In a recent note, I reflected on the need - and difficulty - of ‘knowing the time’. One is struck by the sense of disorientation that prevails, as events tumble ahead of our capacity to comprehend them. The demand is for content and quick takes, and so we are immediately told why an election outcome was to be expected, why the fall of a regime was a matter of time.

Ivan Illich, The Rivers North of the Future (c. 1997): - Paul Virilio, Crepuscular Dawn (2002): - Oliver Sacks, ‘The Machine Stops’ (c. 2015): - Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves to Death (1985): - Thomas Pynchon, ‘Is it O.K. to be a Luddite?’ (1984): - Norbert Wiener, The Human Use of Human Beings (1950):

The calendar suggests it is late autumn in Japan, but it feels like proper autumn weather has only recently begun here. Two years ago I wrote a note on ‘polycrisis in autumn’, now a time to return to those themes. Scrambled seasons continue, mirroring the scrambling of politics, markets and minds. It is almost like these phenomena are connected.

Despite having done a lot of research on democracy, I have not written much about it here. Given that we are reaching the climax of a big year of elections, I thought it would be useful to share some of my conclusions on democracy and its enduring value. To understand what an existential crisis for modern democracy looks like, we should turn to early 1941.

Despite being based in Japan, I tend not to write directly about it as much as I plan to. I keep meaning to address this, but have been distracted with other topics. Given that the country is in the news following the weekend’s election, I thought it might be useful to offer some reflections and context.

The prior note contained images from Francisco Goya’s etchings, The Disasters of War . The less obvious context for it is that I am currently doing some thinking and writing alongside the Spanish painter. Given my recent note on Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes, I was happy to come across a sketch of the famed knight-errant by Goya.

Hannah Arendt, On Violence : Simone Weil, The Iliad, or The Poem of Force : Svetlana Alexievich, Boys in Zinc : Susie Linfield, The Cruel Radiance : Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas : - Prints from Francisco Goya, The Disasters of War .

Pierre Ryckmans (aka Simon Leys), The View from the Bridge (1996): - Hermann Hesse, The Glass Bead Game (1943): - Max Weber, ‘The Bernhard Case’ (1908): - Friedrich Schiller, ‘What Is, and to What End Do We Study, Universal History?’ (1789): - Hermann Broch, The Sleepwalkers (1931-21):

Returning to the practice of open thinking alongside Pete Chambers, taking place between Japan and Australia, recorded as the seasons (are meant to be) changing across the Northern and Southern hemispheres. In this episode we continue our examination of the individual and collective consequences of the digital worlds we are choosing and using. The ever-expanding reach of smartphones comes with a constant decline in recognition of shared spaces.

The attempt to think through and with China proved to be fittingly quixotic. It turned into a much bigger undertaking than initially anticipated, taking about a month and resulting in more than 12,000 words. In the process of researching and writing, I became more convinced of the claim I made: China is too important to be left to the specialists.

A month after returning from China, this series finally reaches its conclusion. Thanks for your patience. Previous notes: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. The aim of this series has been ‘to orient’ our thinking through and with China, and by doing so, trying to move beyond binary frames that view the country as threat, as enemy, as other.