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The History of sapiens (…) book has disturbed me in the core. Born comfortably on the layered canopy of a metaphysical world, yes, layered as in lasagna. I was as most in my predicament, a happy person at the core. Always a happy person, despite harrowing depression, or even chronic sadness, always a happy person.
What has happened with the Sapiens book? It does something dreadful to us divine nodding cast, it has implied a disconnection with the cosmic mind.

Harari, by aducing that God and faith is fiction, basically laughs at the leap which is part of a necessary step to understanding a theory of everything. He not only breaks the hope for this understanding, but makes it unserious, a joke. As if only observable facts were real. Its as if he were laughing at David Bohm´s implicate order. As if that was also fiction. And mocking our need for faith, which is similar to our need of leaping into a hypothesis in a scientific analysis, he annuls all that cannot be observed. He kills, for example, the foreseeable future. By degrading our biggest treasure, our imagination, by calling it fiction in its most evidently pejorative light, he negates, denies our greatness and in turn, the greatness of all animals, and with us falls everything else, cause all things are unfolded within each other.

In Bohm’s conception of order, primacy is given to the undivided whole, and the implicate order inherent within the whole, rather than to parts of the whole, such as particles, quantum states, and continua.


The fuckin Harari, man. I am sorry to have to start this Teddy talk with the unsexy word THE. I’ll be sorry about a bunch of things that I’ll be saying tonite but I will only mention it once now at the beginning. I am very sorry about everything.
The Harari, Yuval Noah Harari. Noah, stupid name. His books make me instantly depressed. I’m talking about Homo Sapiens and Homo Deus. He is basically dissecting humanity in both of them, outstanding work ontologically and sociologically, almost unobjectionable, it exposes these “undeniable” facts about us.
All things unnatural and unscientific about the world which are shared in belief he will tag as fiction and will fall into the category of what he calls intersubjective reality, different to subjective and objective realities. Fictions such as God, the Pharaoh, Money, Madonna inc. and Google are not objective realities, even if these have ruled and still rule supreme in our lives. Granted it is not a book that is meant to theorize on metaphysical grounds, he is attempting to put things in order, I appreciate that because I like to watch dinosaurs at work. There is a slip that has bothered me though. Two slips. First, one thing has slipped into the wrong category, something that perhaps should have been left uncategorized or as mere explananda.

A preamble to the slip: The Harari crushes God and all religious paraphernalia, agreed, it is an antiquated concept. He proposes no suggestion though for a reasonable alternate perception that isn’t part of the scientific canon. For example: a sort of consciousness that hangs from or is the whole, whatever the whole may be. In judaism, the whole of everything: Hashem.

To the question of consciousness the Harari suggests in a light and piquant way (as opposed to the dogma style of the rest of his writing) that consciousness as seen as the Mind doesn’t exist separately from the brain, but that we are a chain of reactions and what we deem as our Self is nothing other than an algorithm dictated by the synapse in our brains. He says our feelings are true as fact but that they don’t obey to our eternal Self, instead they are reactions to stimuli. I can agree to that, but it feels simplistic. Why does the Self have to necessarily be eternal? Why can’t the Mind be what we feel it is, a chief commander? The Mind, the Soul, our Self consciousness, three words same thing. Why do they have to be flattened into an algorithm? It is also merely an issue with wording, algorithm sounds less flamboyant, more robotic. Is it necessary to even make the distinction between awareness of Self as a process in the brain and the actual Self? It’s a debate that is getting old, and it adds nothing, especially when our feeling of ourselves is so overpowering. Maybe that’s why he throws it in lightly, almost with negligence. I understand where he might be coming from: the invention of the self, the I, a most primitive human invention, has lead us to all sorts of problems. D. Bohm and J. Krishnamurti would partake on that in their decades long conversations. Harari might be trying to take away the burden of the Self so that we stop behaving like the world’s biggest egomaniacal brats. Still, the consequences of perceiving ourselves as sophisticated robots could possibly be much worse, in terms of “Shit happens” - we don’t have real control over ourselves or anything for that matter. Even if he dropped the lack of consciousness idea as a passing comment, it remains said and the sensation is that because he put consciousness in the basket of fiction, he leaves no chance for any other sort of grander awareness to acquire the beauty of fact in an objective reality, and therefore he flattens the whole Universe into a series of sequences with no option other than nothingness and subjacent chaos. And that is fine if he’d like to abide to that. The slip is, it seems to me that the path of reason he has taken could have held the kindness to acknowledge and encompass a larger viewpoint.

A mention of the following would have sufficed:
Back in the early tribal days, and still today, indigenous people from central and south America call Pachamama to the spirit of the Earth. An out in the bush scientific explanation would be this: the overall energy both as matter of natural life forms and surrounding radiation have an intelligent quality. I’m not talking about a giant synapse in the mind of the Earth. Plants do not have a mind and still have feelings. Did the Harari not make note of that fact? Even at the risk of dismissing so many proven experiments? These mindless feelings are there, an understanding read as awareness, and perhaps not self-consciousness, but awareness, the fact that flora is not numb is undeniable in the world today. Haven’t we had enough with the Western scientific method excluding relational perceptions? It seems so totally antiquated that he would stick so radically to the mammoth school of analytical science.

— The talker pauses to eat a handful of smacks, the caramelized puffed rice of choice. —

It follows that the indigenous tribes would feel, not so much as believe but actually feel the total awareness of the planet Earth as a whole, and then name it Pachamama, the planet’s “self”, much like you feel a person with whom you have a relationship.
If the planet’s “self” hangs from the whole or is the whole that is a question we’ve asked ourselves tirelessly. And so does Harari briefly. My humble answer is both, as we are and we are who we feel we are. We lost that. We lost our instincts. Harari seems to have completely lost that.

That one time we got some deeper understanding we crowded it with concepts and divine figures. We on purpose buried indigenous stories and retold new unfelt inventions. Did he not make note of that moment when instinct had been wide awake? Why? Does he secretly hate humanity? Does he renege from Hashem? And why do I hold a grudge on him? Is it his wireless headset? There’s something else though. It took me a while to get it and it lead me to his second slip.

His books are dripping with existential pessimism. Even when he reasonably claims we are going for a-mortality, which in itself seems Grand af, it feels like we are failing. At first I couldn’t understand why I was getting that sense of doom out of him. He didn’t use direct words like boohoo or pathetic. And then I found it. He equates our failure with our intersubjective reality: with fiction. (Fiction referring to stuff that is not related to Arts & Literature already rubs me the wrong way. How dare you Noah meddle with the word fiction in your colossal non-fiction books.) But it’s the word he uses to describe fiction, over and over, that is the giveaway because it points to an underhand disdain for humanity (and to Literature, films and the arts). He scorns us all. It’s a tiny little nothing of a word. He writes: Mere fiction. MERE!

Are you kidding? Mere fiction?!

There are basically two almost contradictory definitions that come up for Mere:

1. Used to emphasize how small or insignificant someone or something is.

2. Used to emphasize how important something is, in that the fact of something being present in a situation is enough to influence that situation. It requires a reaction. Example: The mere thought, the mere mention, the mere possibility, the mere presence, the mere idea of something makes me react in some way or other.

Let us give the benefit of the doubt and imagine for a moment he was going for the second one. He would have an awkward syntactic feast such as “the mere fiction of our lives made us do and be who we are”. But he didn’t go for that, there was not such a phrase. He meant the first definition.

He could have also used the term stupid fiction and that would have been practically the same. He thought he’d get away with mere. Well you didn’t Noah. Ya dadn’t!

Sure, it’s mere fiction in comparison to grand reality. Which grand reality though? a web of algorithms? That reality?!


I am much more appeased now that I recovered myself after reading his book. Please excuse me.