which is another aspect of nobility—one that more people more readily recognize. And, as modernity faded into the distant past, beyond living memory, later generations failed to notice that technocratic competence matters: because we will freeze or starve without electricity.

Accordingly, virtue has displaced competence in claims to legitimate authority. Initially, this came more from the right than from the left. The 1980s Moral Majority movement aimed for secular power, justified by supposedly superior virtue. Some American Christians explicitly aimed for theocratic rule.

However, for whatever reasons, the left came to dominate virtue claims instead. They gradually established a de facto priesthood: a class of experts who could tell everyone else what is or isn’t virtuous. Initially it claimed authority only over private and communal virtue; but increasingly it extended that to regulate public affairs as well. In some eyes, it began to resemble a theocracy. It did increasingly display the theocratic characteristics that I described earlier. And, in punishing too many people for too many, increasingly dubious moral infractions, it overreached; and seems now to have been overthrown.

Regicide and defenestration, OK; but then what?

This religious analogy was pointed out by some on the right, fifteen years ago. I think there is substantial truth in it. However, I think they are terribly wrong about the implications for action. I’ll discuss that in my next post.

If the ruling class is neither noble nor even competent, but can claim only private virtue, then metaphorical regicide (or defenestration for the priesthood) is indeed called for. That’s justified whether their claims to virtue are accurate or not. Whichever opinion about trans pronouns you consider obviously correct, holding that opinion does not justify a broad claim for secular authority.

But… now what? Perhaps there is some noble prince in waiting, biding his time, cloaked in obscurity, like Aragorn, rightful King of Gondor?

More likely, some commoners will need to reclaim, re-learn, and rework nobility. As did Frodo, son of Drogo, “a decent, respectable hobbit who was partial to his vittles.”

Maybe… that should be you! As I’ve pointed out before, you should be a God-Emperor. Maybe now is a good time to get started on that?

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Nobility is the wise and just use of power.

Nobility is not moral virtue. They are not in conflict; they may correlate, but they don't always coincide.

Nobility is the proper matter of politics.

Transcript

Sermonette

Nobility is the dark matter of society. The pull of dark matter holds galaxies together. Without it, stars would spin off into intergalactic space. Nobility holds societies together. Without nobility, societies disintegrate.

Once, the now-dark matter of nobility was brilliant, and shone throughout space. With nobility, society grows strong, prosperous, decent, and glorious. But it was eclipsed, obscured by virtue, and now it is invisible. The gravitas that held society together is ebbing away. Bits collide, and fragments are flying off into intergalactic space.

Virtue cannot hold society together. Rule by virtue is theocracy, which engenders repression and revolt, which engenders collapse.

Tyranny also cannot hold a society together forever. It saps the strength of society, and engenders corruption, which engenders collapse.

Distinguishing nobility from virtue

Okay, so this is a sermonette; so it had to start with some sort of religious-sounding cosmic nonsense. I will speak more plainly for the rest of this.

I want to distinguish nobility and virtue, as two quite different types of goodness. I think there are many types of goodness, and much trouble results from trying to assimilate them into a single kind. In particular, much of our current social, cultural, and political trouble stems from having subordinated nobility to virtue.

This is not about the words. I’m not going to say that “nobility” and “virtue” really mean certain things, or should mean those things. Rather, I want to point at a distinction; and these words are the best I can find for these two types of goodness. I think my use more-or-less lines up with the usual understandings, but both terms are vague in common usage, and may overlap. For example, nobility, and its constituent characteristics of wisdom, justice, decency, and magnificence, might all be counted as virtues.

Nobility is the wise and just use of power. Nobility is the aspiration to manifest glory for the benefit of others. Nobility is using whatever abilities we have in service of others. Nobility is seeking to fulfill our in-born human potential, and to develop all our in-born human qualities.

By “virtue,” I mean roughly the currently popular understanding of “ethics.” Or, it would be more accurate to use the slightly archaic word “morals.” Whereas nobility is a quality of public actions, virtue is a matter of private life. Virtue inheres in having good mental contents: you think, feel, and say good things. It manifests also as qualities in private relationships—“private” including one’s friends, family, and immediate community.

Nobility is not virtue. It does not require virtue. They are not in conflict; they may correlate, but they don’t always coincide. You can be a morally bad person and yet act nobly. You can be a morally outstanding person and act ignobly, through cowardice, ignorance, or incompetence. Virtuous actions are not necessarily or typically noble, although they may be.

Neither nobility nor virtue are intrinsic or immutable character traits. They are developed through intention and effort. Developing either does not necessarily develop the other.

Nobility does not require authority or position. Power is capability for action. Authority and position can give power, but they are neither necessary nor sufficient. Nobility is a quality that anyone can possess, regardless of position. We can all aspire to nobility. We all can be noble. We all are noble sometimes. We can aspire to be noble more often, and more effectively.

Nobility as the proper matter of politics

Nobility is a topic that I’ve been wanting to write about for twenty years now. I have an enormous quantity of notes and sketchy drafts. It’s become clear that I will never write that up, because there’s too much of it. I am hoping that this new format—which I’m calling “radio sermonettes” to poke friendly fun at myself—will make it possible to chop the topic up into bite-sized pieces, to make key parts of what I have to say available. These may also be more accessible for you than my usual long-winded, somewhat academic-sounding book chapters.

Nobility is the essence of politics. Nobility concerns the right use of power, which is the proper matter of politics.

And yet, nobility is a temporarily lost possibility. At the same time it is the essence of politics, it is not political in the current sense.

Nothing I will say is concerned with what is the correct form of government. In particular, I am not advocating an aristocracy; that is an absurd anachronism. I am not advocating any other sort of autocracy, or authoritarianism.

Nor will I discuss right versus left; this is not about that. Nor do I advocate political centrism. Much less will I discuss any specific political issue, nor political parties, elections, or whatever is the current scandal in which someone said something they weren’t supposed to.

Rather, I will discuss what nobility is; how we lost it; and how we might restore it—both as individuals and as a society.

I will discuss the history of how nobility was lost. And because the form of nobility that last existed is no longer adequate for current conditions, I believe we need to construct a new conception of nobility, a new practice of nobility. As a practical matter, I will suggest activities informal groups or organizations may employ to promote the development of nobility.

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A visual, kinesthetic, embodied experience 𐡸 A fish-eye lens and a magnifying glass 𐡸 The little clicker wheel 𐡸 Nurturing a plot of woodland 𐡸 Becoming the space, unstuck in time 𐡸 Freed up to play

Like most of my posts, this one is free. I do paywall some as a reminder that I deeply appreciate paying subscribers—some new each week—for your encouragement and support.

Transcript

What is the right question?

“Stage five” is a concept in adult developmental stage theory. That is—or used to be—a branch of academic psychological research. I think it may be very important. But stage five is somewhat mysterious. It’s not clear what it is.

Before asking “what is stage five?”, there’s several other questions one ought to ask. Starting with: “IS stage five?” I mean, is this even a thing? Or is it just some sort of psychobabble woo? Why should we believe in this?

And then, what sort of thing is stage five, if it’s a thing at all? What is a stage, actually? How do we know whether something is a stage or not? How many are there? Which are they?

These are skeptical questions one ought to ask if you’re interested in adult developmental stage theory. Especially if you use it, or are considering using it.

I’m not going to address them at all now! That’s because the academic literature on this sucks. The answers available are vague, and they’re not well supported by empirical research. So I’m setting all this aside for now—although I plan to come back to it.

An exciting interdisciplinary scene

Instead, I’m going to give several answers to “what is stage five?”, as if this was a clearly meaningful question. I’m going to give several because different theorists describe it in different ways.

That’s because they came to adult developmental stage theory with different intellectual frameworks, from different disciplines. In the 1970s and '80s, there was a really exciting scene, mainly at Harvard, in which researchers from different fields and departments were trading ideas about this.

Their different ideas seemed similar in important ways, but they also had major disagreements, reflecting their different lenses.

So, were they all actually talking about the same thing, like the blind men and the elephant? Or were they actually describing quite different things, all of which they called “stage five” for inadequate reasons? Unfortunately, academic research in this area ended almost completely around 1990, probably for political reasons.  And that means that at about the time that they were starting to do really good scientific tests of whose ideas were valid, if anyone’s, the whole thing just ended.

So we don’t know.

I’m mostly going describe my own understanding of stage five. It’s is generally consonant with that of many researchers in the field, but also somewhat eccentrically different. That’s because I came to the scene with different background knowledge than anyone else.

Everyone in the field starts from cognitive developmental psychology, and particularly Jean Piaget’s four-stage theory of children’s cognitive development. His fourth and final stage he called “formal operations.” He thought the essence of that was the use of propositional logic, a simple mathematical system.

Later researchers extended Piaget’s stage four to systematic rational thinking in general.

Piaget explicitly denied that there could be any stage five, because he somehow thought propositional logic was the highest form of cognition.

Starting in the early 1970s, researchers found that here are further, more powerful forms of cognition. They exceed not only propositional logic, but systematic rationality in general. Or, so the researchers thought; and I agree; and that’s what we call “stage five.”

I come to this with backgrounds also in cybernetics, ethnomethodology, existential phenomenology, and Vajrayana Buddhism. And those have shaped—maybe distorted—the way I understand stage five.

* From cybernetics, I understand developmental stages as patterns of interaction of an organism and its environment. The typical framing of cognitive psychology is in terms of representations held in an individual mind; I’m skeptical of those.

* From ethnomethodology, I am skeptical that we even have “individual minds.” Or, at least, I think this is a misleading way of understanding ourselves. Our patterns of interaction are manifestations of our culture and our local social environment. They are not primarily personal.

* From existential phenomenology, I am moved to investigate what being in a stage is like. “Being” is the existential part, and “what is it like” is the phenomenological part. I’m influenced particular by work of Maurice Merleau-Ponty, who emphasized the role of the body, and of active perception, in experience.

* And from Vajrayana Buddhism, I take the habit of seeing all phenomena in terms of the interplay of nebulosity and patterning. Nothing is either entirely definite or entirely arbitrary. We are nebulous and patterned; everything we interact with is nebulous and patterned; the interactions themselves are nebulous and patterned.

Unfortunately, the insights each of these four disciplines are notoriously difficult to express in plain language. Cybernetics communicates in mathematics; ethnomethodology and existential phenomenology use long made-up words and abnormal sentence structures; Vajrayana is transmitted in ritual and poetry, not prose.

I’m going to try to describe stage five as an experienced interaction, as a way of perceiving and acting, rather than theorizing about supposed mental structures, as cognitive psychologists do.  I’m going to do my best to speak plainly, but describing the texture of experience is going make me come out, I’m afraid, sounding like a stoned hippie!

After I babble a bit, I’ll summarize briefly some descriptions of stage five from academic cognitive scientists. They may be talking nonsense, but at least they sound sober.

What stage five is like

So what I’m going talk about is a visual, kinesthetic, embodied experience, and that’s especially difficult to talk about. It’s easy to talk about thinking, because that’s already largely in words. And I think a distinctive feature of stage five is that it is not so much about thinking in words.

What I’m going to describe is not a mystical experience, not hallucinating, not a special state of consciousness. It’s really difficult to express what kind of thing it is. What I’m hoping is that you may recognize some of it, remember having been that way.  I think these are experiences that anyone can have, “at” any stage, if that’s even a meaningful thing to say.  What may be distinctive about stage five is that they become more common, and that you gain more skill in being in these ways.

So the first aspect of what I want to talk about is what I call “the open field of activity.” Imagine that you are in front of, looking out on, a plane; a landscape. And there’s all this stuff happening on this landscape. Like, things are emerging out of the plane, they’re popping out of the ground, and they dance around. They maybe change color, they bump into each other, and then they subside back into the field. These are the “happening things.”

In this quasi-metaphorical description I’m giving, these are not generally physical objects. They are matters that call for care, or that impinge as relevant to your concerns.

Sometimes these seem to be coming at you from all directions, tasks, interruptions, people emoting, public events, and you may feel embattled, and this can be overwhelming.  I think this is an experience that everyone has had, this feeling of stuff coming at you, metaphorically. And that can give a sense of what sort of description I’m trying to give.

In a more characteristically stage five experience, you have panoramic vision over the whole field of activity. Your view is from outside, and above. At the same time you can see accurately extremely fine details of these emerging phenomena. It’s like you’re looking through a fish-eye lens and a magnifying glass at the same time. So you see the forest and you see the trees. And you see the leaves on the trees, and the caterpillars walking on the leaves on the trees! So you don’t get lost in the details, and you don’t get lost in space.

Another aspect of this is that you are not detached, you’re engaged. The experience of stage four can be like looking at the world through a heads-up display. So there’s a transparent piece of glass that has projected on it engineering diagrams, or an org chart, that is telling you what you are seeing, and categorizing it and representing it. This is the experience of stage four.

At stage five, you can still do that when it’s useful; but more typically, you’re actually looking directly at the world, you’re perceiving without an interposed representation. You can still, when it’s useful, turn the heads-up display on, and use some kind of rational system, some systematic ontology, for perceiving, conceptualizing the world. That can often be very useful; and stage five can do everything that stage four can do.

But you also have, like, a little clicker wheel, so you can choose different heads up displays, different representations of the world in different conceptual schemas. You can use different frameworks for perception, and you can actually look with multiple ones simultaneously. This is a very characteristic aspect of stage five.

In stage five, caring about lessens; caring for increases. You are intimately involved in the details of the field of activity, because you care for them. It’s more like tending a garden than like building and operating a machine, which is the experience of stage four.   It’s more nurturing, less controlling. At stage four, you relate to everything in terms of “What does this mean to me? What do you mean to me? What can I do with this thing?”

Although, a garden is still pretty top down; like, you decide where to put which rose bush, and you put some tulips over here. Maybe a better metaphor would be taking responsibility for a plot of woodland that you nurture. So you make sure that there’s adequate water in a drought. You clear out diseased trees. You build brush piles to provide habitat for small mammals. Foresters do this. They pile up dead branches, and rabbits or weasels, or I don’t know what, live in there.

This metaphor of “nurturing” might sound nice. And that’s not really the point. Part of caring for a plot of woodland is uprooting invasive plant species. It’s setting traps for pest animal species. It’s building a fence around the plot to keep out wild dogs. If 30 to 50 feral hogs break through the fence, a semi-automatic rifle might be called for.

The next aspect of stage five I’d like to talk about is what I call “becoming the space.”  And this is a sense that your self, your awareness, becomes fused with the field of activity, the space within which everything happens. So in some sense, you feel like you are doing everything that occurs in the field of activity, because you are the space. And at the same time, you’re not doing anything, because you are just the space. You are not any longer an isolated individual in your head who is doing the thing: one thing, and then the next thing. It’s a continuous flow of activity, that is interaction across all of the participating entities, human, and material, and information technology, or whatever.

This sense of extending through space—you also feel decentered in time, and like you extend through time. So you become aware of your place in history, and that you are in the middle of a lineage of people doing things, thinking and feeling and being, in ways that are shaping you now. This can extend centuries into the past, centuries into the future; but also just years, or any period of time.

And just as with the spatial metaphor—where you’re seeing all the details, you’re getting this really close-in look, and you’re seeing the whole picture— With time, you’re both… You’re much more present, in the now. In stage four, your time is structured. It is scheduled. You have deadlines, you’re doing this, and then you’re doing this and you know what’s going to happen next. The stage five experience of time is of being here now without the structure. It’s also the experience of being across centuries, because you’re not separate from those who have gone before. They are being you, and you are being the future; all of the people who come after you.

There’s a quote from Abraham Maslow that I find really moving. He said:

I had a vision once, at Brandeis University. It was at commencement. I had ducked commencement for years, but this one I couldn’t duck; I was corralled. And I felt there was something kind of stupid about these processions and idiotic medieval caps and gowns. This time, as the faculty stood waiting for the procession to begin, for some reason there was suddenly this vision. It wasn’t a hallucination. It was as if I could imagine very vividly a long academic procession.

(This makes me cry, actually.)

It went way the hell into the future, into some kind of misty, cloudy thing. The procession contained all my past colleagues, all the people I like, you know, Erasmus, Socrates. And then the procession extended into a dim cloud in which were all sorts of people not yet born. And these were also my colleagues. I felt very brotherly toward them, these future ones. It’s the transcending of time and space, which becomes quite normal.

Robert Kegan, who’s one of the foremost theorists in this area, says that in his data set, he finds that nobody really gets to stage five until age forty. You have to have had decades of experience in order to begin to get this sense of one’s extension in time, of being the past and being the future at the same time. And maybe it’s not until you get to forty that that really sinks in and shapes you.

This sense of the diffusion of oneself, of being extended, being the space, leads you to experience “me” as being one of the things that happens within the space of activity. So “me” is just one object among all these other happening things. It’s not that you stop having a self, it’s that the selfing is an activity that happens within the space that you are. And lots of different kinds of selfing activity may arise from the field, and dance around, and then submerge again.

And this is very funny! It leads to a sense of humor about oneself. You can’t take yourself seriously if you’re just this little dancing puppet. So you’re much less bothered by people’s negative opinions about you, because the “me” is not an especially significant thing in there.

So you’re freed up to play. It’s serious play, because you do care for the whole field, but you’re not identified with outcomes. You are aware of risks; you take sensible actions. You may be unhappy when things go badly, but it’s not saying something about you so much anymore.

Within the field of activity, because you are seeing through multiple lenses, there’s a lot of scope for paradox, for contradiction, that you’re seeing in different ways simultaneously. And this is really funny, and enjoyable, because contradiction is no longer a problem. You can integrate both sides of a contradiction, without needing to resolve it in favor of one side or the other; because these are both valid ways of looking at things.

So that was me sounding like I’m on drugs.

Academic accounts

I’m going to now briefly talk about a series of academic characterizations of stage five. It may actually be helpful to see how each of these descriptions is incomplete or inaccurate; so one can understand what stage five is in terms of what it isn’t, quite. Similarly, a lot of the standard explanations of stage five are in terms of what it isn’t; namely, stage four.

As you’ve heard, it’s really difficult to describe stage five in its own terms. And as you move toward a new stage, or are not yet firmly embedded in it, it’s actually a lot easier to look back at the previous stage, and say “not that,” than to look forward, or down or around, and say, okay, this is where I am now, and this is how it is. This is on top of the problem that stage five, unlike stage four, is mostly not about explicit representations, which are easy to verbalize.

The term “stage five” itself is really a “what it isn’t” description: namely, it isn’t stage four; it’s something else. It’s good as a term, and I use it a lot, because it’s basically meaningless. It doesn’t try to tell you what stage five is, and so that leaves it as an open space of possibility; where a bunch of these other academic terms are trying to nail it down, in a way that doesn’t seem to be all that helpful.

Calling it “stage five” does drag in Piaget’s stage theory, which is definitely questionable. “Is there actually such a thing as a stage?” This is a question! And using the term “stage five” prejudges that; so I actually also like to use other terms, which don’t prejudge that.

I use the term “fluid.” This is good primarily by contrast with stage four, which is really marked by its rigidity, its dualism. Stage four is about “this, not that”: sharp distinctions, logic. There’s a couple of problems with the term “fluid.” One is that it could describe stage three, which is also non-rigid. Another is that a fluid is homogeneous and undifferentiated, and stage five isn’t that. So the term “fluid” might point toward what I call “monism,” the “All Is One” idea; that is definitely not what stage five is about! Stage five, we saw, is intensely attuned to details and differences, as well as the big picture.

The first term for stage five was “post-formal.” That is defining it in terms of what Piaget had said stage four was, namely formal. There’s a quote here, from a review article:

Various theories arose, which were based on the assumption. The distinctive characteristic was the acceptance and integration of various, at times incompatible, truths; which were highly dependent upon context, and upon the way in which the subject perceives them; without the subject needing, as in stage four, to look for and find a single truth. Such theories provoked great enthusiasm in the scientific community.

I think that is a relatively accurate description of an important aspect of stage five. “Post-formal” points to a rejection of propositional logic, which goes all the way back to Aristotle. It’s the logic of the Law of the Excluded Middle; that every statement is either absolutely true or absolutely false; and that’s something that stage five critically rejects.

This is not a new idea. So, one of the first terms applied to stage five, in the 1970s, was “dialectical”; and this is going back to Hegel, who is not my favorite person. But we do have to admit that Hegel had a bunch of ideas that were wrong in detail, but in general trend turned out to be really important and correct in some ways; and one was his rejection of Aristotelian true/false logic. And that’s what “dialectic” is supposed to be about. It’s taking multiple frameworks and aiming for a synthesis, or at least working with the contradiction, without trying to resolve it.

Another early term besides “dialectical” that was applied to stage five was “reflective.” This is good because it describes the way that stage five stands apart from systems and can take this view from above and around; not being locked into a system, but looking outside on top of it; and being able to intervene in systems from outside.

This isn’t, however, really unique to stage five. Kegan says that each stage is in some sense a theory of the previous stage. So stage four is a theory of stage three. Relationships are the substance, or a critical part of the substance, of stage three, and they’re not thematized. You are in relationships. Stage four is a theory of relationships. It structures relationships, and you have to reflect on relationships. So reflectiveness is not actually a distinctive feature of stage five.  One develops into stage four by conceptualizing the limitations and failure modes of stage three.

There’s another problem with the term “reflection,” which is it is typically taken to be a cognitive operation. It’s thinking about, and this is actually deemphasized in stage five. I mean, certainly, in stage five, you do all kinds of difficult thinking; but that’s not the distinctive substance of it.

Other terms that are applied to stage five in the literature are “relativistic” and “contextual.” This could also describe stage three, which is similar to stage five in some ways. There’s a stage three attitude of “everybody’s opinion is equally valid, because everybody has their own experience”; and that could be understood as relative and contextual. Stage five is relativistic and contextual, again, relative to stage four.

“Meta-systematic” is a term that I use, and that other theorists in the field use. It is, again, a way of talking about this ability to see things in multiple ways simultaneously. But as a term it’s problematic, because it suggests that’s all you’re doing, and it centers systems. Stage five is not primarily about systems, in the way that stage four is. Stage five uses systems, sometimes, when they’re useful. But that’s not, again, its substance.

There’s another problem here, which is that " meta-systematic" suggests a system of systems. This is a very common misunderstanding. Stage five is not itself a system; is not a system of systems. Understanding how a superordinate system can subsume and incorporate another system within itself: that just gives you another system. This is a stage four recursive operation. It’s not stage five. What one subsumes systems within, at stage five, is the space, the field of activity. Systems appear as entities that pop out of the ground, they spin around, and they go “flomp!”, back into the ground.

The term “inter-individual” is used in Kegan’s book The Evolving Self as the term for stage five. It points towards this decentering of one’s self. But it again leaves intact the idea that there are distinct selves; that stage five is again about how selves relate to each other. And in stage five they interpenetrate in a way that they don’t at stage four; and they are structured in a way that they aren’t at stage three. But, at stage five, selves are not the thing; and this is I think, a limitation in Kegan’s understanding.

In his later book, In Over Our Heads, he used the term “self-transforming.” Again, this centers “self” as the key thing. It also has the problem that each stage represents a fundamental transformation of selfing, a very different mode of “self” occurring, than the previous one. So transformation is an aspect of every stage; or every transition, at least. I think he’s pointing to the fact that at stage five, transformation continues, and it’s a deliberate act; and that is actually true and important. But again, the self is not the key thing, I think.

At stage five, because the self is no longer an entity, there isn’t a coherent thing that could act to transform itself. Rather the delocalized patterns of activity, which we think of as selfing, continue to transform, not through the action of the self on itself, but through interaction with everything in the context, the situation, the field, the space of activity. That’s what accomplishes the transformation.

I’m sounding like a stoned hippie again.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit meaningness.substack.com/subscribe

A nine-minute radio sermonette.

I think I may be doing a bunch of these. Subscribe to get all of them!

Possibly I’ll create one every day or two! And maybe you don’t want that many emails? So I could post these as Substack Notes, and collect them into emailed posts, sent once a week maximum?

What do you think?

Transcript

In the 1970s, researchers in cognitive developmental psychology discovered something that may have great practical power; and is underappreciated, I think.

The researchers applied Jean Piaget’s four-stage model of childhood cognitive development to college students and other adults. The fourth stage in Piaget’s theory is formal rationality, and the researchers found, first, that many adults are not able to reliably think systematically, rationally, or formally.

This may not come as a surprise to you, but it did to them at the time! It contradicted Piaget’s beliefs.

More importantly, the researchers found that some adults, after mastering rationality, went on to develop a further form of cognition, which they called post-formal; or meta-systematic; or stage five.

Stage five is less about problem solving, which is the essence of stage four, than about problem finding, choosing problems, and formulating them. And stage five often applies multiple or unexpected forms of thought, when in complex, nebulous situations. By contrast, stage four tends to unthinkingly apply some supposedly-correct rational method, disregarding contextual clues that some other approach might work better.

I’ve written quite a lot about this, because I think it’s critical now for cultural and social progress, as well as personal and intellectual development.

However, while I said that stage five seems underappreciated to me, it may also be over-appreciated, in a sense, by some people. There is a tendency to sacralize it; to treat it almost religiously. This is a pretty common misunderstanding!

Achieving stage five does not make you special in any way. It’s not sainthood, enlightenment, ultimate wisdom, or any other sort of perfection.

Making stage five sound special is misleading and unhelpful, because it puts it out of reach. It suggests that only super-duper-special people could ever be that way. But, in fact, it’s an unusual but feasible way of being.

You don’t need to be something special to make the transition from stage four to stage five. You don’t need any expectation or intention of becoming something special. Those are obstacles, actually! Because specialness is a metaphysical idea. So, thinking that stage five is something ultimate leads you to try to reach it through spiritual, philosophical, metaphysical means, almost by magic, where you think that it’s going to descend on you out of the sky. And this doesn’t work!

You can work towards stage five in a practical way. It’s not something that just happens to you because you’ve gotten to be sufficiently meritorious. You actually have to do the work. And doing that unlocks new capabilities, even before you can consistently inhabit the way of being. Before you’re “at” stage five, you can begin to do the thing.

So, I wonder where this wrong idea, that this is a special, almost religious achievement— where does this idea come from? It seems to be a natural human thing to harbor a hope for ultimacy: for a possibility that we can transcend the mundane world; that we can become special, elevated above this ordinary place. And making stage five special, sacred in a secular sense, seems to be a manifestation of that hope.

To be fair, there are genuine similarities between stage five and some Buddhist conceptions of enlightenment. Stage five does involve a partial melting of the imaginary boundary between yourself and everything else. You realize that you are in constant interaction with your circumstances, and that you and your environment are constantly reshaping each other, so your experience of self and time and space expands.

This is not, however, an experience of not having any sort of self. It’s rather that you encompass a broader and more precise vision of the diverse details of the world.

You may come to find that you have different selves in different situations. And at first this may seem frightening, fake alienating, or confusing, like which is the “real me.”

But, with growing confidence, you find that you can step into dissimilar, unfamiliar contexts, and become whatever they need. This fluidity of self is always a work in progress. It’s never perfected, but it’s a capacity that you can develop increasingly.

I think that to be useful, or even meaningful, developmental theory needs to be based in detailed, realistic observation of actual people engaged in actual activities. For stages one through four, the Piagetian program, that’s been done extensively. But when it comes to stage five, there’s much less of that than I would like. And this makes me quite uncomfortable in talking about it, because we are really relying to a significant extent on personal experience and anecdata.

Sometimes when people recognize that stage five is a merely mundane capability, they want it to be metaphysical. And so they posit some stage six, or even a hierarchy of further stages, as leading to a metaphysical perfection of what it means to be human, and to transcend being human even, maybe. This gives rise to metaphysical speculation, rather than empirical investigation. And there’s a lot of nonsense in the adult developmental literature as a consequence.

That said, there are quite a few down-to-earth, practical, empirical studies of stage five in the academic literature. Less than I would like, but we can draw understanding and inspiration from those that have been done.

​

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Emptiness, form, and the Big Bang 𐡸 How understanding creates students 𐡸 Buddhism outside institutions

This short video explains two stanzas from the Evolving Ground invocation liturgy. The first is an origin myth, and the second explains the prerequisites for successful Buddhist teaching. Each reworks traditional themes and scriptural motifs in a contemporary worldview.

The video is extracted from a recording of an Evolving Ground Vajrayana Q&A session. I host those monthly, and they’re free for all Evolving Ground members. Membership in Evolving Ground is also free.

Transcript

Origin myth, metaphysics, physics

Primordial chaos and eternal order:

Quantum flux and unified field:

Emptiness explodes into form:

Diversity and unity emerge.

I would say this text is simultaneously extremely traditional and also extremely untraditional.

There’s an order to it, which is emanational. “Emanational” is the idea that everything comes from emptiness, and there are successive waves of manifestation out of emptiness. Emptiness is perfectly simple, and form emerges through, initially, energy; and then form.

And this can have a metaphysical interpretation, and that’s very traditional. I don’t like the metaphysical interpretation. The first paragraph is just very slightly snarky in this way. It is saying: traditionally we have the emanation from emptiness, and this is a little bit metaphysical. This is an allusion to the big bang, in current physics. And this is a sort of a slightly snarky commentary on, look, if we have to have an origin story, let’s have one that is modern Western understanding instead of this thing; but at the same time, it’s being the traditional emanational story. So it’s, it’s kind of doing both things at once!

Fivefold confidence

Because emptiness and form exist, time and place come into being.

Because receptive awareness exists, understanding comes into being.

Because understanding exists, students come into being.

Because students exist, teachers come into being.

The fivefold confidence is traditionally called the “five perfections” or the “five certainties.” It can be taught in a variety of quite different seeming ways. I will briefly sketch a religious or metaphysical interpretation, a practice interpretation, and a pragmatic interpretation.

The five things are the time, the place, the teaching, the— traditionally, the word is “retinue”— the students; and the teacher.

So there’s those five things, and the religious way of presenting this is that every Buddhist scripture begins with that: “Thus have I heard: Once the Blessed One was teaching at Raja Griha on Vulture Peak Mountain,” yada yada yada, this is the way scriptures begin.

So it’s setting the place and the time and the teacher. It’s like, “together with a great gathering of bodhisattvas.” This is the Heart Sutra version. There’s who’s there, and then what the teaching is, and the whole rest of the scripture is what the teacher said on this particular occasion.

In Tantra, the teacher is a Sambhogakaya Buddha. That means a Buddha made of energy. And the retinue is a group of enlightened supernormal beings. And the place is some kind of fairyland. And the time is eternity. The tantric Buddha is timeless and is speaking to us right now in this instant. One can find that inspiring, and it makes sense of the structure of a scripture.

The practice of this is a practice of pure vision. This is describing a gathering, in which teaching occurs. We can practice seeing each other as being fully enlightened divine beings. And this makes the teaching more feasible.

The pragmatic interpretation is that in order for a real life down-to-earth practice session on Zoom to be effective, these are the five conditions that need to be in place. And for you to participate fully and effectively, it’s helpful to be confident in each of those five factors: that you are in the right place, at the right time, with an adequate group of students who you feel copacetic feelings for; and the teaching is one that is relevant to you, and that will make sense, and maybe (at best) be inspiring. And the teacher has some sort of basic idea of what they’re talking about, which is dubious in my case.

Time and place come into being

“Because emptiness and form exist, time and place come into being.” That’s just the pragmatics of mundane reality. But because we have some appreciation for what “emptiness and form” means, this is a place and this is a time where we can explore that.

Understanding comes into being

“Because receptive awareness exists, understanding comes into being.” Before it’s meaningful to engage in a session like this, you need to have some kind of pre-understanding of why this is attractive and interesting and relevant for you.

Students come into being

Because that pre-understanding exists, that is what means that you are a participant. (The word here is student.)

Teachers come into being

“Because students exist, teachers come into being.” Uh, this is simultaneously traditional and untraditional. In institutional Buddhism, somebody gets designated as a teacher by, and blessed by, an institution. And they’re told, yes, you’re a teacher. But! In Tibet, it’s also very traditional for people to gather around some person just because they seem to know what they’re talking about, and maybe are inspiring in some way. And then that person winds up being drafted, essentially, as a teacher. So that’s the sense in which, because students exist, teachers come into being.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit meaningness.substack.com/subscribe

A seven-minute radio sermonette.

I think I may be doing a bunch of these. Subscribe to get all of them!

Possibly I’ll create one every day or two! And maybe you don’t want that many emails? So I could post these as Substack Notes, and collect them into emailed posts, sent once a week maximum?

What do you think?

Transcript

This is it!

We’re actually here. I’m here in this room you can see behind me maybe, if you’re watching, not listening. You can hear my voice. I’m in a place. I’m in this world.

You’re in a place. You’re in a room, you’re out walking, you’re driving in a car, and you can see what place you’re in. We are in the actual world.

There are people of a religious or philosophical bent, they say, no, this isn’t the real world. We’re not really here. Everything we see is an illusion. Or, this is a garbage world. We’re stuck here, but the real world is somewhere else. It is quite different and it is much better.

The “real world” might be somewhat unimaginable. We can have some fantasies about it, but what we do know, they say, is that it is perfect!

This is a vision that is attractive when it seems like this world is no damn good. The message that this is a garbage world then becomes really attractive, and we want a way of escape to some other, better world.

So this is an idea that is just absolutely part of our basic way of being, and we’re imaginatively living in some fantasy land a lot of the time. We’re not actually willing to admit that we are here.

The only reason for thinking that there might be some better world is the sense that life couldn’t be so unfair that we’re stuck here in a world that is completely meaningless, worthless. It is dust and ashes. It’s garbage.

The idea that there is some other better world is obviously false. And so there’s a way of reacting to that, which is to say, yeah, we have to face up to the fact that this is all there is. “Is this all there is? Yeah. This is all there is. So I guess we have to make the best of it.”

This leads to a kind of brutal materialism, in which we imagine, okay, the world is actually meaningless, but we evolved to like some things and dislike some other things. And so, we haven’t actually got any choice here. All we can do is try to get as much of the stuff we like as possible, and accumulate it and consume it. And try to get rid of as much of the bad stuff. This isn’t even hedonism. I mean, hedonism would be better than this! This is a grind. Hedonism is a kind of carefree enjoyment of sensory pleasure where you can get it. This kind of materialistic outlook is actually joyless.

So this fantasy that there’s a better world leads to the fantasy that this world is meaningless and ordinary; and that all that is possible is engaging with it in an ordinary way. It’s like: Birth, school, work, death! Birth, school, work, death! Birth, school, work, death! Is that all there is? “Yeah, that’s all there is,” this materialist view says.

And that’s completely wrong. Because the world isn’t ordinary. The world is absolutely extraordinary. The actual world, not this imaginary fantasy world. The actual world is incredible. It is just amazingly beautiful. If you look around wherever you are. There’s colors, there’s shapes, there’s things happening.

There’s plants growing here, and there’s these books that are such incredible colors! And we don’t want to see that, because the extraordinariness is threatening. It could be overwhelming. The beauty is overwhelming. The possibility of joy is overwhelming because it can be taken away at any moment.

And the horror, the amount of absolute terror and suffering that is going on in the world, we just don’t want to deal with any of that. It’s just too much. And so we unsee it. And we know yes, flowers are beautiful. Okay, yes, everybody knows that. And yes, you can look at flowers and they’re nice.

And we also know there’s horrific wars going on with people being bombed and mutilated and dying in the street and living in absolute terror. And that’s somewhere else. “Let’s be in the ordinary world because the extraordinary world is too much to deal with.” So we narrow our scope of vision to what’s immediately on our plate...

Taxes are due tomorrow, we’d better stick to taxes. There’s nothing more ordinary than taxes, let’s face it. “And that’s life.”

So we shut out the actual world and live in a different fantasy world, not the fantasy world of the perfected philosophical utopia, or religious enlightenment or something. We live in the fantasy world of ordinariness. It is possible to start poking holes in the cloak of unseeing we put in front of the world, and to let a little light in, so that suddenly the intense red and blue of these books shows up as something remarkable and not just, “oh yes, that’s a book.”

Then we don’t have to live in the ordinary world. We can live in the actual world, which is extraordinary.

Like most of my posts, this one is free. I do paywall some as a reminder that I deeply appreciate paying subscribers—some new each week—for your encouragement and support. It’s changed my writing from a surprisingly expensive hobby into a surprisingly remunerative hobby (but not yet a real income).

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Rigpa is Dzogchen’s word roughly equivalent to “enlightenment.”

But what is rigpa, actually? And what does it imply for ethics?

A conversation with Varun Godbole.

This is a clip from the monthly Q&A I host for Evolving Ground, a community for contemporary Vajrayana practice.

Participation in the Q&A sessions is free for Evolving Ground members, and membership in Evolving Ground is also free. Our next Vajrayana Q&A is tomorrow, Saturday April 12th, 2025!

Transcript

That’s rigpa

Varun: I’m still not sure I understand what rigpa is or why you would want it. Which is, which is like, um, yeah. Would you, would you be willing to, like, talk—

David: Oh, you look like you’re enjoying yourself? Are you enjoying yourself?

This isn’t a trick question. It’s just a straightforward one. You’ve got a big grin!

Varun: I, I’m enjoying the absurdity of the question itself. It’s like, yeah, these practices—for reasons I don’t understand, but I’m doing them anyway—towards a goal I can’t comprehend or understand! But, I guess it’s fine, and I’m doing it anyway, with a bunch of people that are cool, whose company I enjoy, for reasons I don’t know. And I don’t know, there’s like an element of absurdity that just comes to my head when I ask this question, and I can’t help but laugh at it.

David: Yeah. So that’s rigpa.

Varun: What?

David: That’s rigpa.

Varun: What?

David: So the element of absurdity and, and, and finding the humor in this situation. There’s rigpa.

Varun: Right.

I don’t know how to react to what you just said.

David: Perfect.

Varun: Right. So is this it? I’m enlightened? Is that, is that, is that what you’re saying? Is that, is that right?

David: Yeah. Everybody’s always enlightened. And rigpa’s kind of noticing that, and finding the absurdity in an ordinary situation, and enjoying that is… That can cut straight to it.

Isn’t that just nihilism?

Varun: But isn’t that— if I pull this thread too much, isn’t that just nihilism?

David: Why?

Varun: Because… I don’t know, isn’t it good to do good things?

David: Yeah, it is.

Varun: But how will I know what’s good? If it’s just all vibes, then aren’t I just like doing whatever I want, effectively?

David: Ah… right. Um,

Varun: Isn’t that—

David: This is, this is a different question! Um, If you start from the absurdity and the enjoyment, then you won’t be doing what you want. You’ll be spontaneously acting beneficially.

Varun: Yeah. So this is what I have trouble with, right? I’m acting spontaneously, but how do I know it’s actually beneficent?

David: You don’t.

Varun: But then…

David: I mean, you can never know whether what you do is going to be beneficial. I mean, one should be sensible, and sensitive, and understand basic ethical principles. And no amount of that is ever going to guarantee that what you do is not going to be harmful or hurtful.

Um, there isn’t any framework within which we can find certainty about anything, but in particular about benefit. We can develop the intention to be beneficial, which is what Bodhisattvayana is about. Bodhisattvayana is about developing that heartfelt sense of wanting everybody to be well. But that doesn’t mean that you’re actually going to be able to do anything about it. It doesn’t mean you’re never going to hurt people. You will.

Varun: I see. So rigpa isn’t really about normativity in some sense.

David: Absolutely not. Yes.

Varun: Okay. That’s really helpful.

It seems like, I think, I think what I struggle with, with rigpa, right, is: I don’t know how to square that with this idea that I want to engage in ethical behavior, but I may self-deceive myself about whether I’m being ethical or not, in various ways of the word self, like the term self-deception.

David: Mm-hmm.

Varun: And if I understand you correctly, what I’m hearing is that rigpa isn’t really about, like these Dzogchen practices aren’t really about ethics.

David: Not at all. Absolutely not at all.

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What is learning math good for? — Robert Kegan and “meaning-making” — Existentialism’s error — Narcissism and tyranny — How can we avoid radical relativism? — My experience of teaching

This is the video from my January 2025 monthly AMA (“Ask Me Anything”).

As a cine auteur, for previous AMA recordings, I have insisted on the director’s cut, editing both the video and text transcript carefully, out of respect for viewers, listeners, and readers.

The CFO of the studio, Nebulonic Media Productions Inc., put his foot down this time. It takes more than two full days for me—the creator and director of the thing!—to edit the hour’s recording. He says they can’t afford that anymore. They want efficiency, they want me to ship product, they want—blah, blah, blah, business-speak.

I am an artist, I said! No, he said, you are employed as a media professional, which means optimizing yadda yadda, and don’t you forget it.

So this is management’s cut. They made an intern run the video through “artificial intelligence,” and he pushed a couple buttons, and it cut out some “ums,” and it generated a transcript that bears nearly zero resemblance to what I said. It’s a travesty.

(Let me know what you think!)

Thanks to all who participated! And specifically to Nicolai Amrehn, Fatima Ali, Vinod Khare, Peter, Max H, Jared Janes, COPONDER, Adam Tropp, and Mike Travers, for posing and/or helping answer questions.

There’s an embarrassing error in this at 6:48. I meant to say that US GDP is around $35 trillion (actually $29 trillion in 2024), but said billion. It was Bill Gate’s fortune that was (at the time) around $35 billion.

Sections

0:00 Max Langenkamp’s Reader’s Guide to David Chapman

1:00 Evolving Ground book club: Pema Chödrön

3:23 What is learning math good for?

4:34 You can check many public claims with a little math

8:59 Learning what it means to be wrong lets you appreciate formal rationality

11:50 Mathematics is the ideological basis for the modern world

16:43 How does meaningness differ from meaning-making?

19:24 Robert Kegan and "meaning-making" in educational theory

21:28 Existentialism's error: subjective theories of meaning

26:07 We can't be special. We shouldn't be ordinary. We can be noble.

30:35 Heidegger, authenticity, and being-toward-death

35:38 How can we avoid radical relativism?

47:02 The meaningfulness of programs, programming languages, and programming paradigms

52:47 Hope for more sensible governance

54:19 Approaching Vividness: new course, now in beta

56:15 My experience of teaching: thank you!

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The felt experience of mathematics — witchcraft and black magic — “Shut up, kid!” — what is a real number? — shocked and embarrassed — clouds all the way down — a choir of angels singing — painting Cthulhu’s third eye on the walls of our mathematics and science departments

Video from a monthly live Ask-Me-Anything!

The transcript is below. The web page adds fun illustrations, and a wonderful comic strip, as mentioned in the video!

But first, how to join us next time:

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It helps me a lot if you pose questions ahead of time, so I can prepare a bit! You could post them as a comment here, or you can put them in the chat thread.

Transcript

The book Mathematica, by David Bessis

Big series of questions from Tobin Davis-Jones in the web chat, which I found fascinating because it connects with something that’s personally very important for me. His questions are, and observations concern, or are sparked by, a book called Mathematica by David Bessis.

He began by asking if I’ve read that. I haven’t. A number of people have recommended it to me, and said “this is going to be relevant for you.” I read a bunch of reviews and boy, it sure is relevant for me! I gave a copy to my spouse Charlie Awbery for their birthday, which was a couple weeks ago, and they’ve been reading it and raving about it. So I’m planning to borrow it when they’re done.

Envisioning: the felt experience of mathematics

Tobin says, “Students of rationality often complain that the symbols on the page of rationality are impossibly dull and intimidating. Bessis says that that’s because we neglect to explain that there’s an associated living internal experience of imagination and intuition that is required to really understand and apply formal methods.”

Yes! Part Three of my meta-rationality book is supposed to go into this in a lot of detail. If you go to the metarationality.com site and find Part Three, which is called “Wielding the power of meaninglessness: Taking rationality seriously,” that has a sketch, currently only, of what I’m going to be saying about this.

For lack of a better word, I call this process of “imagination and intuition,” I call it “envisioning,” because it is similar to mental imagery, but it’s not the same. It has a kinesthetic component. There’s a wonderful piece by Terry Tao, who’s one of the greatest living mathematicians, about how when he was trying to understand a particular difficult piece of mathematics, he was rolling around on the floor, his whole body, feeling the effect of some mathematical function.

There’s a great quote from Einstein about this, where he says, um, it’s partly sort of visual, but it’s partly… propriostatic, proprio… that word! So you’re actually grabbing the mathematical objects, and you’re doing things with them.

Like most of my posts, this one is free. I do paywall some as a reminder that I deeply appreciate paying subscribers—some new each week—for your encouragement and support. It’s changed my writing from a surprisingly expensive hobby into a surprisingly remunerative hobby (but not yet a real income).

I’ve thought a lot about this. I was a math undergraduate. I saw people struggling with this. And for a lot of them, the problem was, and I found this really difficult myself. I got better at it. But translating between the symbols and the really felt experience of the mathematical dynamics, the objects in motion?

Tobin asked, “Is this part of meta-rationality?” I categorize it in the book as being part of what I call “advanced rationality.” Advanced rationality comes when your cookbook of methods that you were taught runs out, and you have to confront this situation without any definite method. And envisioning becomes particularly important at that point.

Envisioning is also really important in meta-rationality, but I think it’s not necessarily part of meta-rationality as I use that term.

Is the stage theory of development correct or necessary?

Tobin asks, “You tend to position meta-rationality as a discrete stage that comes after rationality. Must there be stages?”

This is an excellent question. This is controversial in the literature on this topic. I have a draft webpage about this. It’s fairly high priority. I want to get to it sooner rather than later.

This stage model is just a model. Like all models, formal and informal models, you have to apply it intelligently in a particular situation, and bear in mind that its applicability is always an imperfect fit; there’s some nebulosity. And be aware of the ways in which the model can mislead as well as illuminate. The stages aren’t really discrete, they do shade into each other, and whether they’re even meaningful for a particular purpose can vary.

Tobin says, “Or, can meta-rational thinking be incorporated into teaching and learning even when a student hasn’t yet mastered rational techniques?”

Well, I think full mastery is not necessary, but you need to have basic proficiency with a chunk of rationality before you could be meta-rational with regard to that chunk. And meta-rationality particularly comes into its own when either you’ve got a choice of rational systems you might apply; or you can’t find any, and you have to create a new one from scratch. So there’s some amount of proficiency with rationality that’s needed first, but certainly this envisioning thing is something I think we could and should be teaching much earlier and much more.

Mathematics is witchcraft and black magic

There’s a quote here from Mathematica:

The more I advanced, the further I dove into the heart of mathematics, the more I learned to master the techniques that facilitate deep understanding and creativity, the more it began to resemble witchcraft and black magic.

Well, here at this point, my ears prick up in a big way! Because I have practiced witchcraft in Wicca before I became a Buddhist, and black magic is a big part historically of Vajrayana, which is the style of Buddhism that I practice. I’ve got a whole website called Buddhism for Vampires, which is essentially about that, and it’s sparked by my horror at realizing that this very nice religion that I was practicing, which is all grounded on taking a vow to always benefit all sentient beings— how can black magic be a part of that? This is a big question. So I’ve got a website about it. And wow, this connects with mathematics?

Mathematica, the book, goes on:

Descartes thought that mathematicians guarded their secrets for fear of losing their prestige. The real explanation is undoubtedly more trivial. Mathematicians are simply afraid of being called insane.

I’ve got another explanation which I will suggest. I’m not sure about this, but if you admit that you’re doing black magic when you’re doing mathematics, maybe that could be a bit embarrassing or problematic. So, yeah!

“Bessis describes many truly great mathematicians who, when pushed in private, describe their methods in mystical terms: whispered by God, visited by spirits in dreams, communing with the universe, third eyes and sixth senses.” (Sixth sense is envisioning, I think!) “These ways of thinking produced undeniable results, and yet there isn’t a place in our current rationalist culture for that kind of language.”

Yes, I’m constantly down on rationalism for being an inadequate, incomplete, wrong story about how rationality works, and Part Three of the meta-rationality book is my alternative story about how mathematics works, and about how rationality works: science, engineering, mathematics.

“These are brilliant mathematicians with real results trying to tell us something about how their brains do rationality.”

Yes, it’s not what you get taught in the STEM curriculum, which teaches you rationalism, which is a basically religious theory of rationality, which is unhelpful. I observed this a lot. I did an undergraduate degree in mathematics and then I did a PhD in computer science; while I was doing that, I took a bunch of graduate level math courses. So I saw a lot. There’s my own experience of doing mathematics, and other STEM subjects. I went on and I did a lot of molecular biology, and then worked in a chemistry company. So I saw how people do rationality, and I have the experience of doing rationality, and the rationalist story is inadequate.

The taboo against talking about what mathematics is

With regard to math in particular, there is a very unhelpful taboo against talking about what it is like and how we do it. And I gather that’s what Bessis’ book is about. So I’m really excited to read that.

When I was a math undergraduate, I’d often put up my my hand to ask a question in class. I wasn’t trying to be difficult, but I’d ask, “What is this thing? What are we doing here? How does this work?” And the answer was always, basically, “Shut up, kid!” And my fellow math undergraduates weren’t willing to talk about it, really, either.

There’s a particular moment that I remember vividly, as a turning point for me. I was in an introductory analysis class, which… when you do calculus, the calculus class is all lies. The things they tell you aren’t true; they’re simplifications, which is good pedagogy. They’re directionally correct, but every single statement has… the reality is much more complicated. And the analysis class, you basically just go back over the whole of the calculus curriculum, and do it over again with fewer lies.

So it’s about real numbers, which is what calculus is mostly about. And I put up my hand, and the professor called on me, and I said, “So, uh, I don’t, um, what is a real number?” And the professor actually looked kind of shocked and flustered. And he paused for a minute to kind of collect himself, and then he said, “Well, if this was a foundations class, this is a sort of question we might address, but this isn’t, so we’re going to go on.”

I was like, “Well, hold on a moment. Um, I’ve had that answer before, a few times, and I kind of, I’m taking analysis because I thought this would tell me the foundations of calculus, that we would get real here and explain what was going on. And, um, but so apparently I need to take the foundations class. In this department, at this university, which is the foundations class?”

And then he looked shocked again. He said, “Well, maybe there’s something in the philosophy department… yeah, they don’t do one either. Um, you could go to Harvard, you could see if they have one.” (I was at MIT at the time, and MIT and Harvard students can take each other’s classes.) So he didn’t know where you could find out what a real number was. He probably didn’t know himself! He was shocked and embarrassed, and then hurriedly went on with what he wanted to say about whatever it was.

So I decided, at this point, I wasn’t going to get any answers. And I went to the library and dug around, and spent a couple of days there, and got the— Yeah! Dan Dapper says “Dedekind cuts.” I got the official answer, which satisfied me at the time. There’s two official stories about what real numbers are, which are Dedekind cuts and Cauchy sequences, which are really interesting! They’re also kind of wrong. And when people realized at the beginning, early 20th century, that this doesn’t actually work, there was a major crisis, and it kind of looked like mathematics might just completely fall apart. I’ve got a page on meaningness.com called “How rational certainty collapsed,” which is about what happened then.

And the reality is, if you look for foundations for mathematics… People go into mathematics thinking they’re going to find absolute truth, and if you dig deep enough under those supposed absolute truths, you find it is clouds. There is no foundation other than clouds. It’s clouds all the way down. And I think a lot of mathematicians have read about this, and they realize there’s something scary there; and this is another part, probably, of why there’s a taboo about real talk about what math is, because it’s on sand, or clouds.

I’m ranting.

Blinding white light and angels

I’ll tell one more story, which is relevant to the mystical aspect.

This was some years later. I was in a graduate-level seminar on Kolmogorov complexity, which is, uh, you may have heard of Solomonoff induction. Kolmogorov complexity is essentially the same idea with a slightly different formalism. There’s a third version of it due to Gregory Chaitin. They all had more or less the same idea at the same time. This is fascinating stuff.

There’s a problem set, homework assignment, that had like five questions on it maybe, and the day before I had done problems one through four, which were not too difficult, and problem five I didn’t get done. And so I started in the morning working on problem five. I was working on that all day, nonstop. To do mathematics, you really need to focus, and if it’s a hard problem, you need to focus continuously, without interruption for long periods. So it was like late afternoon, early evening maybe. I hadn’t gotten anywhere. It was really frustrating.

And then suddenly I had, I received this insight. It was a really big deal. I actually can’t remember this. I think I was in the room that I shared with Mike Travers, who’s in our session here now! Um, sitting at the desk there. I have the diary entry from it, which is all I know, but the diary entry said this insight came to me as blinding white light and a choir of angels singing. I think that must be metaphorical? I don’t think that was my literal experience, but it was the best I could do to communicate something that felt really important to me as a spiritual experience. And once I had this, I had to translate whatever this felt sense of the insight was into the symbols on the page that I could turn in as a homework assignment. But the experience was the thing.

So I think we should talk about these things! You know, it’s sort of embarrassing to say “I had a mystical experience.” It makes it sound like it was a big deal, but it was just a homework assignment. I wasn’t proving anything new. I was being dumb. It shouldn’t have taken me all day to do this.

Let’s tell those taboo stories about mathematical experience!

Tobin asks “When thinking of someone such as a young scientist in the making, how can we help that person to make sense of such stories?”

Well, I think we should just tell them. I mean, you can find some of these stories. I’ve been collecting them to put into Part Three of the meta-rationality book, but they’re few and far between!

People are… it’s a taboo because it’s embarrassing. It’s like talking about your personal experience of sex. Several people said this to me. And, you know, I’m more willing to talk about my personal experience of sex than most people are. So I lack some kind of inhibition; that makes me willing to talk about math.

I think we should try and explain as best we can, even though these experiences are not very effable. They’re a little bit effable. I mean, just being able to say you have to translate between the symbols on the page and some kind of internal experience: that may be something that a lot of people are missing. When I saw people struggling with math, I think in a lot of cases it was because they didn’t know even that they should be making that translation, much less how. I don’t know how to teach how to do that, but I think we could try to draw our experience? We could paint it?

In a 2019 tweet thread, I asked how we can help each other break the code of silence. “A podcast series? A public, recorded virtual conference/workshop? A subreddit? A dedicated web site?”

That thread was a follow-on to this one, about the experience of “envisioning.” There were many interesting replies, too!

What is your experience of envisioning like? Or other felt experiences of doing rationality? Please leave a comment!

I think we all have the sense that we’re bad at it. There’s a passage from Richard Feynman, who was one of the greatest physicists of all time, and one of the ones who was most willing to talk about what it is like. Not very willing! But he’s got a passage where he talks about his experience of what I call “envisioning,” and he kind of dumps on himself. He says it’s “a kind of half-assed semi-vision thing.” And the “semi-vision” is right because it’s also “motoric.” There’s a passage from Einstein where he says it’s got this motor aspect to it, of moving things. But, you know, Feynman was embarrassed to talk about his experience of this! So, we should all admit to feeling, “Uh, you know, I’m embarrassed to talk about this because I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

And I felt like I didn’t quite have what it would take to become a professional mathematician. And I think that was partly a suspicion of “Yeah, I’m actually bad at that.” I was actually much better at the symbols on the page. I can do that. That makes me more like a computer scientist than like a mathematician.

So Tobin asked, “Can we embed those experiences in a kind of meta-rational understanding?”

Yes. Part Four of the meta-rationality book, which I’m struggling with now, is supposed to do that.

“Do we need to invent new, more polite terms for this kind of thing?”

I invented the word “envisioning,” because it’s a little more polite than “this half-assed, semi-vision-like thing.”

Rationality is embarrassing because it’s freaky! Not respectable!

“Or should we just use the old freaky ones?”

Well, let’s try both! We’re not talking about this at all. So we can talk about it lots of different ways and see what works for people.

“Should we paint third eye symbols on the brutalist walls of our mathematics and science departments?”

Yes! Let’s do that! I’m reminded of, again, in the undergraduate house that I shared with Mike Travers, who’s here now. There was a very talented artist who was our roommate also. We were in a four person room. He painted a comic, in which there was the third eye symbol, from a dollar bill, in a pyramid. And we were reading this book called Illuminatus!, which I’ve written a webpage about somewhere. I recommend it. It’s freaky! There’s the tentacles of Cthulhu along the bottom of the pyramid, and he had a hand coming out of the bottom of the pyramid, pointing at the tape of a Turing machine, with cabalistic symbols on the Turing machine tape. And I just loved this, and I wanted to paint it on the corridor wall of the MIT Artificial Intelligence Lab. I think it would have been fantastic. So yeah, let’s do that kind of thing.

Let’s make explicit that what we’re doing is freaky. Rationalism is all about trying to make rationality acceptable and respectable. And it really kind of isn’t.

The cartoon, by Dave Mankins

Mike Travers put me in touch with Dave Mankins, who drew the comic strip I exclaimed over in the video. It’s titled Mens et Manus, “mind and hand,” which is the official motto of MIT.

Dave has kindly given me permission to reproduce it here, under the CC-BY-NC-SA license. It originally appeared in 1981 in Link, an MIT student newpaper we both wrote for. (Link was founded by our friend Brewster Kahle, who later founded the Internet Archive, sharing the same ideals.)

I hadn’t seen this in forty-three years! It’s just as fun as I remember it!

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit meaningness.substack.com/subscribe