I Am Not Writing to the World: A Guide to Creating "Theory Sketches"

This entry is an appendix to my five-part series on “terrible communities”: 1. All Communities are Terrible Communities. 2. Terrible Outcomes of Terrible Communities. 3. A Less Foolish Power Literacy. 4. Terrible People in Terrible Communities. 5. An Antidote to Terrible Communities.

I am not writing to the world. I am writing to myself. I write to myself, knowing that some people are reading, presumably those who resonate with my writing. The world is not reading me. I do not write to people who do not read me. Who is reading me? 

I presently have about six thousand subscribers on this Substack, with entries sent directly to their email, with an average open rate of 45%. That means 2700 people regularly open my email. I doubt all those people actually read the entire entry. I’ll be generous and say half do; therefore, 1350 people currently read my entries.

According to Worldometer, there are 8,053,532,962 people on the planet right now. That means 8,053,531,612 people did not read my recent series on terrible communities. Thanks to the stats Substack provides, I know most of the people who did read the series are from the United States and Canada. For example, I have no readers from Somalia, Bolivia, or Greenland. While they do not provide stats for the North Sentinel Island, I assume the Sentinelese, an uncontacted tribe that lives there, have also not read the series. I could be wrong, though.

I have no illusions that my writings, especially my theoretical ones, apply to the Sentinelese. I am not writing to them. I am writing to myself. These writings are a form of philosophical inquiry. Philosophy can be divided into practical and theoretical philosophy. The former is an inquiry regarding something personal, leading to practical clarity. The latter is an inquiry regarding something abstract, leading to theoretical clarity.

Philosopher Stephen Toulmin made the distinction between the two genres of philosophy quite clear in his paper The Recovery of Practical Philosophy. Practical philosophy emphasizes the oral but can be written, with words inclined toward the timely, particular, and local. Theoretical philosophy emphasizes the written but can be oral, with words inclined toward the timeless, general, and universal. I used to be exclusively engaged in practical inquiries in these journals. I was putting myself at the edge of my thinking, writing uncertainly, and allowing messy entries. More recently, I have been engaging in theoretical inquiries, writing certainly, aiming for polished entries.

When writing theory, anyone who thinks all their theorizing is true is truly a fool. In general, people need way more epistemic humility. What arrogance to think one’s theory actually corresponds to reality, which is to say, corresponds to God¹. The word theory comes from the Latin word theoria. In the spiritual lineage I belong to, Orthodox Christianity, theoria refers to being illuminated, beholding the vision of God, and realizing He is everything. If you are not trying to know God with this degree of intimacy and trying to understand reality with abstractions, pretending to be God with your mind, then stop reading these words. I am not writing for you. Go away and return when you are ready to move toward the whole with humility.

Generally speaking, writing theory is a good thing. When people write theoretical stuff on newsletters like this one, especially when writing to themselves, they create “theory sketches” that help with their wayfinding². In my approach to writing theory, I try to write them so they are true, or at least not obviously wrong. Yet, they also have to be useful for me because I am writing these for me; if my theories are useful for others, even better, as that brings me joy.

However, my primary focus is not to write for accuracy or utility. My primary focus is to write for beauty. Beautiful things usually have the right amount of accuracy and utility anyway. I am not saying that my writings are beautiful. It takes skill for someone to create something truly beautiful, and skill takes practice, which is why I am practicing now.

Writing for beauty creates a beautiful world; the argument as a syllogism:  

• Premise 1: Beautiful words attract beautiful people.

• Premise 2: Being around beautiful people makes the world more beautiful.

• Conclusion: Therefore, write beautiful words to make the world more beautiful.

In essence, writing to yourself for beauty “finds the others.” Or at least that’s my theory. Besides, writing in any other way is boring…  

• Writing for accuracy. Boring.

• Writing for utility. Boring.

• Writing for accuracy and utility. Better, but still boring.

• Writing to find the others. Boring and needy.

• Writing to yourself in such a way that finds the others, which also happens to have enough accuracy and utility. Hot.

A theory sketch is a provisional piece of one’s map for reality; the less foolish maps are sketch-like, provisional, and throw-awayable. More colloquially expressed, a map of reality is “having a philosophy.” One’s philosophy helps a person navigate reality. Each person’s philosophy provides them with their “is-ought” coordinates: what is reality and what one ought to do in it.

Many who “do philosophy,” which is to say, engage in philosophical inquiry, an existential cartography where maps of reality are made, are nerds. These nerds focus solely on theory, lack epistemic humility, and think they do so for truth. You can operate under a different premise: map reality through inquiring with yourself, with epistemic humility, and feel like you are doing so for beauty.

I want an accurate map, which will make it useful. Yet, the underlooked aspect of existential cartography is beauty. I do not want an accurate and useful map that is ugly; I want a map I am inspired to look at, enticing me to navigate reality with moral excellence, aka virtue. Maps of reality do not only depict the world; they change it. Beautiful maps create beautiful worlds. One should take care in creating their philosophy and ensure that all three transcendentals are present: the good, the true, and the beautiful.

When theory sketching in public, one critical consideration is how much “premise guarding” to do. Premise guarding is a way to make your arguments harder to refute by actually making them weaker. To accomplish this, introduce words into your premises that moderate the certainty of their assertion. Philosopher Walter Sinnott-Armstrong elaborates on premise guarding in Think Again: How to Reason and Argue:

To change the premise from “all” to “many” (or “most”) or “some” or from “definitely” to “possibly” or “significant chance” (or “probably” or “likely”) is to guard the premise. Other ways to guard premises include self-description, as in “I believe” (or think or suspect or fear)...

For example, the premise that started my series on terrible communities, “all communities are terrible communities,” is an unguarded premise; to guard this premise, I would replace the word “all” with the word “many”: “many communities are terrible communities.” While this weakens the claim, it makes it more difficult to dispute because it is now presumably more accurate. Of course, I do not think all communities are terrible communities, especially the Sentinelese, who seem like decent people.

A question arises when theory sketching: should one guard their premises or leave them unguarded? There are arguments for both sides:

Guarded premises are less sexy, captivating fewer eyeballs, and hence not as effective in the attention economy. On the platform formerly known as Twitter, you’ll find unguarded premises littering the place. It makes sense not to guard your premises on such media because if you want attention, it is better to write boldly. Another argument for not guarding your premises is courage. A phenomenon happening now in academic philosophy is that academic papers are unreadable, becoming longer as the years go on, with argumentive bloat, because the premise guarding comes from fear of being criticized. Too much premise guarding is an expression of cowardice; writing with less guarding takes courage.

While attention and courage are arguments for unguarded premises, unconsciously gaslighting³ and unnecessarily triggering people are arguments for guarding premises. With the former, if you consistently write with too much certainty, doing it convincingly and impressively, you’ll attract people who follow your words, tacitly encouraging them to stop trusting their own. The ones who do not follow might get triggered when reading, leave low-resolution comments, or go into culture war mode, becoming hardened in their philosophy.

Overall, the art of premise guarding serves as a screening mechanism; you want to trigger away the wrong people while alluring the right ones. Again, beauty is the north star. Guard premises in a way that feels beautiful enough because that will attract beautiful enough people. Besides, writing for everyone is boring, written by narcissists with savior complexes possessed by naive universalist philosophies.

While universally expressed, my theory sketches are deeply personal and written for me and those I live for. I write them while being senseful that my words will attract others who will be called to co-write a beautiful world alongside me.

Good writing is embodied writing, and one should write alongside other bodies. If you feel called to write to yourself while co-writing a beautiful world with others, consider joining us at Collective Journalling. My journal entries are written there, and on Saturdays, I share entries that my fellow journalers wrote. Here are three written this week:

• "Creating the Conditions" by

  Laure X Cast
  . An exploration of the complexities of creating meaningful change by letting go of dominant narratives, focusing on the present, and embracing a sense of unknowableness, leading to deeper peace and personal responsibility.

• “Into the Flesh: A Gutsy Tale” by

  Jote Lamar
  . A description of a visceral and spiritual encounter with a mink, highlighting the complexities of connection with the more than human world, the impact of colonialism, and the transformative power of embodied experiences in a time of transition.

• “A Single View of a Single Droplet” by

  John Padillo
  . A reflection on a transformative experience, leading to an existential introduction to a series of creative works centered around soul-making, expressing the impermanence of life through stories and poems.

Collective Journalling is available to paid subscribers of Less Foolish. The practice description is below, and you can access the RSVP link behind the paywall.

What is Collective Journalling? This communal practice happens via Zoom and is 90 mins, with check-ins in the chat at the beginning and an opportunity to connect with fellow journalers in breakout rooms at the end. You do not have to stay the whole time. If you are in an antisocial mood, you do not have to interact with anyone, yet you can still enjoy the coffee shop-esque communal vibe. The session concludes with an optional sharing of a passage in the chat. Most of the time is spent in silence together, individually inquiring about what matters most. A lovely group of people has formed around this practice. The practice occurs on weekdays @ 8 AM ET.