My Misanthropy – 3. Stupidity

3. Stupidity everywhere!

In the first two posts of this series, I mentioned it already: My image of the cognitive and intellectual capacity of people is generally rather low. In simple words: I think people are stupid. But this is not precise enough. Moreover, it sounds like an offensive judgment. Here is not the place for insults and bashing. Instead, let me try to clarify my claim by more precise definitions and observational facts that circumstantiate it.


Many people would agree that stupidity, in some way, has to do with a lack of knowledge – be it factual or technical knowledge (facts, logic, anticipation of consequences of action, etc.) or normative, social, moral knowledge (values, norms, customs, etc.) – or with a lack of personal and social competences like emotional self-management, empathy, social interaction, or performance as a citizen. According to this definition, all babies are stupid, and so are all those who didn’t get a proper education (for example the population of poor and underdeveloped countries). It is obvious that the definition of lack, here, strongly depends on the expectation on how much a certain member of a society should know and on what is the standard for social performance. We would not call a member of an aboriginal tribe in the Amazon jungle “stupid” just because he doesn’t know the physics, biology or geography that are taught in high schools. We also wouldn’t blame a baby that drops his toys for not knowing about the effects of gravity.

A first useful classification would be intended and unintended stupid behaviour or action. This separates those who are fully aware of the stupidity or wrongness of their decisions and actions (still doing it anyway) from those who are either not aware of how and why their action is stupid (not reflecting it at all) or convinced that their action is not stupid at all (even after reflecting it). Intended idiocy covers crime and – in deontological terms – immoral acts. Thus, I distinguish three forms of stupidity:

  • Foolishness: This is an unconscious and, therefore, unintended form of stupidity. Fools just don’t know better. It includes uneducated people, mentally disabled or demented people, little kids, but also clumsy and unlucky people. Fools do stupid things rather by accident and out of ignorance.
  • Asininity: When people know how to do well in a particular situation but don’t do it due to a lack of understanding and/or intelligence – mindless people. Asinine people somehow choose to do stupid things since they have a chance to choose otherwise. With other words: Asinine people are those who don’t use their brains even though it may legitimately be expected from them, for example adults with school degrees, sufficiently socialised members of a society.
  • Idiocy: Intended wrongdoing and misconduct, a product of bad intentions rather than ignorance. Idiots are people who choose to cause harm to others, people with a lack of ethical integrity, people who aim at increasing the suffering of others.

These categories are, of course, not very clear. From a Buddhist as well as from a psychological perspective, also idiotic acts with bad intentions are the result of ignorance. In fact, many mental disorders are named with the medical term idiocy. A person with bad intentions might be misled by emotions or by lack of coping abilities, not being aware that there is an alternative to choose that would be less idiotic. I use these categories to make a clear distinction concerning forgiveness of stupidity: Foolishness can easily be forgiven. Asininity has to be pointed out, criticised, and eliminated (besides being forgiven). Idiocy has to be punished and sanctioned (besides being treated and forgiven). Let’s have a look at some cases.

Half of mankind has no access to proper school education or lives in existential fear (hunger, war, natural disasters), and doesn’t care much about intellectual capacity, scientific knowledge, or intelligence. It would be highly unfair to demand smartness and cognitive farsightedness from them. When nomadic farmers in the Savannah in Africa destroy valuable land, it happens out of ignorance and lack of education. We can’t demand sustainable agriculture and stock-farming from them as long as they have no chance to understand what it means. All they know is that they are hungry, and how their ancestors did it. Yet, a lot of human activity has a severe impact on the ecosystem with devastating effects on Earth’s biosphere (including mankind), and must, therefore, be labelled foolish. Education and better dissemination of knowledge (know-how, know-what) and competence might be a remedy, making the fight against foolishness a political task.

I like to believe that the group of idiots is the smallest of these three. We find criminals, rude and hateful people, reckless and ruthless assholes all around the globe. Yet, they are often the exception rather than the norm. Most societies established law-and-order systems and social sanctioning pathways that keep most members on the track. The crime rates in Germany and Taiwan are both rather low compared to violence stricken countries like Mexico or Afghanistan. Generally, Taiwanese people are very kind and well-behaved (exception: animal abusers and黑道 (heidao, Taiwanese mafia) people), whereas in Germany I often came across disrespectful, insulting, shameless assholes, like football supporters destroying trains and beating up people, vandals destroying public property for fun, moochers, and other scum (one of my reasons for moving to an Asian country). Among the most despicable crimes, from my perspective (feeding my misanthropy), are business crimes that lead to environmental destruction (illegal pollution, bribing regulators to get permissions to build facilities in protected habitats, burning rainforest for bigger plantations, etc.) or exposure to harm (concealment of known consumer risks for reasons of profit, violation of food safety regulations, etc.), and violation of political responsibilities by lying, supporting inequality and injustice, suppressing critical voices, violating rights, and knowingly undermining social stability. I will write more about this form of inacceptable human behaviour in section 5 of this series.

The most tricky group are the mindless asinine people. They are tricky because it is less obvious that they are stupid. They are not idiots because they don’t commit any crime or choose to act unethically. Yet, their performance has a huge impact on my life! In Taiwan and Germany, we may assume that everybody receives or has received a formal education. Still, many people choose ways of meaning construction (default setting, dogmatism) that lead to undesirable manifestations of social spheres. Religiosity, political ideologies, economy with its monetary system, consumerism, hedonistic pleasure-seeking – none of these phenomena are illegal or directly immoral. Yet, they are all the result of mindlessness and stupidity. Why is that? In everything we choose to do we are driven by archaic deeply rooted experiences: fear, attachment (greed, envy), and resistance (anger, hatred). These forces override empirical rationality and reason. It makes no sense at all to take the Bible literally and believe in an almighty God in the sky, but still people choose to believe it because it makes their life simpler and feeds their most fundamental fears (of death, of loss, of hopelessness). We all know that our consumerism damages the ecosystem, but still we buy more useless products, produce more trash, and keep insisting on cheap energy (rather than expensive but sustainable energy). We know that mass-media entertainment and most TV program is entirely nonsensical and stupidifying, but still many people choose to watch it day in day out. We know that social media has an adverse effect on our socialisation and friendship quality, but still many of us spend hours per day staring at screens. Because it is simple, easy, and satisfies our desires, the root of all dukkha (suffering in the Buddhist sense)…


I would like to go one step further and include everyone into this group (stupidity in the form of mindlessness) who is self-centered, or even wider: who has a self that is more or less strongly manifested and unquestioned. We are all the undoubted center of our universes. We follow interests and desires, shaped by experiences and our matrix (education, culture, society, etc.), and find it perfectly legitimate to put ourselves above everybody else. This is a very natural occurrence and nothing despicable. Yet, it causes trouble. Since 2500 years, European and Asian societies know better. The Ancient Greek identified the human capacity to step out of our animalistic nature and raise ourselves up towards freedom. Laozi, Kongzi (Confucius) and especially Gautama Buddha proposed manifold epistemic and practical ways to cultivate a mindful character and personality. Yet, only few people have the capacity to understand those ideas and put them into practice. In Taiwan, the self-centeredness and mindlessness of people is strongly manifested in traffic: People are completely inconsiderate and unaware of the consequences of their actions. Imagine the stupidest and most reckless manoeuvre that comes to your mind (like making a sudden U-turn on a crowded main road at rush hour) – there will be a Taiwanese who does exactly that right in this moment. As I said before, Taiwanese are very kind and friendly people, so they have certainly no bad intentions when behaving like that. They are just not able to anticipate and comprehend why they should pay attention to such things, and they are utterly impatient and careless. Road safety? Responsibility? Consideration for others? Pfffft! It is late and I want to get home, so out of my way! This form of recklessness is especially problematic since it effects the life quality of everybody! Moreover, it is avoidable! Also Taiwanese have driving classes and have to pass a test. They should know all the rules and the effect of their violation! Yet, the Taiwanese society failed in establishing a culture in which people understand that it is useful and important to have such tests and such regulations. Instead, people learn the rules only to pass the test and then forget them again because who cares?!.

Another aspect in this category is the entire field of emotional incompetence. Bad-tempered, aggressive, capricious, whiny, uncontrolled people terrorise their surrounding. Lack of emotional intelligence is, certainly, one of the most impacting factors for loss of life quality, both for the emotional person him/herself and the people around such a person. I know, we are all victims of our emotions, and blame or accusation may be a little unfair. I even know people (like my first girlfriend) who think it is perfectly OK and “human” to lose temper and freak out in a burst of furious rage from time to time. We are not robots, right? Right! We are civilised, mindful, conscious beings that have a chance – and, therefore, an obligation – to reflect upon emotional triggers and resulting reactions! Yes, I demand too much, I know. That’s why the only solution is misanthropy. We just can’t do better!

All these forms of stupidity – the ignorant, the superstitious and religious, the mindless, the self-centered, the greedy, the bad-tempered, the reckless and ruthless – lower my life quality significantly! Some directly by bothering and annoying me in daily life situations, others indirectly by messing up the social and ecological environment. The worst is: The situation seems so hopeless! We simply can’t implement proper education (for knowledge AND values) everywhere around the globe! There will always be injustice, motivation for crime, lack of vision, self-centeredness! Human stupidity is ubiquitous and eternal – I am sure I am not the first to state this.

In this post, I made some bold claims. The most debatable one, probably, is that people in civilised societies have the moral and social obligation to cultivate a mindful and considerate awareness for their ignorance and stupidity so that they have a chance to overcome it and perform better in their lives. This point needs more convincing arguments in the next episode of this series.


My Misanthropy – 2. Friendships

2. Friendships

When I was 20, my friend introduced the psychological test The Cube to me. I had to relax and focus on my mental awareness. My friend talked me through the scenery. I found myself in a desert. I saw a sand desert (like an extended beach) with dark yellow sand dunes and a dark blue sky. The atmosphere was pleasant and calm. The line of the horizon was more or less in the middle of my image. Now, the first object appeared: a cubic structure. Immediately, in front of my inner eye, a monolithic black massive cube stood firmly and unshakably in the desert sand. It had a metallic flawless surface that nothing could ever scratch. Certainly, it wasn’t hollow, even though we would never be able to find out. The second item was a ladder. I found an old wooden ladder leaning on one of the cube’s walls, about half the height. It was slightly damaged, with missing and broken rungs. Actually, it looked a bit like the old ladder in our horse barn. Now, a horse entered the picture. An impressively majestic black horse, rearing like the one on the Ferrari logo. It stood in a slight distance on the rear left of the cube. The next thing, a storm, didn’t want to fit into my desert. There was no space for a storm, it felt wrong. After a bit of hesitation, I settled my unease with a twister that roamed around at the horizon on the right. It added up to the impressive scenery by being at save distance (certainly never coming closer) and by being an impressive natural phenomenon itself. The last element that I had to add to the picture was flowers (or only one, if that seems more appropriate). A well arranged flower bed, yellow-red flowers surrounded by red bricks, appeared in front of the cube. It felt a bit misplaced, but was much more acceptable than the storm.


After returning to this world, my friend explained to me that all the elements in this image mean something and tell something about me. The desert depicts my soul, the cube is me (or the image I have of myself, my ego), the ladder symbolises friendships, the horse is my partner, the storm represents my perception of problems in my life, and the flowers stand for my (future) children. I learned that my soul is balanced and grounded, that I have a huge ego and strong self-confidence, that the main connection to my partner is admiration and that I wish her to have a strong and independent character, that my life is obviously free from any troubles and problems, and that my ideal concerning my future children will be to take good care of them and let them flourish. I skipped the ladder, here, because I want to talk about this particular item, since this article is about friendship. I may talk about the other insights in other blog posts, maybe. Or I leave it to your interpretation.

The ladder was short (in comparison to the cube), useless and weak. It leaned on the cube and didn’t seem to attract anyone’s attention, like a forgotten tool or discarded trash. The book that my friend used to interpret my picture suggested for this case: Friendships don’t mean much to me. It is rather me who is a stronghold and listener for others who see me as a friend, but not vice versa. My friends don’t lift me up or support me reaching different (higher) spheres. The fact that my ladder is old and broken might hint at past disappointments or other negative experiences with friends. Moreover, while my self appeared indestructible, eternal and firm, my friendships appear labile, perishable and transient.

I can’t tell whether psychology tests like this one make any sense or have any empiric foundation, or if they are not better than astrology and horoscopes. I know from my own experience, playing this game with many of my friends, that it very often resembles the life situation or worldviews of the proband. A woman with huge problems at her job (causing her a broken partnership) had a very strong and devastating storm in her image, blowing away her horse. Another friend who made the conscious decision never to have kids had the flowers trampled down and eaten by the horse. A friend that I would characterise as a dreamer with emotional weaknesses had a fragile glass cube floating above the sand. Let’s just assume for a moment that the depictions somehow represent the actual attitudes and personality traits of the image-maker. In my case, the ladder I visualised made very much sense to me!

I was never a dominant person that had a large group of peers and buddies around. Dominant and loud people scared me. My circle of friends has always been rather small. As a teenager, I had my Pannonia friends, my band mates, and around 5-6 good friends in my class at school. I had no friends in my village except the two boys in my class at Gymnasium. I was boy scout and member of the table tennis club in Hoetmar until the age of 14, and after that didn’t keep any contact with any of the boys and girls there. After Abitur (final exam of Gymnasium), most of the friendships faded away, because I didn’t really feel any urge to maintain them. In many cases I was happy that I didn’t have to meet those idiots anymore, in other cases they were happy that they didn’t have to meet me anymore. I remember, six months after end of Gymnasium, I complained to my best friend Jonas that he and some others meet up but never invite me. He replied that he felt like I don’t fit into that group and that the others don’t have a good image of me. Honestly, I never found out what is wrong with me. I can’t remember being rude or mean or offensive. I guess it has to do with the massive black cube…

The same happened after graduating from university. The few friendships I established – I was never a member of the Club of Cool People – just faded away after some time. When I left Germany in 2013 for Asia, I didn’t feel like leaving any important friendships behind. With modern communication facilities (social media, chat programs), I tried to keep in touch with some friends, but the mutual interest dropped rapidly after being out of sight. At my new (and current) home Taiwan, I only have rather superficial friendships with language exchange partners and (ex) band mates. The interest in what I have to share (for example in this blog, or on facebook) is close to zero. I guess, most people in my friend list on facebook unfollowed my posts. The focus of my current life is you (Tsolmo) and your Mom, besides my books, my music, and my writing.

Why am I so bad at maintaining friendships? Option 1: I am a complete idiot that nobody can like or get along with. Feedback from my wife, from family members, from friends, shows me that I am not that bad. My flaws are at a reasonable level, like everyone has flaws. Option 2: I don’t care. This is what the ladder in the desert image suggests. Friends don’t raise me up. I do! Friends come and go, anyway. Why invest energy, then? An important aspect might also be that I am the kind of person that is very much de-motivated by criticism and personal complaint. I tend to focus on things that I know I am good at and that I know I have a chance to get praised for. I will never sing an unknown song in Karaoke because there is a chance of failure and looking like a fool. I don’t like dancing in a club but would rather play the drums on stage. I will rather choose to meet a friend who likes to hear my advice on something than a group of people who might choose to do something that I am afraid of (like going ice skating). Whenever I feel unpleasant or stressful with people, I will give up trying to be their friend. This was the case with class mates at school, with those at university, with colleagues, and even band mates. Additionally, I am a total homey! I don’t like to go out drinking (but rather invite some buddies to come to my place and have a beer here!), am too thrifty to waste money for expensive drinks or food in restaurants and cafés (but rather invite… see above), and feel most comfortable at home, doing the things that I like (reading, writing, DIY, cooking, baking,…). So, it seems, I just don’t care about friendships.

How is this linked to misanthropy? The crucial question is: Does my situation make me unhappy or even depressed, or not? It is surprisingly difficult for me to answer this, and I spend quite some time and effort on finding out. Psychologists (like my ex-girlfriend, and in many books and research articles) often point out the strong link between firm embedment in social relations and perceived life quality and satisfaction. People with either quantitatively (many) or qualitatively (good) well established friendships are happier, less depressed, more successful and healthier. If that is true, I should be unhappy and gloomy. At the same time, I wonder if it is this generalised insight from the psychologists that causes me pressure and dissatisfaction, but not my situation as such, since I don’t feel unhappy with only few friends and little social interaction. As I explained, I am happy doing the things that I do, and I don’t need friends to ease my mind, because as an introvert I do that remotely on my own. Yet, it bothers me that obviously nobody is interested in my thoughts, ideas and reflections. The quantity is not an issue, but maybe the quality is!

What is a good friend, then? I define friendship mostly via communication. A friend is someone who is willing to share his or her thoughts and ideas, and to listen to my thoughts and ideas and talk about them. Conversations with a good friend don’t need to have any limits or restriction, we can just talk what we feel like. Especially, friends may give each other direct and honest feedback, something that not so close people shouldn’t do! I want a friend who can tell me “Your idea is wrong! Look how you appear like an idiot in this or that situation!“, but also “Wow, I never thought like this! Thanks for the inspiration!“. The basis is, of course, a mutual interest in each other and the other’s well-being. Unfortunately, in the age of facebook, instagram & co., real personal interest is rare. People have 2000 friends in their list, but don’t care about any of them like “traditional” friends. People lose interest when having to read more than three lines of text, but only want to see photos or funny memes. Same as I am not good at (and not interested in) small talk about meaningless nonsense, I am also not good at (in the sense of not willing to) sharing private photos and irrelevant trivial daily-life choices and decisions (like what to eat or what to wear or what to buy). A friend is someone who can give me inspiration, sometimes confirmation, sometimes criticism. I expect open-mindedness, honesty, the willingness to use the brain, and a consciously chosen high level of ethical integrity.

It means: Maybe I would care more about friendships if there were people around me that are worth it? Now, this is a highly offensive statement, of course! And THIS is the misanthropy I am talking about! My image of people in general is so low that I don’t see any necessity in making anybody my friend. If you don’t understand what I am talking about when reflecting on mindfulness, epistemology, constructivism, ethics, good life conduct, then leave it and don’t waste my time! If you don’t appreciate my cognitive skills and my creativity, then I am also not interested in you! I am working on and eliminating my own flaws, but if you are not willing to even face yours, then I have difficulties having any respect for you! You smoke? Weakling! You wear make-up? Mindless consumer! You think philosophy is useless? End of the conversation! You hate jazz? Goodbye!

Obviously, my expectation on people is very very high! Some (my Mom, for example) interpret that as arrogance. I look down on people, obviously. I disagree. I am very self-critical! I have many flaws! I am not better than anybody else. Sure, I have skills that others don’t have, but others have skills that I don’t have and never will have! I am not above anyone, so I can’t look down on anyone. I just demand a lot! Especially smartness and wisdom. And this is the major problem, as mentioned earlier: Most personal flaws are the result of not using the brain properly. The cardinal vice that people can have, the deadliest sin, is idiocy. I try very hard to eliminate all idiocy from my personality and character. However, I can’t see this attempt in many people. That’s what I dislike about people: lack of effort on self-reflection and self-cultivation! That’s my misanthropy and the reason for me having so little motivation to build friendships.

Or, maybe, I didn’t meet the right people, for reasons that are my very own problem. Fear (of failure, of humiliation, of trouble), attachment (in the Buddhist sense, to my habits and patterns), bitterness (from past experiences). Instead, I am King in my castle. The massive black cube…

To close this topic, here is one last message to you, Tsolmo: Don’t be like your father! Probably, you won’t experience your father as a very social person, going out with his buddies, often inviting visitors, or giving friendships an outstanding value. Yet, I hope you won’t become an asocial person like me! Meet friends, invite them to our home, visit theirs, establish strong bonds that give you emotional and cognitive support! It is important for your independence and for your personal development and integrity! You may take me as an idol in some respect, but please not in this one!

My Misanthropy – 1. The Roots

I confess it: I am a misanthrope. Misanthropy is defined as hating people or mankind as such. Hate sounds a bit too strong to me. Yet, I can’t deny that my image of people and of mankind as a whole is very negative. I guess, that is a very important part of me, one that you (Tsolmo) will be exposed to sooner or later. Therefore, I dedicate this and the next five blog entries to this topic. I will start with an attempt of a short self-analysis to find out what made me a misanthrope. Then, I will reflect on friendship and on the idiocy of people. A four-dimensional model of responsibility will support my claim that we may expect more from people. Moreover, I will widen the scope from individual people and social collectives to mankind as such, examining anthropocentrism and the inevitable failure of the human race. The series can’t be complete without a link to Buddhism and its cure against hatred: compassion and loving-kindness.

It is important to point out one thing: I don’t suffer from it. I hate people because they lower my life quality, not because misanthropy is a kind of phobia, mania or psychopathic disease. Someone with arachnophobia usually doesn’t suffer from spiders themselves, but from the phobia that causes unpleasant states of mind in the presence of (harmless) spiders. Not spiders are the problem, but the phobia! These dispositions are irrational and the result of a malfunctioning or distorted psyche. Misanthropy is different. As I like to explain in this series, there are good rational reasons to justify a misanthropic mindset. The view itself doesn’t cause me any trouble. I don’t feel mentally exhausted, scared, or puzzled after moments in which misanthropy is manifesting itself. When people or mankind show their despicable features again, I feel rather confirmed in my misanthropy. Therefore, not misanthropy is the problem, but people!


1. My Narrative

The first question is, of course, what the roots of my negative image are. I believe there are basically two influences: My experiences with being bullied and teased, and my upbringing in a very rational spirit (“If you just use your brain properly, you will never face any trouble!”).

I don’t want to blame it on the countryside. I don’t think rural people (at least in Germany) are different from city people. All kids are exposed to social interaction. Yet, living in the countryside might have had one significant impact: I could choose to live remotely in my own world. In this world, life was harmonious and simple. Out there, in the social world, at Kindergarten and primary school, and later at secondary school, life was not that easy. For a reason that I didn’t understand (and still don’t understand), other kids (mostly older boys) teased me. On the school yard, on the school bus, in the village. Maybe my introverted and shy character gave them the expression that I am weak and a good target for their fun. For me, it wasn’t fun, though. What’s wrong with those boys? Why can’t they just accept me and see my qualities. Being told that I am smart very often by parents and teachers, I liked to believe it. I was also able to build magnificent Lego castles and could even play drums. So, why the hell would they tease me? There was only one possible solution: They must be stupid. Unintelligent. Not able to see beyond the narrow margin of their stupid life. Not able to grasp the implications of their actions and words. Not able to see things from someone else’s perspective, from MY perspective! I assume, it was during those primary school years that I formed the strong conviction that being smart always results in being nice, and that people who are not nice and kind must, therefore, be utterly foolish and stupid.

This idea had a serious consequence, according to my logic: If everyone was as smart as I am, then the world would be full of nice and kind people, and there would be no bullying, no unfairness and injustice, no exploiting of the weak by the dominant people, no misery.

The teasing of the primary school village boys turned into bullying at the secondary school. Classmates – even those I considered my friends – had fun calling me “farmer”(even though my family didn’t have a farm, just a house in the countryside) and making nasty comments about it (like “Ew, there comes the farmer again, what a stink!” or “Will your father come to pick you up with your tractor?“). I hated that! Those spoiled city kids, what do they know?! In the countryside, I could play drums without bothering the neighbours, and I could even have my own country Pannonia! Why can’t they appreciate those benefits or even envy me for having that kind of awesome life, but instead have to make it look like I am a fool?! I was quite confident and knew that they are wrong. What bothered me more was: Why are they doing that? Again, there was only one plausible solution: They must be stupid! I started keeping track of my classmates performances with a little book like those used by teachers to note down marks and students’ performances. Florian made a stupid comment about my jacket: 6! Anika smiled at me: 1! Stefan wanted to know where I bought that new cool pencil case: 1! [Note: In the German school system, marks range from 1 (very good) to 6 (insufficient).] Then, at the end of the year, I knew who was my friend and who will not be my friend. It wasn’t that serious, I guess. For example, Florian (a real example) became my bandmate later, so I was obviously good at forgiving. Yet, it shows how serious this thing was for me, the 13 year old Jan.

I am not a psychologist. Maybe my retrospective analysis is simplistic and plain. Certainly, the logic that I am a misanthrope because classmates made stupid comments is fallacious and too simple. Yet, I believe that the discrepancy between my peaceful and idyllic countryside life and the unpleasantness that I was exposed to whenever having to deal with other people plays a very important role in developing this negative attitude towards people. A seed was planted: Be careful! Don’t trust anyone! People don’t have the capacity to understand you! See what stupid things they do all the time! This seed was watered at countless occasions! The boy scouts summer camp, the rock festival, the carnival parade, the local fairground, any public place – everywhere stupid people doing stupid things that make this world a worse place! Of course, this is not true, but this is what I perceived (and still observe). With this mindset, I retreated more and more into my world, delving into my hobbies with a rather small circle of close friends.

Another factor seems important: News. Problems everywhere! I didn’t mind poverty, crime and war. That was a human problem. But I was seriously concerned about the destruction of our planet by the human race. Loss of rainforest, pollution of air and water, destruction of landscapes by industry and agriculture. A life form that destroys its own habitat – how stupid is that? On top of that, the church (and religion classes at school) wanted to tell me that mankind is the crown of creation. What a bullshit! We are like a disease for this planet! This insight raised my misanthropy to the global level. Not only the idiots around me bother me, but mankind as a whole! Beautiful and innocent species go extinct because of human stupidity! The ecosphere suffers from the ignorance of men. There is a clear parallel to me suffering from the idiocy of people around me. I understood and felt for the planet! Both of us, Earth and me – that was utterly clear to me – would be better off without people!

I use the past tense because I thought like this at the age around 18. In parts, I still think like that, but in the meantime my thoughts and reflections became a little more sophisticated and differentiated. As I explained in the introduction, my misanthropy is not a misled sociopathy, but the inevitable result of my experiences and observations. Two problems arise from it: If I hate mankind (as in every human), how can I love you (and everyone who means something to me), or does it mean that I also hate you (and my wife, my friends, my parents, etc.)? And: If I am such a hater, wouldn’t it be better for society to get rid of me, or at least sanction my negativity and my insulting attitude?

The first problem: I find it totally legitimate and acceptable to make a clear distinction between the particular level (me and my personal relationships, interpersonal ties and emotional connections, etc.) and the general level (mankind). My capacity for love is not interfered by my misanthropy. I value my family and my friends with a healthy portion of emotions involved and with the moral integrity that may be expected from an educated member of society. Moreover, needless to say, my misanthropy is purely intellectual, but never violent, aggressive or attacking (neither with hands nor with words). I admit, I don’t care much about people dying in wars or in natural disasters as long as I don’t know them. But I will, of course, to the best of my abilities, always protect you (Tsolmo) and my dear ones from any danger, harm or threat. More about that later!

The second problem: You (the reader) may find it disturbing that I judge you as stupid even though I don’t know you. I said it, right?: Everyone is stupid! How offensive! You may give me animal names or use other swear words, telling me what I can do myself. You may block my blog or unfollow it, and never visit it again. Haters are not welcome in our contemporary societies. Yet, be reminded: I try my best to explain my views. I try to examine the (psychological) roots as well as the logic and heuristic of my current conscious worldview. I will give reasons and arguments (in the next 5 texts of this series). If there is anything wrong with my idea, there will certainly be a way to convince me of that. It’s just that nobody succeeded with that, yet. I want arguments! The burden of proof that people are NOT stupid and that mankind is NOT a problem for this planet is on you!

Gingerbread Houses (with recipe)

It is a tradition in a bakery culture like the German to make gingerbread houses (糖果屋) as the one described in the fairytale Hänsel and Gretel (漢賽爾與葛麗特), inhabited by an evil witch. This is the recipe for a gingerbread house as my father taught it to me. Strictly speaking, it is not “gingerbread” at all, because real gingerbread is not suitable for houses like these. First, it gets hard and dry after three days standing (and the houses are usually displayed for a few days for decoration), and it also gets too thick and massive so that it is not easy to produce the parts in the right size, especially for more sophisticated designs. The dough described here is based on a recipe for “Spekulatius”, traditional German Christmas cookies. With the right spices, however, it can taste almost like gingerbread. The amount of ingredients, here, is enough for a rather big house (let’s say, about 50cm high, wide and long).


  • 1000g Wheat flour
  • 750g Sugar (half white, half brown)
  • 500g Butter (can partly be replaced 1:1 by Marzipan, for example 400g butter + 100g Marzipan)
  • 4 Eggs
  • Leavening agent: For special taste and right balance between brittleness and expansion during baking, it is recommended not to use baking soda (sodium bicarbonate), but potash (potassium carbonate) and/or salts of hartshorn (ammonium carbonate). I usually use a mix of the latter two, if available.
  • Spices: Cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, anis, etc… If your supermarket has it, get “gingerbread spice” or “Spekulatius spice” mixes. In Asia (Taiwan, China,…) you may use “Five spice” (五香粉), which also gives it a “christmassy” flavour.
  • For the “glue”: powder sugar, water, lemon juice (or “Citronella”).
  • Block chocolate (“couverture”) for the coating.
  • Candy and anything colourful for the decoration.



Mix all ingredients to obtain a homogenous solid dough. Homogenous means you have to knead it quite well for quite some time. It is easier when the butter gets a bit warm. However, you know the dough is good when your hands start getting sore. Put the dough into a fridge for at least 2 hours or, ideally, overnight. When it is cold it is much easier to process it.

Now the dough is rolled out (3mm thick) and the pieces that are needed for the building are cut out. It must be planned and measured in advance! This is the design and architectural part of the work. Then the pieces are baked in the oven. Depending on the type and power of the oven, the baking time is 10-15 minutes. Be sure to put the hot and still slightly soft pieces onto a plane surface where they can cool and harden without deformation.



You can either bake everything first (for simpler buildings where you can estimate the size of all parts beforehand), or start assembling the first pieces before baking more parts (which might be necessary when the size of further pieces depends on how the construction proceeds). The parts are “glued” together with a thick mix of powder sugar in water with a bit of lemon juice for better taste. Without the lemon juice, it will be too sweet (and only sweet)! As an alternative, my father mixed the powder sugar into egg white. It glues very well, and you can also apply it in the form of decorative snow and icicles. However, it turns so hard after a few days that sharp edges and pointy tips can injure your mouth while eating. Therefore, I prefer the softer version with lemon water. Be prepared for needing 500g of powder sugar for a house of the abovementioned dimensions. For 250g you will need only 2-3 spoons of water and a few drops of lemon juice. Apply the sticky mass to the edges of a piece and press it against the edge of the piece that it has to be connected with. Use supports (glasses, cups, boxes, books, etc.) if you are tired of holding the pieces with your hand. It usually takes 5 minutes for the pieces to be securely attached.


The most difficult part is usually the roof, or any part that protrudes or “hangs”, or is positioned in a slope. Big pieces need support from below, or they will bend and break after a while. When the building is complete it can be coated with chocolate and decorated with candy. Some candy might stick on the chocolate coating directly, others must be attached with a bit of the powder sugar glue. In my opinion, it should be as much candy and as colourful as possible, but in this point everybody is creative in a different way. Moreover, one of my maxims is that everything on and in the gingerbread house must be eatable (except, maybe, the gold foil of those chocolate/caramel coins, and, of course, the figurines of witch, Hänsel, Gretel and the cat)! See examples of gingerbread houses that I made in the past years in the following “background story”.

Background story:

One of my very vivid childhood memories is the annual gingerbread house that my father made, usually around Christmas. We invited all the Kids from the neighbourhood and ate it together. Here is a photo of the house from 1984, and one with the neighbours’ Kids from 1985.


From the late 1990s onwards, I continued this culinary tradition. I was 16 when I first made a gingerbread house together with some friends. In the second year, a piece of gingerbread broke and we couldn’t build the house as planned. Instead, we improvised and assembled a “bunker” instead of a normal house. An idea was born: Why not making different buildings every year with some funny features? In the following years the designs and constructions got more and more sophisticated. Unfortunately, most of our early houses (like a nuclear power plant, or a football stadium) are not documented by photos. The oldest I found is from 2004 (poor quality though): Two gingerbread towers with a gingerbread airplane crashed into one of them.


When the constructions became more complicated and needed much time (it takes me three days to make the houses of the past few years), the preparation and the consumption had to be separated. The annual gingerbread house party with the candy house, additional other food (because just the house would be too sweet!), and a traditional German alcoholic drink called Feuerzangenbowle (fire punch) became an institution in my yearly schedule, usually around Christmas (even though one has nothing to do with the other). In 2005 and 2006 we held this party in the form of a contest with several teams making houses and a jury awarding the best, most creative or most delicious. In 2005 (too bad, no photos…) we had the most impressive and at the same time most disgusting house: as a tribute to hurricane Katrina devastating New Orleans earlier that year, a team made a house in Southern USA style, put it into a large box and flooded it with 4 liters of jelly pudding! In 2006, the Korean pagoda made by my friend Doro and me could not compete with the amazing circus of Jonas and Steffi!


In 2007, I made a gingerbread version of the cathedral of my hometown Münster. I counted 436 pieces of candy on it.


2008 saw the model of the Tuckesburg, a famous building in Münster that once was the home of zoologist Prof. Landois, founder of the first zoo of Münster.


In 2009, I was in Japan for a research project and introduced the candy house tradition to my friends and fellows there. For the sake of simplicity, I chose the most original witch house design.


In 2010, I made the castle of Münster (known as the administrative building of the university).


By the way, the figurines of witch, Hänsel, Gretel and the cat are still the same that my father used. You can find them in almost all the photos posted here.


Among all the houses I made so far, 2011 is definitely the building with the biggest number of parts (more than 120). Does it look like Castle Neuschwanstein?


After staying in a Buddhist temple in Korea in 2012, I tried to build such a temple. However, that turned out to be too challenging because the roof of Korean-style temples is much larger than the construction underneath. This is impossible to resemble even with the best cookie recipe.


As usual, this house was consumed during a party with many friends. Not much later, in February 2013, I made another house for my family (parents and siblings, nephews and nieces). It is another small one that looks like my childhood home in the countryside near Hoetmar.


Later that year I left Germany for Asia. After moving to Taiwan around Christmas, I introduced myself to my new housemates and their friends with a gingerbread version of the Taipei101, until 2008 the highest building of the world. My gingerbread101 with a height of 118 cm was at that time the highest I had ever made.


In 2014, Germany celebrated the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall. Therefore, I built the most famous landmark and symbol of the separation of East and West Germany, the Brandenburg gate. The Kimbab (Korean sushi) indicates that the party preparation was already proceeding…


A cineastic highlight of 2015 for many people was the release of a new Star Wars movie. For an old fan like me, it was an inspiration to construct one of its most iconic spaceships, the Millennium Falcon (70cm diameter). Unfortunately, due to high air humidity and some construction difficulties (Don’t try to make flat disk-like structures with gingerbread!), the Gingerbread Falcon broke on the day of its construction. But I could get good photos, at least!


How can this be topped? It probably can’t. In 2016 – still in Taiwan – our gingerbread house party was scheduled on December 24th, Christmas Eve. In Germany, this would be impossible, because this evening is an important family event, so that nobody would go to a party. Taking the opportunity of having such a party on Christmas, I decided to make a Christmas tree, combining the gingerbread tradition with a Christmas custom. With a height of 125cm, it also broke the record of 2013’s Gingerbread101.


This year, 2017, we decided not to make a candy house. It would be too much of a hassle to keep a very curious and uncontrollable Kid away from it (and chocolate coated cookies with candy on it are really not the stuff that 22-months-olds should eat…)! Instead, we will make Spekulatius cookies from the same dough with you (Tsolmo) and share them with visitors! When the time is right, there will be more candy houses, that’s for sure!

My Heroes – Visionary: Francisco Varela

This category could also be labelled “Everything”. What I have in mind is an award for someone who contributed extraordinarily to the “larger picture” we have of the world and mankind’s place in it, both in terms of a scientific understanding and in view of philosophical reflections. Nobody bridged these two domains better and more consistently than the Chilean biologist, cognitive scientist, constructivist and ordained Buddhist Francisco Varela (1946-2001)!


When he died in 2001 of Hepatitis C, the world lost a brilliant mind and engaged scientist much too early! His legacy included a great deal of insights for contemporary constructivism, a connection between biology, neuroscience and human cognition, and new concepts like autopoiesis and self-referentiality, greatly impacting our modern view of the human mind and its potentials in the world fabric. Among his most recognised and rewarded publications are:

  • 1980 (with Humberto Maturana). Autopoiesis and Cognition: The Realization of the Living. Boston: Reidel.
  • 1987 (with Humberto Maturana). The Tree of Knowledge: The Biological Roots of Human Understanding. Boston: Shambhala Press. ISBN 978-0877736424
  • 1991 (with Evan Thompson and Eleanor Rosch). The Embodied Mind: Cognitive Science and Human Experience. MIT Press. ISBN 978-0-262-72021-2
  • 1999 (with J. Petitot, B. Pachoud, and J-M. Roy, eds.). Naturalizing Phenomenology: Contemporary Issues in Phenomenology and Cognitive Science. Stanford University Press.

Especially his works with Humberto Maturana are outstanding in the sense that they pave the way for a new definition of living systems and organisms. Autopoiesis describes the tendency of an organised system like a biological cell to sufficiently maintain itself solely by its own means and drives (but in exchange with its environment, of course), which is in contrast to allopoietic systems (like car factories, for example, that use the input of resources to produce cars but not themselves). Autopoiesis can be defined as the ratio between the complexity of a system and the complexity of its environment, with other words: we can describe autopoietic systems as those producing more of their own complexity than the one produced by their environment. Initially intended by Maturana and Varela to be applied to biological entities, it soon expanded to other fields such as cognition, consciousness, and social system theory as that of Niklas Luhmann. His tree of knowledge combines Heinz von Foerster’s first and second order cybernetics and the developmental and linguistic psychology of Ernst von Glasersfeld with Humberto Maturana’s and his own insights into biological systems. Therefore, he is regarded as a key figure (and his respective book as a key work) in contemporary constructivism.

From my perspective, it is not a co-incidence that he was attracted by the Buddhist worldview and its implications on daily life practice. I agree completely with Varela (and many others who recognise it) that Buddhist philosophy can be characterised as inherently constructivistic. Dependent origination (Pratītyasamutpāda) becomes even more clear and convincing in light of Varela’s autopoiesis model! Thus, key ideas of Buddhism such as karma, dukkha, the mind poisons, emptiness, etc. fit perfectly into this picture. Moreover, since the early days of scholarly Buddhism (the days of Nagarjuna), it has a lot to say about consciousness, human psyche and mind, so that an exchange with biological and cognitive sciences seems due. Varela (together with Adam Engle) founded the “Mind and Life Institute” that facilitates the dialogue of (cognitive) science with the Dalai Lama on the connections between our scientific insights into the human mind and the Buddhist understanding of it. Many conferences with renowned scientists and venerable Buddhist masters have been held since then, with very fruitful output.

I call him a visionary because in his last years he tried eagerly to connect the puzzle pieces to a picture in which normative implications of constructivism become obvious. What does it mean for our understanding of ethics? What does it mean for individual well-being and the creation of quality of life in a social collective? Unfortunately, before he could elaborate his thoughts to the fullest he passed away. His last contribution was the combination of Husserl’s phenomenology with first person approaches from neurosciences (so called neurophenomenology). He inspired many scientists and philosophers alike to continue working on what he started. I like to see myself as one of them, carrying on the mission to fruitfully connect our scientific knowledge base with normative orientational knowledge for which philosophical ethics as well as sophisticated worldviews such as Buddhism can (and must) be a source.

My Heroes – Contemporary Philosophy: Jürgen Habermas

My hero in the category contemporary philosophy definitely had the largest number of competitors. Apparently, for me, this is the most important field of human activity. There is no human progress without the great philosophical thinkers. I employ a rather wide definition of who counts as a philosopher: those who contributed significantly to the larger picture of society and individual in terms of ontology, epistemology and ethics (the three core fields of philosophical inquiry). Same as in the music field, I have many idols and sources of inspiration, all of which could be candidates for the “my hero” award:

  • Among the famous “classical” philosophers: Arthur Schopenhauer and Friedrich Nietzsche, because their thinking is original and insightful. Interestingly, both were inspired by Eastern philosophy like Buddhism, and the attentive reader of their works will notice that!
  • The phenomenologists Edmund Husserl and Martin Heidegger, because they contributed significantly to the foundations of my favourite philosophical position, constructivism.
  • The great American pragmatist and constructivist John Dewey, probably the best that ever came out of USA.
  • Ludwig Wittgenstein for his clarifications on language and how it impacts our life.
  • Psychologist, philosopher and member of the Frankfurt school Erich Fromm, because his well-founded social criticism as expressed in “Having or Being” convinced me as a teenager and increased my interest in social philosophy and socio-cultural anthropology (here, I don’t mean the biological-archaeological direction of it).
  • Sociologist Niklas Luhmann, because he did ground-breaking work in the field of social theory.
  • John Rawls (after Dewey the second great US-American) for his incredibly convincing theory of justice with its veil of ignorance as the major tool in contractualism as an ethical theory.
  • Vienna-based philosopher Friedrich Wallner for his Constructive Realism as an epistemological model and “middle way” between scientific realism and relativistic empiricism.

Now, what happens when we take all these loose ends and tie them together in one philosophical figure? We end up at Jürgen Habermas!


Born in 1929 in Düsseldorf, Germany, he became one of the most influential philosophers of our time, mostly known and awarded for his contributions to critical theory and pragmatism. His academic interests and fields of inquiry cover a wide range. Anyhow, two major strands can be identified: socio-political issues (deliberative democracy, social theory), and elaborations on rationality, communication and knowledge. In the former field, his system-lifeworld distinction serves as a theoretical framework for constructive realism, and he added many missing links to Luhmann’s theory. More importantly (for me), in the latter field, he explicated the concept of communicative rationality in great detail so that it could serve as a basis for discourse ethics as an own-standing ethical theory (together with, but more convincing than, Karl-Otto Apel). It is certainly not an exaggeration to state that his ideas advanced my own academic field – technology assessment and S&T ethics – significantly. When today we have established efficient arenas of pragmatic discourse on scientific and technological progress as constructive input for S&T governance and policy-making, it is mostly thanks to Habermas’ achievements concerning ideal discourse, deliberative and participative democracy and a much clearer view on the relation between social systems and the cultural lifeworlds they are embedded in.

Jürgen Habermas is still active as a public commenter and intellectual mastermind. Find a list of his major works and a summary of his achievements and insights in this article by James Bohman and William Rehg on the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, and a list of his awards and prizes on Wikipedia.

My Heroes – Ancient Philosophy: Nagarjuna

I guess it has become very obvious in all my previous letters that I am much closer to ancient Asian philosophies than to European philosophical traditions. I find the classical Indian and Chinese exegeses on holistic and non-separative ontology, constructivist and naturalistic epistemology, and especially the pragmatic and psychologistic (in contrast to many Western meta-ethicists, for me that is something positive) ethics conceptualisations  much more plausible and convincing than the premature and naïve Western realism, dualism, substance metaphysics and transcendentalism. The most famous figures in ancient Asian philosophy are certainly Siddhartha Gautama (the historical Buddha), Laozi (even though it is not certain that this was one real person) and Kongzi (Confucius). They are regarded as the founders of Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism, respectively. However, in each schools of thought, there are other thinkers that achieved much greater insights than their predecessors: Zhuangzi put the Daoist philosophy on more solid grounds, Mengzi (Mencius) and Xunzi sophisticated Kongzi’s ideas substantially, and Nagarjuna is without any doubt the most important and influential Buddhist philosopher before it became a modern academic discipline! His enormous merits in advancing the insights on Sunyata (emptiness), Satyadvaya (Two Truths), Madhyamāpratipad (the Middle Way) and Pratītyasamutpāda (Dependent Origination) make him my personal hero in the category Ancient Philosophy!


Nagarjuna (Sanskrit: नागार्जुन, Chinese: 龍樹) lived in South India around 150-250CE (widely shared scholarly view). According to the legend, he received the Prajñāpāramitā sutras from mystical creatures called “Naga” (a mix of snake and dragon) who kept in on behalf of the historical Buddha at the bottom of a lake. His name means “white snake”, and he is often depicted with snakes (an Indian symbol for wisdom) around his head. The historical record of his works is incomplete and still vividly debated among contemporary scholars. Some of the text attributed to him might be from other philosophers. It is widely acknowledged that his major contribution is the Mūlamādhyamakakārikā, a treatise of 27 chapters on The Middle Way.

After the death of Siddhartha Gautama, his followers split, basically, into two groups: The worshippers who focused on the practices taught by Buddha, and the scholars who wanted the Dharma (transferred in the sutras of the Pali canon) to be understood as philosophical wisdom. The former can be regarded as the religious interpretation of Buddhism, the latter as the philosophical school. For around 400 years, it seemed that the worshippers were the predominant group. The theoretical schools divided further and further and disputed with one another about who represents the true Dharma and who understands Buddha’s teachings in the best and most appropriate way. By the time of Nagarjuna, the original philosophy conveyed in Buddha’s doctrines were at the risk of being lost. Nagarjuna’s analysis of the concepts mentioned above formed a new firm connection between our philosophical understanding with Buddha’s original accounts. He is regarded as the founder of the Madhyamaka school in the Mahayana branch of Buddhism.


As pointed out earlier, I regard the 12 links of interdependent co-arising as the core of Buddhist teachings, even more fundamental than the Four Noble Truths or the Eight-fold Path (which are rather easy-to-understand doctrines of folk Buddhism, in my humble opinion). Once familiar with this model, it is easy to understand the difficult notions of sunyata (emptiness) and the practical implications of a Middle Way philosophy (which is the center of Nagarjuna’s teachings). Thanks to Nagarjuna we have today a better and philosophically more grounded idea of these important elements of Buddhist worldview. I can see how it applies to many daily life situations and how I can make use of it to increase my life quality. For a philosophical Buddhist (but probably also for religious ones), Nagarjuna’s writings are essential reads, but there is also a lot of good and insightful secondary literature about him and his teachings (see a list in this article by Jan Westerhoff in the Standford Encyclopedia of Philosophy). If you want to gain deeper insights into Buddhist thinking, there is no way around Nagarjuna, but it is definitely a way that is worth the time and effort!