Philosophy

In 1940, Borges published what is not quite a story. “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” — collected four years later in Ficciones — begins with the discovery of a reference to a country, Uqbar, in a slightly variant edition of an encyclopedia. The country does not appear in any other edition. The country, in any verifiable sense, does not exist. This leads, in the usual Borgesian manner, to the discovery of forty volumes describing an entire planet — Tlön — whose existence is similarly unverifiable, but whose philosophers, languages, and physics are described with the patience of something that has had centuries to develop. And then Tlön begins to appear in the physical world. A compass. A metal cone. By the story’s final pages, the fictional world has begun to overwrite the actual one: scholars study Tlönian history, children are taught its geography, a generation arises for whom Tlön is more real than the country they were born in. …

In 1654, in a fragment now numbered 139 of the Pensées, Pascal wrote a sentence that has been quoted so often it has lost most of its weight, and it is worth taking down from the shelf and looking at it again: all of humanity’s misery comes from a single fact, namely, that we are unable to sit quietly, alone, in a room. Three hundred and seventy years later we have built the most extraordinary device in human history for the express purpose of ensuring no one ever has to. …

Almost everyone past forty knows the type. The man still operating, in some quiet operative sense, as if he were twenty-four. The woman whose romantic life consists of the same three patterns it consisted of in 2009. The friend whose career has had the right surface motion — promotions, titles, perfectly photographed dinners — but whose inner question, who am I when no one is watching, has not seriously been asked since adolescence. They are not failures. Some of them are extraordinarily successful. They are simply, in the part that matters, not yet adults. …

Revised on 2026-04-28 to v1.1. See revision history below. Look at any AI-skeptic feed in 2026 and you’ll see the word slop doing heavy work. It names something real: low-entropy, mass-produced text without an author behind it, flooding feeds, search results, comment sections, product reviews. There’s now a small genre of essays explaining why this is bad for civilization. Some of them are excellent. Some of them are slop themselves. I want to ask a different question. Not whether AI slop is bad — clearly some of it is — but why we’re so confident we can recognize it. Because if you squint at a lot of professional life, much of what we produce on a normal Tuesday already qualifies. Legal boilerplate. Corporate memo-speak. Quarterly reports that survive only because nobody reads them. Status updates that say nothing. Standardized medical notes whose function is mostly forensic. …

Watch a photon leave the surface of the sun and arrive at your retina. Eight minutes earlier it was inside a star; now it is inside an eye. Of all the paths it could have taken — and physics, in some literal interpretations, says it did take all of them — the one that resolves into your day was the one that minimized a quantity called action. Light finds the cheap route. …

In Airplane! (1980), Lloyd Bridges plays Steve McCroskey, an air-traffic controller running a disaster on the ground while a single pilot with food poisoning tries not to kill everyone on the plane above. McCroskey is on two phones at once. He’s barking at his wife. He’s pivoting to a subordinate mid-sentence. He’s drinking coffee, then cigarettes, then amphetamines, then glue, in that order. Every fifteen minutes or so, the camera cuts back to him and he delivers the same line with a slightly different noun: …

In Enlightenment and Madness I argued that José Arcadio Buendía wasn’t mad in the way Macondo thought he was — that the patriarch tied to the chestnut tree was another face of the same transcendence that lifts Remedios la Bella into the sky. Two exits from ordinary consciousness, one serene, one savage. A reader — my mother, actually — pushed back on that with a sharp question. If he had lived today, she asked, would you still call it wisdom, or would you just put him on a medication and send him home? …

Rereading Cien años de soledad after many years, I found myself less drawn to the Buendía dynasty’s epic sweep than to two characters at opposite poles of the novel: Remedios la Bella, who ascends bodily into the sky while folding sheets, and José Arcadio Buendía, the patriarch who dies tied to a chestnut tree, speaking Latin to the ghosts only he can see. Both escape Macondo. Both leave ordinary reality behind. But they do so from diametrically opposite directions — one upward into serenity, the other downward into madness. The more I thought about it, the more this looked like a question Buddhism has wrestled with for centuries: what separates enlightenment from craziness, and are they really opposites at all? …

The concepts of Marxism, capitalism, and socialism often dominate discussions about economics and politics. While each represents a distinct approach to organizing society, their real-world implementations often deviate significantly from their ideals. To understand their realities, it’s crucial to examine their theoretical foundations and how they’ve played out historically. Marxism: The Revolutionary Ideal Marxism, rooted in the works of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, envisions a classless society where workers control the means of production. Its core critique is of capitalism’s tendency to exploit labor for profit. Marx predicted that this exploitation would inevitably lead to class struggle, culminating in a revolutionary overthrow of capitalist systems. …

Friedrich Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra is a philosophical masterpiece rich with allegorical imagery. In “Zarathustra’s Prologue,” particularly sections 5 and 6, Nietzsche introduces three potent symbols: the rope, the tightrope walker, and the jester. These elements collectively serve as a metaphor for the human condition and the arduous journey toward the Übermensch (Superman). This pivotal scene encapsulates Nietzsche’s vision of self-overcoming, struggle, and transcendence. Summary of the Chapter In the prologue, Zarathustra descends from the mountains after a decade of solitude and philosophical contemplation. He arrives in a bustling town where a crowd has gathered to witness a tightrope walker. Zarathustra seizes the moment to introduce his philosophy, describing humanity as a precarious state between the animal and the Übermensch. …