Esse est percipi

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Our consciousness that reality - and ourselves - exist is constructed by our brains, carefully shielded and entombed within the encapsulating dome of our thick skulls. The slender evidence of reality is no more than coded pulses on afferent nerves. A mighty pyramid balanced on its point.

Does the squirrel exist when the cat has finished watching it?

And so on.

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Mind Over Matter? Not All Idealism is Created Equal: Berkeley vs. Hegel

(Published: March 31, 2025)

Ever pondered the nature of reality? Does the world exist independently of our minds, or is consciousness the foundation of everything? Philosophers who lean towards the latter are called idealists, believing that reality is fundamentally mental or spiritual. But even within idealism, there are vastly different flavours!

Two giants of idealist thought are George Berkeley and G.W.F. Hegel. Both argued against a purely material view of the universe, but their own visions of a mind-based reality couldn't be more distinct. Let's dive into the fascinating differences between Berkeley's Subjective Idealism and Hegel's Absolute Idealism.

Berkeley: If a Tree Falls in the Forest and No One's Around... Does it Exist?

George Berkeley (1685-1753), an Irish bishop, offered a radical and elegant solution to questions about mind and matter. His famous maxim: Esse est percipi - "To be is to be perceived."

• The Core Idea: Berkeley argued that reality is composed solely of two things: minds (or spirits) that do the perceiving, and ideas (the sensations, thoughts, and objects) that are perceived.
• No Independent Matter: That solid table you're sitting at? For Berkeley, it's not some mysterious underlying material substance. It's a collection of ideas – the sensation of hardness, the visual appearance of wood grain, its shape – existing in a mind. If no mind perceives it, it simply doesn't exist in that form.
• Where God Comes In: Berkeley wasn't suggesting your desk vanishes when you leave the room! He solved the problem of continuity and objectivity by positing an infinite, omnipresent mind: God. God perceives everything, all the time, thus holding reality in consistent existence.
• Why "Subjective"? His idealism is often called "subjective" because the existence of objects (as ideas) is dependent on a subject (a mind, whether finite like ours or infinite like God's) perceiving them.

Hegel: Reality as the Grand Unfolding Story of Spirit

Fast forward about a century to G.W.F. Hegel (1770-1831), a towering figure in German philosophy. Hegel also believed reality was fundamentally spiritual, but on a vastly grander, more complex scale.

• The Core Idea: For Hegel, reality is the dynamic, rational process of a single, all-encompassing entity called Absolute Spirit (Geist - often translated as Mind or Spirit) coming to understand itself. This isn't just a mind, but the totality of reality – including logic, nature, human consciousness, history, art, religion, and philosophy – understood as a unified, developing system.
• What About Nature and Matter? Hegel doesn't simply deny the material world like Berkeley. Instead, he sees nature as the Absolute Spirit in a state of "otherness" or externalization. It's a necessary stage in the Spirit's journey towards self-realization. The physical world is real, but its ultimate meaning and reality are found within the context of this overarching spiritual development.
• History Matters: A key element for Hegel is history. He saw human history as the progressive unfolding of Spirit's self-consciousness, driven by a dialectical process (the clash and resolution of opposing ideas – thesis, antithesis, synthesis).
• Why "Absolute"? It's "absolute" because it describes a single, total, all-inclusive reality (the Absolute Spirit) which is self-contained and not dependent on individual finite minds for its being. It aims to be the ultimate, objective account of everything.

So, What's the Big Difference? Let's Break It Down:

While both philosophers champion a mind-centric reality, they land in very different places:

1. Scope: Berkeley focuses on the relationship between individual perceivers (human and divine) and their ideas. Hegel paints on a vast canvas, describing the totality of existence (including nature and history) as a single, evolving Spirit.
2. Material World: Berkeley says poof! – no independent matter, just ideas. Hegel says matter is real but as an integral, externalized part of the Absolute Spirit's ongoing story.
3. Basis of Existence: For Berkeley, existence hinges on perception by a mind. For Hegel, existence is participation in the rational, historical unfolding of the Absolute.
4. Subjectivity vs. Absoluteness: Berkeley ties reality to subjective perception (even if God is the ultimate subject). Hegel aims for an absolute, objective account where the Spirit itself is the ultimate subject and object, encompassing all.

Final Thoughts

Comparing Berkeley and Hegel highlights the incredible diversity within idealist thought. One offers a world radically dependent on minds perceiving it, anchored by God's constant gaze. The other presents a dynamic, all-encompassing Spirit, weaving together nature, history, and consciousness into a grand, unfolding narrative of reason.

Both challenge us to reconsider the relationship between our minds and the world around us, pushing the boundaries of how we understand existence itself.

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'Annabel and the AI Weapon' - by Adam Carlton

The air is thick, hot, and close. Inside the tiny shed, darkness reigns, broken only by flickering red and yellow glints from the fires outside, seeping through cracks and ill-fitting wooden slats.

The door is locked with a crude padlock.

The door has an armed guard outside.

This is not how it was meant to be.

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Annabel, twenty-three, sits slumped against the wall, staring at the jagged outline of the door to her left. No help there. She shifts her gaze to the other occupant of this stifling space—the man slouched against the opposite wall, half-hidden in shadow.

Tom is a reporter for Foreign Affairs, here to cover the same military exercise Annabel was protesting—until Boko Haram fighters scooped them both up and dumped them in this makeshift prison on the outskirts of Damboa, Northern Nigeria.

Boko Haram territory.

What will tomorrow bring?

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Tom breaks the silence. “We should be introduced. I’m Tom. From the UK. I work for Foreign Affairs. It’s a US political magazine. You?”

“Annabel. I’m a postgrad at Middlebury, a liberal arts college in Vermont. I’m here to protest the racist deployment of autonomous AI weapons against the people.”

She hugs her cardigan closer. The night air is cooling. The dirt floor is damp. Her back aches from trying to find a comfortable position. A bucket looms in the corner, dimly visible in the flickering gloom.

She shudders. Their toilet.

“What’s going to happen to us?” she whispers.

“Me?” Tom shrugs. “I’m a hostage for ransom, or I get the machete. They’ll start with demands—they always need cash. The US doesn’t like paying, and I’m not a national. Doesn’t look good.”

His expression is one of exaggerated dismay. British bravado. She wonders if he knows she’s noticed.

“As for you,” he continues, “they’ll assume you’ve got a rich daddy with excellent connections. You’re prime ransom material. Then again, the more devout might decide you’d make a fine jihadi bride. If they start giving you lessons in theology, I’d suggest paying attention.”

Annabel shudders again. It had all seemed so thrilling, so righteous. Even the kidnapping had felt like part of the adventure. Now, she’s filthy, hungry, aching, and staring at a bucket.

It’s finally sinking in.

This is real.

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A scratching noise to her right. Her mind jumps to rats.

The bug is two centimeters long, having burrowed under the wall. It scans the room, registers the two occupants, notes the absence of guards—then whispers in an American voice.

“You guys can hear me?”

Tom, unfazed, murmurs, “Sure. I think I saw one of you at the briefing.”

The bug ignores him. “In two minutes, we’re burning out a section of the back wall. You’ll be able to crawl out. When you do, we’ll have you away in no time.”

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The bug sits motionless. The ground shifts where it emerged. A larger ‘creature’ surfaces—mole-like, the size of a cat, a refugee from the Boston Dynamics Hell Lab.

It scuttles to a corner, opposite the door, faceted eyes locked forward with machine intensity. Tubular arms weave a precise pattern, zeroing in on the entryway.

Tom catches Annabel’s eye. “Jesus, it’s a Lynx. Saw it at the exhibition. Whatever you do, stay clear of that thing—and don’t block its view!”

Annabel’s mind stutters, emotions frozen. Terror gibbers at the edges of her thoughts. Her frail body, surrounded by dark, lethal energies.

No one can predict how this will play out.

The acrid scent of burning wood. The stealthy rasp of a saw. A faint outline of a hatch emerges—a new door. Their way out.

Is that the distant thump-thump of a helicopter?

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The guard stirs. Sniffs the air. Then, suspicion. The fumbling of a key. A muttered curse in a liquid tongue. The door creaks open, not in panic, but measured wariness.

The Kalashnikov enters first, then the soldier, eyes adjusting to the gloom.

The two Westerners freeze.

The Lynx calculates.

Then everything erupts.

The soldier inhales sharply, eyes locking onto the mechanical predator crouched on the earthen floor. He swings his rifle up—

A rush of air.

He’s yanked from his feet, flung backward, crumpling without a sound.

The Lynx recoils.

Wood splinters. The hatch swings open.

“Out!” says the bug.

Annabel scrambles on all fours, breath shallow, heart hammering.

Outside, a matte-black steel box looms—an elevator car? A portaloo? The TARDIS?

A soldier in black camo gestures her in, carbine held steady.

“In here, ma’am.”

A lift cable extends skyward.

The three of them are inside. The helicopter a kilometer above cranks its engines. The steel hawser tightens. They rise. At 400 meters and 300 klicks per hour, they stabilize in the airflow. A twenty-minute flight to the US military’s forward operating base.

The soldier stands, braced, silent.

Tom exhales. “Non-lethal fléchette swarm. The Lynx decided that a quiet extraction was best achieved by tranquilizing the guard. The needles penetrated his shirt—no armor. Optimal solution.”

Annabel, sprawled on the floor, barely listens.

Tom, almost to himself: “You know why I approve of AI weapons? They’re  better than human soldiers—smarter, more informed, better judgment, less emotion... less panic.”

Annabel yawns, stretches against the steel walls.

“Take tonight,” Tom muses. “These Boko Haram boys? The West demonizes them, but that’s Big Oil talking. The North’s always had a raw deal. Their egalitarian Islam—it’s primitive, sure, but it gives them purpose, an ethos…

“I’m glad that kid wasn’t killed. And obviously, I’m glad to be out of there.”

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Annabel isn’t listening.

She’s thinking about civilization. About hot showers. About clean sheets.

What an adventure.

Does anyone think this will stop her anti-AI campaign?

Not a chance.

She has renewed vigour.

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