I’ve been thinking some more about the Curtis Yarvin essay we looked at a couple of days ago.

There were good comments on the previous post. A couple of readers pointed out that, despite Mr. Yarvin’s assertion of the scarcity of sociopaths in the general population, many political systems (and in particular ours, I think) tend to make them float up to positions of power. Others questioned the idea that the aim of a well-functioning society’s “truth market” should be expected to generate actual truths rather than useful beliefs that may or may not be true. I think both of these are excellent criticisms, and I wonder what Mr. Yarvin would say about them. (Perhaps he would not quibble over true-versus-useful, but would say that in general beliefs are most useful when they do in fact correspond to reality. But of course there are many, many counterexamples. As Mencken noted, the average man believes “that his wife is pretty, and his children smart”.)

Here’s something else that left me dissatisfied with the essay: it purported at the outset to present a model that would explain not just the pervasiveness of error in distributed societies, but the system-wide coordination of that error, on puzzlingly short timescales. It didn’t, though.

Writing as Mencius Moldbug a decade or so ago, Mr. Yarvin used the term Gleichshaltung to describe this curious synchronization:

Except for a few unimportant institutions of non-mainstream religious affiliation, we simply do not see multiple, divergent, competing schools of thought within the American university system. The whole vast archipelago, though evenly speckled with a salting of contrarians, displays no factional structure whatsoever. It seems almost perfectly synchronized. There are two explanations for this synchronization. One, Harvard and Stanford are synchronized because they both arrive at the same truth. I am willing to concede this for, say, chemistry. When it comes to, say, African-American studies, I am not quite so sure. Are you? Surely it is arguable that the latter is a legitimate area of inquiry. But surely it is arguable that it is not. So how is it, exactly, that Harvard, Stanford, and everyone else gets the same answer? I’m afraid the only logical alternative, however awful and unimaginable, is the conclusion that Harvard and Stanford are synchronized because both are remoras attached, in some unthinkable way, to some great, invisible predator of the deep—perhaps even Cthulhu himself. Certainly, the synchronization is not coordinated by any human hierarchical authority. (Yes, there are accreditation agencies, but a Harvard or a Stanford could easily fight them.) The system may be Orwellian, but it has no Goebbels. It produces Gleichschaltung without a Gestapo. It has a Party line without a Party. A neat trick. We of the Sith would certainly like to understand it.

The essay I refer to here — A Brief Introduction To Unqualified Reservations — is long (to put it mildly; it’s really a short book), but in brief, what it says about this is that it is the universities that tell the politicians and the press what to think, and the politicians and the press, in turn, tell us what to think. And the universities swim left. As Robert Conquest reminds us, “Any organization not explicitly right-wing sooner or later becomes left-wing.” (I’m not so sure that the press isn’t in the driver’s seat some of the time too, but let’s not quibble.)

Why is that? Well, that’s a story of its own. But the question here remains: if the universities synchronize everything else, what synchronizes the universities? How is it that Harvard and Stanford settle on exactly the same “beautiful lies” at exactly the same time? Everything flips over all at once — gay marriage, for example, was well beyond the pale always and everywhere throughout all of Western history, until suddenly enthusiasm for it became not just acceptable, but mandatory, in what seemed like no time at all. If you were away camping for a week, you missed it. How did that happen? It really was as if someone had flipped a switch. Who was it? Where’s the switch?

If the system really is distributed, and everything else we’ve talked about is true, then there must be some critical threshold at which it suddenly becomes apparent to everybody upstream of culture, all at once, that some New Thing is now a profitable object for the excitement and gratification of thumos — that is, a path, direct or indirect, to power and status. What distinguishes such a threshold — what makes one New Thing “go critical” while another doesn’t — would be worth understanding.