Posts Tagged ‘Spain’
“By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail”*…
Further, in a fashion, to yesterday’s post, a piece by Nate Hagens on preparing for what promises to be (to put it politely) a challenging future. It’s via (R)D‘s old friend Patrick Tanguay (and his wonderful newsletter Sentiers), who does the introductory honors…
Nate Hagens has spent two decades mapping what he calls the “more-than-human predicament,” the interlocking crises of fossil fuel depletion, ecological overshoot, and economic fragility. This piece marks a shift in his focus: the diagnostic work is largely done, and the current moment demands a framework for action rather than further description of the problem. It’s quite long and perhaps a bit dry, but considering the complexity of everything he’s talking about, I think it reaches a nice balance between all the things and “ok, I can read this, sit with it, and have a well ordered map of what needs doing and a framework from which to work.” The framework has four levels—personal psychological grounding, trusted network-building, six broad intervention fronts, and a timeline—premised on the idea that none of the material work is possible without first stabilising the individual (“being human”) and building shared understanding among people who see the situation clearly.
The six fronts—physical infrastructure, ecological intervention, dignity systems for the dispossessed, governance, culture and meaning, and economic transition—are not a menu but an interdependent set of domains where work is needed simultaneously. Some are familiar territory for anyone thinking about collapse and resilience; others are less obvious. Hagens insists, correctly, on including dignity infrastructure for people who will lose livelihoods as supply chains contract and jobs are automated, and treats culture and collective meaning-making as essential rather than supplementary. He also argues directly that ideological critique, however accurate, is not a plan. That the moment calls for moving from naming what’s wrong to building what comes next.
What gives the framework its structure is the timeline underneath it all: three overlapping phases. Phase A is the stability window that still exists in much of the world, and the one in which trust, infrastructure, and institutions must be built while surplus and coordination capacity remain. Phase B is the period of shocks and triage, already beginning in places, where the goal is to hold systems together and prevent cascades. Phase C is the stable destination—regenerative, locally embedded, equitable—that gives the earlier phases their direction. Hagens’ central argument is that what gets built now sets the initial conditions for everything that follows, and that path dependence operates at a civilisational scale.
Most of the positive climate outcomes we are likely to see in the next twenty years will not come from technology, they will come from curtailed economic expansion driven by the very forces I described at the beginning of this essay: war, debt, and energy depletion. We already got a preview of this during the pandemic as economic activity halted. Industrial activity contracting is not a climate policy, but it is a climate outcome. […]
Subsidiarity and local governance capacity: decisions made at the lowest appropriate level, which in many cases is probably much more local than we currently assume. Communities need the ability to govern their own resource allocation when higher-level institutions can’t or won’t. […]
Collective imagination and sensemaking: the role of arts and creative work in helping communities grieve, adapt, and imagine. This is not a luxury, it is how human groups have always metabolized disruption to continue working together. […]
Shared reality and sovereign visioning: the capacity of communities to tell their own story and find their own vision for the future rather than have it told for them by algorithms, demagogues, or strangers with large followings. In a period of disruption, the communities that hold together will have a strong enough shared cultural narrative to metabolize hardship without breaking apart. This is not a soft category, it is essential and has the ability to bear weight. […]
This window is finite, and many of us – especially in the last few weeks – are increasingly aware that it is closing. We just don’t know exactly how fast. But everything that can only be built in stability – institutional trust, physical infrastructure, knowledge transfer, and relationships – has to be built now, in this window, before conditions change. […]
What does it look like? Regenerative, resilient, human-scale, embedded in local ecology, equitable in a way that does not depend on infinite growth to fund redistribution, and rich in meaning, social connection, and all the things that actually make human life good.
Eminently worth reading in full. The logic of Pascal’s wager suggests that we take Hagens’ advice seriously: “What to Do as the World Falls Apart: A Framework for Action,” from @natehagens.bsky.social (via @inevernu.bsky.social).
Evidence that taking action can matter: “Scientists have scrapped the worst‑case climate scenario – because action is making a difference,” from Andrew King.
And a reminder that there’s more action to take: “The world is heading toward a financial crisis – the state of US politics has left us ill-prepared,” from Eduardo Porter.
* Widely (but incorrectly) attributed to Benjamin Franklin
###
As we prepare, we might recall that the Academy of the Distrustful was founded in the library room of the Palau Dalmases in Barcelona. A Baroque literary and musical academy with the aim of promoting the study of classical and Catalan history and poetry, mostly in Spanish, by fourteen scholars headed by the noble Pau Ignasi de Dalmases i Ros. In the event, it lasted only several years: during the War of the Spanish Succession several of its members supported Charles III of Austria over (the man who became) Philip V of Spain— and disbanded the group.
On this date in 2005, 2025, the 325th anniversary of its foundation, the Academy was reconstituted as a humanities academy (in the broadest sense of the term) in the Sala Dalmases of the Historical Archive of the City of Barcelona.
“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain”*…
Your correspondent is off again, so (R)D will be on hiatus until Friday the 4th. In the meantime…
Dr. Sam Goldstein with an all-to-timely reminder…
Hate is often described as an emotion, but it is actually a learned behavior. Unlike fear, sadness, or love—emotions that are instinctive and universal—hate does not exist independently. It is shaped by fear, anger, stress, and social conditioning, developing over time rather than emerging naturally. Hate can be directed at people, ideas, or entire groups, influencing individuals and societies in ways that range from casual dislike to extreme violence. But if hate is learned, can it be unlearned? To break the cycle, we must understand how hate forms, how it manifests in our language and actions, and what we can do to replace it with something better.
The word “hate” has deep historical roots, originating from the Old English hatian, meaning “to despise” or “to wish evil upon.” It stems from the Proto-Germanic hatajan and the Proto-Indo-European kad, which means “to grieve” or “to suffer.” This connection suggests that hate was initially tied to pain, not necessarily hostility.
Over time, its meaning evolved. Today, people use “hate” casually—saying things like “I hate traffic” or “I hate Mondays”—to express mild annoyance. On social media, phrases like “haters gonna hate” trivialize the concept, making it seem inevitable and dismissing criticism as a product of jealousy or negativity.
But the same word is also used to describe serious moral opposition, such as “I hate injustice” or “I hate oppression.” In its most dangerous form, hate leads to profound social and political divisions, fueling discrimination, violence, and even war. While language shapes how we perceive hate, the real question is why it develops in the first place.
If hate isn’t an emotion, what is it? At its core, hate is a response to fear, stress, and anger. It is reinforced through experience, social pressure, and cultural narratives. Hate is not something we are born with—it is something we learn.
Fear plays a significant role. People often hate what they don’t understand or perceive as a threat. This is why xenophobia and racial prejudice exist. The unfamiliar makes people uncomfortable, and in that discomfort, hate is cultivated.
Stress and anger also fuel hate. When individuals feel powerless, overwhelmed, or frustrated, they search for something to blame. Hate becomes a means to direct negative emotions outward. This is evident in scapegoating, where specific groups are held responsible for economic hardship, crime, or societal decline.
The us vs. them mentality fuels hatred. Humans are inherently tribal, creating groups based on identity—race, nationality, religion, or ideology. This fosters the belief that our group is superior while viewing their group as the enemy. Hatred deepens this divide, making it easier to rationalize discrimination and violence.
Personal experience can turn resentment into hate. A betrayal, ongoing mistreatment, or a history of injustice can lead someone to develop deep-seated hostility. In many cases, what starts as personal pain becomes generalized toward an entire group, reinforcing division cycles.
Hate is also learned. From childhood, individuals absorb beliefs from family, media, and society. When a child grows up in an environment that demonizes certain groups, that perspective often becomes deeply ingrained. This is why racism, sexism, and religious intolerance persist across generations.
Finally, the internet has amplified hate like never before. Social media allows people to express extreme views without accountability. Hate spreads through online mobs, echo chambers, and misinformation, making it more difficult to challenge false narratives and prejudices.
Hate is destructive not just to its targets but also to those who hold it. It consumes energy, distorts reality, and fosters resentment. Research shows that people who cling to hate experience higher levels of stress, anxiety, and even physical health issues. Hate undermines mental and emotional well-being.
On a larger scale, hate causes social division. It tears families apart, fuels political and racial tensions, and makes it nearly impossible for societies to progress together. Hate-driven violence—including hate crimes, terrorism, and genocide—has tragically shaped history, demonstrating that unchecked hatred leads to devastating consequences. However, if hate is learned, it can also be unlearned. The cycle is not inevitable.
The first step in breaking free from hate is awareness. Recognizing that hate is not an emotion, but a response driven by fear, stress, and conditioning allows us to question the origins of our biases. Education plays a crucial role in this process. Exposure to diverse cultures, perspectives, and ideas challenges misconceptions and diminishes fear.
Challenging stereotypes is another powerful tool. Many forms of hate are based on false generalizations. Real-life interactions with people from different backgrounds help dissolve these misconceptions and build bridges instead of walls.
Empathy is the most potent antidote to hate. When we take the time to understand another person’s experiences, it becomes difficult to hold onto hostility. Compassion takes the place of resentment when we realize that those we dislike have struggles, dreams, and fears just like our own.
Letting go of hate requires emotional regulation. Practicing mindfulness, engaging in therapy, or using basic stress management techniques can help individuals break free from cycles of anger and resentment. Though challenging, forgiveness often serves as the key to moving forward.
Constructive dialogue is essential. Many people avoid discussions about complex topics because they fear conflict. But avoiding conversation only deepens the divide. Engaging in open, respectful discussions about race, politics, and ideology can break down barriers and create understanding.
We all share the responsibility of taking action against hate. This can be as simple as opposing discrimination when we see it or supporting organizations that work to dismantle hate. Every act of kindness, every moment of patience, and every attempt to understand another perspective contributes to a world with less hate.
Hate is neither an emotion nor an instinct—it is a habit, a behavior, a learned response. It represents a destructive way of thinking. Just like any habit, it can be changed. While it may feel powerful in the moment, hate ultimately weakens the person who harbors it. It isolates, consumes, and destroys. But we have a choice. Instead of hate, we can choose curiosity. Instead of division, we can select understanding. Instead of anger, we can opt for growth. The opposite of hate isn’t necessarily love—it’s the willingness to listen, learn, and let go. That is something every single one of us can strive for…
How to break a habit that isolates, consumes, and destroys: “Why Do We Hate?” from @drsamgoldstein.bsky.social in @psychologytoday.com.
(Image above: source)
* James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time
###
As we look beyond loathing, we might recall that it was on this date in 1492 that the joint Catholic Monarchs of Spain (Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon, the patrons of Columbis) issued and “executive order” commanding the expulsion of practising Jews from the Crowns of Castile and Aragon and its territories and possessions within four months, by July 31 of that year– the Alhambra Decree (AKA, the Edict of Expulsion). It had been strongly advocated by the Inquisitor General of Spain, Tomás de Torquemada, “the hammer of heretics, the light of Spain, the saviour of his country, the honor of his order,” per Spanish chronicler Sebastián de Olmedo. Subsequent history has been less kind. By virtue of his approval, even advocacy, of practices including torture and burning at the stake, his name has become synonymous with cruelty, religious intolerance, and fanaticism.
“As for us Indians, we have our own problem before us. It is the problem of the world in miniature. India is too vast in its area and too diverse in its races. It is many countries packed in one geographical receptacle.”*…
The current approach to this challenge seems to be (to oversimplify, if only slightly) to create a majoritarian Hindu state that homogenizes those differences. But it wasn’t always so. Scott Stroud tells the story of Bhimrao Ambedkar, an Indian student of John Dewey, who worked for a very different, more inclusive, kind of country…
When one thinks of American pragmatism, one often puts too much emphasis on the American part. It might even stunt our enquiry, irrevocably fixating on thinkers such as John Dewey, William James, and Jane Addams. But there is more to the story of pragmatism than what happened in the United States around the turn of the 20th century. Pragmatism itself was a flexible, loosely allied approach to thinking that held few maxims in common other than the idea that our theorising and arguing ought to come from lived experience and ought to return back to experience as the ultimate test of its value. Its advocates such as Dewey greatly affected nations such as China through his teaching and lecturing, leading us to see that pragmatism has a global narrative connected with it. Is there a similar tale to be told about pragmatism and its interactions with India?
Any narrative of pragmatism’s influence and evolution in India will centre on Bhimrao Ambedkar, a student of Dewey’s at Columbia University in New York. Some might recognise Ambedkar (1891-1956) as a chief architect of the Indian constitution in the 1940s. Others might recognise him as the indefatigable leader of India’s ‘untouchables’ (now denoted by the self-chosen label ‘Dalit’), given his constant advocacy for the rights of those oppressed by the complex and long-rooted caste system. Ambedkar himself was a so-called untouchable, which only fortified his commitment to seeking justice in the law and in social reforms for India’s most vulnerable populations. At the end of his life, he channelled his frustration at the prevailing caste consciousness within Hindu society into a conversion effort that tried to convince his fellow Dalits to convert away from Hinduism and into a more egalitarian Buddhism. On 14 October 1956, just weeks before he died, he led what was at the time one of the world’s largest voluntary mass conversions. This event held in Nagpur featured Ambedkar, his wife Savita, and an estimated 500,000 Dalits converting to Buddhism. For reasons such as these, Ambedkar was voted the ‘greatest Indian’ in post-independence India in a poll that included more than 20 million votes being cast.
Ambedkar was not merely a political figure or leader. He was also a philosopher. One can see the evidence for this in the reconstructed Buddhism that he advanced in his final years, coalescing in his rewritten ‘Buddhist Bible’, The Buddha and His Dhamma, which was completed just before his death on 6 December 1956. In this book, Ambedkar reconstructed the narrative of the Buddha, de-emphasising traditional formulas such as the four noble truths, and foregrounding poverty, injustice and the building up of social communities. In short, he reconstructed the Buddhist tradition and its myriad texts to show how it could function as a social gospel, or an engaged philosophy that could even meet the growing waves of those inspired by Karl Marx and Russian communism in the 1950s…
The politician and thinker whose philosophy of democracy challenged the caste system: “The Indian pragmatist,” from @scottrstroud in @aeonmag.
###
As we contemplate community, we might recall that it was on this date in 1492 that all remaining Jews were expelled from Spain. On March 31 of that year, the joint Catholic Monarchs of Spain (Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon, the patrons of Christopher Columbus) had issued an edict– the Alhambra Decree— ordering the expulsion of practicing Jews from the Crowns of Castile and Aragon and its territories and possessions by this date that year.
“On any given day… 5% of Americans will consume a fresh orange, 21% will consume orange juice.”*…
How concentrated and ready-to-pour orange juice– originally a dumping ground for extra oranges– conquered the morning menu…
The staid carton of orange juice has long sat next to tea and coffee at the breakfast table. It’s bright, but somewhat boring, and bears the dubious halo of being something good for you. Few of us give it much thought, other than to recall its oft-trumpeted Vitamin C content.
But processed orange juice as a daily drink, you might be surprised to learn, is a relatively recent arrival. Its present status as a global phenomenon is the creation of 20th-Century marketers, dealing with a whole lot of oranges and nowhere to put them…
“How orange juice took over the breakfast table,” from @BBC_Future. [TotH to friend MK.]
* USDA
###
As we get sweet, we might recall that it was on this date in 1821 that Spain formally transferred sovereignty over the territory we now know as Florida– the center of the orange juice industry– to the United States. (Spain had, of course, traded Florida to England [for Cuba] in 1763, but had regained it as a product of the Treaty of Versailles in 1783.)
“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition”*…
On the long-term effects of suppression and persecution…
From Imperial Rome to the Crusades, to modern North Korea or the treatment of Rohingya in Myanmar, religious persecution has been a tool of state control for millennia.
While its immediate violence and human consequences are obvious, less obvious is whether it leaves scars centuries after it ends.
In a new study we have attempted to examine the present day consequences of one of the longest-running and most meticulously documented persecutions of them all – the trials of the Spanish Inquisition between 1478 to 1834…
Details at “Extraordinarily, the effects of the Spanish Inquisition linger to this day.”
###
As we tolerate, we might recall that it was on this date in 1492 that Catholic monarchs, King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile took control of the Emirate of Grenada (1238-1492), the last Moorish stronghold in Spain. King Boabdil surrendered to Spanish forces in the Alhambra palace, surrendering the key to the city– an event Christopher Columbus witnessed as he received the support of the monarchy to sail to the Indies.
Pursuant to the Inquisition, Ferdinand and Isabella had targeted Muslims and Sephardic Jews (also called the Megorashim), forcing them either to convert to Christianity or to leave Spain within four months without any possessions. Failure to leave resulted in torture and/or death.
You must be logged in to post a comment.