“Italian Brainrot”, what the Heck

Ballerina Cappuccina, Bombardiro Crocodilo, and Tralalero Tralala dancing on the beach.

Let me be clear: I don’t have children, so I also don’t have grandchildren to mediate the cultural confusion between myself and Generation Z. What I do have is a phone, a bit of curiosity, and a stubborn refusal to believe the world has entirely lost its mind — though after encountering something called Italian Brainrot, I’m no longer so sure.

I was born in the 1960s. Occasionally, I hear younger people speak about things like cassette tapes, typewriters, rotary phones, and fluorescent toys as if they were part of some surreal vintage wonderland. To me — and to most boomers I know — those things weren’t strange or ironic. They were just life. Ordinary. Functional. Familiar.

What does feel surreal is what I’ve recently stumbled across on TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube Shorts — the natural habitats of today’s cultural experiments. That’s where I first encountered this bizarre phenomenon known as Italian Brainrot.

At first I thought it was some ironic meme about food culture, or maybe a YouTube parody. But no — it’s a genre in its own right. A stream of AI-generated videos, each under a minute, filled with manic, intentionally absurd characters screaming in bad Italian accents while doing the digital equivalent of banging pots and pans together.

There’s Tralalero Tralala — a sneaker-wearing shark-thing with the energy of an espresso-powered toddler.
There’s Bombardiro Crocodilo — a winged crocodile who seems to specialize in aerial pasta-related violence.
And Ballerina Cappuccina — a ballerina with a cappuccino cup for a head, who pirouettes like she’s auditioning for an opera written by a malfunctioning coffee machine.

The kids love it. They laugh uncontrollably. It’s not satire, exactly. And it’s definitely not parody in the way we understood it. It’s something stranger: a form of digital nonsense. It is content that functions as a coping mechanism for overstimulation, anxiety, or a fractured attention span — it is not a source of insight or meaning.

They call it brainrot. They mean that affectionately.

To me, it’s disorienting. I tried to approach it with some cultural generosity. Maybe it’s this generation’s version of Dadaism — a chaotic, comic response to a world that feels increasingly unfixable. In that light, it makes a certain kind of sense.

But I won’t lie: I still find it mostly annoying. Loud, repetitive, empty. Yet undeniably watchable — in the same way a snow globe full of glitter and frogs might be. I even caught myself laughing once or twice. Which annoyed me even more.

No, I won’t become a fan. I won’t follow Brr Brr Patapim or remix my own spaghetti-themed soundbite. But I see now that this isn’t just noise. It’s ritual. It’s play. It’s a strange and sometimes beautiful kind of escape.

And while I may not understand it, I remember the faces we made when our parents first heard punk. Or saw Monty Python. Or read Kurt Vonnegut.

These kids are strange.
But then again — weren’t we?

Gossip: Evolution’s Social Glue

Gossip often gets a bad reputation. We’re taught to avoid it, to see it as petty or malicious. But a growing body of research in evolutionary psychology suggests something quite different: gossip may have helped our species survive. Rather than a sign of moral failure, gossip could be one of the most important tools humans ever developed to cooperate, bond, and build community.

Think about how often we talk about others when they’re not around—colleagues, friends, celebrities. This isn’t necessarily scandalous or cruel. Much of it is just information-sharing: who's doing well, who's struggling, what someone said or did. This kind of talk is everywhere, and that’s no accident. In fact, it may have played a crucial role in shaping human society.

Our ancestors lived in tight-knit groups where collaboration was key. Knowing who was trustworthy and who wasn’t could mean the difference between survival and disaster. Gossip—talking about others’ actions and reputations—was a way to spread this knowledge efficiently. If someone cheated or didn’t contribute, word got around. That quiet flow of information helped build trust, reinforced social norms, and deterred selfish behavior.

Some scientists compare gossip to grooming in primates. Just as monkeys pick through each other’s fur to build alliances, humans use conversation to form and maintain social bonds. But where grooming is one-to-one, gossip lets us connect with many people at once. It’s more efficient—and more powerful.

When used well, gossip has a moral dimension. It warns people to behave decently. It spreads reputations—good and bad—and helps communities function. People are more likely to cooperate when they know others will talk about what they do. In this way, gossip becomes a kind of invisible social contract: act fairly, or face the consequences.

Of course, not all gossip is good. It can be cruel, false, or harmful. But condemning all gossip misses the point. What matters is how and why we gossip. When it’s honest, fair, and rooted in care for others, it can be a powerful force for cohesion. It’s part of what makes us human.

Next time you hear someone say, “Don’t gossip,” pause a moment. Maybe the question isn’t whether we gossip, but whether we do it with integrity. Because in the grand scheme of human history, gossip isn’t just talk—it’s survival.

Further Reading

• Robin Dunbar – Grooming, Gossip, and the Evolution of Language
  A foundational book on how human language may have evolved to serve social bonding through gossip.

• TIME Magazine – “Why Do People Gossip? Here’s What Science Says”
  A clear and engaging summary of modern psychological insights into gossip.

• VICE – “Gossip May Have Played a Role in Human Survival”
  A popular science piece connecting gossip to trust-building and social enforcement in early societies.

• University of Maryland – “Gabbing About Others Is Not Always a Bad Thing”
  A summary of recent research showing how gossip can actually encourage cooperation.

• Podcast: Science Vs – “Pssst!! The Science of Gossip”
  A fun and informative podcast episode exploring why we gossip and what role it plays in our lives.

Our Dear Friends in Moscow

Published in June 2025, Our Dear Friends in Moscow: The Inside Story of a Broken Generation by Andrei Soldatov and Irina Borogan offers a poignant exploration of Russia's transformation from the hopeful post-Soviet era to its current authoritarian state under Vladimir Putin. This memoir delves into the personal and professional lives of a group of young journalists who, once united by shared ideals, find themselves on divergent paths as the nation's political landscape shifts dramatically.

Overview

Soldatov and Borogan, renowned investigative journalists now living in exile, recount their experiences alongside colleagues from the early 2000s at the newspaper Izvestia. The narrative traces how these friendships evolved—or fractured—as some individuals aligned with the burgeoning authoritarian regime, while others, like the authors, chose resistance, leading to exile and persecution. The memoir provides an intimate look at the emotional and ideological divides that emerged within a generation once united by the promise of a democratic Russia.

Key Themes and Insights

The Fragmentation of a Generation

The book illustrates how the optimism of the 1990s gave way to disillusionment, as the state's increasing control led to a splintering of personal and professional relationships. Friends who once shared common goals found themselves on opposing sides of a deepening ideological divide.

The Erosion of Journalistic Integrity

As the Kremlin tightened its grip on the media, many journalists faced a choice: conform to the state's narrative or risk their careers and safety. The memoir details how some succumbed to pressure, becoming mouthpieces for propaganda, while others upheld journalistic principles at great personal cost.

Isolation and Exile

The authors chronicle their own journey into exile, highlighting the challenges faced by those who oppose the regime. Their experiences underscore the broader theme of isolation—not just geographically, but also emotionally and ideologically—as dissenters are cast out from their homeland and social circles.

The Personal Cost of Political Change

Beyond the political analysis, the memoir delves into the personal toll exacted by Russia's authoritarian turn. It examines the strain on friendships, the loss of trust, and the emotional burden borne by those who resist conformity.

Further Reading

• Our Dear Friends in Moscow: The Inside Story of a Broken Generation – Andrei Soldatov & Irina Borogan

• The Red Web – Andrei Soldatov & Irina Borogan

• The New Nobility – Andrei Soldatov & Irina Borogan

• Goodbye to Russia – Sarah Rainsford

• Koba the Dread – Martin Amis

• Nothing is True and Everything is Possible – Peter Pomerantsev

Authoritarian Roots in a Shifting World

In a world that feels increasingly chaotic—where political lines blur, identities shift, and truths are constantly contested—some people long for something solid. Certainty. Order. A firm hand. That longing isn’t new, but our understanding of it has evolved. Two major works, written over 50 years apart, help us understand why this desire for order can turn dangerous—and why it’s often rooted not in ideology, but in anxiety.

The first is The Authoritarian Personality (1950), a pioneering work by Theodor W. Adorno and a team of social scientists. It explored how certain personality traits—rigid thinking, submission to authority, hostility to outsiders—predispose people to fascist or authoritarian ideologies. Crucially, it linked these traits to early family environments: strict parenting, emotional repression, and punishment-based discipline. One example of how these traits were measured is the "F-scale" (F for fascism) questionnaire, which included statements such as "Obedience and respect for authority are the most important virtues children should learn"—respondents who agreed with such items were more likely to score high in authoritarian tendencies. In short, authoritarianism, they argued, is often born at home.

The second is Liquid Modernity (2000), a concept developed by sociologist Zygmunt Bauman. Unlike the structured world of the mid-20th century, Bauman described today’s society as fluid and unstable. In this “liquid” modernity, nothing—jobs, identities, relationships, institutions—feels permanent. Individuals must constantly adapt, reinvent themselves, and navigate life without reliable anchors. It’s liberating for some, disorienting for many.

So what happens when a personality shaped by a craving for structure confronts a world that refuses to offer it?

The Authoritarian Longing for Solidity

In The Authoritarian Personality, Adorno and his colleagues weren’t just asking why people supported fascism—they were trying to identify the psychological roots of intolerance. They developed what became known as the F-scale, a questionnaire designed to detect authoritarian tendencies.

Their findings revealed a pattern: individuals who feared uncertainty and complexity often clung to rigid ideologies and strong authority figures. They needed clearly defined roles, moral absolutes, and a sense of superiority over perceived outsiders. And they had often grown up in homes where obedience was valued more than understanding, where questioning was punished, and where love was conditional.

This early emotional environment fostered a deep insecurity—one that later attached itself to authoritarian movements as a way of regaining control and coherence.

Life in Liquid Modernity

Bauman’s Liquid Modernity describes a world where those traditional sources of coherence—nation, class, religion, family, work—no longer provide stability. Change is constant. Identities are fluid. Relationships are short-lived. We are, Bauman argues, “individuals in a state of permanent reinvention,” always adapting, always uncertain.

In contrast, the "solid modernity" of the early 20th century was defined by stable careers, lifelong marriages, clear social roles, and a sense of predictable life progression. People knew their place, followed established paths, and leaned on institutions for identity and meaning.

This isn’t just a cultural shift—it’s a psychological one. The modern individual is told they are free, but that freedom comes with overwhelming responsibility. There are fewer rules, but also fewer guarantees. The old scaffolding is gone, and many people are left to float—or sink—on their own.

For those already predisposed to fear ambiguity, this can be terrifying.

When Two Worlds Collide

What happens when people who were raised to seek stability and obey authority are thrown into a liquid world of endless change?

They react. Sometimes quietly—through withdrawal, anxiety, or cynicism. Sometimes more visibly—by clinging to strongman leaders, rigid ideologies, conspiracy theories, or identity-based movements that promise clarity and protection. The authoritarian reflex doesn’t disappear in liquid modernity; it intensifies. It adapts.

Today’s authoritarianism doesn’t always wear a uniform or fly a flag. It may spread through digital echo chambers, filter bubbles, or emotionally charged ideologies that offer simple answers to complex problems. But the underlying psychology—fear of uncertainty, intolerance of ambiguity, and a need for control—remains the same.

In a liquid world, authoritarianism is not a relic of the past. It is a symptom of modern instability.

Rethinking Responsibility

The combined insights of Adorno and Bauman reveal something vital: authoritarianism is not just about ideology or education. It is also about how people are raised—and what the world demands of them.

Authoritarian personalities may develop in rigid, fearful households. But when these early patterns of emotional insecurity meet a broader culture of instability—where roles, identities, and institutions are constantly shifting—the effects can compound. The longing for certainty planted in childhood is only magnified in adulthood by a world that offers few reliable structures. In this way, the intersection of early family dynamics and societal fluidity creates a potent breeding ground for authoritarian reflexes. In this sense, both too much structure and too little can breed the same reaction: the desire for someone—or something—to take control.

If we want to foster democratic, open societies, we must begin not with politics, but with people. That means:

• Parenting that balances guidance with autonomy

• Education that embraces complexity and ambiguity

• Institutions that provide security without rigidity

• Public discourse that values doubt, curiosity, and empathy

Final Thought: Two Theories, One Warning

Adorno showed us how authoritarian personalities are shaped. Bauman showed us the kind of world in which they may thrive. Together, they offer a chilling but powerful insight: authoritarianism grows not just from strength, but from fear—especially the fear of navigating life without clear direction.

Our task, then, is not to reimpose old certainties or to abandon all structure, but to help people—especially the young—learn how to live in a world that doesn’t come with instructions.

If we can build resilience in the face of uncertainty, we may yet resist the call of those who promise false order in exchange for our freedom.

Further Reading:

• Theodor W. Adorno et al. – The Authoritarian Personality

• Zygmunt Bauman – Liquid Modernity

• Karen Stenner – The Authoritarian Dynamic

• Erich Fromm – Escape from Freedom

• Jason Stanley – How Fascism Works

It's a Coup

Carole Cadwalladr

In her powerful TED Talk, journalist Carole Cadwalladr delivers a chilling diagnosis of our times: Western democracies have been quietly and methodically undermined. What looks on the surface like voter choice, she argues, is increasingly being shaped by forces hidden from public scrutiny. In telling the story of the Brexit referendum, Cadwalladr uncovers not just a political scandal, but a systematic attack on the foundations of democracy—one driven by Big Tech, fuelled by big data, and thriving in the shadows where privacy has been stripped away.

Cadwalladr’s investigation into the Brexit Leave campaign—most notably its relationship with Cambridge Analytica—exposed how millions of Facebook profiles were harvested without consent. That data was used to craft psychological models, which in turn were deployed to micro-target voters with messages designed to manipulate their emotions and decisions. It wasn't debate or persuasion—it was precision-guided information warfare. And it worked.

This is where the role of Big Tech becomes central. Companies like Facebook (now Meta) provided the tools and infrastructure for these campaigns. Their platforms allowed hyper-targeting of users, often with zero transparency or accountability. And because these tech giants are profit-driven advertising machines, their algorithms prioritized engagement over truth, outrage over nuance. The more incendiary the message, the more clicks—and the more money. This business model did not merely enable disinformation; it thrived on it.

In her follow-up reporting, including her thread-turned-essay “The First Great Information War,” Cadwalladr reframes the issue in geopolitical terms. She describes a slow, rolling coup—a sustained campaign to weaken and divide Western democracies, with Russia acting as a key instigator but tech companies as unwitting collaborators. The battlefield isn’t a physical one—it’s our minds, our newsfeeds, our sense of reality itself.

Privacy, once seen as a personal right, is now collateral damage in this new kind of conflict. As we willingly surrender data for convenience—liking a post, installing an app, sharing our location—we create a digital profile of ourselves. This profile can be sold, stolen, or weaponized. And because there are almost no effective regulations in place, the people and entities using this data are largely untraceable and unaccountable.

Cadwalladr’s work, then, is not just an exposé—it’s a warning. The systems we rely on for truth and democratic participation are broken. Big Tech companies hold more influence than many governments, yet they operate with far less scrutiny. Our data has become a commodity, traded in invisible markets. And our privacy is the price we pay for ‘free’ services that in reality cost us our autonomy.

If we are to make sense of what’s happening—and resist it—we must do more than reform electoral laws or increase ad transparency. We need to fundamentally rethink the relationship between data, power, and democracy. This isn’t just a glitch in the system. As Cadwalladr insists: It’s a coup.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Faith, Resistance, and Moral Clarity in Dark Times

In an age marked by moral confusion and political unrest, the life and legacy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer offer rare clarity. A German theologian, pastor, and member of the anti-Nazi resistance, Bonhoeffer was executed in April 1945—just weeks before the fall of Hitler's regime. His story is not just a chapter in history; it is a mirror held up to our own time.

A Faith that Refused Compromise

Bonhoeffer's most enduring legacy lies in his insistence that faith must not retreat into private piety or abstract theology. For him, Christianity without discipleship was not Christianity at all. His famous work, The Cost of Discipleship, warned against what he called "cheap grace"—forgiveness without repentance, communion without confession, grace without the cross.

He called instead for "costly grace": a faith so rooted in Christ that it transforms one's life and choices, even under threat. His own commitment would eventually lead him into active resistance against the Nazi regime.

The Moral Obligation to Resist Evil

Bonhoeffer’s opposition to Hitler was not merely political—it was theological. To remain silent in the face of mass injustice, he argued, was to be complicit. “Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” This moral imperative led him to abandon the safety of academia abroad and return to Germany, fully aware of the risks.

Though raised in the traditions of Lutheran obedience to authority, Bonhoeffer came to believe that civil disobedience was not only permitted but required when the state became lawless and unjust. He joined the Abwehr resistance and supported the plot to assassinate Hitler, a move that has sparked ongoing debate among theologians and ethicists.

Community as Resistance

Bonhoeffer also taught that Christian community could itself be a form of resistance. His seminary at Finkenwalde, though later shut down by the Gestapo, became a model of counter-cultural fellowship, rooted in prayer, discipline, and mutual responsibility. In a world disfigured by propaganda and fear, such spaces for honest living became lifelines for truth.

His posthumous work Letters and Papers from Prison remains a powerful testament to the possibility of faith in the darkest hours. Written in a Nazi prison cell, his words are hauntingly relevant: "The church is the church only when it exists for others."

Lessons for Today

Bonhoeffer’s life compels us to ask hard questions:

• Are we willing to speak up when others are silent?

• Can our faith withstand the demands of our time?

• Do we see the ethical dimension of public life as central to our spiritual life?

In an era when authoritarianism is on the rise and moral language is often hollowed out by partisanship, Bonhoeffer’s witness reminds us that integrity, sacrifice, and courage are not optional for people of conscience.

His lesson is not that martyrdom is inevitable, but that true discipleship demands a reckoning—with ourselves, with our institutions, and with the world as it is.

Further Reading

• The Cost of Discipleship – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

• Letters and Papers from Prison – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

• Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy – Eric Metaxas

• Strange Glory: A Life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer – Charles Marsh

• Ethics – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Why Europe Must Wake Up Now

Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, and Xi Jinping.

In a time when the rules-based global order is eroding, Europe stands at a dangerous crossroads. Confronted by external “predators” such as Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, and Xi Jinping, and challenged internally by political disillusionment and ideological extremism, the European Union risks falling behind — not due to lack of capacity, but due to a lack of self-belief.

This was the central argument of a recent discussion hosted by Le Figaro, featuring Benjamin Haddad, French Minister for European Affairs, and political writer Giuliano da Empoli. Their exchange revealed a profound truth: while others see Europe as a formidable force, Europeans themselves often fail to recognize their own strength.

The era we’ve entered is not one of compromise, but confrontation. As da Empoli notes, the "new" predators — whether political populists like Trump or tech moguls reshaping public discourse — thrive by rejecting norms, undermining regulation, and exploiting the fragmentation of liberal democracies. Europe, with its commitment to the rule of law, social cohesion, and multilateral cooperation, stands as their natural opponent. Not because it is weak, but precisely because it is one of the few remaining bastions of rule-based order.

But this fortress is under siege — not only from the outside, but from within. Citizens disillusioned by stagnant economies, unresolved migration issues, and political inertia increasingly flirt with populist alternatives. These movements promise control, identity, and order — and find oxygen in the algorithmic echo chambers of TikTok and X (formerly Twitter). Yet, as both Haddad and da Empoli argue, the problem lies less with the technology than with the failure of mainstream politics to respond convincingly to legitimate concerns.

The specter of Trump’s possible return to the White House in 2025 was rightly treated not as a freak accident but a symptom of deeper structural shifts. His worldview — transactional, inward-looking, and openly hostile to NATO and the EU — has already transformed American politics and reverberates across Europe. Worse still, as Haddad pointed out, these are not isolated phenomena — even President Biden has embraced protectionist policies that echo those of Trump.

The question now is: what can Europe do?

Firstly, acknowledge reality without panic. The liberal dream of eternal peace and convergence — the Fukuyaman fantasy — is over. We are not moving toward a post-ideological consensus but re-entering a world governed by force, identity, and asymmetry.

Secondly, Europe must become a geopolitical actor, not merely a regulatory one. That means serious investment in defense, controlling its technological future, and setting clear, enforceable rules for migration — not as a concession to populism, but to rebuild democratic legitimacy.

Thirdly, Europe must stop outsourcing its political and security agency. As Haddad pointed out, relying indefinitely on American protection is no longer viable. A stronger, more confident EU must emerge — one that can defend its borders, innovate economically, and act decisively in crises.

Lastly, Europe must win back its own people — not just through rhetoric, but through performance. Delivering prosperity, security, and identity is not a populist demand; it is a democratic imperative.

In sum, the predators are real. But so is the possibility of European renewal — if we stop underestimating ourselves.

Further Reading

• Giuliano da Empoli, L’Heure des prédateurs (2024)

• Ivan Krastev & Mark Leonard, The Age of Unpeace (2020)

• Anne Applebaum, Twilight of Democracy (2020)

• Luuk van Middelaar, Le Réveil géopolitique de l'Europe (2023)

• Ivan Krastev, After Europe (2017)

The Disconnected Society

On what we learn from Noreena Hertz and Jonathan Haidt.

Noreena Hertz and Jonathan Haidt.

In a time of unprecedented digital connectivity, a paradox has emerged: we are more networked than ever, yet increasingly alone and emotionally unwell. This paradox lies at the heart of two deeply resonant works—Noreena Hertz’s The Lonely Century and Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation. Though writing from different perspectives—Hertz as an economist and Haidt as a social psychologist—both diagnose a profound crisis of connection in contemporary society. Their work converges on a central truth: the digital and economic architecture of modern life is undermining our basic human need for community, stability, and meaning.

The Human Cost of Disconnection

Noreena Hertz argues that loneliness is not simply a personal feeling but a widespread social phenomenon, driven by systemic forces: neoliberal economics, technological isolation, urban design, and political alienation. In The Lonely Century, she shows how atomized labor markets, precarious work, and digital communication have eroded the public square. Even before the pandemic, rising numbers of people reported feeling isolated. Hertz documents the impact of loneliness on mental and physical health, linking it to increased rates of anxiety, depression, and even early death.

Jonathan Haidt echoes these concerns in The Anxious Generation, but zooms in on a specific demographic catastrophe: the mental health collapse among Generation Z, particularly teenage girls. He identifies the years between 2010 and 2015 as a critical turning point, when smartphones and social media became deeply embedded in adolescent life. The data is clear: since that time, rates of depression, anxiety, self-harm, and suicide among youth have sharply increased. Haidt sees this as a result not only of screen time, but of the replacement of real-world interaction with virtual engagement, and the loss of free play, risk-taking, and physical autonomy.

Technology: From Tool to Cage

Both thinkers point to digital technology as a powerful agent of social transformation—one that has reshaped not only our habits but our psyches. Hertz focuses on how social media and algorithmic content foster comparison, polarization, and superficial connection. In online spaces, people are “seen” constantly but rarely known. The result is a type of simulated intimacy, which cannot substitute for face-to-face human contact.

Haidt takes this further, arguing that adolescence—a time of immense neurological sensitivity—has been colonized by smartphones. Girls, in particular, suffer from curated comparison and relational aggression online, while boys retreat into virtual worlds of video games and porn. He shows how these platforms are designed to hijack attention, reduce resilience, and fragment identity. Technology, once a tool for empowerment, has become a disruptive presence, rewiring childhood and adolescence in ways that society has barely begun to comprehend.

The Loss of the Commons: From Playgrounds to Platforms

Another key insight that unites Hertz and Haidt is the disappearance of shared physical and social spaces. Hertz laments the decline of community hubs—local shops, libraries, churches, and unions—that once grounded people in a collective life. In their place, individualized consumption and digital engagement have taken hold, weakening social bonds.

Haidt similarly emphasizes the loss of outdoor, unsupervised play, which has been replaced by screen-based entertainment and increased parental control. Without the ability to test boundaries, resolve conflict, or build self-efficacy through real-world interaction, children grow up underdeveloped in social and emotional capacities. This shift from the commons to the screen, from the real to the virtual, has left a generation adrift.

Responsibility, Resistance, and Renewal

Despite the gravity of their diagnoses, neither Hertz nor Haidt is fatalistic. Both offer concrete paths forward—and both recognize the need for collective, not just individual, solutions.

Hertz calls for a Compassionate Revolution: policies that rehumanize the workplace, urban design that encourages interaction, education that fosters empathy, and regulation of tech platforms. She emphasizes the importance of civic renewal and economic justice, arguing that loneliness flourishes in societies marked by inequality, alienation, and commodification.

Haidt, meanwhile, focuses on cultural norms and education policy. He advocates for phone-free schools, delayed social media use, and the revival of free play and risk-taking. Most powerfully, he calls for a collective action response to what he sees as a “tragedy in two acts”—the overprotection of children in the real world and their underprotection online. Young people themselves, Haidt notes, often resent the role of smartphones in their lives but feel powerless to opt out without support.

What We Learn: A New Ethics of Connection

Together, Hertz and Haidt help us see the current crisis not as a series of isolated issues—mental health, loneliness, digital harm—but as symptoms of a deeper breakdown in how we structure human life. Their work urges us to reconsider what it means to be human in a time of distraction, commodification, and social fragmentation. They remind us that connection is not optional—it is a core human need, as vital as food or shelter.

If their diagnoses differ in emphasis—Hertz’s more macroeconomic, Haidt’s more developmental—they arrive at a shared imperative: we must reclaim our social environments. This means building policies, technologies, and cultures that honor attention, presence, trust, and belonging.

Conclusion

In an anxious and lonely century, the work of Noreena Hertz and Jonathan Haidt serves as a warning and a guide. They expose the cost of ignoring human needs in the name of efficiency, innovation, or freedom. But they also light a path toward renewal—one grounded not in nostalgia, but in the enduring truth that we thrive when we are connected, seen, and needed. Whether we follow that path will determine not only the mental health of our youth, but the very future of our societies.

Barbara F. Walter: How Civil Wars Start — And Why America Is at Risk

In a sobering yet surprisingly hopeful conversation held as part of the Democracy First speaker series, political scientist Barbara F. Walter laid bare the growing threat of political violence in the United States. Walter, author of the bestseller How Civil Wars Start, draws on decades of conflict research and her work with the CIA’s Political Instability Task Force to sound the alarm: America is slipping into dangerous territory.

The Warning Signs: Enocracy and Identity-Based Parties

Walter explains that the Task Force, using global data, found only two reliable predictors for civil conflict:

1. Enocracy — countries that are neither full democracies nor full autocracies.

2. Political parties organized around identity — particularly race, religion, or ethnicity.

Nations that fall into this grey zone are uniquely vulnerable. “Almost all political violence,” she said, “happens in the middle,” between democracy and autocracy.

When she applied this model to the U.S. (unofficially, as the CIA is barred from domestic surveillance), she saw a troubling trend: the U.S. had been downgraded from a full democracy in 2016 to a partial democracy by 2020, entering what she calls the “anocracy zone.” At the same time, the Republican Party had become increasingly defined by white identity and evangelical Christianity, while the Democratic Party had become a multi-ethnic coalition.

“By the Task Force’s definition,” Walter concluded, “the U.S. would likely have gone on the watch list in December 2020”—a list of nations at high risk of political instability or violence within two years. “And then,” she added, “January 6th happened.”

What Civil War Would Look Like Today

Walter is quick to dismantle outdated notions of civil war. Modern internal conflicts rarely resemble 1860s-style battles between uniformed armies. Instead, they look like what’s happening in places like Northern Ireland or Sri Lanka: insurgencies, guerrilla warfare, and terrorism. Civilians become the primary targets—especially minorities and perceived supporters of the state.

In the U.S., that could mean attacks on judges, election officials, law enforcement, or marginalized groups such as African Americans, Jews, Latinos, and LGBTQ communities.

Who drives this violence? Not the most oppressed, Walter explains, but “groups that were politically and economically dominant and are now in decline.” They experience loss of status, still have resources, and resist change. In the U.S., she suggests, the rise of white nationalist groups fits that pattern.

The Role of Social Media and Disinformation

Another accelerant? Social media. Walter calls it a “backdoor” for authoritarian regimes like Putin’s Russia to undermine democratic societies. Algorithms designed to trigger anger and fear have polarized citizens, amplified misinformation, and made viral hate easy and instant. She calls for one modest reform that could drastically reduce the spread of destabilizing content: temporarily disable the reshare button on platforms like Facebook during key democratic moments, such as elections.

“If I had one wish,” she says, “it would be to regulate the algorithms—not the content, just the algorithms.”

Can Democracy Be Saved?

Walter is not fatalistic. “I’m an optimist,” she insists. Despite structural flaws in American democracy—gerrymandering, the electoral college, and executive overreach—she sees potential for reform. She places hope in independent voters, especially immigrants and younger generations, who are less tied to partisan histories and more open to centrist politics.

She also calls for renewed attention to voting rights. Bills like the Freedom to Vote Act and the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act are not radical, she says—they simply restore protections that were standard a decade ago.

Further Reading

• Barbara F. Walter – How Civil Wars Start: And How to Stop Them, Crown Publishing, 2022.

• Barbara F. Walter — the author of "How Civil Wars Start" — explains the threat of Trump 2.0
  Hosted by Democracy First, available on YouTube: Watch the full video here

• Peter Pomerantsev – This Is Not Propaganda: Adventures in the War Against Reality

• Freedom to Vote Act – Overview via the Brennan Center for Justice

• John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act – Summary from Congress.gov

On Freedom: A Vision for Our Times

Timothy Snyder.

In a world grappling with political upheaval and the erosion of democratic norms, Yale historian Timothy Snyder offers a compelling redefinition of freedom. In his 2023 talk in Kyiv, titled Freedom as a Value and a Task, Snyder challenges conventional notions of liberty and presents a framework that resonates deeply with contemporary struggles for democracy.

From 'Freedom From' to 'Freedom To'

Snyder critiques the prevalent Western concept of negative freedom—defined as the absence of constraints—and advocates for a shift towards positive freedom, which emphasizes the capacity to act and make meaningful choices. He argues that true freedom is not merely about being left alone but about having the agency to shape one's life and society. This perspective is particularly poignant in the context of Ukraine's resistance against authoritarian aggression, where the fight is not just for survival but for the right to determine one's future.

The Five Pillars of Freedom

In his book On Freedom, Snyder outlines five essential dimensions of freedom:

1. Sovereignty: The ability of individuals and nations to self-govern without external domination.

2. Unpredictability: The openness to new experiences and the capacity for innovation and change.

3. Mobility: The freedom to move and the access to opportunities beyond one's immediate environment.

4. Factuality: A commitment to truth and the rejection of misinformation, which is vital for informed decision-making.

5. Solidarity: The recognition that individual freedom is interconnected with the freedom of others, fostering a sense of collective responsibility.

These pillars underscore that freedom is not an isolated endeavor but a communal one, requiring mutual support and shared values.

Freedom in Practice: Lessons from Ukraine

Snyder's engagement with Ukraine offers a real-world illustration of his theories. He observes that Ukrainians' pursuit of freedom is not abstract but grounded in daily acts of resilience and solidarity. Their struggle exemplifies how freedom involves active participation in democratic processes and the defense of human rights against oppressive forces.

Reclaiming Freedom in the Modern World

Snyder warns that the misinterpretation of freedom as mere individualism can lead to societal fragmentation and vulnerability to authoritarianism. He calls for a reinvigoration of democratic institutions and a recommitment to the collective aspects of freedom, such as education, healthcare, and civic engagement. By doing so, societies can build resilience against the forces that threaten liberty.

Further Reading

• Timothy Snyder: Freedom as a Value and a Task – Watch the full talk delivered in Kyiv: YouTube link

• Timothy Snyder, On Freedom

• Timothy Snyder, On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century

• Timothy Snyder, The Road to Unfreedom: Russia, Europe, America

• Timothy Snyder, Bloodlands: Europe Between Hitler and Stalin

Rethinking Migration and Citizenship in the 21st Century

An impression of the statue of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing.

In a time when migration policy dominates political debates across Europe, philosopher and political theorist Lea Ypi stands out as a compelling voice calling for a radical rethinking of what citizenship means—and for whom it serves. In her public lecture “Migration and Citizenship in the Twenty-First Century,” delivered in May 2025 at the historic Judenplatz in Vienna, Ypi challenged not just governments and institutions, but all of Europe, to examine its conscience.

Who is Lea Ypi?

Lea Ypi is an Albanian-British political theorist and professor at the London School of Economics. Born in Tirana, Albania in 1979, she came of age during the collapse of the communist regime and the tumultuous transition to liberal democracy. These formative experiences shaped her personal and philosophical outlook, which she explores in her internationally acclaimed memoir Free: Coming of Age at the End of History, a finalist for the 2021 Baillie Gifford Prize and winner of the Royal Society of Literature’s Ondaatje Prize.

Ypi’s academic work covers political theory, Enlightenment thought, Kant, Marxism, and contemporary questions of justice, freedom, and migration. Her voice is not only academic but deeply personal. When she speaks of borders, identity, and the struggle for belonging, it is from both a theoretical vantage point and lived experience.

A Statue, a Story, a Statement

Ypi opened her speech not with statistics or policy recommendations, but with a symbol: a statue of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, the Enlightenment thinker, whose figure stands in Judenplatz with an open hand and a gentle gaze. Lessing’s Nathan the Wise, a plea for interreligious understanding set during the Crusades, provides the moral and philosophical lens through which Ypi reflects on the migration crisis.

In the play, Nathan—himself a displaced Jew living under Muslim rule—resists all narrow labels and asks simply: “Isn’t it enough to be human?” For Ypi, this is the heart of the matter: the tendency to divide migrants into categories like "deserving" and "undeserving," "legal" and "illegal," "good" and "bad"—is a betrayal not just of humanism, but of Europe’s own Enlightenment ideals.

Beyond Good Migrants

Ypi tells the story of a childhood friend’s father in 1990s Albania—“Ben the Lame,” a dockworker turned smuggler, who helped people escape to Italy after the fall of the communist regime. Once celebrated as a facilitator of freedom, he died at sea and was later mourned by families who saw him as someone who enabled survival and dignity. “He wasn’t Nathan,” Ypi reflects. “He wasn’t a good migrant. He was a bad one.”

This dichotomy—between acceptable and unacceptable migrants—is at the heart of Ypi’s critique. She challenges the notion that migration is primarily a cultural problem. Rather, it is the consequence of global injustice: wars funded by the same Western states that deny asylum, economic collapse induced by neoliberal reforms, and health inequalities exacerbated by vaccine patents.

The Myth of Free Movement

Western nations have long preached the virtues of “freedom,” including the right to move. During the Cold War, dissidents who fled East Germany or the Soviet bloc were welcomed as heroic symbols of liberty. But when similar people—fleeing post-communist instability or Western-sponsored conflicts—arrive today, they are met with fences, patrols, and suspicion.

As Ypi argues: “Just when former socialist states stopped shooting their citizens at the border, capitalist states started patrolling the seas.” The uniforms changed, the logic of exclusion remained.

Capitalism, Class, and Commodification of Citizenship

One of Ypi’s most searing observations is how citizenship has become a commodity. The very rich can buy their way into almost any country through investor visas and golden passports. At the same time, the poor—those without the right education, income, or "cultural fit"—face impossible hurdles.

This two-tiered system, she argues, turns democracy into oligarchy: a regime where money buys belonging. “When citizenship is bought and sold, it ceases to be a tool for emancipation and becomes one of exclusion,” she says. It is not migration that undermines democracy, but the marketization of political membership.

What’s Really at Stake

For Ypi, the real crisis is not one of borders or integration, but of democratic failure:

• A failure of representation, where politicians respond more to donors and polls than to public interest;

• A failure of social justice, where inequality continues to rise;

• A failure of international solidarity, where global institutions fail the vulnerable.

Migration becomes a scapegoat for these deeper problems. “The migrant did not bring this crisis,” Ypi warns. “The migrant merely reveals it.”

A Call for Enlightenment—Not Nostalgia

In closing, Ypi returns to the Enlightenment, not as a Eurocentric relic, but as a critical, universalist project—one that urges us to think beyond borders, beyond identity, beyond obedience. “Obedience always requires ignorance,” she says. “And we are becoming used to not thinking.”

True cosmopolitanism, in Ypi’s view, isn’t about charity or humanitarianism. It’s about political transformation: building societies in which no one is forced to migrate because of war, hunger, or exclusion.

Her message is clear: Europe’s future cannot be built on walls, nor on nostalgia for greatness. It must be built on justice, equality, and critical thinking—on the courage, as Lessing once wrote, “to think for yourself.”

Further Reading:

• Full video on YouTube

• Lea Ypi’s website

• Free: Coming of Age at the End of History (Penguin, 2021)

Reimagining the Common Good: Lessons from the Convivencia and the Crisis of Liberalism

Christian and Moor playing chess, from The Book of Games of Alfonso X, c. 1285.

In Why Liberalism Failed, Patrick Deneen argues that the liberal project, grounded in radical individualism and the disembedding of human beings from tradition, has not failed because it fell short, but because it succeeded on its own terms—producing alienation, social fragmentation, and a loss of shared moral purpose. At first glance, this critique seems rooted in the tensions of the modern West. Yet we find a compelling historical counterpoint in an earlier age: the Golden Age of Córdoba and the broader phenomenon of Convivencia—the relative coexistence of Muslims, Jews, and Christians in medieval Spain. Juxtaposing these two case studies reveals that the health of a political order depends not only on individual liberty or centralized power but on a robust culture of the common good, nourished by shared tradition, moral formation, and civic integration. In looking to the past, we may find the seeds for renewal in the future.

Tradition as a Source of Cultural Flourishing

In Deneen’s telling, one of liberalism’s defining failures is its hostility to tradition. Liberalism seeks to liberate the individual from inherited norms—religion, family, custom, and place. But this liberation often results in an unmoored society, where identity becomes fragile and meaning elusive. In contrast, the cultural efflorescence of Córdoba during the 10th and 11th centuries rested on deeply rooted religious traditions. Muslim rulers, most notably Abd al-Rahman III and al-Hakam II, governed in accordance with Islamic principles while also patronizing philosophy, science, poetry, and architecture. Far from stifling creativity, tradition provided a moral and intellectual foundation that allowed diverse communities to flourish.

This medieval culture welcomed different faiths and cultures, but it still held firm to a common understanding of right and wrong. The Convivencia was not a utopia, but it did involve a negotiated space where religious differences coexisted within a shared cultural frame. Jewish and Christian thinkers such as Maimonides and Ibn Hazm could operate within this world because their traditions were not forcibly erased, but situated within a larger civic ecology. This speaks to a key insight missing in modern liberalism: a shared framework does not require uniformity. It requires mutual respect grounded in moral formation.

The Fragility of Freedom Without Virtue

Deneen emphasizes that liberalism has detached freedom from virtue. Once, liberty meant self-governance rooted in discipline, reason, and the common good. Liberalism redefined it as the right to do as one pleases, constrained only by minimal law. This “freedom from” eventually undermines social trust, as civic responsibility gives way to private consumption and rights-claims.

In Córdoba, by contrast, freedom was culturally and spiritually embedded. A Jew in 10th-century Andalusia was not “free” in the liberal sense, but was often able to flourish—economically, intellectually, and spiritually—within the protections of Islamic law. Muslim rulers saw themselves as stewards, not engineers of human nature. They recognized that freedom divorced from religious and philosophical virtue would dissolve into chaos.

What modern liberal societies often lack, and what Córdoba retained for a time, is a shared understanding that freedom is the fruit of virtue and order, not its enemy.

Community and Place in Civic Life

Liberalism tends to reduce community to a voluntary association of autonomous individuals. In practice, this means that the local, the familial, and the civic are eroded by globalized markets and centralized bureaucracies. Deneen is especially critical of how both market and state expand at the expense of local self-rule and moral formation.

In medieval Córdoba, however, identity was deeply tied to community, city, and craft. Learning was conducted in mosques and private homes. Artisans, scholars, and merchants all operated within a web of relational trust, embedded in their religious and neighborhood communities. Jews, for instance, preserved their own courts and educational institutions while contributing to the broader culture through translation, science, and philosophy. This rootedness gave meaning to life beyond the transactional.

The modern liberal order’s mobility and abstraction offer choices—but often at the expense of belonging and interdependence. The lesson from Córdoba is that diversity can thrive when situated in concrete practices of hospitality, shared learning, and civic responsibility—not when reduced to atomized tolerance.

The Common Good as a Civic Ideal

Finally, both Deneen and the legacy of Convivencia suggest that any enduring political order must be animated by a vision of the common good. For Córdoba, this meant an embrace of wisdom, virtue, and divine order across religious lines. For Deneen, recovering this ideal requires rejecting the liberal assumption that society is just a marketplace of preferences. Instead, politics must be reoriented around human flourishing in community.

This doesn’t necessitate theocracy or uniformity. But it does require a substantive notion of the good life—something liberalism often avoids in favor of neutrality. Córdoba's experience demonstrates that civic peace and cultural greatness are most possible when pluralism is guided by shared purpose, not endless individual autonomy.

Conclusion: Toward a Post-Liberal Imagination

Why Liberalism Failed warns us that the liberal order, for all its triumphs, may be hollowing out the very conditions that sustain human dignity and social coherence. The Golden Age of Córdoba offers a counter-narrative—imperfect, but instructive—where tradition, virtue, and plurality were integrated into a living civic order.

From these two visions—one a critique of modernity, the other a glimpse into a flourishing past—we can begin to imagine a new politics: one that balances freedom with virtue, honors tradition without tyranny, and pursues the common good over mere individual preference. Perhaps, in that synthesis, lies the hope for a more human future.

Further Reading:

1. Deneen, Patrick J. Why Liberalism Failed. Yale University Press, 2018.
   – The central critique of liberalism explored in the essay.

2. Menocal, María Rosa. The Ornament of the World: How Muslims, Jews, and Christians Created a Culture of Tolerance in Medieval Spain. Little, Brown, 2002.
   – A well-known, accessible account of Convivencia and the cultural flourishing of medieval Córdoba.

3. Fletcher, Richard. Moorish Spain. University of California Press, 1992.
   – A balanced historical account of Muslim rule in Spain, including the complexities of religious coexistence.

4. Constable, Olivia Remie. Medieval Iberia: Readings from Christian, Muslim, and Jewish Sources. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997.
   – A compilation of primary sources giving voice to the different religious communities in al-Andalus.

5. MacIntyre, Alasdair. After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory. University of Notre Dame Press, 1981.
   – An important influence on Deneen, arguing that modern moral discourse has become incoherent due to the loss of classical and religious frameworks.

6. Taylor, Charles. A Secular Age. Harvard University Press, 2007.
   – Explores how modern societies have redefined meaning and the self in the wake of religious tradition.

Biodiversity Day 2025: Why It Matters to What We Eat, Who We Are, and Whether We Survive

We are losing the fabric of life that sustains us — and most people barely notice. Biodiversity isn’t just about saving the bees or protecting a handful of rare animals. It’s about the intricate web of life — thousands of species, from soil microbes to insects to birds — working together in delicate balance. When that balance is disturbed, ecosystems begin to break down. And when ecosystems collapse, so do the systems we rely on for food, clean water, a stable climate, and good health. Our survival doesn’t depend on a few visible species — it depends on the whole living system. Biodiversity isn’t a luxury. It is the living infrastructure that keeps everything else standing.

Today, on International Day for Biological Diversity, we ask: What does biodiversity loss look like here in the Netherlands? How does our food system contribute to — and suffer from — the crisis? And why is this not only an ecological issue, but also a cultural one?

Biodiversity and Survival: Why It Matters

Biodiversity underpins everything humans depend on: pollination, clean air, nutrient cycles, disease control, and climate regulation. Forests absorb carbon. Wetlands purify water. Soil fungi help plants access nutrients. Insects control pests. All of these services depend on complex interactions between thousands of species.

When we lose biodiversity, we don’t just lose individual species. We lose the stability and resilience of entire ecosystems. A forest with fewer insects loses birds. A sea with fewer plankton starves its fish. A field without worms loses fertility. This degradation often happens quietly — until a tipping point is reached, and the system suddenly crashes.

What’s at stake, ultimately, is not just nature. It’s food security, public health, economic stability, and our ability to survive.

Our Food System: Both Cause and Casualty

In the Netherlands, the largest single driver of biodiversity loss is agriculture — especially industrial livestock farming. With nearly 4 million cows, 12 million pigs, and over 100 million chickens, our country produces enormous volumes of manure, more than the land and water can absorb.

This leads to:

• Nitrogen overload, damaging plant life and degrading soil

• Water pollution, harming aquatic species and drinking water quality

• Loss of habitat, as monocultures and fields replace diverse landscapes

• Decline in pollinators and beneficial insects, due to pesticides and habitat loss

Yet biodiversity is also essential for agriculture. Without healthy soils, diverse microbes, natural pest control, and pollinators, farming becomes fragile and heavily dependent on synthetic inputs. The result is a dangerous feedback loop: the more industrialized our farming becomes, the more we destroy the biodiversity that makes agriculture possible.

Breaking that cycle means reducing our dependence on livestock and intensive monoculture — and rethinking what ends up on our plates.

From Culture to Cultivation: How Nature Shapes Identity

Biodiversity is not only ecological. It is cultural.

Traditional foods, stories, medicines, and practices often emerge from a specific place — and the species found there. Dutch cuisine once relied heavily on regional grains, herbs, wild plants, and foraged ingredients. Local proverbs, festivals, and rituals were linked to seasons and landscapes. Lose the meadow, and the song about it disappears. Lose the eel, and so goes the smoked delicacy passed down for generations.

As biodiversity declines, so too does this cultural richness. Our relationship with nature becomes more abstract, less rooted in place. A handful of supermarket crops replace centuries of local food knowledge. Cultural diversity shrinks alongside biological diversity.

But there’s a flip side: restoring biodiversity can help restore culture. Reviving regional crops, preserving historic landscapes, or protecting pollinators doesn’t just help ecosystems — it reconnects people with their heritage, with land, and with each other.

What Needs to Happen

The 2025 Statusrapport Nederlandse Biodiversiteit from Naturalis makes one thing clear: we have the knowledge and tools to reverse biodiversity loss — but only if we act now and decisively. Key actions include:

1. Enforce environmental laws and targets, especially around nitrogen, land use, and water quality.

2. Transition to nature-inclusive agriculture, including fewer livestock and more regenerative methods.

3. Integrate biodiversity into climate, housing, and economic policy, not as a side issue but as a central pillar.

4. Invest in science and monitoring, including DNA-based soil analysis and AI-powered species recognition.

5. Support public participation, from citizen science to community nature restoration.

6. Shift dietary habits, reducing meat and dairy consumption to ease pressure on ecosystems.

This is not just a technical challenge — it’s a cultural one. Change won’t come from policy alone. It requires a shift in values, in consumption, and in the stories we tell about land, food, and ourselves.

What You Can Do

• Eat less meat. Choose more local, seasonal, plant-based foods.

• Support farmers and cooperatives who prioritize soil health and biodiversity.

• Join a citizen science project — or simply learn the names of the plants and insects around you.

• Advocate for policies that link nature, farming, climate, and health.

• Start conversations — at the kitchen table, at work, or at school — about how we can live well within the limits of nature.

Further Reading

• Naturalis Biodiversity Center (2025), Statusrapport Nederlandse Biodiversiteit 2025. Leiden, The Netherlands. DOI: 10.5281/zenodo.15350844

The Mating Mind in a Liquid World

On Attraction, Identity, and the Dance of Display

What do peacocks and poets have in common? According to evolutionary psychologist Geoffrey Miller, quite a lot. In The Mating Mind (2000), Miller proposes that many human traits—like creativity, humor, music, and even morality—evolved not just for survival, but for sexual selection. Much like a peacock’s tail, these traits may serve as signals of fitness, or genetic quality, designed to attract mates.

But how does this theory hold up in today’s fast-moving, unstable, and hyper-connected world—what sociologist Zygmunt Bauman calls liquid modernity? In a culture where identities shift, norms are fluid, and platforms for self-display multiply by the minute, the human desire to attract and impress others takes on new forms—and new anxieties.

This essay explores how the evolutionary logic of The Mating Mind operates within the cultural conditions of liquid culture, and what it means for how we present ourselves, choose partners, and construct meaning in our lives.

The Mating Mind: Attraction Through Display

Miller’s theory builds on Darwin’s idea of sexual selection—the process by which traits evolve because they are attractive to potential mates, not necessarily because they offer a survival advantage. For example, a bird’s complex song or a dancer’s graceful moves may signal underlying fitness.

Miller suggests that many of the traits we think of as uniquely human—language, art, kindness, philosophical thinking—may have evolved as courtship displays. These traits are expensive to develop and hard to fake, making them reliable indicators of intelligence and social ability.

In this view, much of human behavior can be seen as a form of mating performance: we signal our worth through wit, taste, creativity, and cultural capital. It’s not just about reproduction—it’s about being chosen.

Liquid Modernity: The Unstable Stage

Zygmunt Bauman, writing from a sociological perspective, paints a very different picture—but one that surprisingly complements Miller’s evolutionary lens. In Liquid Modernity (2000), Bauman describes modern life as fluid, unstable, and individualistic. Traditional roles, communities, and values have broken down. In their place, we’re left with a world where people must constantly reinvent themselves—socially, emotionally, and even romantically.

Where The Mating Mind sees courtship as a natural process shaped by evolutionary forces, Liquid Modernity shows us how that process is now happening on an unstable stage. The scripts have changed. The audience is global. And the performance never really ends.

Where They Meet: Display in a Liquid World

In many ways, modern culture supercharges the dynamics Miller describes. Social media platforms are digital arenas for self-display. Profiles, selfies, tweets, bios, and likes all become part of a carefully curated mating (and social) signal. Online dating apps like Tinder and Hinge reduce attraction to images and short texts—speeding up the display-and-selection process to an evolutionary blur.

But Bauman’s insights add a crucial twist: in liquid culture, the self is no longer fixed. We are constantly urged to rebrand, update, and improve ourselves—not only for employers or friends, but for potential romantic partners. The pressure to be attractive now extends far beyond physical looks: we must be interesting, woke, witty, emotionally intelligent, and Instagrammable.

Miller's evolutionary signals have not vanished—they’ve simply multiplied and fragmented, delivered through apps, memes, playlists, bios, and TikToks.

The Costs of Liquid Attraction

Bauman warns that in liquid society, relationships can become fragile and consumer-like. People are treated less like long-term partners and more like options to be tried and discarded. Love, once tied to community and ritual, becomes another space for choice, performance, and uncertainty.

This affects how we use our “mating minds.” If our displays are constantly shifting to keep up with trends, how do we know who we really are—or what kind of love we truly want? If the self becomes a performance, is there still an authentic core behind the show?

Conclusion: Between Biology and Culture

Geoffrey Miller and Zygmunt Bauman come from very different disciplines—evolutionary psychology and sociology—but together, they offer a powerful way to think about human connection today.

Miller reminds us that the drive to attract and impress is deep, ancient, and creative. Bauman shows us that in a world where everything flows, that drive becomes harder to satisfy, and more anxious to maintain.

We still seek to be seen, chosen, admired—but in a liquid world, that search is increasingly unstable. Understanding both the biology and the culture behind our desires may help us navigate the tension between display and depth, freedom and connection, and ultimately, between performance and presence.

Further Reading:

• Geoffrey Miller – The Mating Mind: How Sexual Choice Shaped the Evolution of Human Nature (2000)

• Zygmunt Bauman – Liquid Modernity (2000)

• Eva Illouz – Consuming the Romantic Utopia (1997)

• Sherry Turkle – Alone Together (2011)

• Byung-Chul Han – The Agony of Eros (2012)

Trump’s ‘Commercial Diplomacy’ and the Remaking of U.S. Foreign Policy

President Donald Trump and Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.

President Donald Trump’s recent whirlwind tour of the Middle East has grabbed headlines—not for saber-rattling or ideological speeches—but for something far more transactional: a staggering $2 trillion in business deals. From Saudi Arabia to Qatar, the United Arab Emirates to Pakistan, Trump’s second-term foreign policy is rewriting the rules. At the center of this transformation stands a bold concept: commercial diplomacy.

In a widely shared LinkedIn article, tech entrepreneur and investor Karl Mehta hails this shift as a “new era” in U.S. foreign policy—one that ditches decades of doctrine-driven alliances in favor of open markets, investment partnerships, and economic pragmatism. While Trump’s critics see recklessness and a disregard for human rights and long-standing allies, Mehta sees strategy: a dealmaker’s vision of peace and prosperity through commerce.

The Pivot to Business

What is commercial diplomacy? At its core, it’s using diplomatic influence not to spread democracy or contain threats, but to unlock trade opportunities, foster innovation, and secure investment. Trump’s version is unapologetically opportunistic. Instead of drawing red lines, he draws up contracts.

Consider the numbers:

• $600 billion pledged by Saudi Arabia, including massive investments in U.S. defense, AI, and energy.

• $243 billion in deals with Qatar, featuring Boeing aircraft and defense systems.

• $14.5 billion from the UAE for aircraft and data centers.

These are not mere memoranda of understanding—they're strategic bets on a world where America’s power is measured in partnerships and product lines, not only in military bases or moral posturing.

Rewriting the Rules: Syria, Pakistan, and China

Trump’s deal-making extends far beyond the Gulf. In a surprise move, he lifted all U.S. sanctions on Syria, opening the door for American investment in reconstruction projects. This move was reportedly brokered with Saudi backing—a clear signal that economic inclusion trumps past hostilities.

Similarly, Pakistan, long criticized for harboring terrorist groups, is now being offered a zero-tariff trade deal. It's a decision that many foreign policy veterans find shocking—especially given the potential to alienate India, America’s democratic partner and economic powerhouse.

And then there's China. Despite ongoing tensions, Trump finalized a new trade pact aimed at reducing tariffs and expanding market access. For Mehta, this underscores a core belief of commercial diplomacy: competition doesn't preclude cooperation.

From Diplomats to Dealmakers

Perhaps the most symbolic shift is in who’s leading U.S. foreign relations. Trump’s foreign policy team features not career diplomats but Wall Street and real estate magnates—people like Howard Lutnick and Steven Witkoff. These figures speak the language of leverage and liquidity, not protocol or public service.

This, Mehta argues, is the point: in a world driven by capital flows and digital infrastructure, business minds may be better equipped than bureaucrats to navigate geopolitical complexity.

A Double-Edged Strategy

Yet for all the optimism, the risks are real.

Critics, including writers in The New York Post and The Guardian, warn that Trump’s policies could alienate traditional allies like Israel, who now fear being sidelined in favor of deals with Iran or the Houthis in Yemen. Others caution that prioritizing commerce over democratic values might empower authoritarian regimes and erode America's moral authority.

Moreover, there’s the question of sustainability. Are these deals built to last, or will they unravel with the next administration—or the next diplomatic crisis?

The Verdict: A World in Transaction

Whether one sees Trump’s commercial diplomacy as visionary or volatile, it undeniably marks a rupture with the past. Karl Mehta calls it “the engine driving America’s engagement with the world.” And for now, at least, the world appears eager to buy in.

In a global order shaken by war, pandemics, and economic upheaval, Trump is betting that dollars and data centers will succeed where doctrines have failed. The question is whether this business-first foreign policy can build a stable and just global future—or whether it will leave the United States richer but more isolated.

Why So Many Evangelicals Embraced Trump

It surprised many: a movement known for preaching morality and humility threw its weight behind a man famous for neither. But the strong support Donald Trump received from American evangelicals wasn’t a fluke or a betrayal of faith—it revealed how much the meaning of that faith had already changed.

Over recent decades, a significant part of evangelical culture shifted from focusing on personal virtue to defending group identity. As American culture became more diverse and secular, many white evangelicals began to feel sidelined. They no longer saw themselves as moral leaders, but as a misunderstood, even persecuted minority. This loss of status bred resentment and fear.

Trump didn’t share their theology—but he spoke to their sense of threat. He promised to fight for them, to “Make America Great Again,” which many heard as restoring their place in the cultural mainstream. He didn’t need to be Christ-like. He just needed to be loyal to their side.

In this new mindset, traditional virtues like kindness or humility became less important than toughness and loyalty. Supporting Trump became a signal—not of shared values, but of shared enemies. Faith, for many, became less about living like Jesus and more about winning a culture war.

This shift didn’t happen overnight. It was the result of years of mixing faith with politics, fear with identity. Trump didn’t cause the change. He exposed it.

Further Reading

• Kristin Kobes DuMez – Jesus and John Wayne

• David French – essays on faith and politics

• Tara Isabella Burton – Self-Made

• Alain de Botton – Status Anxiety

• Nancy LeTourneau – “The Status Anxiety of White Evangelicals”

Is American Democracy Dying Faster Than We Think?

For many in Europe, the United States has long stood as a symbol of liberal democracy — a nation of checks and balances, independent courts, and robust public debate. But leading democracy scholars Staffan Lindberg and Michael Miller are now warning that this image no longer reflects reality. According to them, the U.S. is undergoing one of the most rapid shifts toward authoritarianism in modern democratic history.

Lindberg, who directs a global democracy research programme, notes that in countries like Hungary or Turkey, the erosion of democracy happened step by step, often over the course of a decade. In the U.S., the dismantling of democratic norms appears to be unfolding in months. Political allies convicted of violent acts are being pardoned, watchdog institutions are being dismantled, and judges are increasingly being bypassed or ignored. These are not minor deviations, Lindberg argues, but fundamental attacks on the core of democratic governance.

One of the most concerning shifts is cultural rather than institutional: the spread of fear. In Washington, CEOs, university presidents, and civil servants have begun to censor themselves — not by law, but through intimidation and self-preservation. This, Lindberg warns, is precisely how democratic systems collapse — not with a coup, but with quiet acquiescence.

Michael Miller adds a crucial point: just because elections continue does not mean democracy remains intact. In many countries classified as “electoral autocracies,” the ritual of voting persists, but media, courts, and public discourse are hollowed out. Increasingly, the U.S. is showing the same patterns — including political retaliation against critics, manipulation of legal institutions, and the shrinking of the public space for dissent.

For European observers, the message is twofold. First, the decline of democracy can happen anywhere — even in the most established republics. Second, if institutions like the judiciary and parliament fail to act as counterweights, the transition toward authoritarianism can become normalized. What is most urgently needed now, both in the U.S. and globally, is the courage to defend democratic principles — not in theory, but in practice.

From Europe, the question is no longer whether American democracy is in crisis. It is how — and whether — it can recover.

Further Reading

• Democracy Report 2025 – Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) Institute

• Why Democracies Develop and Decline – by Staffan I. Lindberg and others

• “In a real sense, US democracy has died” – The Guardian, February 2025

• “People Are Going Silent” – The New York Times, March 2025

• “The Democracy Threat Index and January 6” – Protect Democracy

Culture in the Age of Fluidity

Zygmunt Bauman.

What does it mean to be a culture lover today? In the past, it might have meant being deeply engaged with art, literature, music, or theatre—spending years exploring the same authors, attending classical performances, or discussing big ideas in small salons. It was about depth, commitment, and being part of something bigger than yourself.

But today, in what sociologist Zygmunt Bauman called the era of liquid modernity, things may well have changed.

From Tradition to Trend

In the world of “solid modernity,” culture was stable and guided by shared traditions. To love culture meant joining a kind of intellectual community, whether through reading, studying, or creating. People built long-term relationships with ideas, art forms, and cultural institutions.

Now, culture flows fast. With endless access to music, film, books, and visual content, people often dip into culture rather than dive deep. We swipe, scroll, and sample. Loving culture today often means following what’s new, curating playlists, or sharing favorite clips online. It’s no longer just about learning—it’s also about self-expression and identity.

From Community to Personal Brand

In this fluid world, culture is less of a shared experience and more of a personal playlist. Social media encourages us to present our taste as part of our brand. A love of culture becomes something to display—on a profile, in a bio, or through what we post—rather than something we grow into slowly.

This shift brings both freedom and fragmentation. On the one hand, more people have access to art, ideas, and creativity than ever before. On the other, we’re often doing it alone—each of us tuned into our own algorithm-driven bubble, with fewer shared cultural spaces that bring us together.

A New Way of Loving Culture?

Still, being a culture lover today doesn’t have to mean just following trends. In fact, in a world that moves this fast, choosing to slow down—to read a long novel, sit with a difficult painting, or attend a live performance—can be a quiet act of resistance. It can be a way of reconnecting with yourself and others, of seeking meaning in a time when everything is in motion.

Culture in the age of fluidity asks something new of us: not to go back in time, but to find depth within the flow, and to rebuild spaces where ideas and emotions can be shared—not just streamed.

Putin’s People

Why Catherine Belton’s Revelations Matter More Than Ever in 2025

In the years since Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, the world has grappled with a stark realization: the conflict wasn’t an aberration — it was the culmination of a decades-long strategy. That strategy is the subject of Putin’s People, a groundbreaking 2020 book by British investigative journalist Catherine Belton. Five years later, its insights are not only relevant — they’re essential.

At first glance, Putin’s People tells the story of Vladimir Putin’s rise to power. But it is much more than a biography. It is a chilling exposé of how a network of ex-KGB operatives — the siloviki — used the chaos of the Soviet Union’s collapse to reconstitute a state rooted not in democratic ideals but in secrecy, surveillance, and power for its own sake.

From the Shadows of the KGB to the Heart of the Kremlin

Belton, a former Moscow correspondent for the Financial Times, draws on deep research and insider interviews to trace Putin’s career from a mid-level intelligence officer in Dresden to the undisputed ruler of Russia. She paints a picture of a man — and a system — forged in the twilight years of the Soviet Union, who never accepted the West's version of post-Cold War peace.

Instead of embracing liberal democracy, Putin and his KGB-linked allies embarked on a methodical campaign to take back control of Russia’s political and economic systems. Their tools were not tanks or ideology, but gas pipelines, state-run banks, and offshore shell companies.

As Belton shows, they didn't just rebuild power inside Russia — they exported it. Through “strategic corruption,” Kremlin-linked oligarchs and state enterprises funneled billions through Western financial systems, quietly gaining influence in European capitals, American boardrooms, and even in politics.

Undermining Democracy with Its Own Tools

The genius — and danger — of this strategy lies in its subtlety. Belton describes how the Kremlin used Western openness against itself: investing in real estate, funding political campaigns, laundering money through elite law firms and banks. The goal? To weaken democratic institutions from the inside, all while maintaining plausible deniability.

These revelations are no longer abstract warnings. They’ve come to life in headlines: suspicious campaign donations, energy blackmail, cyberattacks, and a global disinformation war. In many ways, Belton wrote the playbook before the world realized it was playing the game.

The full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 did not contradict her thesis — it confirmed it. It was not a deviation from Putin’s long game, but the next logical step. It revealed the raw force behind the polished economic and diplomatic fronts Belton had described. And it left democracies scrambling to confront a threat they had long underestimated.

The West’s Late Awakening — and Ongoing Vulnerability

Now, in 2025, much has changed — but much hasn’t. Sanctions have tightened, alliances have been tested, and Russia’s internal stability has grown shakier. Yet the networks of influence Belton mapped out have not disappeared. If anything, they have adapted.

In a year when artificial intelligence, energy transitions, and cyber-vulnerabilities dominate global discussions, the threats Belton identified have morphed rather than diminished. The Kremlin’s methods — financial subterfuge, elite co-optation, and media manipulation — are still being deployed, just on new terrain.

As Western democracies struggle with polarization and a rising tide of authoritarianism globally, Putin’s People serves as both a warning and a guide. It shows how easily democratic systems can be compromised when vigilance fades — and how the fight for democracy increasingly requires financial transparency, media literacy, and resilient institutions.

A Book That Predicted the Future

What makes Putin’s People stand out is not just the detail of its reporting, but its foresight. Belton did not merely describe a corrupt regime; she exposed a geopolitical strategy that has shaped the world we live in today.

Her work was so provocative that it triggered lawsuits from some of the Russian billionaires it named — a sign, perhaps, that it hit uncomfortably close to the truth.

If there is a lesson in Belton’s book for 2025, it’s this: the threats to democracy often wear suits, speak fluent English, and arrive bearing investments, not weapons. But they are no less real. Understanding how these systems of control were built — and how they continue to operate — is the first step in dismantling them.

For anyone seeking to understand the architecture of modern authoritarianism, and how it challenges the liberal world order, Putin’s People is no longer just a vital read. It’s essential.

Machines That Don’t Listen

Eric Schmidt’s Stark AI Warning

In 2026, we may witness the beginning of the end of human dominance—not in science fiction, but in the real world, according to former Google CEO Eric Schmidt. Speaking at the Special Competitive Studies Project, Schmidt issued a clear and chilling warning: artificial intelligence, now capable of recursive self-improvement, is accelerating faster than our institutions, laws, and collective understanding can keep pace with.

While many still debate whether AI is overhyped or underwhelming, Schmidt asserts that we are underestimating what’s really at stake. He refers to the emergence of Artificial Super Intelligence (ASI)—a point where computers no longer just assist humans but become more intelligent than all of us combined. "They're learning how to plan. And they don’t have to listen to us anymore," Schmidt states flatly. That isn’t the premise of a sci-fi thriller. It’s a glimpse into a very near future.

A World Written by Machines

One of Schmidt's more startling claims is that within a year, AI could be writing nearly all of the code that powers our digital infrastructure. Programming—once a human-driven craft—is quickly being outsourced to machines. AI isn't just helping developers anymore; it's replacing them. Systems like OpenAI’s GPT-4.1, Anthropic’s Claude MCP, and Google’s A2A are spearheading the rise of “AI agents”—systems that learn, remember, and act on complex tasks independently.

Schmidt envisions a world where these agents don't just write code, but also manage real-world tasks autonomously: purchasing property, designing homes, hiring contractors, managing logistics, even suing underperforming workers. It's both amusing and alarming: the automation of everything.

We May Be Out of Work—But Will We Be Out of Purpose?

The inevitable question arises: what happens to human labor? Will AI replace everyone? Schmidt is cautiously optimistic, referencing past technological revolutions that created more jobs than they destroyed. But even he admits: this time might be different.

Unlike the mechanical looms of the 18th century, ASI doesn't merely replace physical effort—it replaces cognition. When AI becomes better than humans at programming, science, law, architecture, and art, it's no longer a question of displacement, but of relevance. Can humanity redefine its role in a world where machines are the creators?

AI in the Lab: From Drug Discovery to Immortality?

Perhaps the most compelling—and terrifying—possibility is AI’s fusion with biotechnology. Schmidt references a project he’s invested in: an AI system trained in chemistry, connected to a robotic lab. This system generates drug candidates overnight and tests them in real-time, drastically accelerating discovery. The goal? Identify all human “druggable targets” within two years.

If successful, such systems could unlock treatments for countless diseases, possibly extending human life to the point of longevity escape velocity—a term referring to the idea that for every year we live, AI-enabled medicine adds more than a year to our lifespan.

But this also raises a deeper philosophical issue: what happens when AI understands biology better than any human scientist? Schmidt foresees a future where we use AI systems daily, even though no human fully understands how they work. Trust replaces comprehension. Use replaces knowledge.

The Race With China—and the Risk of Conflict

AI isn't just transforming society; it's shifting global power. China is taking AI more seriously than any other technological endeavor in its history. The U.S. response has been to restrict access to advanced chips and consider bans on Chinese-developed AI models like DeepSeek.

But in a world where open-source AI proliferates, and the pace of progress is dictated by whoever scales fastest, tensions could escalate dramatically. Schmidt even poses the unthinkable: would the U.S. ever consider bombing a foreign data center to prevent AI dominance? The line between cyber competition and kinetic conflict grows thinner by the day.

What Now?

The takeaway from Eric Schmidt’s warning isn’t just that AI is advancing—it’s that we, as societies, are not prepared. Not legally, not culturally, and not morally. The arrival of ASI isn’t just a technological milestone. It’s a civilizational turning point.

We must begin thinking seriously about AI governance, ethics, and global coordination. Because if the smartest “person” in the room is no longer human, who sets the rules?

Further Reading:

• Eric Schmidt & Henry Kissinger’s book The Age of AI and Our Human Future

• Nick Bostrom’s Superintelligence: Paths, Dangers, Strategies

• OpenAI’s papers on GPT-4, agent models, and AI safety: https://openai.com/research

• Future of Life Institute: https://futureoflife.org

• Anthropic’s work on Constitutional AI: https://www.anthropic.com