Soaked in drizzle and beer for openers, boiled beef as an entrée, and constipation for dessert.
Why bother?
London, I figured, is what happens when an empire is forced into retirement and has to downsize – a damp city of souvenirs, visible only in the dim light reflected off the self-satisfied grin of an erstwhile hegemon. In Anglo-Saxon: a city where cankles are pickled in gin and stuffed in heels under a canopy of ceremonial hats on their way to the races.
I had seen enough of London to know that it wasn’t all damp tweed and tea. And I wasn’t wholly ignorant of its more contemporary contributions to culture (Bond, Burgess, Banksy, the Beatles), but it always seemed like more of a halfway house for things Great Britain before crossing the Atlantic to go global – a secondary concern.
Then my fellow Americans elected Trump. For a second time.
Meanwhile, the ethnic cleansing of Semites was never again going on in Gaza with the American military standing overwatch.
There’s never a good time for a Trump administration or for suborning genocide. But with our son less than a year from applying to university the timing couldn’t be worse. Our expatriate life notwithstanding, we had always considered an American university education obligatory. That is, until we saw U.S. universities kowtow to Trump’s threats and curtail freedom of expression with the pliancy of a damp cardboard protest sign.
When the guardians of the rule of law began negotiating exemptions under similar threats, we knew we had to look for alternatives.
Forlorn, we turned our gaze to the Old World – where, for the time being, fascism was still being held at bay – and booked an exploratory trip to London curated by Banyan Educational Consultancy.
Our journey from Heathrow to St John’s Wood was made under pleasantly surprising morning sunlight. The pace was the same slow slog through pedestrian crossings we had always encountered, but this time it seemed less like congestion and more like machines politely giving way to people.
The dusty bric-a-brac of empire had vanished. London now stood smiling upright with the pride of a meticulously kept archive.
Even the construction sites – reliable eyesores elsewhere – looked as if they had submitted their hoarding for aesthetic approval. Invisibly jointed panels of painted wood encased the bases of perfectly aligned scaffolding, each one begging our pardon for the interruption with an earnestness that almost felt monastic.
There was a general harmony to this polyglot London — a civic self-respect that had survived the melting pot. Everything appeared nicely coordinated and composed, like an orchestra tuning itself.
In the sunlight, the descendants of the hackney coach impressed as monuments to British forward thinking and design ingenuity. Unlike the lazy genius of painting every taxi yellow and calling it a system — London’s black cabs were bespoke: designed from the chassis up to transport you comfortably whilst you continued your conversation.
And like so much else here, they were the product of such careful consideration that their evolution is barely noticeable: today’s cabs hum along in hybrid silence almost indistinguishable from their petrol-driven grandparents.
The food — long the international punchline — has also stepped up.
Pubs have gone gastro retaining the services of culinary wizards to innovate beyond traditional offerings and transform once dull slabs of roast beef into piquant medallions of grass-fed filets.
In the space of days, I ate my way across the former Empire: Greek at Lemonia, Japanese at Roketsu, Indian at Darjeeling Express, Persian at Kish. Bagels at Panzer’s Deli and ramen at Kanada-Ya, hot chocolate at WatchHouse and cappuccino at Hagen.
It is as though the city had finally stopped trying to hide its sordid past and started making the best of it instead.
As a bonus, London remains literate to this day – evidenced by the number of bookshops still able to afford brick and mortar rents on the High Street.
To be sure there’s been consolidation and many independent booksellers have vanished – but that may have been more the result of herd trading than actual economics. Judging by a shelf highlighting titles of the moment, tastes remain sophisticated and eclectic – Surrounded by Idiots; A Book Against Death; How to Read a Tree; A Winter Book; How to Stand Up to a Dictator.
Mindset matters.
I would be deluding myself if I thought London had just recently emerged from its chrysalis. There were clearly considerations nudging this affinity into being.
Our highs were certainly buoyed by dear old friends who had recently moved to London from Den Haag. Walking its streets with them gave the city a fond familiarity, recalibrating our focus onto things we liked rather than things we expected not to.
The prospect of K Dupaix attending university here also forced us to find opportunities where we would have otherwise seen risks. Again, nudged – not forced. (And helped me, not us. Mum is preternaturally positive.)
We were shown around K’s short list of Unis by N. Like everyone at Banyan, N is a highly educated professional with a long list of qualifications who happened to have graduated from one of the schools we were visiting. She is also the first person I had ever met that suffers from loose ligaments. I had no idea such a condition even existed.
I know everyone is unique and special, but people in London are fascinatingly so.
Guy Hill, for example – one of the proprietors of Dashing Tweeds – has, with his co-founder, transformed tweed in a way that makes you want to move to London and wear it as much as possible. And if you want to get around on bicycle, you can have a jacket made in Lumatwill: a tweed woven with a high-vis reflective thread, sporting elegance in the day safe travels by night!
NOW, THEREFORE, in consideration of the premises and the mutual covenants set forth herein and for other good and valuable consideration that I just can’t get into right now, the Dupaixes are moving to London.
At least until the winter – when London, like all great things, reminds one that nothing easy is worth having.
With the guardrails down and the bus dangerously tilting into the ravine on the turns, the talking heads upfront joined together to repeat the refrain “Shalom, he should just go home” on the daily news as the First Amendment was turned into an irrelevant detail. This post was supposed to be a follow-up to My Last reaching out to those in the Jewish community who are fighting the madness that is being perpetrated in their name by MAGA in concert with Jewish Supremacy groups.
But something more urgent has come up.
Expressions of foodgasms are reaching pandemic levels. No matter your algorithm, a few swipes in—if not the very first post—you’ll be assailed by someone taking a fist-sized bite of their latest culinary triumph and melting into a slow-motion orgasm. Eyes shut, body swaying, moaning with pleasure.
When was this normalized?
Far be it from me to police people’s joy. Food is pleasure, and maybe—just maybe—some people really do experience deep-throated arousal from a well-toasted grilled cheese. Fine. I will allow that. But who, exactly, asked to see their faces inflagrante delicto?
If we were being forced to witness the rare moment when someone encounters an orchestra of flavors they’ve never experienced, I would simply have looked the other way. Although I would have thought a genuine experience along those lines would be more wonder than whoopee, had this been the case, I would have just gone on my merry way. But no, this is now every food post, every day.
Not to go all slippery slope on you but someone will soon up the ante and so we must ask ourselves, what’s next? In-mouth cameras streaming the dirty act of mastication.
Let’s be honest – if food is your profession, if you taste and critique it every day, are you really experiencing daily papillae erections?Every single thing you slap together—every slice of avocado toast, every sip of bone broth—is just so exquisite that your gustatory cells blow your eyes shut?
Have you no decency Sir? Madam? Siredam?
Please stop.
And if you share my distress, please reach out to the billionaire dictating online decency in your part of the world and ask them to show some integrity by putting foodgasms behind a paywall. Do it for the children.
Niall Ferguson cautioned that empires unravel from within when the institutions meant to sustain them weaken under the strain of their own inefficacy, eroding public trust as they cease to fulfill their intended purpose. The American empire has not yet disintegrated, but its foundations have been critically undermined. Once destabilization reaches a tipping point, the descent is swift and irreversible. Watching the news, it certainly appears as though we’ve crossed the Rubicon.
The Deep State, ostensibly the mechanism that should have mitigated such an implosion, was and continues to be systematically vilified and dismantled. The very apparatus responsible for insulating democratic governance from impulsive political excess was delegitimized by the very elites it was designed to serve. The power elite failed to recognize the peril of abandoning their stabilizing mechanisms.
Rather than act as the shadowy, conspiratorial force caricatured in populist rhetoric, the Deep State has historically functioned as a necessary ballast, preserving institutional integrity amid fluctuating political landscapes. However, its failure to navigate a treacherous political realignment—and its inability to circumvent the populist revolt against expertise and bureaucratic governance—has left American democracy increasingly vulnerable to collapse. In the absence of stable institutions, governance defaults to personality-driven rule, where spectacle and gut instinct replace deliberation and strategy.
The postwar American state was structured around an expanding bureaucratic and security apparatus that safeguarded economic stability, strategic hegemony, and social order. From the 1940s to the early 2000s, institutional growth coincided with the expansion of the middle class and the maintenance of a delicate equilibrium between economic elites and the general populace.
However, as institutions ossified, their fundamental purpose—protecting the middle class from the unrestrained ambitions of the ruling class and restraining elite overreach—was abandoned. The 2008 financial crisis revealed this failure with devastating clarity: banks were rescued while working-class homeowners were left to absorb the collapse. The Iraq War further discredited institutional legitimacy, exposing the military-industrial complex’s predatory interests as contractors reaped fortunes while veterans returned to shattered lives.
Globalization, as much maligned as the Deep State, was executed without guardrails—without mechanisms that could have balanced local economic strength, national security, and long-term stability. Instead of serving as a model for inclusive economic expansion, it was weaponized by corporate interests, enabling a mushrooming class of new billionaires to maximize profit at the expense of national resilience.
The expansion of global markets created unparalleled opportunities for capital accumulation, allowing corporate giants to optimize production through the exploitation of cheap labor while expanding their consumer base to a global population of eight billion. This was not globalization’s failure, but rather the failure of institutions to regulate its trajectory—to ensure that economic expansion did not result in unchecked wealth concentration and the erosion of domestic economic stability.
The billionaires and multinational corporations that emerged from this transformation did so by systematically reducing production costs through labor arbitrage while maintaining high-margin profitability in the wealthiest consumer markets. The institutions that once constrained corporate excess were no longer equipped to mediate the balance between capital and labor; instead, they facilitated the very conditions that entrenched economic disparity.
Similarly, the Deep State is neither benevolent nor malevolent; nor can it be dismissed as “anti-democratic” if it works to safeguard a democratic republic. Considering that it is an amalgamation of bureaucratic frameworks, intelligence agencies, regulatory bodies, and financial institutions that collectively function as the administrative machinery of governance, it is not an agent of authoritarian control but rather a structural necessity, ensuring policy continuity beyond electoral volatility. Democracy requires this.
History provides clear precedents for what happens when institutional stability collapses. The Roman Republic unraveled not solely because of Julius Caesar’s ambition but because the Senate—once the state’s bureaucratic ballast—lost its ability to constrain executive overreach, allowing populist demagoguery to replace deliberative governance. The Ottoman Empire did not simply fall to external pressures; its ruling bureaucracy weakened while the Janissary corps, originally an elite military force loyal to the state, transformed into a self-serving political faction, resisting reform and prioritizing its own privileges over imperial stability. The Qing Dynasty collapsed when its bureaucracy—once a model of Confucian meritocracy—failed to modernize in response to industrial and imperialist pressures, leading to economic stagnation and foreign encroachment.
Each of these cases underscores the same principle: when the administrative institutions designed to balance power falter, the door opens for opportunists, who, instead of strengthening the system, accelerate its collapse.
We are living in an era where vitalism is holding sway over determined managerialism. Popular psychology elevates manifestation, energy, and intuitive impulse over deliberate, systematic action. Self-help gurus preach that intention shapes reality, that vision alone bends the arc of events. It is no wonder, then, that political leadership has begun to mirror this trend—governing less through strategic calculation and institutional rigor and more through charisma, instinct, and performance.
To be sure, human limitations require that iterative deliberation be cut off at a certain point, and decisions must be made. The presence of urgency does not, however, justify the abandonment of rational process in favor of blind impulse. The political organism, much like the biological one, cannot survive on unregulated spontaneity alone.
This is where Iain McGilchrist’s theory of brain lateralization provides a useful lens. The right hemisphere, associated with intuition, emotion, and big-picture thinking, thrives on immediacy and gut feeling. The left hemisphere, by contrast, specializes in analysis, categorization, and procedural structuring—the very faculties necessary for sustained governance. In a functional system, these two domains are in balance, with the right hemisphere generating vision and the left implementing it.
But when vitalism dominates without an institutional counterweight, governance devolves into erratic decision-making, unmoored from structure, precedent, or strategic foresight. It is the political equivalent of governing from the right hemisphere without left-hemispheric constraints.
The United States, once a paragon of structured managerialism, is increasingly operating in this state of dysfunction, where policy is dictated by emotional reaction, spectacle, and the immediacy of the news cycle rather than by institutional continuity and long-term planning.
Historically, no enduring state has thrived under unchecked vitalism. Napoleon’s France, the Third Reich, and even Imperial Japan all relied heavily on emotional mobilization and ideological fervor, but each succumbed to the limits of unregulated ambition—overextension, internal instability, and the inability to manage power in the long term.
Lee Kuan Yew’s Singapore, by contrast, succeeded precisely because it recognized the necessity of institutional discipline. A strong state, like a strong mind, must balance intuition with structure, instinct with rational oversight.
If history has taught us anything, it is that once the guardrails are gone, they do not reappear on their own. The Power Elite who believe they can ride this storm without consequence are mistaken. The time for course correction is vanishing, and when the reckoning comes, it will not be evenly distributed.
I don’t mean your clothes succumbing to centripetal forces during the spin cycle. I am referring to the mass churning of content that has reached a nauseating crescendo – everywhere and all the time.
Your inbox, the local deli, department store, tvOS – stuff is just being ejaculated onto us in a streaming orgy of rapid ephemeral consumption. None of our senses have been spared this onslaught.
“Would you care to taste this new Yerba plucked from the primeval forests along the Paraná River?…”
“May I interest you in the Dalai Llama’s new limited edition fragrance Eau d’Eclaircissement?…“
“Feel this against your cheek, our sweaters are made from the lovingly shorn soft groin hairs of the vicuña that visit our manufacture to snack on our organically raised graminoids...”
We have even created markets and products for the minimalist ascetics among us – after all ’tis the season and you can run but you cannot hide.
This past weekend, my concubine and I, warm and snug in our vicuña pajamas, sat sipping Yerba Mate from the adorned and hollowed calabash we had sustainably made by the last remaining ancestor of the Guarani people. We were scrolling through the offerings on TV+, Netflix, Hulu, OSN and Amazon Prime to select something to play between check-ins with our mobile announcements. We landed on Lonely Planet (2024) as we are planning a trip to Morocco and thought it would help get us in the mood.
Obviously the title is already off-putting as one cannot help but associate it with the publication that was founded on the principle of democratizing global travel bringing to mind cruise ships docked in a Venetian quay. But what is one to do when there are a million channels and nothing to watch.
It didn’t take long for the stench of perishable pablum to fill the room as the hotel concierge manufactures a puzzled look and puts to bestselling author Firstname Lastname (played by Laura Dern) the presumptuous question – where is the rest of your luggage – to drive home the point that it has been lost in case we missed it checking in on our socials.
The movie is splattered throughout with asian squat shits taken on Morocco’s charmingly unreliable and primitive infrastructure – plumbing problem, day long flat repair, food poisoning, pickpockets. I thought back to Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Sheltering Sky (1990) and couldn’t help but draw a cinematic trajectory from depth to disposability between that North African journey and this one.
None need go too far past the titles to recognize that Lonely Planet stands as a stark counterpoint to The Sheltering Sky. One, a dense and layered exploration of existential dislocation as the protective canopy spread across the brutal beauty of the North African desert ultimately proves incapable of shielding us from life’s harsh realities, the other a disappointing mistake picked up at the second window of the drive-thru at Aïn Sebaâ.
One, based on a novel by Paul Bowles featuring complex authentic characters transformed by the land that birthed Albert Camus, the other a trite screenplay ironically about published authors, each an archetype caricature easily recognized by members of the book club, who could have retreated together anywhere on this Lonely Planet.
This cinematic arc, from The Sheltering Sky to Lonely Planet, reflects the same flattening of experience that has taken place in travel and culture.
Whereas travel was once a source of self-confrontation and discovery, today it’s increasingly curated for instant consumption and digital display. The depth and introspection have faded, replaced by the immediacy of a good shot, a short post, a quick caption, and then — onwards. This cultural shift aligns disturbingly well with our broader throwaway society, where trends emerge and fade with algorithmic speed, often lacking in substance and resilience.
Set aside whether the comparison is fair. One could certainly find motion pictures today that would stand as giants against a Lilliputian release from the past starring Hulk Hogan for example.
Nevertheless, the juxtaposition suggests an unsettling trend: as we become more adept at “capturing” experiences, we may lose our ability to experience them with a modicum of profundity. Like the protagonists in The Sheltering Sky, we may find ourselves facing a void that cannot be filled by images or fleeting impressions, no matter how well composed they are.
In the 1990s, an average of 300-400 films were released annually in the U.S., but by 2022, that number exceeded 800 for theatrical releases alone. Add in the exponential increase in streaming content, with platforms like Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Disney+ producing hundreds of original films and series annually, and the volume far outpaces prior decades.
While a 1990s movie might take 2-3 years from development to release, today’s films (particularly those for streaming) are often greenlit, shot, edited, and distributed within 12-18 months. Studios are incentivized to turn around films quickly to maintain their subscriber bases, leading to a higher output at the cost of depth and craftsmanship.
Streaming platforms have fostered a trend where films and shows are binged, briefly discussed, and then swiftly forgotten as audiences move on to the next release. Netflix, for instance, measures success not by critical acclaim or cultural staying power but by “watch time” within the first 28 days, a metric that favors quick, digestible content over films with long-term resonance.
In theaters, films used to have a longer shelf life, with popular movies sometimes staying for months. Streaming platforms, however, rely on immediate viewership data to determine a title’s success, often leading to titles being quickly promoted and then “buried” in the feed once new content is released.
A 2022 report from Ampere Analysis noted that 75% of titles on streaming platforms are not “flagship” content but are there to pad libraries and keep viewers constantly engaged.
Research shows viewers are increasingly unable to recall what they watched on streaming services after a short period, a stark contrast to the memorable films of previous decades that left lasting impressions.
What is more, and perhaps paradoxically so, is that while stuff is blasting out at us through a high pressure hose, this fecundity has not yielded greater diversity. Quite the contrary. All safe travel options anywhere in the world will have espresso available. Anywhere you go today that has a pharmacy in town or big-box grocery store will probably carry the toothpaste you use back home. Certain fruits and vegetables can be had the world over anywhere at any time.
The easier it has become to travel, the less reason there is to do so as the upper middle-class flies from Four Seasons Whistler to Four Seasons Koh Samui with airport pickup and drop-off pre-arranged.
Remember when the world was drawing lessons from our COVID experience about the coked-up pace of the human experience and the impact it is having on this Lonely Planet? That didn’t last too long.
Felix Saxa sat down with Renard Baudrillard to discuss his project “Digital Fossil.” The following is a transcript of their discussion.
Felix : Welcome, dear listeners, to another edition of our podcast “Shooting the Sh*t and Eating Some Food.” Today, I have the pleasure of speaking with Renard Baudrillard, an artist who rejects that label and now insists on being referred to as a hose. He has been making waves with his latest project, Digital Fossil. Renard, thank you for joining us.
Renard : It’s great to be here.
Felix: Today we are serving Crispy Duck Salad from Hakkasan. What do you think?
Renard: I like it. But I am starting to feel that this salad is going the way of seared tuna from decades back and truffle everything which just won’t die.
Felix: Can’t we just react to flavor, presentation, and mouthfeel?
Renard: Do I have to answer that?
Felix : Renard, I’ve been following your work for a while, and Digital Fossil really caught my attention. But before we dive into the specifics, I’m curious to learn how the idea for this project was born.
Renard : Who knows how these sorts of things emerge, I guess the closest I can come to fixing a point is an afternoon spent at a friend’s house—she works for Vogue, so you can imagine the stacks of magazines scattered all over. I remember noticing how they were in various states of wear, some as though freshly pressed, others torn and faded. She was droning on about something or other, and I got to thinking about how physical publications are being replaced by digital media the way online shopping has replaced brick and mortar retail and that got me wondering—do things somehow age online as they do in the real world? Does the digital decay? Booom! I get smacked in the head by a magazine and my eyes refocus to see Birgit Freund staring at me as the words “RB ARE YOU LISTENING?” echo in my ears.
Felix :laughs Birgit Freund! Did you piss yourself?
Renard : Almost but my bladder control is competition-class. Anyway, the thought stuck with me and I started thinking more about digital decay, and that’s how Digital Fossil came to be. I wanted to explore the idea of a digital aging. So, I used a downsampling algorithm to induce degradation, progressively reducing the quality of the image over 148 stages as if the file were being ravaged by time.
Felix : And why 148? That’s a very specific number.
Renard : It was just the point where the degradation plateaued. At first, each pass through the downsampler results in noticeable loss of detail and artifacting, but as the image “decays”, the changes become less pronounced, almost imperceptible. It’s kind of like how a fossil stabilizes over time. The image reaches a point where there’s no more significant detail to lose, and that’s where it stops changing in any noticeable way. The plateau.
Felix : So, the image is wasting away, but then it hits a point where it can’t really degrade any further?
Renard : Right. And that ties into the math of it.
Felix: No math please.
Renard: Laughs No no, it’s nothing too obtuse. When you downsample an image, you’re essentially averaging out pixel values in groups. Early on, each pass strips away a lot of detail, but as the data becomes more homogenized, the algorithm can’t really differentiate between pixels anymore. It’s a consequence of entropy leveling out, the image no longer has enough fidelity to lose anything substantial. So after a certain number of iterations, the degradation reaches an asymptote.
Felix: I can’t believe you said asymptote. This is the second time I hear that word in a week after almost an entire lifetime of absence.
Renard: Where did you hear asymptote?
Felix: You know Hector Dupaix right?
Renard: I’m not sure I do…
Felix: Hector, the guy who became famous for sc…
Renard: Oh, yes, yes…
Felix: Well, he’s now written a book, and I recently sat down with him to talk about it and at a certain point in the conversation he said that human experience bears an asymptotic relationship with the ideal forms and that we can never experience them no matter what we do.
Renard: Oh right. Interesting. Crazy how things “trend” in our lives for a certain time and then they disappear. You think you’ll hear asymptote again?
Felix: Laughs. Somehow I doubt it. But back to topic, so are you saying that digital imagery have a base skeleton, if you will, that downsampling reveals?”
Renard: Not quite. I mean you can have a hi-fi dinosaur fossil and a lo-fi one depending on various factors, it all depends on the image you start with and the downsampling algorithm.
Felix : It’s still fascinating how that mirrors what happens in the natural world with fossils. They degrade until they stabilize into something preserved over time.
Renard : Well, you get different types of fossils depending on the process—some are impressions left behind, others are fully mineralized, like bones turned to stone. But they all share that idea of degradation ultimately stabilizing. In Digital Fossil, the plateau mirrors that moment when the fossil is preserved, where it’s no longer decaying, but it’s far from what it once was.
Felix : So, are you suggesting there’s a similar process happening with data? That over time, it degrades and fossilizes in a sense?
Renard : I am. Data stored digitally degrades over time—not necessarily in terms of pixels, but in terms of recall integrity or file compatibility. Think about it: 1000 years from now, much of what we store today will likely be incomplete, corrupt, or incompatible with future systems. Future historians or archaeologists—digital archaeologists, if you will—will need to sift through the remnants of our digital lives the way paleontologists dig through fossils.
Felix : So, we’re looking at the rise of “digital paleontologists” or “digiteologists” unearthing “datasaurs”?
Renard : Exactly. We will be piecing together fragments from the past, just like paleontologists, we will have to reconstruct entire systems from fragments, analyzing the strata of our digital history.
Felix : The thought of that is both fascinating and a little terrifying. Do you think we’ll ever reach a point where we can preserve everything perfectly?
Renard : I doubt it. I think the allure of Digital Fossil is that it references something immutable about creation the inevitability of decay. I’ve always been drawn to the beauty of decay.
Felix : I didn’t take you for an afficionado of the macabre.
Renard: I don’t think it’s that really because I am not interested in the morbid or the gory. I think what draws me to decay is more about what peaks through from the past. It’s more about connecting with what has ceased to be and extrapolating what may have been there from what remains.
Felix: I like that. So for you it’s about puzzling out what was there from the remains.
Renard: I think so.
Felix: What’s next for you after Digital Fossil?
Renard : I’m diving into how information decay manifests in biological environments. While quantum computing is currently taking up everyone’s attention because of its potential for a paradigm shift in processing, organic computing—using biological systems for data storage and processing—is a present curiosity that will undoubtedly see major development. I’m exploring how data would decay in that kind of system.
Felix : Organic computing? Like using brain tissue or living organisms as usable computers?
Renard : Exactly. Imagine being able to input and output from brain tissue. The question becomes: how does data degradation work in an organic medium? What does it mean when you lose information saved in a chemical form, as opposed to binary code in silicon? Is it more or less stable and is it so inherently or is it dependent on other factors. So for example, would our ability to code stem cells to ensure the integrity of memories make forgetting obsolete? How would that affect us? We believe there is solace in forgetting. Imagine having control over what you recall and what you forget. Would hoarders get buried in memories? Would we prefer degradation of memories or erasure? It’s a frightening prospect but one with which we may soon be confronted.
Felix : I had no idea your work extended so far beyond the aesthetic.
Renard : There’s something ironically annihilative about permanence in the same way that we imagine living forever something categorically different from the meaning of life. These paradoxes have always interested me.
Felix : I have to end it here as we’re out of time and increasingly out of my depth, but I think you should talk to Hector Dupaix about how these ideas play out on different scales of time and matter.
Felix raises his glass in a toast. “To the datasaurs and the digiteologists who will uncover them.”
Renard :laughs “To decay!”
Felix : Thanks for coming on the program, Renard. And for our listeners, if you haven’t already, check out Renard Baudrillard’s work on his Instagram account, @r.baudrillard. Thanks for tuning in.
In late 2009 I took a job on a military camp in the Horn of Africa. The initial experience was humbling; cot for a bed, no personal internet access, communal showers and toilets, hot sun on fair skin.
The work was good, and fulfilling. The host nation was and remains one of the poorest on Earth. I was away from America for a full year and I felt out of place upon my return home.
Locals earned less than a dollar a day burning trash (animal bodies, tires, medical waste). Cab fare to the city center was so cheap it seemed free (how do these guys pay for gas anyway)?
I left Africa with a new understanding of needs vs. wants but everything I thought I would apply to this new life back in the States was quickly erased by the overwhelming consumerism that is America.
To feel normal again I had to plug back in and ultimately accept that I was not capable of re-writing my principles. A regretful ending to a mind-expanding year offshore.
Most Eloquently Composed Upon the Occasion of Hector Dupaix’s Ill-Tongued Reproach of Those Esteemed Individuals Who, in Their Exercise of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, Have Chosen to Identify in the Likeness of Hoses; Addressing Such Maligning as an Offense to Reason and Nature, and Rendering in Verse the Defense of So Noble a Comparison as May Be Found Between the Human Form and the Hose.
This work is humbly dedicated to the betterment of Humanity, in the Year of Our Lord, 2024, under the gaze of stars eternal and with the hope that hearts may soften to the truth of our essence.
I am a hose, Simple and plain, Stretching in silence, under sun, under rain. From one end, things flow— Ideas, emotions, water, words Through twists and turns, All things emerge.
You see, we are alike, You and I. Taking in, we digest, we carry, we let fly. What enters, we hold, For moments or miles, Then out it goes, In bursts or in whiles.
Sometimes, I leak, A crack in my side, But who among us has not tried to hide The overflow, the tear, the gap in the seam? Yet still I channel, still I stream.
And like you, I connect what’s distant, A bridge for the flow, from source to mouth. We are conduits of what we take in, Expelling the waste, the joy, the sin.
At my core, a vessel I be— But isn’t that what it means to be free? To take in the world, to let it pass through, A process that shapes both me and you.
We are all hoses, Bound by our task, To carry, to filter, to empty at last. And though we may coil, and stretch out too far, We ought to know the truth of who we are.
A hose, a human, we are the same, Receiving, releasing, again and again.
Felix Saxa sat down with Hector Dupaix to discuss his recently published book. The following is a transcript of their discussion.
Felix Saxa: Welcome, dear listeners, to another edition of our podcast “Shooting the Sh*t and Eating Some Food.” Today, I have the pleasure of speaking with Hector Dupaix, a thought-provoking philosopher whose new book, “Navigating the Spectrum: Embracing Process in a World Beyond Binaries” offers a fresh perspective on addressing polarization in our world. Hector, thank you for joining us.
Hector Dupaix: Thank you, Felix. It’s a pleasure to be here.
Felix: What do you think of the Kibbeh Nayye? It’s from Babel.
Hector: I love a good Lahmeh Madqooqa, and this is top-notch. It’s very smooth, creamy, and mild in flavor. My wife, who is a connoisseur of this dish, would love it.
Felix: I’m glad you like it. Make sure you try it with a mint leaf; this batch is from my garden, and I’m growing a highly prized cultivar.
Hector: I will.
Felix: Good. So, your book delves into the fundamental tensions we experience as humans, particularly the dichotomy between stillness and striving. Could you start by explaining this central dichotomy?
Hector: Certainly. At the heart of our inner experience lies a tension between what I call Inner Tranquility and Existential Drive. Inner Tranquility refers to our desire for contentment and peace—a state of being present and centered. Existential Drive embodies our push towards accomplishment, action, progress, and fulfilling the demands of life, whether for survival or ambition.
Felix: How does this internal struggle relate to the overarching thesis of your book?
Hector: We oscillate between these poles. For instance, we might meditate to find peace, but as soon as we finish, we pick up our coffee and get back into the hustle—emails, deadlines, and responsibilities. The self-help world has generally adopted this duality with a focus on either complete stillness and detachment (How to Do Nothing) or relentless productivity and achievement (How to Get Things Done). This oscillation exacerbates the dissonance between our physical and psychological needs. It’s schizophrenic.
Felix: And you believe this particular tension reflects broader societal patterns.
Hector: Exactly. Our polar thinking extends outward, influencing how we engage with the world, how we define it. The dichotomy between stillness and striving is artificial and it manifests in our social structures and interactions, leading to polarization on a larger scale.
Felix: So what you’re saying is that dichotomies are an artificial construct and in reality things aren’t black and white.
Hector: Not quite. I am saying that some things are while others are not. And most importantly, our lived experience is spectral, never polar.
Felix: But you just said that our daily oscillations reinforce the polarity; we go from still meditative states to turbulent mayhem in a flash.
Hector: Okay. Fair enough. Let me clarify.
Experience is certainly amenable to instantaneous cutoff – being disrupted. You can be sitting in a state of complete mental quiet when a venomous snake sinks its fangs into your arm instantly (at the human scale of temporal experience) taking you out of that state. I am not saying that is not real. What I am saying is that we are conflating that disruption, that cutoff in our experiential continuity with the way the human experience is and should be. Let’s use an analogy from film to clarify the difference.
You are watching a scene with a family sitting at dinner eating and chatting, the scene then cuts to the father falling out of a window onto a trafficked city street landing on a car as it drives by.
In and of itself, there’s nothing about this abrupt transition that would lead you to question the functioning of your senses. You might be jarred by it and that may be the point or you might think it ridiculous or that a scene was cut if the context does not bear it out but you are not questioning your sanity as a result of witnessing that abrupt change.
Contrast that with you actually sitting at a table one moment and then freefalling the next. That transition is not consistent with our understanding of the world.
The film is a construct in which transitions can be abrupt whereas our lived conscious experience is constituted by more fluid transitions. That’s not to say that these transitions cannot be disrupted but a disruption is not the experience in the same way a dam is not the river. The world of human experience does not have clearly defined boundaries. And yet we have no problem defining people as black and white and beverages as hot or cold.
Felix: Surely you are not proposing that we stop organizing appetizers in our menus under hot and cold and instead arrange them along a thermal scale?
Hector: It’s not a binary choice….
[Laughter]
Several considerations come into play in organizing a menu. Their impact on social justice or ethics is not at the top of that list. But I can imagine instances where a food menu might be organized across a scale of caloric energy or a wine list on a scale of sweetness.
Look, I am not saying we must completely dispense with dualities, the point I am making is that when it comes to the experienced world, the reduction of any aspect of it to a binary choice is artificial. While it may be useful in certain circumstances due to imposed limitations, which is what my movie analogy was supposed to bear out, we need to keep in mind that this reduction is artificial.
Felix: Why?
Hector: Because nobody has time for nuance anymore and the insistence on distillation and circumspection has become normative. We demand that everything is boiled down to a choice between two options so I can pick between them and move on to the next. And even then, the choice made is either right or wrong – binary. I can live with being wrong in a binary world because I then immediately know what the right choice is by elimination.
Felix: Fine, how does this polar thinking manifest externally in society in more significant ways beyond Android and iOS?
Hector: Polar thinking leads us to categorize complex issues into binary oppositions—good vs. evil, us vs. them, progress vs. tradition. This oversimplified artificial construction has replaced the nuanced realities of human experiences and presented itself as our truth. Turn on your TV and you see this in play – Democrats or Republicans, Pro-Life vs Pro-Choice, People who love Freedom against their enemies, East, West or Global North and Global South – with the prevailing discourse ignoring the spectrum of perspectives that exist and forcing people into one of two camps.
Felix: But nobody thinks people are fundamentally Republican or Democrat, they are simply choosing between two available options, and some people consider themselves Libertarian so it’s not really a choice between only two options.
Hector: For sure, there are always exceptions. But what is the rule? To see the absurdity of this bipolarity consider the case of Elon Musk, an immigrant to the US, who hails from the Global South and is anti-immigration. Or consider the case of Israelis whose seder is the telling of a history of enslavement and torture who don’t see the hypocrisy in their support of a government whose policies and actions are inflicting the same humiliation and suffering on the Palestinians. Some Palestinians, in turn, having been brutalized by the Israelis, paint all Jews with the same broad brush even though they themselves are victims of guilt by association and their religion tells them the Jewish story and identifies them as part of their Abrahamic lineage.
This is all born of a polar mindset. National vs Immigrant, Jew vs Non-Jew.
Felix: Alright, so let’s say both our inner and outer worlds are in disarray due to this polar thinking. If so, what’s the solution?
Hector: The answer isn’t to choose one pole over the other or to find a simple middle ground (halving the baby). The solution is to recognize that human life is always in process and to drop the false notion that we are achieving our goals. We may sail towards a point on the horizon, but we will never reach it. As our ability to process larger data sets and contend with greater complexity and variability improves, we will increase our ability to produce better outcomes along our journey, but we should never grow so bold as a result of our success to think like Candide that we can ever be in the best of all possible worlds.
Felix: That’s a profound shift in perspective. How can we begin to move from this polar thinking to embracing the spectrum?
Hector: It starts with our acknowledging that our embodied lives do not commune with ideals – that the Platonic forms, das Ding an sich, call these ideals what you may are intellectual constructs that we will never experience. We can then apply this understanding to how we manage our personal evolution, interact with others and address societal issues, promoting dialogue and empathy.
Felix: But some might argue that in practical terms, especially in governance or justice, binary choices are necessary. How do you respond to that?
Hector: While binary decisions are sometimes unavoidable due to systemic constraints, it’s crucial to acknowledge that such distillations are reductive and to allow for expansion when advances in information processing allow it. Our limitations in processing complexity do not justify our fully leaning into a reductionist approach. Acknowledging that “it’s complicated” allows for more compassionate and effective policy-making. For instance, in the justice system, acknowledging the spectrum of factors influencing behavior—such as socioeconomic conditions, mental health, and upbringing—can lead to more equitable models of governance.
Felix: Can you give an example of how this nuanced approach is pragmatically beneficial?
Hector: Certainly. Consider addiction treatment. Viewing addiction not simply as a personal failure (binary thinking) but as a condition influenced by a spectrum of genetic, psychological, and social factors leads to more effective interventions and less stigmatization. Programs that address these various factors have higher success rates than those that rely solely on punitive measures.
Felix: So in your view, gender is non-binary?
Hector: Both sides of the gender fluidity debate in fact highlight the limitations of binary thinking. Those advocating for a more spectral view of gender have missed the point by insisting on the universal adoption of new categories. Conversely, those insisting on a strict binary view are referencing a dichotomy that doesn’t reflect the real-world spectrum of gender identities.
As a result, we are dealing with people who identify as a hose and others whose masculinity is radioactive. These are the people who are taking up all the oxygen in the room. Neither is the answer.
As our level of understanding evolves so does our language in a dialectical relationship. Language will have to evolve as our understanding broadens. For example, in Italian, a gendered language, the term “non-binary” becomes “non-binario” or “non-binaria,” depending on the gender of the person—the paradox highlights how deeply rooted the prevailing polar framework is.
These advances require work. They can happen collaboratively or they will happen by adjudication. Adjudication is a binary framework that is necessary to resolve intractable disputes because “Life” must go on and we are limited in our capacities. But it doesn’t create optimal outcomes.
Felix: Earlier, you mentioned that this pattern isn’t limited to human experiences but extends to the external world. Can you elaborate on that?
Hector: Certainly. If we move from internal human experience to external human interactions and then to the external world, we notice similar patterns of dualities. At the macro, micro, and ultra-micro scales, we observe fundamental dualities interceded by a spectrum.
For instance, in physics, we have the macro duality of Order and Chaos. This duality is connected by a spectrum where life exists, exhibiting both order and unpredictability. The spectrum isn’t linear but has an asymptotic relationship with these macro-level poles—it approaches them but never fully reaches them.
Felix: Why did you choose “Order vs. Chaos” as your fundamental duality?
Hector: “Order vs. Chaos” effectively captures both human experience and physical reality. Order represents structure, predictability, and stability—paralleling our desire for Inner Tranquility. Chaos symbolizes change, unpredictability, and innovation—mirroring our Existential Drive.
For example, inanimate matter often behaves predictably; a rock will fall when dropped due to gravity. In contrast, living organisms, even simple ones like bacteria, exhibit spontaneity and adaptability, introducing unpredictability into their behavior. This unpredictability isn’t random but exists along a spectrum influenced by various factors that we may never come to fully understand.
Felix: Could you elaborate on how these scientific concepts parallel human dichotomies?
Hector: Certainly. In physics, General Relativity deals with the macrocosm, providing deterministic descriptions of gravitational phenomena—reflecting Order. Quantum Mechanics governs the microcosm, characterized by probabilities and uncertainties—reflecting Chaos.
Our internal experiences mirror this duality. We seek order in our lives through routines and expectations, but we also embrace chaos through creativity and adaptation. The interplay we experience isn’t binary but a fluid movement along a spectrum.
Felix: That’s intriguing. How does this relate to our understanding of the world and ourselves?
Hector: Recognizing these patterns helps us see that the dichotomies we have constructed are reflections of a “reality” that is not part of our lived experience but part of our intellected world. By understanding that our lived experience lies along a spectrum, we can more meaningfully pursue our place within it.
Felix: You draw parallels between your ontological concepts and various philosophical theories. You reference Kant’s concepts of the transcendent and the transcendental. Could you explain how these fit into your framework?
Hector: Certainly. Immanuel Kant distinguishes between the transcendental, which concerns the conditions that make experience possible, and the transcendent, which lies beyond possible experience. In our context, I am arguing that we cannot fully experience or comprehend the unity of dichotomies—the transcendent. However, we can engage with the processes and conditions that allow us to navigate these dichotomies—the transcendental.
Felix: In your book, you discuss transcendence as a way to contend with dichotomies. Are you adopting the Eastern Philosophical position that aims to transcend past duality to reach the unitary?
Hector: I view transcendence not as reaching a fixed state but as engaging in an ongoing process. It’s like exercising a muscle—you become stronger through continuous effort, but there’s no final targeted destination that is accessible. Transcendence involves experiencing the journey and the transformations it brings, rather than seeking an ultimate understanding or resolution of the tensions.
Those who have profound experiences, such as through meditation, psilocybin use, or near-death events, often report significant shifts in perception. They don’t necessarily understand these experiences intellectually; they feel them deeply, which can lead to lasting changes in how they navigate life’s spectra.
Felix: So is your work an evolution of Kantian thought?
Hector: Not necessarily, other thinkers have explored similar concepts. For example, Hegel introduced the idea of the dialectic, where thesis and antithesis resolve into a synthesis, a process that continually evolves. Heraclitus spoke of change being central to the universe, encapsulated in his phrase “everything flows.” Laozi, in Taoism, emphasized the balance of opposites through the concept of the Yin and Yang. These philosophies recognize the interplay of opposing forces and the importance of the process in navigating them.
Felix: So, your framework departs from these ideas by emphasizing the process over seeking a definitive resolution.
Hector: Exactly. The goal isn’t to eliminate tension or find a permanent balance but to acknowledge that ours is strictly a world of process, the ends belong to the Other.
Felix: Who is the Other.
Hector: The Other has many names. Para Brahman, Nyambi, Yahweh, Allah. The Other is basically the macro duality of Everything and Nothing. The universe is the spectrum that sits between those two poles.
Felix: I think that’s a subject that requires more time than we have, and you allude to an upcoming separate and more thorough treatment of it in your book, so let’s go back to lived experience – how does this new framework impact our approach to social justice and societal issues?
Hector: When we apply polar thinking to social justice, we often end up with rigid categories—oppressor vs. oppressed, right vs. wrong—which can hinder progress. By focusing on the process and acknowledging the spectrum of experiences and perspectives, we open up space for dialogue and collaborative solutions.
For example, in discussions about systemic inequality, recognizing the nuances and intersecting factors allows for more effective strategies that address root causes rather than symptoms.
Felix: So a shift from an adversarial approach to a collaborative one?
Hector: Precisely. By moving away from binaries, in which the interlocutors assume they have access to and have selected the right path and any departure from their demands is a fundamental concession, we can foster empathy and understanding, which are crucial for meaningful change.
Felix: Earlier, you mentioned the concept of asymptotic relationships with macro-level poles. Could you explain that in simpler terms?
Hector: Of course. An asymptote is a line that a curve approaches but never quite reaches. In the context of our discussion, the spectrum between dualities approaches the extremes but never fully attains them. We can get closer to one pole—say, complete stillness—but we can never exist there entirely because life is dynamic. This illustrates that while we may strive toward certain ideals, the reality is that we exist somewhere along the spectrum.
Felix: That’s a helpful analogy. How can individuals apply this understanding in their daily lives?
Hector: By acknowledging that our lives are incommensurate with ideals, we can alleviate the pressure to reach them. Instead, we focus on the journey and the growth that comes from sailing the continuum of experience. This mindset encourages flexibility and resilience.
Felix: so it’s not about the goal, it’s about the journey – I think I’ve heard that before; a lot.
Hector: True Ecclesiastes. But there’s a little more to it. There is this inclination in putting this adage to work to picture oneself running a marathon and focusing not on crossing the finish line first, but just enjoying the run or finishing the race with a better time. What I am trying to get across is that there is no finish line in the human experience. As far as we know, the only finish line in human experience is death. This is not to say that you wander aimlessly and let the world take you where it may. You are certainly free to choose that path but the way the world is today, it is more likely than not that yours will be a painful journey. Focus on the journey is about recognizing there is no attaining any “Goal”. We can set targets or trajectories if we want to take control of our journey but that is the limitation of what is possible.
Felix: Bringing this back to societal implications, how can this framework help reduce polarization?
Hector: When society adopts a process-oriented approach, recognizing the spectrum of experiences and viewpoints, it diminishes the us-versus-them mentality. It encourages open dialogue and collaborative problem-solving, which are essential for addressing complex issues like climate change, inequality, and global conflicts.
Felix: It’s interesting how this journey starts from inner tension and extends outward to global concerns.
Hector: That’s the trajectory I’ve aimed to highlight. Our internal processes reflect and influence the external world. By transforming how we navigate our inner dichotomies, we can impact societal structures and contribute to a more harmonious world.
Felix: We seem to be out of Arak.
Hector: Another binary—you either have Arak, or you don’t.
Felix: [Laughs] True.
Hector: But even that’s more nuanced. You go from having none to having so much you render yourself unable to have anymore. And, in fact, there is an ultra-micro duality at both ends of that spectrum. You have no Araq at all or none in your system at one end and at the other end your body has knocked you out to prevent more coming in and to process it out of your system or it pulls the trigger and launches it out whence it entered.
Felix: [Laughs] Not the typical experience with this spirit, but I get your point.
Hector: Exactly. Even in situations that seem binary, there’s often a spectrum of experiences in between.
Felix: Before we conclude, are there any final thoughts you’d like to share?
Hector: I’d encourage everyone to embrace the process of navigating life’s spectrums. Instead of seeking absolute answers or aligning rigidly with one side, engage with the complexities. This approach not only enriches personal experience but also fosters a more compassionate and connected society.
Felix: Hector, thank you for sharing your insights. This conversation has provided much food for thought—both literally and figuratively.
Hector: Thank you, Felix. It’s been a pleasure.
Felix: To our listeners, I highly recommend delving into Hector’s book, “Beyond the Binaries: Navigating the Spectrum of Human Experience,” for a deeper exploration of these concepts. Until next time, let’s continue to seek understanding beyond the binaries.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
So, you’re offended. Really upset about what someone said about a subject you hadn’t thought about in a while, eh? We’ve been pissing each other off for centuries but the uptick in seemingly genuine offense given is absolutely peaking.
There is a popular quote making the social media rounds that reads “The more easily you get offended, the less intelligent you actually are.” That statement likely offended some, maybe even you, but it’s true. An intelligent person believes, rightly or wrongly, that they’re above your comment/opinion/position. They might be an absolute ass themselves but they are definitely not offended by anything you say and, they shouldn’t be.
To be bothered by the offense of another is a waste of your precious time, not theirs. When you can get comfortable with that concept you’ll never be offended again.
I’m using an expletive and all caps because that is the volume and tenor of the dialogue today and we need to raise our voices above the shrieking vampires.
Those who are tearing down posters of kidnapped Israelis and those who are calling for the flattening of Gaza have nearly sucked up all the oxygen in the room. We will all suffocate if we continue to give them the microphone.
If you consider yourself a human being who cares about life and the lives of non-combatant civilians (all of them), you must cease-fire and demand that both sides cease fire.
Refuse to respond to the solicitations of condemnation. This is a fucking emergency. There is a piece of the world that is on fire and there are people trapped inside. First order of business then is putting out the fire, not debating who set the blaze!
Stop ascribing responsibility and blame. The people dying as you read this will not be brought back to life by the judgment of the kangaroo courts of Harvard, CNN, or Instagram. The longer we allow these crimes to remain in progress, the more of us it will implicate until we are all left with blood on our hands.
This is not a war. This is pure savagery. It is a riot that began on 7 October and has not stopped. It must be stopped.
Cease-fire. Both sides. Stop the indiscriminate killing of people who have not picked up arms. Civilians on both the Palestinian and Israeli side have borne their respective side’s brunt of the recent cataclysm of violence.
