From the Question of “What Are We” to “What Should We Become”
I am not searching for a perfect system. In fact, I will not even offer such a definition. I am merely contemplating a system that can renew and regulate itself as the years progress, and thus, never remain a dogma. Here, we could take examples from the Golden Age of Rome ending with Marcus Aurelius, the imperial examination system that brought meritocracy to China, or Atatürk’s cultural revolution. Although these examples carry the goals I mentioned at the beginning—self-renewal and avoiding dogma—they unfortunately failed to calculate one major thing: the human factor.
When I say “human factor,” I am not trying to argue that we are inherently selfish and capitalist by nature, or social mammals that are inherently socialist. Yes, humans are both selfish and altruistic at the same time. But while an act of altruism—like a mother protecting her young—carries selfish motives, a politician’s donation to a charity can also stem from selfish motives. It follows, then, that these behaviors we categorize as “selfish” or “altruistic” are not only subjective but also show us the results of human nature, not its causes.
Why do I speak of human nature before beginning anything else? Because there is not enough data to treat this “human factor” like an economic model or a political theory to derive meaningful results; nor is it a logical approach.
Fine, let’s return to our nature. Selfishness and altruism are results, not causes. Then, if we go deeper and are more honest with ourselves, can we find those cornerstones that motivate us—that drive which wakes us all up in the morning? I will not approach this question from a perspective of “survival,” “reproduction,” or “the continuation of the species.” Because these are already provided by the reflexes, instincts, and urges encoded in our DNA. We are not born with the idea of survival, nor do we discover it by thinking about it. We are programmed for it, whether we like it or not. I intentionally used the examples of the mother protecting her young and the politician making donations. At first glance, these are neither planned, premeditated actions nor impulsive, momentary decisions. In reality, one is a hormonal behavioral anomaly—a creature should not normally risk its life for another—and the other is a means of gaining power through gifts within the hierarchical tribal structure left over from our hunter-gatherer days. Both are merely examples of behavioral patterns written into our code thousands of years before we were even born. What I am really curious about regarding this “human factor” that prevents me from building my perfect order is this: Is it possible to create a system that, while we are both altruistic and selfish, does not enslave us like an algorithm with high processing power or a system independent of us humans, but instead builds a system by constantly breaking our own dogmas and replacing them with new ones through new generations?
I have presented my system proposal and pointed out the problems in previous ones. But these still do not provide the answer to how we can bring into existence a system that can disprove itself. We have identified the problems, and now let us see if we can dig down layer by layer with more honesty to find answers, or if we will only encounter more questions. A mechanism that can collapse a dogma automatically, even if it produces one. Like every other system, it claims innovation, but at a certain point, it inevitably crashes against the human factor. Systems operate on rules because we humans establish rule-based systems to understand, explain, and transmit the reality of the nature surrounding us to the next generation. It is our pattern-seeking brain’s way of perceiving reality. But just as our eyes cannot see infrared light, there are points our pattern-seeking sense misses. The system writes “merit” on the board, and the reader sees “status.” The system tells the person “be altruistic,” and the person sees an identity-glorification within their own meaninglessness. Yes, selfishness, altruism, and the behaviors we label “moral” are results produced by a motor lying deeper within us, beneath our layers. We must find that motor. A person does not wake up in the morning to survive. We are already programmed for that. But even though I have said that the search for a rule-based system stems from our pattern-seeking sense and cannot lead us to all of reality, I unfortunately need to use rules to communicate this to you. In the society we call civilization, once humans satisfy their basic needs, they wake up for three things: Feeling Meaningful, Being Valued, and Being Secure. I wrote these three in that specific order because this hierarchy has also been the primary need of the Upper class, Middle class, and Lower class throughout history. That is to say, no matter how rational the system I create may be, humans will eventually corrupt the system to satisfy these three needs. Whether you look at Rome, China, or Turkey—give me any example from any moment humanity calls “civilization”—you will encounter this result. Every system is built upon dogmas, accepted arguments, and unfalsifiable axioms. This is almost the exact opposite of my proposal. One of the arguments that contradicts the human factor—a point where all systems fail in common—is: “If the right structure is built, the right people will come.” But the right structure produces the wrong people over time. Because systems reward success. Success, in turn, breeds power over time. Power loves where it resides; it protects itself. And in the end, these innovative systems turn into reflexes to protect the status quo. This is an inevitable evolution. Before we look for a solution to this situation, or even discuss if a solution exists, we must question why all systems reward success. If you found this question absurd, then you are already close to the answer I will provide. Like all its relatives, Homo sapiens acts on instincts and makes sense of its surroundings through its senses. We flee from pain and move toward pleasure. If something tastes bad, it is poisonous; if it is good, it is not. But social mammals engage in activities much more complex than these simple binary reflexes. This is why our brains must play games with us. Underneath our temple, in our brain, lies a two-and-a-half-centimeter region. This is our reward center. Let me explain with an example from our ancestors who woke up in the morning to hunt because their stomachs ached from hunger. An ancestor who trips and falls while running to hunt looks at their bleeding leg and, to avoid dying of hunger by concluding, “This activity hurts, therefore it is harmful,” our brain plays an illusion on us. While our leg is bleeding, it starts secreting dopamine and other happiness hormones. Because there is a “reward” at the end. Our brains are full of such little games because these, too, are merely parts of our evolution that ensure our survival. But as I said in my previous writing, our brain—which was state-of-the-art for that time—is now a 200,000-year-old, outdated organ. Our civilization, created by the collective accumulation of our species, has evolved much faster than our biology. That is why it still thinks we are in the jungle and reacts accordingly. There is nothing wrong with our reward center; it is working exactly as it was meant to—it is just that this time, we are the ones tricking it. From the thought that “those who do good will find good” to the systems I mentioned at the beginning that reward success—all these behaviors and ideas of ours stem from here. We are all conditioned dogs, like in Pavlov’s experiments.
So, have we found the motive that makes humans think, that prime mover? I think not. This only explains why the systems we create are success-based. But it does not directly explain why the triad of “Feeling Meaningful, Being Valued, and Being Secure” emerges once a success-based system is established. Let us continue to think. First, is a solution possible to prevent the collapse of success-based systems, or better yet, could a system not based on success work? We have already said that the problem does not stem from humans struggling with concepts like selfishness or altruism. Then we must look at this: When such contradictory ideas exist within us, what kind of a system should be built, and where should we draw the line across these conflicting spectrums? Humans want stability but also superiority. That is to say, the system must allow two things at once: Power must not accumulate in one place, yet competence must not be punished. Perhaps monarchy is not beautiful, but we should not send everyone to the guillotine just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, if power must be gathered, let us gather it not in one person, institution, or community, but in a specific process. There should be no fixed ideology, leader, interpretation, or cadre. Because what I want to achieve here is Falsifiability. That dogmas do not remain fixed. There is a beautiful example of a system similar to this: Science. Yes, science produces dogmas—the Moon is not made of cheese, and iron does not turn into gold. But as a method, science is prepared to dismantle itself. So, if I were to adapt this into a system, I would liken it to a structure that constantly tests not people, but decision-making mechanisms.
Everything sounds fine and dandy, but let us descend from utopias back to our mud. Can humans truly live without dogma? Without a comfort zone, without tricking the reward center? A new generation takes the old dogma and replaces it with their own. All of our fathers were rebellious youth, and so were their fathers, and their fathers before them. And at some point, we will all look at the new generation and judge them, because they will want to dismantle the dogmas we replaced the old ones with. Because the human brain does not like uncertainty. Just like our ancestors who lit fires inside dark caves and were afraid to go outside. What I call dogma is not just an intellectual idea; it is a psychological sanctuary—our cave. Thus, it is not possible to avoid producing dogma; there must simply be a system that makes dogma age quickly so that it does not fundamentally corrupt the system. Yes, this is not a perfect order. This is chaos kept under control. If I am to find a system that is not corrupted by the human factor, one that can provide security first, then value, and finally meaning—but one that is not reward-centered and instead centers on the process itself—I must find it. But again and again, at every new step, I must question whether this is compatible with our biology. Because if we do not perform this interrogation, these axioms—which do not contradict themselves—will not align with our behaviors derived from anthropological reasons before we can even find the “how” of the system. We must return to the beginning: “What is the motor?” Not selfishness, not altruism, not just our reward center alone. The need for predictability! Humans cannot tolerate uncertainty. Our brain behaves this way because uncertainty requires constant calculation; calculation is the expenditure of excess ATP, which is not optimized. The reason “search for meaning” is at the top of the pyramid of meaning, value, and security is precisely our effort to make the chaos around us predictable. This is why, so our brains spend less ATP, we fabricate a story for what is happening so it is meaningful, then we assign ourselves a central role in that story so we feel valued, and finally, we must believe the story will continue from where it left off tomorrow so we feel secure. All dogmas were born this way in the beginning. Because uncertainty is expensive, burns ATP, and produces anxiety. Dogmas are the cognitive savings of our brain. We cannot fix such an deeply ingrained evolutionary state just by thinking about it. Humans cannot live without dogmas. But humans can live with temporary dogmas. The point, then, is not to destroy all dogmas, but to shorten the lifespan of dogmas. A system that dismantles itself in this way must center on a process, and that process should be: while the system satisfies the human need for meaning, it must never allow any meaning to remain permanent. This is hard to achieve, but it doesn’t sound as outlandish as the utopias of other systems.
Returning to the science example: science claims to find the truth. But its methods are falsifiable. People are not sanctified—methods are. Yet, there is corruption in science, too, just like in every other system we have created: for academic status, money, funding, and authority. At the end of the day, the method is correct, but once a human finds power, they want to accumulate it. So, in our system, we must not just distribute power, but constantly erode it until it becomes meaningless.
As for the “how” of all this: there should be no fixed criteria for success; we humans are not subjects measurable under the same standards. At the same time, the stabilization of success also stabilizes power within humans. Therefore, criteria for success must change periodically—but certainly not randomly; they must change consciously, based on the results we derive from examining and evaluating the previous criteria. Every authority will have an independent expiration date, regardless of whether it is a person, institution, or idea. When the time expires, their authority will automatically be suspended; temporary, randomly selected oversight committees will take their place, and a re-approval process will begin. This means the most fundamental structure of the system will be its ability to produce its own critique and its own antithesis. In every decision-making mechanism, a report must be written explaining why this decision might be wrong, and our reward system must reward those who write this report well and accurately. That is, opposition should not be a right, but a duty. Humans will seek meaning regardless; there is no way to prevent this, and that is not my goal. Therefore, the need for meaning must be integrated into the system. Instead of choosing an ideological stamp to feel meaningful or like we belong, we must seek meaning through continuous problem-solving. Status should not be awarded to those on the “right” side or the “winning” side, but to those who find the loopholes in our system. This is the exact opposite of the current reward mechanism. At the same time, given the reality that we are in the 21st century, the danger of AI or an algorithm—the favorite idea of all science fiction novels—must also be considered. We must not give control of this system to a machine. If an algorithm begins to decide what we should think, it will simply be slavery. But this should not mean we throw computers in the trash. They should merely be tools that test and filter our decision-making processes.
But now, it is time to look back at history. A system that completely dismantles itself also creates certain anomalies. The faster a system dismantles itself, the more unstable the human feels. And at some point, people will say, “Enough, we want something stable.” In the end, a strong figure will emerge, gathering people around them. This is merely a historical cycle. Therefore, the system I have devised should not measure its success by how fast or how many dogmas it dismantles. When we re-examine this, we should not see it as “designing a system.” What I am looking for is a specific cycle. Periods of stability, followed by challenging dissolution, and then restructuring. This is what controlled chaos actually is: being able to control when chaos will occur, so you do not explode while trying to suppress chaos. When we return to the contradictions in human nature, we see things like this already. We want both stability and order, as well as superiority and dominance. We want meaning just because we fear uncertainty, but over time, we either hate those meanings or sanctify them even if we no longer believe in them. These contradictions do not look like problems that can be solved, but they can be balanced. The system cannot transcend the human, but it can use the contradictions in human nature against one another.
Before explaining the “how,” let us talk about a situation that feels even stranger: what we call “culture.” Naturally, the first question that comes to mind is how to integrate this system—which dismantles itself, designs new ideas, and then puts them into practice—into today’s world. The answer I will give here will not be liked when first heard, it will sound unrealistic, and for those who have been trying to protect the point of “not being utopian” since the beginning of this text, it will put some of you on the defensive. One generation. We only need one single generation to start the cycle of Grandparents-Parents-Children. A cycle where parents advance the existing system, children produce new ideas and antitheses, and grandparents—by protecting the status quo—only allow strong antitheses to dismantle them. There is only one example I want to give regarding this cycle of controlled chaos that we can teach a generation. In all my writings, I repeatedly mention that we are Homo sapiens. As beings who have walked the earth for 200,000 years, how did concepts like “English,” “Indian,” or “Turkish” emerge? Is what we call “culture” not actually just a thought system taught to every new generation? Is it not a structure that satisfies the human need for security, belonging, and meaning? If so, cannot we make this entire thought structure I have described the culture of humanity, of Homo sapiens? When we look back, what we call culture is merely isolated communities sharing their dogmas with one another as information through trade conducted for survival over time. Cultural differences are simply the result of how little exchange there has been between those two cultures. In the global cultural exchange of the 21st century, once people understood the absurdity of speaking about the superiority of one culture over another, they reached the conclusion—through humanist approaches—that every culture should be protected and is our heritage. But the next stage of this thought structure must be to realize that we are all the same social species, and to stop fighting amongst ourselves for resources, status, and meaning. Humans need humans. The system I am trying to create—looking from the perspectives of philosophy, psychology, anthropology, and biology simultaneously in today’s world—is, in fact, our true nature. What currently exists is not natural; it is just outdated, worn out, and for this reason, it is cracking. History shows us that the way the world functions is already through ideas, dogmas, and new ideas that dismantle those dogmas. But as long as we Homo sapiens add rules to the systems we create that protect power in a way that rewards our egos, we will not be able to escape the behaviors that worked 200,000 years ago but now only serve to dogmatize us. We only need one generation; a generation that will not only understand everything I have written but also embody it. They must be the founding generation capable of starting the Grandparents-Parents-Children cycle, so that this entire controlled chaos can begin. Even the rules of the system itself are open to change if an antithesis comes forward with enough strength. With each new generation, we will become even more bulletproof to the “human factor” through a new synthesis.
Seeking patterns, building a perfect system, not becoming dogmatic, being free—none of these are the goal here. The goal is to create a culture that prevents us from becoming extinct, independent of the human, but supervised by humans.
Not a Utopia, But an Ethical Salvation
From the Question of “What Are We” to “What Should We Become”
I am not searching for a perfect system. In fact, I will not even offer such a definition. I am merely contemplating a system that can renew and regulate itself as the years progress, and thus, never remain a dogma. Here, we could take examples from the Golden Age of Rome ending with Marcus Aurelius, the imperial examination system that brought meritocracy to China, or Atatürk’s cultural revolution. Although these examples carry the goals I mentioned at the beginning—self-renewal and avoiding dogma—they unfortunately failed to calculate one major thing: the human factor.
When I say “human factor,” I am not trying to argue that we are inherently selfish and capitalist by nature, or social mammals that are inherently socialist. Yes, humans are both selfish and altruistic at the same time. But while an act of altruism—like a mother protecting her young—carries selfish motives, a politician’s donation to a charity can also stem from selfish motives. It follows, then, that these behaviors we categorize as “selfish” or “altruistic” are not only subjective but also show us the results of human nature, not its causes.
Why do I speak of human nature before beginning anything else? Because there is not enough data to treat this “human factor” like an economic model or a political theory to derive meaningful results; nor is it a logical approach.
Fine, let’s return to our nature. Selfishness and altruism are results, not causes. Then, if we go deeper and are more honest with ourselves, can we find those cornerstones that motivate us—that drive which wakes us all up in the morning? I will not approach this question from a perspective of “survival,” “reproduction,” or “the continuation of the species.” Because these are already provided by the reflexes, instincts, and urges encoded in our DNA. We are not born with the idea of survival, nor do we discover it by thinking about it. We are programmed for it, whether we like it or not. I intentionally used the examples of the mother protecting her young and the politician making donations. At first glance, these are neither planned, premeditated actions nor impulsive, momentary decisions. In reality, one is a hormonal behavioral anomaly—a creature should not normally risk its life for another—and the other is a means of gaining power through gifts within the hierarchical tribal structure left over from our hunter-gatherer days. Both are merely examples of behavioral patterns written into our code thousands of years before we were even born. What I am really curious about regarding this “human factor” that prevents me from building my perfect order is this: Is it possible to create a system that, while we are both altruistic and selfish, does not enslave us like an algorithm with high processing power or a system independent of us humans, but instead builds a system by constantly breaking our own dogmas and replacing them with new ones through new generations?
I have presented my system proposal and pointed out the problems in previous ones. But these still do not provide the answer to how we can bring into existence a system that can disprove itself. We have identified the problems, and now let us see if we can dig down layer by layer with more honesty to find answers, or if we will only encounter more questions. A mechanism that can collapse a dogma automatically, even if it produces one. Like every other system, it claims innovation, but at a certain point, it inevitably crashes against the human factor. Systems operate on rules because we humans establish rule-based systems to understand, explain, and transmit the reality of the nature surrounding us to the next generation. It is our pattern-seeking brain’s way of perceiving reality. But just as our eyes cannot see infrared light, there are points our pattern-seeking sense misses. The system writes “merit” on the board, and the reader sees “status.” The system tells the person “be altruistic,” and the person sees an identity-glorification within their own meaninglessness. Yes, selfishness, altruism, and the behaviors we label “moral” are results produced by a motor lying deeper within us, beneath our layers. We must find that motor. A person does not wake up in the morning to survive. We are already programmed for that. But even though I have said that the search for a rule-based system stems from our pattern-seeking sense and cannot lead us to all of reality, I unfortunately need to use rules to communicate this to you. In the society we call civilization, once humans satisfy their basic needs, they wake up for three things: Feeling Meaningful, Being Valued, and Being Secure. I wrote these three in that specific order because this hierarchy has also been the primary need of the Upper class, Middle class, and Lower class throughout history. That is to say, no matter how rational the system I create may be, humans will eventually corrupt the system to satisfy these three needs. Whether you look at Rome, China, or Turkey—give me any example from any moment humanity calls “civilization”—you will encounter this result. Every system is built upon dogmas, accepted arguments, and unfalsifiable axioms. This is almost the exact opposite of my proposal. One of the arguments that contradicts the human factor—a point where all systems fail in common—is: “If the right structure is built, the right people will come.” But the right structure produces the wrong people over time. Because systems reward success. Success, in turn, breeds power over time. Power loves where it resides; it protects itself. And in the end, these innovative systems turn into reflexes to protect the status quo. This is an inevitable evolution. Before we look for a solution to this situation, or even discuss if a solution exists, we must question why all systems reward success. If you found this question absurd, then you are already close to the answer I will provide. Like all its relatives, Homo sapiens acts on instincts and makes sense of its surroundings through its senses. We flee from pain and move toward pleasure. If something tastes bad, it is poisonous; if it is good, it is not. But social mammals engage in activities much more complex than these simple binary reflexes. This is why our brains must play games with us. Underneath our temple, in our brain, lies a two-and-a-half-centimeter region. This is our reward center. Let me explain with an example from our ancestors who woke up in the morning to hunt because their stomachs ached from hunger. An ancestor who trips and falls while running to hunt looks at their bleeding leg and, to avoid dying of hunger by concluding, “This activity hurts, therefore it is harmful,” our brain plays an illusion on us. While our leg is bleeding, it starts secreting dopamine and other happiness hormones. Because there is a “reward” at the end. Our brains are full of such little games because these, too, are merely parts of our evolution that ensure our survival. But as I said in my previous writing, our brain—which was state-of-the-art for that time—is now a 200,000-year-old, outdated organ. Our civilization, created by the collective accumulation of our species, has evolved much faster than our biology. That is why it still thinks we are in the jungle and reacts accordingly. There is nothing wrong with our reward center; it is working exactly as it was meant to—it is just that this time, we are the ones tricking it. From the thought that “those who do good will find good” to the systems I mentioned at the beginning that reward success—all these behaviors and ideas of ours stem from here. We are all conditioned dogs, like in Pavlov’s experiments.
So, have we found the motive that makes humans think, that prime mover? I think not. This only explains why the systems we create are success-based. But it does not directly explain why the triad of “Feeling Meaningful, Being Valued, and Being Secure” emerges once a success-based system is established. Let us continue to think. First, is a solution possible to prevent the collapse of success-based systems, or better yet, could a system not based on success work? We have already said that the problem does not stem from humans struggling with concepts like selfishness or altruism. Then we must look at this: When such contradictory ideas exist within us, what kind of a system should be built, and where should we draw the line across these conflicting spectrums? Humans want stability but also superiority. That is to say, the system must allow two things at once: Power must not accumulate in one place, yet competence must not be punished. Perhaps monarchy is not beautiful, but we should not send everyone to the guillotine just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, if power must be gathered, let us gather it not in one person, institution, or community, but in a specific process. There should be no fixed ideology, leader, interpretation, or cadre. Because what I want to achieve here is Falsifiability. That dogmas do not remain fixed. There is a beautiful example of a system similar to this: Science. Yes, science produces dogmas—the Moon is not made of cheese, and iron does not turn into gold. But as a method, science is prepared to dismantle itself. So, if I were to adapt this into a system, I would liken it to a structure that constantly tests not people, but decision-making mechanisms.
Everything sounds fine and dandy, but let us descend from utopias back to our mud. Can humans truly live without dogma? Without a comfort zone, without tricking the reward center? A new generation takes the old dogma and replaces it with their own. All of our fathers were rebellious youth, and so were their fathers, and their fathers before them. And at some point, we will all look at the new generation and judge them, because they will want to dismantle the dogmas we replaced the old ones with. Because the human brain does not like uncertainty. Just like our ancestors who lit fires inside dark caves and were afraid to go outside. What I call dogma is not just an intellectual idea; it is a psychological sanctuary—our cave. Thus, it is not possible to avoid producing dogma; there must simply be a system that makes dogma age quickly so that it does not fundamentally corrupt the system. Yes, this is not a perfect order. This is chaos kept under control. If I am to find a system that is not corrupted by the human factor, one that can provide security first, then value, and finally meaning—but one that is not reward-centered and instead centers on the process itself—I must find it. But again and again, at every new step, I must question whether this is compatible with our biology. Because if we do not perform this interrogation, these axioms—which do not contradict themselves—will not align with our behaviors derived from anthropological reasons before we can even find the “how” of the system. We must return to the beginning: “What is the motor?” Not selfishness, not altruism, not just our reward center alone. The need for predictability! Humans cannot tolerate uncertainty. Our brain behaves this way because uncertainty requires constant calculation; calculation is the expenditure of excess ATP, which is not optimized. The reason “search for meaning” is at the top of the pyramid of meaning, value, and security is precisely our effort to make the chaos around us predictable. This is why, so our brains spend less ATP, we fabricate a story for what is happening so it is meaningful, then we assign ourselves a central role in that story so we feel valued, and finally, we must believe the story will continue from where it left off tomorrow so we feel secure. All dogmas were born this way in the beginning. Because uncertainty is expensive, burns ATP, and produces anxiety. Dogmas are the cognitive savings of our brain. We cannot fix such an deeply ingrained evolutionary state just by thinking about it. Humans cannot live without dogmas. But humans can live with temporary dogmas. The point, then, is not to destroy all dogmas, but to shorten the lifespan of dogmas. A system that dismantles itself in this way must center on a process, and that process should be: while the system satisfies the human need for meaning, it must never allow any meaning to remain permanent. This is hard to achieve, but it doesn’t sound as outlandish as the utopias of other systems.
Returning to the science example: science claims to find the truth. But its methods are falsifiable. People are not sanctified—methods are. Yet, there is corruption in science, too, just like in every other system we have created: for academic status, money, funding, and authority. At the end of the day, the method is correct, but once a human finds power, they want to accumulate it. So, in our system, we must not just distribute power, but constantly erode it until it becomes meaningless.
As for the “how” of all this: there should be no fixed criteria for success; we humans are not subjects measurable under the same standards. At the same time, the stabilization of success also stabilizes power within humans. Therefore, criteria for success must change periodically—but certainly not randomly; they must change consciously, based on the results we derive from examining and evaluating the previous criteria. Every authority will have an independent expiration date, regardless of whether it is a person, institution, or idea. When the time expires, their authority will automatically be suspended; temporary, randomly selected oversight committees will take their place, and a re-approval process will begin. This means the most fundamental structure of the system will be its ability to produce its own critique and its own antithesis. In every decision-making mechanism, a report must be written explaining why this decision might be wrong, and our reward system must reward those who write this report well and accurately. That is, opposition should not be a right, but a duty. Humans will seek meaning regardless; there is no way to prevent this, and that is not my goal. Therefore, the need for meaning must be integrated into the system. Instead of choosing an ideological stamp to feel meaningful or like we belong, we must seek meaning through continuous problem-solving. Status should not be awarded to those on the “right” side or the “winning” side, but to those who find the loopholes in our system. This is the exact opposite of the current reward mechanism. At the same time, given the reality that we are in the 21st century, the danger of AI or an algorithm—the favorite idea of all science fiction novels—must also be considered. We must not give control of this system to a machine. If an algorithm begins to decide what we should think, it will simply be slavery. But this should not mean we throw computers in the trash. They should merely be tools that test and filter our decision-making processes.
But now, it is time to look back at history. A system that completely dismantles itself also creates certain anomalies. The faster a system dismantles itself, the more unstable the human feels. And at some point, people will say, “Enough, we want something stable.” In the end, a strong figure will emerge, gathering people around them. This is merely a historical cycle. Therefore, the system I have devised should not measure its success by how fast or how many dogmas it dismantles. When we re-examine this, we should not see it as “designing a system.” What I am looking for is a specific cycle. Periods of stability, followed by challenging dissolution, and then restructuring. This is what controlled chaos actually is: being able to control when chaos will occur, so you do not explode while trying to suppress chaos. When we return to the contradictions in human nature, we see things like this already. We want both stability and order, as well as superiority and dominance. We want meaning just because we fear uncertainty, but over time, we either hate those meanings or sanctify them even if we no longer believe in them. These contradictions do not look like problems that can be solved, but they can be balanced. The system cannot transcend the human, but it can use the contradictions in human nature against one another.
Before explaining the “how,” let us talk about a situation that feels even stranger: what we call “culture.” Naturally, the first question that comes to mind is how to integrate this system—which dismantles itself, designs new ideas, and then puts them into practice—into today’s world. The answer I will give here will not be liked when first heard, it will sound unrealistic, and for those who have been trying to protect the point of “not being utopian” since the beginning of this text, it will put some of you on the defensive. One generation. We only need one single generation to start the cycle of Grandparents-Parents-Children. A cycle where parents advance the existing system, children produce new ideas and antitheses, and grandparents—by protecting the status quo—only allow strong antitheses to dismantle them. There is only one example I want to give regarding this cycle of controlled chaos that we can teach a generation. In all my writings, I repeatedly mention that we are Homo sapiens. As beings who have walked the earth for 200,000 years, how did concepts like “English,” “Indian,” or “Turkish” emerge? Is what we call “culture” not actually just a thought system taught to every new generation? Is it not a structure that satisfies the human need for security, belonging, and meaning? If so, cannot we make this entire thought structure I have described the culture of humanity, of Homo sapiens? When we look back, what we call culture is merely isolated communities sharing their dogmas with one another as information through trade conducted for survival over time. Cultural differences are simply the result of how little exchange there has been between those two cultures. In the global cultural exchange of the 21st century, once people understood the absurdity of speaking about the superiority of one culture over another, they reached the conclusion—through humanist approaches—that every culture should be protected and is our heritage. But the next stage of this thought structure must be to realize that we are all the same social species, and to stop fighting amongst ourselves for resources, status, and meaning. Humans need humans. The system I am trying to create—looking from the perspectives of philosophy, psychology, anthropology, and biology simultaneously in today’s world—is, in fact, our true nature. What currently exists is not natural; it is just outdated, worn out, and for this reason, it is cracking. History shows us that the way the world functions is already through ideas, dogmas, and new ideas that dismantle those dogmas. But as long as we Homo sapiens add rules to the systems we create that protect power in a way that rewards our egos, we will not be able to escape the behaviors that worked 200,000 years ago but now only serve to dogmatize us. We only need one generation; a generation that will not only understand everything I have written but also embody it. They must be the founding generation capable of starting the Grandparents-Parents-Children cycle, so that this entire controlled chaos can begin. Even the rules of the system itself are open to change if an antithesis comes forward with enough strength. With each new generation, we will become even more bulletproof to the “human factor” through a new synthesis.
Seeking patterns, building a perfect system, not becoming dogmatic, being free—none of these are the goal here. The goal is to create a culture that prevents us from becoming extinct, independent of the human, but supervised by humans.
Translated by ai from my original.