On Being an Asshole

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This Substack has come to something of an interesting turning point. Some of you came here because of my political commentary and polemic. Some of you are here because of my philosophical ideas. Until now, these two streams have flowed alongside each other—sometimes converging, sometimes diverging, but always part of the same journey. Now, we're entering a new phase where theory and analysis must give way to something new: praxis.

Following yesterday's piece, The Manifesto of the Cognitive Revolution (which you should read before continuing, as what follows won't make much sense otherwise), I feel compelled to address where we go from here. The manifesto wasn't just another essay—it was a declaration of intent, a recognition that understanding our predicament, while necessary, is no longer sufficient.

I've spent months examining the erosion of democratic norms, the fusion of private and public power, the systematic assault on shared reality. I've attempted to provide both analysis and philosophical frameworks to help make sense of these challenges. But today, I want to talk about something more personal: my reputation as an asshole.

Let's be clear—I've earned this label. My writing pulls no punches. I've called powerful figures “hollow men,” characterized their ideas as “not even wrong,” and described their philosophical frameworks as intellectual arson. I've written with contempt, with anger, with a sharp edge that many find off-putting.

I use words like “bastards” and “sons of bitches” that violate the norms of polite discourse. I am, by conventional standards of civility, often behaving like an asshole.

And I'm here to tell you why that matters—why, in certain contexts, being an asshole isn't just acceptable but necessary. Why moral clarity sometimes demands language that makes people uncomfortable. Why the cognitive revolution I've advocated requires not just new ways of thinking, but new ways of speaking truth to power.

One must, though, recognize that there is a game theory to consider here. A prisoner's dilemma. The problem of our epistemic crisis is knowable. I have shown you its nature here at Notes From The Circus. So yes, I condescend now, because I must risk the relatively small social cost of being labeled “rude” for the greater moral consideration, that people knowing these things is crucial to the survival of human freedom. So I do not seek to have you like me. I seek to make it hard for you to ignore me.

In a functioning marketplace of ideas, politeness would be the optimal strategy. We could engage in reasoned debate, carefully weighing evidence, considering alternative perspectives, and collectively arriving at truth. The “civil” approach works brilliantly when all parties are operating in good faith. But what happens when some players have abandoned the shared commitment to truth entirely? What happens when powerful actors deliberately “flood the zone with shit”, when they intentionally manipulate language to obscure rather than reveal, when they treat facts as optional and consistency as weakness?

The civil response to uncivil tactics creates an asymmetry that guarantees defeat. When one side respects norms while the other exploits them, the outcome is predetermined. It's like bringing a rulebook to a knife fight—admirable in principle, suicidal in practice. This isn't mere speculation; we've watched this dynamic play out repeatedly over the past decade. Reasoned arguments met with manufactured chaos. Careful analysis drowned in floods of disinformation. Good faith engagement rewarded with calculated bad faith responses.

There's a profound moral cowardice in clinging to civility when it becomes a vehicle for complicity. When “maintaining decorum” becomes more important than preventing harm, when “respecting diverse viewpoints” is extended to include deliberate lies, when “avoiding ad hominem attacks” means refusing to name corruption for what it is—civility has ceased to serve truth and started to enable its destruction.

The asshole stance I've adopted isn't about personal gratification or performative outrage. It's a calculated response to a broken epistemic environment. When falsehood is presented with polish and sophistication, sometimes the only effective counter is raw, unfiltered truth delivered with enough force to break through the noise. When complex systems of manipulation are designed to exhaust your critical faculties, sometimes the only viable defense is the shocking clarity of moral contempt.

Consider what conventional civility demands in our current moment: that we treat deliberate attacks on democracy as mere policy differences, that we discuss the dismantling of constitutional safeguards as interesting theoretical exercises, that we engage with fascist rhetoric as if it were just another perspective deserving respectful consideration. This isn't civility—it's surrender disguised as maturity.

My asshole approach serves another purpose beyond cutting through manipulation—it creates friction. Friction is necessary for traction, for movement, for change. Frictionless discourse slides right past without leaving an impression. When I write with sharp edges and unapologetic moral clarity, I'm creating resistance that forces engagement. You may disagree with me, you may even dislike me, but the friction ensures you can't simply glide past the arguments without feeling them.

There's a deeper philosophical point here about the relationship between form and content. In a healthy discourse environment, these can be separated—the tone of an argument distinct from its substance. But in our current epistemic crisis, this separation has collapsed. The style of communication has become part of its content. When I refuse to adopt the measured tones of conventional analysis while describing existential threats to democracy, I'm not just making a point—I'm embodying it. The urgency in my language mirrors the urgency of our situation.

This approach carries obvious risks. It alienates those conditioned to equate politeness with credibility. It provides easy opportunities for critics to dismiss the substance by attacking the style. It violates professional norms that many of us have spent decades internalizing. I accept these costs because the alternative—polite complicity in the face of democratic collapse—carries far greater moral hazard.

To be clear, I'm not advocating universal rudeness or suggesting that civility has no place in discourse. There are countless contexts where measured, respectful dialogue remains not just effective but essential. What I am suggesting is that we need moral clarity about when civility serves truth and when it undermines it—when being polite is appropriate and when being an asshole becomes a moral imperative.

And if my preachiness here is a turn-off to you, you know where the unsubscribe button is. I'm not in the business of making people comfortable—I'm in the business of telling truths that matter, in ways that make them impossible to ignore. The stakes are too high for anything less. Democracy itself hangs in the balance. Two plus two equals four. And sometimes, the only person willing to say it is an asshole.

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Check out my, Mike’s Philosophy page. My living document that shows how my philosophy ties together across all my writings.