Anti-natalism

The fragmentation of the philosophical soul Philosophy today exists largely as a collection of partitioned academic cubicles. We have specialists in epistemology, ethics, and logic, each operating as if their domain were an island. Joe Folley points out that this hyper-specialization marks a sharp departure from the Ancient Greeks. For Aristotle or the Stoics, these fields were inseparable. Their ethics were not merely abstract suggestions for behavior; they were the inevitable conclusions derived from their metaphysics and logic. Alex O'Connor argues that modern philosophy often attempts to do the ethics without the metaphysics. We want the Stoic resilience to suffering without subscribing to the Stoic belief in divine providence or a rational universe. When we strip away the underlying reality that justifies a philosophy, the resulting ethical practices become little more than "vibes" or lifestyle choices. This leads to a stagnation where seekers simply choose the philosophy that already aligns with their existing intuitions, rather than being transformed by a new understanding of the world’s fundamental nature. Aristotle and the forgotten dimensions of causation In our scientific age, we have collapsed the concept of why things happen into a single dimension: the efficient cause. If we ask why a rocket flies, we look to the thrust of the engines. However, Aristotle maintained that a complete causal story requires four distinct explanations. Beyond the efficient cause (the agent that acts), there is the material cause (the physical matter), the formal cause (the shape or structure), and the final cause (the purpose or teleology). Alex O'Connor suggests that modern science is fundamentally lacking because it ignores these other dimensions, particularly the final cause. While a scientist in a lab might stick to technical mechanics, that same scientist at a pub will explain the moon landing in terms of human desire and purpose. We are Aristotelians in our daily lives, yet we pretend to be pure mechanists in our intellectual pursuits. This neglect hides the deeper context of why objects and events exist in the specific "time slices" they occupy. The darkest corners of the human experience When philosophy stares into the abyss, it often returns with Nihilism or Anti-natalism. Alex O'Connor notes that while Nihilism is synonymous with depression, it is technically just the claim that there is no objective purpose to existence. One can theoretically be a happy Nihilist, enjoying life while acknowledging its ultimate lack of a script. However, the darker turn comes with David Benatar and the Anti-natalist movement. Benatar presents an "asymmetry argument" suggesting that coming into existence is always a net harm. He argues that while the absence of pain is good, the absence of pleasure for a non-existent being is not bad. Therefore, the only winning move in the moral calculus is to avoid birth altogether. This philosophy challenges the very foundation of human optimism, yet as Alex O'Connor and Joe Folley observe, it faces a natural evolutionary deselection. Only those who believe life is worth continuing stick around to pass on their memes—or their genes. Panpsychism and the return of fundamental mind Philosophy of mind is experiencing a resurgence through the lens of Panpsychism. Traditional materialism struggles with the "hard problem": how do physical atoms in a brain produce the felt experience of seeing the color red? Panpsychism sidesteps this by suggesting that consciousness is not an emergent property of complex brains, but a fundamental feature of all matter. Under this view, the difference between a rock and a human brain is not the presence of consciousness, but its arrangement. Alex O'Connor uses the Empire State Building as an analogy: the building isn't made of some magical substance different from a rock; it's just matter arranged to perform complex functions like elevators and lighting. Our brains may simply be the "Empire State Building" of fundamental consciousness. This theory aligns with diverse reports from meditative monks and psychedelic users who describe the dissolution of the self and a sense of universal unity. The fragmented self and the illusion of unity Neuroscience provides troubling evidence for the philosophical concept of a unified self. Joe Folley discusses split-brain patients, whose hemispheres have been surgically severed. These patients reveal that different parts of the brain can act independently, with one side often "confabulating" reasons for the actions of the other. If a patient’s right brain is told to walk, and the left brain (which governs speech) is asked why, it will invent a plausible reason—like "I wanted a drink"—rather than admitting it doesn't know. This suggests that our sense of a singular, commanding "I" is a PR trick performed by the brain. We may be a collection of competing drives and impulses, with a narrative layer that retrospectively justifies our behavior to maintain the illusion of consistency. This raises profound questions for ethics: if the self is not unified, who exactly is responsible for our moral choices? Emotivism and the death of moral facts If we follow the path of A.J. Ayer, we arrive at Emotivism—the idea that moral statements are not facts but expressions of emotion. When we say "murder is wrong," we aren't describing a property of the universe; we are essentially saying "Boo murder!" with an angry emoji. Alex O'Connor argues that most moral debate is actually a dispute over facts that inform these emotions, rather than the moral values themselves. This "vibes-based" morality is most evident in the incest question. Secular ethicists often struggle to provide a logical reason why consensual, non-procreative incest is wrong, yet the sense of disgust is nearly universal. The Emotivist claims this disgust is the morality. It isn't a rational derivation; it is an innate emotional response that we later attempt to dress up in the language of rights and consequences. The burden of the philosophical influencer As philosophy moves from the ivory tower to YouTube, creators like Alex O'Connor and Joe Folley face a unique ethical duty. They act as communicators for ideas that can be "information hazards." Discussing the philosophy of suicide or Anti-natalism isn't just an intellectual game; it can impact the lives of listeners in profound ways. Both thinkers emphasize the importance of intellectual humility and agnosticism. They see their role not as authorities delivering truth, but as guides inviting others to do the work of thinking for themselves. In an age of certainties, the most radical philosophical act may be the public admission of fallibility, ensuring that the search for a good life remains an active, individual pursuit rather than a passive consumption of digital content.