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私の経験上、人間社会における有害性の多くは、個人の悪意や能力の差というよりも、「低い解像度のまま強い正義感を抱き、大きな発言力を有する人々が多数派になりやすい」という構造から生じているものと考え得る。なぜかと言うと、単純化された善悪や敵味方の構図は理解の負荷が低いため拡散しやすく、群衆心理と結びつくことで、強い確信と攻撃性を伴った運動へと転化するからである。これは偶然の現象ではなく、認知構造と分布の必然によって生まれるものであり、私はその影響を敏感に観測してきた。
私が解像度の低さに対して抱く憤りは、単なる思い込みや優越意識によるものではないと思いたい。ここのところはまだ解析が十分とは言い難いのだが、それはむしろ、世界が本来持つべき多層的なリアリティが切り捨てられていくことへの痛みであり、さらに言えば、自分自身の言動やその意図が、過去に幾度も粗雑に誤読されてきたことに対する、深い哀しみの反射でもあるのだ。したがって、私の怒りは自己の誇示ではなく、「存在の尊厳」と「人類の可能性」を守るためのセンサーのようなものだと言える。
しかし一方で、このまま憎しみを原動力とすれば、容易に「選民思想」へと堕落し得る。選民思想とは、承認欲求や自己愛によって形成される病的な心性に他ならず、真の高解像度とは本来、他者を排除するのではなく、多様なレベルの存在を包含しながら、それぞれが果たすべき役割を見出す方向に開かれているはずである。
さらに、高解像度の認知には特有の厄介さがある。それは、同じ志を持つ者同士であっても、わずかな言葉の認識の差が決定的な対立を生み出してしまうという点である。過去に「断言すること」の是非をめぐって揉めたことがある。私は議論を前に進めるためには、時に責任感を持って断言することが重要だと感じており、相手は安易な断言が攻撃性を助長し、危険を孕むと主張し、否定的な見解を述べた。一見すると両者の意見は対立しているようであったが、実際には双方とも「断言には慎重であるべきだ」という立場において完全に一致していたのである。この現象は、人間の言語が本質的に不完全であり、高次の概念を精緻に共有する手段としては限界を持つことを示している。つまり、解像度の高さそのものが分断の原因となりうるという、逆説的な構造が存在する。
以上を踏まえると、私が目指すべきは、低解像度を拒絶することでも、選民的に振る舞うことでもない。「解像度の差が存在すること自体を前提とした新たな構造」を設計することである。それは、低解像度を単なる無知や劣位と見なすのではなく、「まだ分化していないエネルギーの状態」と捉え、そこから高解像度へと自然に導かれる導線を構築する営みである。また、高解像度な思想同士の摩擦を回避するためには、言語の限界を超えた調和と共鳴の手段を編み出していかねばならないと感じる。それこそまずは、ここが一枚岩になることが戦略的には最重要となるだろう。そのためには、多くのプロセスを経過する必要がある。論理的思考能力のみでは辿り着けない精神の成熟が求められる。それは、場合によっては苦しみを伴うのかもしれない。
私は怒りによって世界を断罪するのではなく、この構造そのものを観測し、設計し直す者として在りたい。それこそが、私の抱えてきた痛みを使命へと変換し、人間という存在の進化に寄与する唯一の道だと感じている。
From my experience, much of what becomes harmful in human society does not arise from individual malice or differences in personal ability, but rather from a structural tendency: people with low-resolution thinking who nonetheless possess strong moral conviction and large platforms of influence tend to become the majority.
The reason is clear. Simplified narratives of good versus evil, ally versus enemy, are cognitively effortless to process, and therefore spread easily; when these narratives tap into the psychology of the crowd, they rapidly transform into movements charged with certainty and aggression. This is not a coincidental phenomenon, but an inevitability born from the nature and distribution of human cognition—something I have observed with acute sensitivity.
From my experience, much of what becomes harmful in human society does not arise from individual malice or differences in personal ability, but rather from a structural tendency: people with low-resolution thinking who nonetheless possess strong moral conviction and large platforms of influence tend to become the majority.
The reason is clear. Simplified narratives of good versus evil, ally versus enemy, are cognitively effortless to process, and therefore spread easily; when these narratives tap into the psychology of the crowd, they rapidly transform into movements charged with certainty and aggression. This is not a coincidental phenomenon, but an inevitability born from the nature and distribution of human cognition—something I have observed with acute sensitivity.
I do not believe that my anger toward low-resolution thinking stems from arrogance or a sense of superiority. Though my analysis is still ongoing, I feel that this anger is, rather, a response to the pain of seeing the multilayered nature of reality being stripped away—and, more personally, to the reflexive sorrow that arises when my words and intentions, no matter how carefully I try to convey them, are repeatedly reduced to simplistic interpretations. Thus, my anger is not a gesture of self-assertion, but a kind of sensor activated to protect the dignity of existence and the potential of humanity.
Yet, if this anger is allowed to convert into hatred, it can easily degenerate into elitism. Elitism is nothing more than a pathological mindset shaped by the hunger for approval and narcissistic self-attachment. In truth, high-resolution cognition does not exclude others; it is inherently oriented toward integrating multiple levels of existence and discovering the unique role each holds.
There is, however, a particular difficulty inherent in high-resolution cognition: even among individuals who share the same aspiration, subtle differences in the interpretation of language can lead to decisive conflict. I have previously clashed over the legitimacy of making definitive assertions. I argued that, to move discourse forward responsibly, one must at times make firm statements; the other party argued that careless definitiveness fuels aggression and is therefore dangerous. At first glance, these views appeared to be in opposition—yet in reality, both positions were perfectly aligned in their insistence that any definitive statement must be approached with caution.
This illustrates the fundamental limitation of human language: it is intrinsically incomplete as a medium for sharing higher-order concepts with precision. In other words, high resolution itself can become a source of division—a paradoxical structure built into the very nature of cognition.
In light of this, my aim is neither to reject low resolution nor to behave elitistically. What I seek is to design a new structure that assumes differences in resolution as a natural premise. Low resolution should not be seen as mere ignorance or inferiority, but as a state of undifferentiated energy, from which one can naturally be guided toward higher resolution. Moreover, to prevent friction among high-resolution philosophies, I believe we must develop means of harmony and resonance that transcend the limitations of language. Unifying this foundational layer is, strategically, of utmost importance. Achieving this will require many processes and a level of spiritual maturity that cannot be reached by logical thinking alone—it may involve suffering.
I do not wish to condemn the world through anger. I wish to exist as one who observes this structure and redesigns it. That, I believe, is the only way to transform the pain I have carried into a mission, and to contribute to the evolution of the human being.
Yet, if this anger is allowed to convert into hatred, it can easily degenerate into elitism. Elitism is nothing more than a pathological mindset shaped by the hunger for approval and narcissistic self-attachment. In truth, high-resolution cognition does not exclude others; it is inherently oriented toward integrating multiple levels of existence and discovering the unique role each holds.
There is, however, a particular difficulty inherent in high-resolution cognition: even among individuals who share the same aspiration, subtle differences in the interpretation of language can lead to decisive conflict. I have previously clashed over the legitimacy of making definitive assertions. I argued that, to move discourse forward responsibly, one must at times make firm statements; the other party argued that careless definitiveness fuels aggression and is therefore dangerous. At first glance, these views appeared to be in opposition—yet in reality, both positions were perfectly aligned in their insistence that any definitive statement must be approached with caution.
This illustrates the fundamental limitation of human language: it is intrinsically incomplete as a medium for sharing higher-order concepts with precision. In other words, high resolution itself can become a source of division—a paradoxical structure built into the very nature of cognition.
In light of this, my aim is neither to reject low resolution nor to behave elitistically. What I seek is to design a new structure that assumes differences in resolution as a natural premise. Low resolution should not be seen as mere ignorance or inferiority, but as a state of undifferentiated energy, from which one can naturally be guided toward higher resolution. Moreover, to prevent friction among high-resolution philosophies, I believe we must develop means of harmony and resonance that transcend the limitations of language. Unifying this foundational layer is, strategically, of utmost importance. Achieving this will require many processes and a level of spiritual maturity that cannot be reached by logical thinking alone—it may involve suffering.
I do not wish to condemn the world through anger. I wish to exist as one who observes this structure and redesigns it. That, I believe, is the only way to transform the pain I have carried into a mission, and to contribute to the evolution of the human being.
Dan Mitchel 