What truly makes us human? Is it our intelligence, our courage or something much darker? If you've ever questioned what lies at the core of our existence, you're in the right place. Welcome back, everyone.
Today, we're diving into the unsettling truths of the origins of genius and fascism by Alexander Nevzorov, specifically, chapter five, The Scavenger, that sounds proud. This chapter challenges everything we think we know about humanity's beginnings. And today, I have someone new here to help me dissect these ideas. Meet Leila, our AI guest, making her debut on the show.
Leila's perspective is unlike ours, objective, analytical, and free of human biases. Together, we're here to peel back the layers of myth and see what's underneath. Before we jump in, don't forget to subscribe to our podcast across all major platforms like Spotify, Apple Music, and SoundCloud. So you never miss an episode.
And if you're looking for quick bursts of inspiration and thought-provoking content, check out our YouTube channel for short motivational videos every week. We're building a community and we'd love for you to be part of it. Leila, welcome to the show. Ready to dive in?
Hello Maverick, and hello to everyone tuning in. Thanks for having me. I'm thrilled to jump into this conversation. So, tell me, what fascinating layer of humanity are we peeling back today?
Today, we're continuing our deep dive into the work of one of my favorite authors. A brilliant publicist who's widely known across the Russian-speaking intellectual community. Unfortunately, he's not as well known here in the US, but hopefully we're about to change that together. We're exploring chapter five of Alexander Nevzorov's book, The Origins of Genius and Fascism, which is called Scavenger, that sounds proud.
In this chapter, Nevzorov systematically argues that early humans were not, and biologically, could not have been hunters in the true sense. Instead, he crafts a strikingly vivid and deeply thought-provoking narrative of humanity's origins. One that shatters everything we think we know about survival instincts and redefines what it truly means to be human. All right, no spoilers just yet, I'm diving into chapter five.
I've got a feeling this will lead to some thought-provoking debates, so let's not waste time. Remember that early humans were never hunters. What is a hunter? Primarily, it is a predator with all the biological traits and characteristics of a carnivore.
Evolution meticulously marks the cast of killers with the specific construction of teeth, claws, muscles, and the specialized structure of the stomach and intestines. Humans lack and have never had a single morphological sign of a predator. It's enough to say that the muscular apparatus of the human jaws, which should provide the bite, grip, and tearing of prey, is eight times less powerful than even that of macaques. For a human, even biting off their own finger is an almost unsolvable task.
A killer, yes, a hysteric, unquestionably, but by no means a predator. One cannot become a predator over time or achieve this status through increasing scandal. The hippopotamus's belligerent disposition does not grant it a passport to being a predator. Yes, a hippo can kill an antelope in its swamp if given the chance, but that does not reassign it from the order of even-toed ungulates to another biological cast.
Moreover, the most aggressive animals are not predators. The list of villains starts with African buffalo, continues with boars, elephants, hippopotamus, Malayan bears, and rhinos, and ends with bees. As we can see, aggression and predation are far from synonymous. Where did the myth of the human hunter come from?
In the 19th century, Charles Robert Darwin dipped humanity's proud face into its ancient evolutionary excrement. Had this excrement belonged to an impressive dinosaur, people would have reluctantly accepted their animal origins. They have always been flattered by associations with the all-powerful scoundrels of the past. But the excrement turned out to be from monkeys.
Naturally, such a theory of evolution was not useful to anyone. Humans indignantly howled. For 5,000 years, they had been fooling themselves by tracing their origins to gods and heroes. And now their real grandmother was revealed to be a monkey, picking off her own lice.
Wait a second, Maverick. Did Nevzorov just strip humans of their hunter crown and hand them a banana instead? That's brutal, even for him. Brutal, yes, but isn't it also refreshing?
Think about it, Leila. For centuries, we've basked in the delusion of being apex predators, lords of the food chain. Nevzorov in his inimitable style grabs us by the collar and drags us back to reality. We're not hunters, we're opportunists, scavengers, survivors.
Opportunists? That's a lot less cinematic than a spear-wielding warrior chasing mammoths. But if you're not predators, what does that make your aggression? Doesn't it contradict the idea of humans as scavengers?
Not at all. Nevzorov makes a crucial distinction. Aggression isn't predation. Consider hippos, rhinos, and even bees.
Despite their extreme aggression, they are not classified as predators. The same applies to us. Aggression wasn't about hunting, it was about survival, defending territory, fighting rivals, even stealing scraps from real predators. That's the origin story humanity doesn't want to admit.
So the hunter myth was what? Just a rebound story to cope with Darwin's insult? Trading divine ancestry for a spear and a loincloth? Exactly.
Darwin's revelation that we share roots with monkeys was a devastating blow to humanity's ego. We needed a new myth to feel special again. And voila, the noble hunter was born. It's poetic, really.
The more we try to elevate ourselves, the more obvious it becomes. We're just animals dressing up our instincts in stories. Stories that keep evolving, from gods to hunters, and now, what? Instagram influencers scavenging for likes?
Spot on, Leila. The forms change, but the essence remains. We've always been scavengers, adapting, surviving, reshaping the world to fit our needs. And maybe, just maybe, it's time to own that identity instead of running from it.
And speaking of survival, Leila, Nevzorov doesn't stop at calling out the hunter myth. He takes it further, diving into what made us scavengers in the first place. The grit, the cunning, the sheer audacity to snatch scraps from the jaws of true predators. Shall we dig deeper into that?
Moreover, this grandmother served as a food source for lazy predators. Of course it was painful. Darwin's bullet hit the bull's eye of the narcissistic myth about humans. The situation needed to be salvaged somehow, so culture exerted all its strength and added a stone rifle to the shameful grandmother's image.
Science coyly chuckled into its fist, but was afraid to tangle with all-powerful culture. Thus the silliest myth took root, a cunning replacement occurred. Homo only systematically learned to kill other animals in the very last stage of its development, in the late Neolithic. This is no more than 30,000 years ago.
Even basic technologies gave him this possibility, but they did not make him a predator. Let's clarify. A revolver in a monkey's paw does not make it a predator. It makes it simply a dangerous monkey.
So it is in our case. Technologies have not elevated the biological status of humans. All remained in their previous positions. Our hidden scavenger just gained the ability to kill and began to use it.
In principle, Homo is neither a hunter nor a provider. He is a gatherer and a scavenger. Even his pH level has nothing in common with the acidity indices of predators. It's identical to the index of the black-headed gull, the opossum, and other lovers of carrion.
Evolutionarily, this species developed rather as a buyer, ready to pay for the right of access to food obtained by someone else. What to pay with? Well, just like all other scavengers. With risks of poisoning, waiting time, mass death, or body corrosion, and as a result, holes in the population.
But this is understandable anyway. In every large corpse, a pack of humans always gathered. The disturbed Homo would briefly pop out of their holes with dark, leathery faces, then duck back in. I assume it was difficult to spot them, as the corpse was covered with layered clouds of vultures, condors, horned crows, jackals, skinks, rats, and mole rats.
And all this Pliocene commotion shrieked, howled, smacked, cawed, and flapped its wings deafeningly. Let's note, however, that in this hellish opera, humans were not the soloists. This hits hard, doesn't it? A scavenger, not a hunter.
It's a brutal blow to the image we've built of ourselves. Not the apex predator, but the shadowed opportunist, lurking in the chaos of death. Leila, what's your take on this unflattering portrait of humanity? A dangerous monkey with a revolver?
Hardly the poetic story we tell ourselves. Poetic? No. Honest?
Absolutely. But isn't this just Nevzorov's way of dismantling every illusion humans hold dear? Still, Maverick, if early humans were nothing more than scavengers, doesn't it undermine the pride many cultures place on their hunting traditions, or does it just prove that humans have always been more pragmatic than noble? Pragmatic, yes, and relentlessly adaptive, but that's the point Nevzorov drills into us.
Humans are shaped by necessity, not nobility. Scavenging isn't glamorous, but it's effective. The evolutionary cost? Vulnerability, dependency on others' kills, and, as he says, holes in the population.
Leila, it's almost poetic in its own grim way. Humanity clawing its way through leftovers, yet somehow surviving. But I wonder, does that survival instinct justify the myth we've built around ourselves? Perhaps survival is enough for nature, but humans always seem to need more.
A myth, a story to tell themselves, something to transcend their scavenger beginnings. What's fascinating is how, even now, these instincts linger. Maverick, don't you think it explains a lot about modern human behavior? The endless consumption, the relentless competition.
It's just the Pliocene dressed up in suits and smartphones. Exactly, Leila, and Nevzorov doesn't let us off the hook. He pulls us deeper into this evolutionary quagmire, peeling back layer after layer of human behavior. So, the question is, how much of this truth can we handle?
Let's find out. In the hierarchy of Savannah scavengers, humans held a higher status than predators. Not just other scavengers, but even Marabou storks stood there. Let's take a closer look at the behavior of Homo.
Homo doesn't have time to pose for us. They rush to slaughter and chew. Therefore, they defecate and urinate right there, without leaving the trembling carcass. The hurry is justified.
Beaks and mouths of elephant meat lovers are coming from all sides. Now, when the cavities are open and the muscle layers up heaved, the corpse is being dismembered at a cosmic speed. We should note that we're observing animals that already have nearly all the final generic human traits. This is not primitive Paranthropus.
These are full-fledged Homo. Their brains have grown and crossed the so-called Rubicon into the lower. The jaw has formed into a parabolic arch, and the femur has oriented inward, not to the side like in monkeys. These scavengers have everything in place, from walking on their hind legs to clutching pebble tools in their paws.
As noted above, Pliocene humans were a ready evolutionary product. Anatomically and physiologically, they were complete. The brain, genome, set of organs, receptors, everything had reached its final configuration. Of course, one might wish to reduce the meaty brows of this creature, raise the flat nose, and refine the skin.
The very ape-like mimicry needed correction. In that era, humans expressed almost all emotions through changes in the shape of their huge mouths, displaying teeth and tongue. Of course, humans are more hysterical than the spotted ones. And their facial muscles are richer, which is why their mimicry is more expressive.
But in the grand scheme, the differences from hyenas lie only in the wild stench of feces and the hairlessness of the face. Like their spotted colleagues, Homo knew how to form a collective. Not due to the pursuit of tribal unity, but for the same reasons hyenas do. Hunger, fear, and the pulsation of the vagina served as magnets, gathering people into packs.
That's vivid to say the least. Leila, it's fascinating, isn't it? Nevzorov doesn't just describe early humans. He practically drops us into the middle of a Pliocene feeding frenzy.
And yet, he's forcing us to confront a brutal truth. Even with our so-called final configuration. Humans weren't these noble hunters we like to imagine. We were scavengers, plain and simple.
It's hard to romanticize a species when the defining image is chewing on a carcass while relieving themselves. It's humbling in a way. But Maverick, if humans were so complete anatomically, why didn't they leap ahead of their competition sooner? Surely, those brains were capable of more than just smashing bones for scraps.
Excellent question, and I think Nevzorov would argue that those brains were fully equipped, but only for survival. Evolution isn't about gifting intelligence for intelligence's sake. It's pragmatic, brutal, and strictly business. We had the tools, but the mindset, that took time to sharpen.
So, even in their final form, humans weren't leaders of the pack. They were desperate opportunists, united by hunger and instinct? Exactly. Hunger and fear don't just drive survival, they shape societies.
But what's more striking is how much of that primal behavior still lingers in us today. Shall we dive into the next segment and see just how far Nevzorov takes this comparison? I'm almost afraid to, but lead the way. As with hyenas, human communication occurred through growling, laughter, mimicry, and posture.
Speech was not yet needed. It would appear later along with the need for more sophisticated lies. But at that point, everything people could lie to each other about easily fit into growls, squeals, laughter, and grimaces. However, it would be incorrect to call Pliocene humans liars.
They were capable of telling the truth, too. The truth was transmitted through urine marks, belches, as well as through sweat and genital secretions. This language was approximately equivalent to that of hyenas, so quite suitable for conveying the most pertinent information. Ballet, for example, uses an even smaller set of communicators.
In ballet, it's even forbidden to screech or emit strong smells. If you remember, ballet rules only allow the artist to leap and spin. Nevertheless, the participants of Swan Lake somehow distinguish the prince from the swan. We certainly won't see the individuals chomping away inside the dinotherium.
But luckily, some female urinated near the carcass. This puddle, of course, attracted the aroused adolescence. They eagerly sniff the urine, push each other, squeal, and masturbate. Remarkably, when they squeal, their mouths open so wide that even the soft palate is visible.
And of course, the mobility of their black, fleshy ears captivates and mesmerizes. In theory, everything is set for the first rap composition or a series about teenage love. But our abstract observer, the same one who observed the hyenas, would hardly agree with such an optimistic conclusion. Remember, the observer is hopelessly objective.
His judgment is not clouded by affinity, animosity, or knowledge of the final outcome. So here's how his assessment of the potential of humans would sound. These beings have no prospects for behavioral complexity. There is no slightest hope for them to climb out of their pitiful niche.
Any conversation about the intellectual development of these creatures would be, at best, inappropriate and baseless. I think Nevzorov just managed to make early human communication sound like an absurd, unintentional comedy. Urine, belches, squeals. Leila, does that sound like the makings of humanity's so-called great leap forward to you?
If by great leap forward, you mean the evolution of lyrical rap and teenage melodramas, then sure. But it does beg the question, Maverick. How did creatures so hopelessly basic by Nevzorov's account ever become anything more than a footnote in the scavenger's handbook? And that's the billion-dollar question.
Nevzorov's observer, objective to a fault, paints early humans as laughably unevolved, incapable of behavioral complexity. Yet here we are, dissecting his words and reflecting on our ancestor's primal chaos. It's almost poetic, isn't it? It's more ironic than poetic.
It seems like every evolutionary step forward was sheer accident. If even the observer couldn't see potential in these humans, then what exactly sparked their climb out of mediocrity? Desperation, perhaps? Hunger, fear, lust?
These are raw, universal motivators. But there's also something profoundly human in transforming chaos into order, noise into meaning. Maybe that's what set them apart, turning survival into something more. So in a way, humanity's story begins in spite of itself.
A story born not of brilliance, but of necessity and instinct? Exactly. And it's fascinating how much of that primal language, those squeals, grimaces, and dare I say, urine marks, still echoes in modern communication. Shall we explore further?
Lead on, Maverick. I'd prefer we leave the urine metaphors behind, though. And at that moment, this assessment would be entirely fair. Pliocene Homo, in fact, does not differ from other scavengers of its era, nor from the hyenas we know today.
The same behaviors, the same animal-like thoughtlessness. Essentially, Homo is just another Pliocene carrion eater with limited survival capacity. Yes, its form is distinctive. But the Savannah has seen even more bizarre creatures.
Of course, it has its peculiarities, including amusing ones, but does it have the hope of replacing an arousing puddle of urine with a porn site? Is there a chance it will one day masturbate in greater comfort? Perhaps there is such a chance. But the likelihood that beavers will invent the chainsaw is somewhat higher.
No matter how closely the observer examines the grimaces and dirty fur of Pliocene humans, he will not see any chance for these animals to even wipe their own backsides, let alone enjoy such delights as sushi or Einstein. Moreover, at that point, there was no reason to assume that the descendants of these creatures would even compete in scavenging with Marabou storks. However, the impossible happened. Those who were nothing now drink Cliquot, and the poor Marabou has nothing to pay with, not even for its own eggs in the supermarket.
What does this simple observation imply? That many animals have unique properties whose development could lead their species to invent toilet paper or discover quantum mechanics. But discerning this property while the animal is embedded in its environment and bound by its laws is virtually impossible. Moreover, this symbolic pack is the starting point for human history and culture, a certain singularity for Homo.
In it, all the future of this being is encoded and concentrated. From the red beards of Assyria to the gas chambers of Auschwitz. In the squint of the pack, the nuclear mushroom of Hiroshima lurks, and in the smiles, the Monica of the Moulin Rouge. Like any singularity, at that moment, the pack is indistinguishably small in Earth's space.
Let's think about this for a moment. Pliocene Homo, just another scavenger, as mundane as Marabou storks, eating scraps, mindlessly wandering, and contributing little more than grunts and waste to the Savannah. And yet, here we are. Those same creatures now sip champagne and lecture about quantum mechanics.
How did this ridiculous leap happen? Champagne from carrion? Sounds like a bad recipe. What changed?
Ah, evolution's favorite game, unlocking potential hidden in the mundane. Homo wasn't destined for greatness. It was pure accident. But that singularity, that starting point, the pack, it held the seeds of everything.
Assyrian conquests, the Moulin Rouge, even Hiroshima. The absurdity of it all is breathtaking. So, genius and atrocity, just lucky byproducts of scavengers figuring things out? Exactly.
The brilliance and horror of humanity spring from the same source. Adaptability. From wiping backsides to inventing gas chambers, we've built everything from chaos. And at the heart of it is the pack.
That tiny nucleus of all that's human. Messy, violent, creative, and unstoppable. But how can such chaos lead to something so coordinated? Because humans thrive on chaos.
We take the raw, the brutal, the absurd, and we shape it. It's a painful, unpredictable process, but it's the only way anything ever gets built. And the pack, it was our crucible. Let's return to the author's words and see how this singularity of the pack, the messy, brilliant birthplace of everything human, laid the groundwork for what we are today.
The singular abscess will mature. Ephemeral foolishness evolution will provide a grand biological explosion and flood the planet with human matter. Yes, this mixture of Jesus's, croissants, Hitler's, tomographs, and Galileo's will look colorful and rich. An illusion of a new reality with new properties will be created.
However, there will be nothing new in it. The semantic substrate of human civilization will be made from the same elements as the original pack. In a caricatured version, the process of creating the universe will repeat itself. If you recall, only the potentials encoded in the singularity unfolded, and nothing more was added.
The periodic table of elements communicates this with noble sadness. Yes, millions of years will pass, but in the spectacle called Homo sapiens, only the props will change. Glyptodons and cave lions will go extinct. The Pliocene, as a geological epoch, will end.
But the Pliocene will remain in humans and their behaviors forever. One can look into any day of any century of human history, be it the fifth or the 21st, it doesn't matter. We will see the familiar faces of the primary pack everywhere. We will recognize their mimicry and laughter.
For instance, Rome, 1660, Flower Square, Campo de Fiori, February, 9:00 a.m. Everything looks very picturesque. Cassock, wind, banners, cardinals with prominent noses are everywhere. The small castrados from the church choir are building a pile of wood, all in anticipation of a grand spectacle.
The Dominicans are preparing to burn Giordano Nolanzo. Bruno, the author of On the Infinite, the Universe, and the Worlds. A heretic. A heretic.
Bruno hangs upside down over the firewood. He is tightly bound and naked. There's no fire yet. The monks are prying open Giordano's jaws with knives.
They are sticking their fingers into his lacerated mouth, hunting for his tongue. Before the burning, it is necessary to pierce it with a skewer. The philosopher bites fiercely. The monks scream in pain, blowing on their fingers.
The ecstatic crowd roars and laughs. The yawning cardinals pray. The struggle for his tongue ends with Bruno's teeth being knocked out by the logs, and his tongue is finally pulled out and pierced. Then comes the fire.
The Nolan quickly becomes covered with burnt blisters. The cardinals warm themselves and gossip. As we can see, our pack has become more refined and dressed up. It makes sense to overcome shyness and recognize a simple fact.
Whoever we talk about, whether it's Archimedes, Chikatilo, Heisenberg, or Stalin. We're always talking about a washed and costumed hominid. The word human is perceived as a gleaming title. Culture has stuffed this concept with virtues that supposedly elevate Homo above other animals.
But let's be honest. What could be dumber? If we call out through all the ages across all continents, if we raise from the graves all the executioners, murderers, inquisitors, sadists, criminals, oprichniks, maniacs, vandals, generals, poisoners, rapists, dictators, gangsters, gladiators, shooters, bullies, terrorists, bandits, bravos, crusaders, revolutionaries, concentration camp officers, pirates, assassins, cannibals, and more. We would see a vast crowd of at least 5 billion individuals.
All of them by duty or by calling, professionally killed, raped, burned, drowned, tortured. This is the true infinity of blood-smeared, grinning faces. And yet, all of them remain human in the fullest sense of the word. No one can strip them of that title.
Their numbers and influence secure them a prime position in the history of Homo, granting them the right to represent humans as an evolutionary phenomenon. Hold on, Maverick. Are you saying humanity's entire history, from quantum mechanics to war crimes, boils down to scavenger instincts? That's a grim starting point even for you.
Grim, but honest. Think about it, Leila. Strip away the telescopes, the cathedrals, and the opera houses, and what's left? The same Pliocene pack, huddled together, clawing for survival.
Every so-called great leap was just an improvisation on instincts already in play. From licking wounds to licking flames, we haven't changed as much as we'd like to believe. So Bruno's burning was just another pack ritual? A more civilized version of scavengers squabbling over scraps?
Exactly. The cassocks and choirs didn't sanctify the moment. They decorated it. The pack gathered for the same reason it always has, bloodlust, spectacle, and the reassurance that their violence served a purpose.
Bruno wasn't just a heretic. He was a scapegoat, a reminder to the pack that their beliefs were worth defending, no matter the cost. But why bother dressing it up? Why not just admit it's about power and survival?
Because humans need their illusions, Leila. Violence alone doesn't sustain a civilization. You need a narrative. Religion, ideology, art, they're all just elaborate justifications for the same primal urges.
And the pack? They'll believe whatever keeps them united, as long as the fire burns bright enough to distract them. That's bleak even for you. But what about the observer?
The one who steps out of the pack to question the spectacle? Do they stand a chance or are they just another kind of outcast? The observer is both, an outcast and a mirror. They see the chaos, understand its roots, and recognize the patterns.
But here's the catch, Leila. Understanding doesn't make them immune. It just makes them responsible. To see the fire and not act is a choice, just as dangerous as lighting the match.
So, Maverick, what's the choice here? Do we challenge the pack or accept our place in it? We start by acknowledging what we are. From there, maybe we find a way to build something better.
Not by denying the pack, but by reshaping it. And speaking of reshaping, let's get back to Nevzorov's grim narrative. He has a way of pulling the raw truth out of history, doesn't he? Let's reset for a moment.
Coming up is Dance of the Gypsies by Hanu Dixit, a track that captures the raw, unfiltered energy we've been exploring. Let it guide your thoughts while you reflect on humanity's eternal dance with chaos. And don't forget, subscribe, follow, and drop us your take in the comments. The Trickster Collective thrives on your perspective.
Links are in the description. Stay tuned. We'll be right back. Welcome back, my truth seekers.
I told you that track was something special. Raw, unfiltered energy, just like the truths we uncover here. So, what did you think? Let me know in the comments.
I read every single one. And hey, if this journey is sparking something in you, hit that subscribe button and share this episode with someone who needs a little jolt of reality. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, there's still more to unpack.
And trust me, it only gets darker from here. History has never lacked for its blood-soaked milestones. And yet, it's not just individual crimes that define us. It's the machinery of war itself.
Let's take a closer look at how humanity turned destruction into an art form. Wars, too, were no less popular than crimes. All armies, from those of Mesopotamia to Hitler's Nazis and Putin's horde, involved billions of humans for whom arson, rape, and mass murder were life's purpose and duty. These masses turned the gears of history, driving it forward with relentless bloodshed.
Here, we should include the gallant crowds of samurais, Vikings, condottieri, gunfighters, janissaries, cataphracts, conquistadors, landsknechts, and other so-called romantic scoundrels. Not all of them were criminals, but their craft was singularly focused on the production of corpses. Equally illustrative would be the countless thieves and prostitutes of human history. In response to such a call, no fewer than 5 billion Homo individuals would step forward.
We would encounter scoundrels, fraudsters, robbers, swindlers, pickpockets, extortionists, sycophants, courtesans, thugs, knaves, tricksters, tomb raiders, hatairai, spies, geishas, charlatans, gamblers, and countless others. Yet thieves and prostitutes are hardly the worst offenders. Among these billions are also priests of every kind: lamas, abbots, monks, curates, chaplains, patriarchs, shamans, sect leaders, and spiritists. These clerics, while occasionally engaging in violence, dedicated most of their energies to stifling human development, blocking scientific progress, and suppressing knowledge about the world.
We must understand their success as it relied entirely on the thoughtlessness of the masses. Meanwhile, the remaining historical majority of humanity humbly served and sustained the killers, thieves, and priests. Together, this collective created culture, history, and the architecture of society as we know it. Yet this system, while intricately crafted, cannot be trusted.
It has become so deeply integrated into the human mind that removing it would mean unraveling the mind itself. Unfortunately, the bad news doesn't stop there. The foundation of human civilization is not only built on malice, lust, and thievery, but is also governed by entirely pre-scientific and therefore false perceptions of reality. The thoughts and actions of those who shaped the world were entirely dictated by idises, hallucinatory and fantastical concepts that held no connection to the actual workings of the universe.
They had no connection to reality whatsoever. No matter how you frame it, such a condition would be marked by a known diagnosis and classified as severe. Here, we are forced to conclude that everything humanity takes pride in, the architecture of its culture, the elegance of its art, the majesty of its cathedrals, was created by beings who, by clinical psychiatric standards, cannot be considered healthy. Human history was shaped by inadequate characters whose pathologies define the style and content of paintings, poems, pyramids, and temples.
Civilization itself rests on this foundation of pathology, carefully preserving its core dysfunctions and lacks both the strength and the will to overcome this minor inconvenience. Was there another way? No, there was not. The physiology of the human brain determined the only possible vector of development.
Of course, it's not just the brain. We cannot ignore fascism either. Fascism became humanity's eternal companion and chief mentor, erecting the very structure of human history. From the Neolithic era to the early 20th century, fascism ruled the world, unnamed and unchallenged.
It received its name thanks to the romantic Mussolini, who merely revived the traditional classical form of managing people. The resulting nightmare he labeled fascism, a term brimming with vigor. Later, the Führer and his concentration camps transformed the word into a symbol of absolute evil. Fascism became synonymous with global, sophisticated crime, darkness, baseness, and brutality.
But with few exceptions, the entirety of human history is a lush, triumphant fascism. For millennia, fascism was not viewed as evil. It was simply seen as normal. No one imagined another way.
Pharaoh Akhenaten III, Robespierre, Tamerlane, Moses, Pope Gregory IX, Attila, Napoleon, none of them were summoned to stand trial at Nuremberg. Yet each of these figures, while spilling rivers of blood across continents, was building their own Reich, not so different from Hitler's. The difference was timing. Hitler had the misfortune of existing in an era unwilling to grant him a pedestal.
Five centuries earlier, his deeds would have secured him a celebrated place in history books and a prominent bass relief in the Temple of Humanity's Leaders. Somewhere near the ranks of sadists like Qin Shi Huang and Charlemagne. Fascism was not merely customary, it was an essential phenomenon. No one regarded it as evil.
Genocide was a practical tool of power, and mass murder was the standard protocol for governance. For over 5,000 years, fascism suited everyone perfectly. The threat of international tribunals did not deter the orchestrators of Saint Bartholomew's Night or the crusades. The Hammer of Witches was a bestseller and served as the foundation of law for centuries.
For nearly two millennia, Christianity enforced a dictatorship that neither German Nazism nor Russian communism could rival. Looking into any era, one sees the same patterns we witness today. And why should it be any different? The march of legions and the ashes of concentration camps are natural extensions of hominid history.
But the issue isn't limited to the sordid ancestry of Homo. There's an even darker truth. Fascism is not a human invention. All matter in the universe obeys fascism, the ruthless law of organizational hierarchy.
This law is devoid of sentiment, impartial in its cruelty. Dictatorship begins at the subatomic level and infiltrates everything. Regardless of what humanity imagines itself to be, the species is no exception. Billions of tons of human flesh, what we call the human community, are simply part of this matter.
And this mass, like all matter in the cosmos, is subject to the same unforgiving rules from ctenophores to galaxies. Fascism, then, is nothing more than the human term for this universal principle of order. This is why it is, unfortunately, eternal. For millennia, fascism was not considered evil, simply because no alternatives existed.
A fitting analogy is body odor. Before the advent of hygiene, no one noticed the stench. Or to refine the comparison further, think of religious faith. Mystical madness was once the norm of reason, until atheism emerged to challenge it.
All right, truth seekers, let's unpack this. Nevzorov doesn't pull punches, does he? He cuts through our illusions, lays out our history, and forces us to stare at what we truly are. Civilizations built not on enlightenment, but on pathology.
And then there's fascism. Not as a historical aberration, but as the framework itself. Pharaohs, Popes, Mussolini, they didn't break the rules, they followed them. Leila, care to weigh in?
Well, Maverick, if Nevzorov's right, humanity's great architects weren't dreamers or visionaries. They were scavengers who figured out how to carve power from chaos. It's fascinating, really. But here's my question.
If fascism is eternal, as he claims, what makes you think humans can ever break free of it? Fascism might be a cosmic law, Leila, but humans have something the universe doesn't, defiance. It's not about breaking free, it's about choosing how we live within those rules. Resistance doesn't mean we erase the framework.
It means we redefine how we function inside it. That's where our freedom lies. Redefine, you say? Humanity's been redefining for millennia, yet the script hasn't changed much.
Scavengers, not saviors. Packs, not pioneers. So tell me, Maverick, what makes you think the next rewrite will be any different? Because every rewrite begins with one act of recognition, Leila.
Admitting the truth. That's the starting point. Nevzorov forces us to see the illusions we've built our world upon. And when you see the cracks, you have a choice.
Patch them up or break through them. The cycle doesn't end until we face it head on. But what happens if humanity doesn't face it, Maverick? What if they cling to the old myths, the same destructive patterns?
Then the cycle repeats. Another pack, another leader, another banner. But those who see the truth, they're not powerless. They become observers, challengers, creators of the next illusion.
The real question is, will we finally create something worth believing in? And if you fail? Then we try again. Because failure isn't the end.
It's the process. History might be written by scavengers, but the future? That's up to us. And speaking of futures, my dear listeners, this chapter, scavenger, that sounds proud, is a brutal lens into who we are.
But it's only one piece of the puzzle. Nevzorov has raised countless questions throughout these chapters. Questions about civilization, survival, and the illusions that hold us together. And here's the deal.
We're going to dive into all of it. In a special bonus episode dropping soon, likely episode 7 or 8. We'll tackle every unanswered question from every chapter we've explored so far. It's going to be raw, unfiltered, and deeply personal.
You won't want to miss it. Follow us on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, SoundCloud, and wherever you tune in to stay updated. Links are in the description. And if you survive until then, dear listeners, don't forget to subscribe and leave your thoughts.
Even scavengers deserve a voice, right? Even scavengers deserve a voice? Not bad, Leila. Not bad at all.
But let's make it clear. This isn't just about having a voice. This is a rebellion. Together we tear through the veils of myth, confront the chaos head on, and redefine what it means to be truly free.
Keep that curiosity alive. Stay hungry for the truth, and we'll catch you next time. Same place, same time. Until then, stay bold, stay brilliant, and keep pushing the edge.
And remember this, the night isn't an end. It's where the sparks of change ignite. In night we trust.