Society, Performativity & Deception – Absolute Negation

“Anton Sokolov has made a great study of my runes, but he’s not special like you are. He wasn’t chosen and he doesn’t wear my Mark, so he can’t unlock their secrets. Sokolov believes there are specific words and acts that can compel me to appear before him. He searches old temples in Pandyssia and ruined subbasements in the Flooded District. He performs disgusting rituals beneath the old Abbey. But if he really wants to meet me, he could start by being a bit more interesting.” –The Outsider, Dishonored

“I am the villain. I make myself one, and people will consume these stories year after year after year. Stories that shock, that confuse, stories that are deliberately made to blur the boundaries between fact and fiction.” –Nikocado Avocado

“Tell me, Light, from the moment you were born, have you ever told the truth?” –L, Death Note

Everyone lies to you.

Human beings are, at their core, creatures incentivized to lie and deceive at every turn. If I were asked to define the often-debated nature of humanity, I would sum it up with a single signifier: deception.

While it’s true that animals, in general, can create signifiers and chains of meaning, no other animal displays the same intent and ingenuity in placing one signifier here to obscure another over there. Humans lay down tracks only to erase them, creating new paths that lead others astray. In the animal kingdom, there is camouflage, of course, but it doesn’t compare to the elaborate deceptions crafted by humans. One might argue that animals can mislead us through simple inferences—like a poisonous plant bearing delicious-looking fruit to lure prey into a false sense of safety. Yet, only with humans do we encounter arbitrary chains of deception, weaving misdirection through multiple layers of inference.

There’s an infinite web of drama on the internet, as we all know, and I’ve been contemplating what makes some of it captivating while other topics leave me utterly uninterested. Recently, there have been numerous allegations against Mr. Beast. Frankly, I don’t care about him at all, so I avoid these discussions. They simply don’t interest me. From what I gather, the core allegations involve shallow deceptions—deceptions of inference depth one—such as claims that he’s faking his videos. And, honestly, I couldn’t care less.

This is purely a report of my subjective experience, but I find myself far more invested in the antics of a content creator named Nikocado Avocado, even though (or perhaps because?) he might be considered, by many measures, potentially more unethical than Mr. Beast. He is much more interesting to me. As I said, this is a subjective stance, but it ties back to my initial discussion on inferential step deception, particularly in Nikocado’s now-famous video titled “Two Steps Ahead.”

I shall give a quick summary for those unfamiliar with and uninterested in this kind of drama, though I intend to draw some general philosophical inferences from this so-called nonsense. After all, applied philosophy must engage with the everyday absurdities that populate discourse, right?

Nikocado Avocado, a YouTuber known for his theatrics, originally gained attention as a vegan content creator before shifting to a non-vegan lifestyle, which corresponded with a dramatic pivot toward provocative, drama-centric content. Over time, he gained a significant amount of weight, becoming severely obese, which led to widespread concern about his health. Yet, he constantly trolled his audience, always straddling the line between irony, post-irony, and a complex web of deception. (For more context here is the most recent 7 hour exposé, and an older 4.5 hour long one)

He constructed a persona that blurred reality and performance, leaving viewers to wonder whether they were seeing the “real” Nikocado or an elaborate act—much like the duality we see in characters such as Saul Goodman and Jimmy McGill, or Walter White and Heisenberg.

The reference to Heisenberg is especially pertinent here. Named after the physicist Werner Heisenberg and his uncertainty principle in quantum mechanics, the idea suggests that one cannot simultaneously determine a particle’s position and velocity with absolute precision. Similarly, characters like Nikocado embody a kind of uncertainty, always eluding a fixed identity. Moreover, the principle of superposition in quantum mechanics—the notion that a particle can exist in multiple states simultaneously—mirrors this persona’s fluidity, transcending binary logic. This, of course, aligns with the themes and discourses I explore in my articles (e.g. here and here).

I want to clarify that I’m not trying to extrapolate principles from quantum mechanics (QM) into general philosophy. Rather, I’m pointing to these concepts as interesting analogies that can help frame our discourse around these kinds of character “superpositions.” With that said, as I mentioned earlier, human beings, as a general rule, are always incentivized to lie. This statement may seem provocative, especially when considering edge-case characters like Nikocado, but it applies more broadly: every person, from a Mr. Beast to you and me, is inherently incentivized to deceive.

One might ask: how can this radical assertion, seemingly in direct opposition to Kant’s ethical intuitions, be elevated to the status of a natural law? Kant famously posited that lying is always categorically wrong. However, I am suggesting that the impulse to lie is not merely a historical or social conditioning but intrinsic to human nature itself.

As higher creatures capable of constructing complex linguistic chains, we possess the tools for self-reference and paradox. Our elaborate systems of language allow us to communicate intricate ideas to others, but this very apparatus is also employed to fabricate and obscure truth. Within each of us resides something familiar: the ego, the sense of self, and a drive for self-importance. Nietzsche framed this in his idea of the “will to power” (WTP), a concept often misunderstood as an ethical maxim. In reality, Nietzsche wasn’t prescribing a moral directive that individuals ought to seek power; rather, he was describing what he saw as an inherent, structural truth of existence.

Will to Power: Metaphysical Necessity

According to Nietzsche, WTP is not an aspiration but a metaphysical component embedded in all entities. Every being, consciously or not, strives to impose its influence on its environment. This striving isn’t an ethical choice but rather a fundamental condition of existence. This is where many misread Nietzsche, believing him to be advocating for power-seeking behavior in the Kantian sense of an ethical imperative. However, he is merely pointing out that everything already is will to power.

Even philosophies or ethical systems that appear to reject power—such as those of Deleuze or Guattari, who explicitly criticize structures of dominance—still manifest WTP because they engage in an effort to encode their truths onto the world. Deleuze, in particular, acknowledges Nietzsche’s influence, having helped rehabilitate Nietzsche’s ideas within the French intellectual environment of the postmodern era. Likewise, one might look at Buddhism or other ascetic philosophies that advocate the renunciation of personal dominance and claim they oppose power. However, even these practices reflect WTP on a meta-level: they seek to overlay the environment with their own vision of truth, suggesting that striving for a kind of dominance or mastery over the self and the world is inescapable.

From a Buddhist perspective, the attainment of enlightenment is seen as merging with absolute truth, a state that ultimately restores the WTP to its structural essence. We must not confuse this notion of WTP with the object-level understanding of raw power, such as that wielded by a mafia boss or a god-king in ancient Egypt. WTP, in its structural sense, refers to the inherent drive of every being to over-code the environment with their own version of truth. It is part of a broader process whereby conscious beings strive toward a harmonious alignment with a meta-structure of truth.

Despite the variety of approaches to truth, every individual possesses an intrinsic desire for cohesion, consistency, and correspondence with this meta-structure. Scientists seek alignment through the methods of positivist or post-positivist philosophies of science, striving for a correspondence with the meta-structure through empirical investigation. Religious individuals aim for unification with the divine, seeking an encounter with God through prayer or meditation. Mystics, on the other hand, pursue fusion with the meta-structure by engaging with concepts such as the void, non-being, or the “absolute as non-absolute.” Yet, regardless of these diverse paths, WTP is always at play, driving the desire to overlay one’s personal truth onto the environment.

In this inherent striving toward over-coding the environment, entities are incentivized to bend semantics to serve their irrational impulses. This phenomenon is recognized in philosophy as cognitive bias, where rational discourse becomes subservient to these underlying, often unconscious, urges—in this case, WTP. Nietzsche provocatively questions whether WTP aligns with the pursuit of truth or, rather, whether it is untruth that we actually desire. To Nietzsche, truth itself may merely be the servant of irrational impulses.

Real-world discourse on these matters, of course, is far more complex and reciprocal. There is a dynamic interplay between irrational impulses and rational discourse, with neither side reducible to the other. Nevertheless, I maintain that our drive toward WTP incentivizes us to deceive, as the semantic chains we use in argumentation are often distorted by irrational singularities, much like a black hole warping the trajectory of objects in physical spacetime. Similarly, our lines of reasoning are bent by our desires, which does not imply that irrationality is inherently negative. On the contrary, it is essential to the formation of arguments.

It’s crucial to clarify that I do not consider myself a rationalist in the Yudkowsky sense (cf. for more context my summary of Spiral Dynamics and method). Nonetheless, I agree with Yudkowsky on the importance of mitigating cognitive biases for a clearer understanding of reality. However, no human—or entity, for that matter—is exempt from the machinations of WTP and the incentivization toward deception. In Jungian terms, all humans possess a persona, a mask that projects a curated version of themselves to the external world. This persona is shaped and manipulated by the ongoing tug-of-war between our innate drive for power and our attempts to engage with truth.

Adding complexity to this discussion is the fact that the “sum”/”I am” in “Cogito, ergo sum” cannot be distilled into a singular, self-identical nucleus. In the post-structuralist framework I am advocating, the “I” is not a monolithic entity but is instead dispersed into a multiplicity—a plurality of self-signals. This notion reflects an assemblage in the Deleuzian sense, a kind of assembly that “votes” on different issues. The self, then, becomes more of a democratized entity—a “disassembly.”

Note: The concept of the self as a fragmented, pluralistic entity has been explored by numerous thinkers across different fields:

1. Jacques Lacan: Lacan’s psychoanalytic theory posits the “mirror stage” as crucial in the development of the self, where the child identifies with its own reflection, creating a sense of a unified “I.” However, Lacan argues that this unity is a misrecognition, concealing the underlying fragmentation of the self. His idea of the “subject” as divided between the conscious and unconscious further supports the notion of a pluralistic self.
2. Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari: In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari discuss the idea of “assemblages” and the self as an intersection of multiple forces and influences. They advocate for a concept of “becoming” over “being,” suggesting that the self is not a fixed entity but a collection of dynamic processes and interactions, resisting any single, coherent identity.
3. Michel Foucault: Foucault explores the idea of the self as a construct shaped by various discourses and power structures. In The History of Sexuality, he addresses how social norms and institutions impose narratives on individuals, compelling them to construct a coherent self that aligns with these norms.
4. William James: In The Principles of Psychology, James introduces the idea of the “stream of consciousness,” where the self is not a singular entity but a constant flow of experiences and thoughts. He distinguishes between the “I” (the subject of experience) and the “Me” (the self as known), suggesting a self that is multifaceted and changing.
5. Friedrich Nietzsche: Nietzsche’s concept of the “will to power” emphasizes the inherent drive in individuals to assert their interpretation of the world. This desire to impose a self-consistent narrative reflects a kind of internal struggle between multiple facets of the self.
6. Post-structuralism: Generally, post-structuralist thinkers, including Derrida, question the notion of a stable, unified self. Derrida’s ideas of “différance” and the inherent instability of meaning suggest that the self is always in flux, a play of signifiers that defy complete coherence.

Together, these theories challenge the traditional notion of a unified, self-consistent identity. Instead, they highlight the fragmented nature of the self, arguing that the drive to present a coherent narrative to the world is often an act of intrinsic deception shaped by various social, psychological, and linguistic factors.

The key point here is the concept of the subject as a collection of “I”s—a fictitious signifier attempting to draw together the disparate facets and experiences of human existence. This fragmented nature of the self contributes to its intrinsic deceptiveness, as it is constantly incentivized to present a unified narrative to the world. Human beings have come to value self-consistency, which, in turn, compels us to construct a coherent and well-formed discursive singularity.

Some individuals are particularly adept at this coherence, and society often labels them as “authentic.” However, authenticity can also be an act; someone might consistently communicate a particular persona while secretly holding entirely different views or motives. This strategic navigation of social landscapes is not uncommon, particularly in high-profile true crime cases where someone presents as a well-adjusted, integrated member of society while leading a double life, perhaps as a serial killer. These scenarios highlight the capacity of individuals to simultaneously maintain contradictory self-narratives.

Hyper-Performativity: Endless Confusion

Then, there are more chaotic individuals who exhibit an almost pathological need for deception. They lie so frequently and contradict themselves so readily that their statements defy clear interpretation. This brings us to figures like Nikocado Avocado, who styles himself as an anime-type villain, claiming to be “two steps ahead” of everyone else. He evokes the kind of characters found in narratives like Light Yagami from Death Note or Ayanokoji Kiyotaka from Classroom of the Elite, figures who leave others perpetually guessing their next move. Nikocado’s performance suggests he operates within a deeper, more elusive meta-structure of reality—one that is confusing and inexhaustible for the average observer.

This portrayal is captivating because it mirrors something about our own experience: the “singularity” of our existence, the unanalyzable nucleus of the self. People are drawn to characters who resist straightforward analysis because they resonate with the complexities and contradictions inherent in their own identities. By contrast, someone like Mr. Beast presents a more “surface-level” reading, a persona that is easier to decode. Nikocado Avocado, however, through his chaotic enactment of the will to power (WTP), provides a germ of intelligence—a deeper substance to engage with. His manipulation of WTP gives us a richer, more labyrinthine structure to work through, prompting us to go deeper into his character and, by extension, our own.

It’s intriguing how most people view such behaviors—especially those marked by high-profile figures like Nikocado Avocado—as unethical, yet often fail to reflect on their own inconsistencies in self-consistency. These individuals, who engage in performative acts, are doing so for an audience, and that audience is, to an extent, complicit in the spectacle, though not directly causative.

One could argue that this desire for deception and drama is embedded within human nature. Humans are drawn to drama, deception, and complex games of high inferential step deception, which is evident in the popularity of true crime investigations, detective fiction, and the like. On a trivial level, this fascination can be reduced to a power fantasy.

Characters like L or Ayanokoji Kiyotaka certainly embody these fantasies, where the allure lies in their ability to be “two steps ahead.” Similarly, video games like Dishonored, where players assume the role of a stealthy assassin, indulge in this fantasy. Here, the name of the game is deception, being several moves ahead of opponents. While I acknowledge that this aspect can be, in principal (as didactic device), reduced to a power fantasy, I typically reject reductionism in my writings, so this is only part of the equation.

The other side points to a more structural analysis of humanity. These larger-than-life characters like Light Yagami or Ayanokoji Kiyotaka mirror essential aspects of what it means to be human. We all navigate various social contexts, wearing masks and playing roles as required by the situation. What fascinates us about such characters is their apparent mastery over the power to fluidly shift between different networks of signification, an exceedingly complex task.

Lacan touches on this complexity in a famous lecture, where he suggests that while humans can handle the meanings of signifiers in terms of a handful of interpretations—say, up to 10—our capacity to maintain a cohesive chain of meaning quickly deteriorates beyond that point. This breakdown hints at our inherent limitations; we are not particularly adept at thinking through multiple inferential steps in real-time scenarios.

This limitation is evidenced in various fields. For example, many assume that chess grandmasters regularly think 10 to 15 moves ahead, but this is largely a misconception. In reality, even the most skilled players often focus on the current board state and think only a few moves ahead—say, on average, around three steps. The belief in deep inferential hierarchies is thus an illusion; in real-world situations, these hierarchies tend to be much shallower than people imagine.

We are captivated by characters who seem capable of thinking far ahead, but this is, in large part, a fictional construct. If we examine characters like Light and L in Death Note, much of their supposed “depth” boils down to relatively simple inference steps: “I know that you know,” followed by an action based on that knowledge. The appeal lies in this fictionalized extension of human ability, not in an actual display of complex, long-term inferential reasoning. In reality, humans struggle to keep multiple layers of inference in their working memory. Perhaps if one were to write an exhaustive treatise on these layers, they could create an argument with more depth, but few would be able to follow such a story.

The fascination, then, comes from the illusion of complexity rather than its actual presence. And this, my dear reader, is the absolute essence of magic; which in its core always contains the germs of un-magic, that is the entirely plain and regular appearance of patterns evolving across time & space.

Self-Deception: Blind Idiot-Gods & The Games They Play

The film Primer is a great example of a narrative that becomes famously convoluted due to its deep inferential hierarchy. To make sense of its many intertwined timelines and plot points requires a level of mental unrolling that is nearly impossible for the human brain to “one-shot” in a single viewing. This illustrates how limited we are when it comes to processing complex layers of information in real-time.

So, when Nikocado Avocado claims to be “two steps ahead,” it primarily serves to generate a power fantasy for both himself and his audience. It allows him to embody a stealthy figure who fluidly navigates various contexts of signification, playing different roles with ease. At its core, this is a theatrical performance, a kind of performativity that resonates deeply with the human condition. Nikocado celebrates the dark, deceptive side of humanity, offering viewers an ambiguity that invites endless interpretation.

On the other hand, creators like Mr. Beast seem to impose a more straightforward narrative on the viewer, one that lacks the multiplicity and ambiguity of Nikocado’s persona. In Mr. Beast’s case, it’s harder to discern what he truly wants from us, leaving us with a more external analysis rather than one that engages with the complexity of human deceit and self-multiplicity. This is somewhat analogous to trying to psychoanalyze characters like Sasuke from Naruto. Since Sasuke rarely offers an internal monologue or expresses his thoughts directly, any attempt to psychoanalyze him is speculative and superficial.

Without an internal perspective, we are limited to projecting our interpretations onto his actions, making true psychoanalysis impossible.

Psychoanalysis, by its nature, is a reciprocal process requiring the subject to open up of their own accord, working through their thoughts and feelings. The analyst serves merely as a catalyst for elucidating signifiers. In this sense, while Nikocado Avocado provides us with an abundance of material to work with, it still may not be sufficient to draw any conclusive or useful insights. This reinforces the point that human beings are inherently contradictory and deceptive. Even if you were to follow someone’s actions for hundreds of hours, you would still be left with more questions than answers (unless you are a master of self-deception, i.e. a human being!).

This brings to mind another video, “I Don’t Know James Rolfe” by Folding Ideas. In it, the creator spends considerable time critiquing James Rolfe, (a content creator whom I personally enjoy), for not evolving artistically. The video then generalizes this critique into a kind of moral failing on Rolfe’s part. While this is an interesting angle, it exemplifies the difficulty of analyzing someone’s inner life from an external perspective without enough data to justify the conclusions.

The video eventually turns inward, suggesting that by failing to understand James Rolfe, the creator is also confronting his own limitations, admitting that parts of himself are in a state of failure or contradiction, particularly in terms of content creation. While this self-reflection is valuable, the critique could benefit from targeting the self first before turning to others. The most crucial takeaway from these public dramas isn’t necessarily about the figures involved but rather what you learn about yourself through engaging with them.

Ultimately, all this discourse should prompt us to ask: What do we, as viewers, take away from observing these characters and their contradictions?

The more judgmental you are toward others, the more judgmental you should be toward yourself—or better yet, direct your judgment inward first and toward others second. Perhaps being “two steps ahead” means that the first step is outpacing the so-called competition, while the second step must be in front of yourself. In this sense, the most crucial form of doubt is self-doubt; all other forms of doubt should be secondary.

I find content that reveals the instability of a person’s interactions and identity quite fascinating. Yet, I recognize that I, too, am such an entity—constantly swayed by a plurality of influences, inherently incentivized to deceive others to maintain a consistent self-image. This is driven by a desire for social recognition and a coherent self-understanding.

Ultimately, the critical focus for me is not in drawing conclusions about the failings of others but rather in confronting the failings within myself. The most important and intriguing individuals are those who mirror my own shortcomings back to me, forcing a kind of self-reflection that leads to growth.

In the end, my aspiration is to be two steps ahead of myself.

However, I must admit that, realistically, I will always remain ten steps behind.