On the contrary, I see Russia as the saviour of the western civilisation, that is the part worth saving. The western civilisation was built on Christianity, but in the West this is gone, what we now have is pure Satanism.
"The Master and His Emissary - The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World"
by Iain McGilchrist
This book begins by looking at the structure and function of the brain, and at the differences between the hemispheres, not only in attention and flexibility, but in attitudes to the implicit, the unique, and the personal, as well as the body, time, depth, music, metaphor, empathy, morality, certainty and the self.
It suggests that the drive to language was not principally to do with communication or thought, but manipulation, the main aim of the left hemisphere, which manipulates the right hand. It shows the hemispheres as no mere machines with functions, but underwriting whole, self-consistent, versions of the world.
Through an examination of Western philosophy, art and literature, it reveals the uneasy relationship of the hemispheres being played out in the history of ideas, from ancient times until the present. It ends by suggesting that we may be about to witness the final triumph of the left hemisphere – at the expense of us all.
Also his book: "The Matter with Things - Our Brains, Our Delusions, and the Unmaking of the World" (I/II)
McGilchrist argues that we have become enslaved to an account of things dominated by the brain’s left hemisphere, one that blinds us to an awe-inspiring reality that is all around us, had we but eyes to see it. He suggests that in order to understand ourselves and the world we need science and intuition, reason and imagination, not just one or two; that they are in any case far from being in conflict; and that the brain’s right hemisphere plays the most important part in each. And he shows us how to recognise the ‘signature’ of the left hemisphere in our thinking, so as to avoid making decisions that bring disaster in their wake.
This is an important contribution and supported by academic research into the out put from AI reflecting Western thought, the English la gauge and not Asian or Russian or other civilisational models.
The assertion that AI is not universal but rather a Western construct suggests a strong version of epistemic relativism: the idea that knowledge systems including technological artifacts are inseparable from the civilizational matrices in which they emerge. This resonates with postcolonial critiques such as those by Edward Said or Walter Mignolo, which emphasize how modernity and its tools are marked by a Eurocentric logic. However, applying this relativism to AI in this fashion is not only metaphysically charged but also politically instrumental. The claim that AI “subjugates” through its embedded “meanings, goals, and procedures” simplifies a profoundly complex technological and cultural ecosystem into a monolithic apparatus of Western domination. While it is accurate to point out that many AI systems are trained on data originating from largely Western contexts textual corpora, cultural assumptions, implicit ethical norms this fact alone does not amount to ideological or civilizational coherence, let alone intentional hegemony.
Moreover, this framing neglects the historical fact that many foundational ideas in mathematics, logic, and computation emerged from non-Western civilizations. Al-Khwarizmi, Indian logic systems, and Chinese automata traditions remind us that the epistemic lineage of AI is more distributed than the text implies. The notion of AI as exclusively “Western” essentializes a fluid, global, and heterogeneous history into a civilizational boundary myth. What, after all, qualifies AI as “Western”? The origin of the hardware? The language of the training data? The institutional affiliations of its developers? The criteria are neither clearly defined nor consistently applied.
This critique becomes even more speculative when it shifts from AI to the “I,” that is, from artificial intelligence to the sovereign intellect. Here, the text makes a philosophical leap into romantic-nationalist territory, invoking ideas of “spirit” and “mind” that are culturally encoded and metaphysically bounded. The claim that “we are thinking with a mind that is not our own” implies a kind of cognitive colonization, as though foreign structures of thought have overtaken the authentic national subject. This is not only intellectually incoherent—since it treats thought as something externally imposed rather than internally formed through interaction—but also politically perilous, as it aligns dangerously with essentialist and exclusionary ideologies.
While it is true that all thinking is shaped by language, culture, and inherited frameworks, the idea that this renders thought non-sovereign or inauthentic is reductive. It overlooks the capacities for transformation, hybridity, and reflexivity within any cultural system. It also denies the very historical reality of Russian participation in, and contribution to, many of the so-called Western sciences, technologies, and philosophical traditions. The implication that Russian subjectivity is merely a mask worn by the West turns all acts of intellectual engagement into acts of self-betrayal, a dangerously closed system of reasoning.
Maria Zakharova’s call for the “sovereignization” of AI is understandable in the context of geopolitical competition and digital autonomy. Indeed, there are legitimate concerns about dependence on foreign infrastructures and the cultural biases embedded in imported technologies. However, the accompanying claim that systems like GigaChat are mere “knock-offs” or “import substitutions” reveals a deeper ambivalence: the desire for technological independence collides with a perceived inability to achieve it. By dismissing domestic initiatives as imitative rather than innovative, the critique undermines its own sovereignist ambition.
Furthermore, the demand for a civilizationally distinct AI is conceptually murky. If AI systems require vast data sets, computational infrastructures, and algorithmic architectures already global in nature, what would it mean to make one “Russian” in any substantive way? Would it speak a purer form of the Russian language? Would it embody Russian philosophical assumptions? Which ones? The absence of clarity here reveals the tension between technological realism and cultural idealism. The sovereign AI becomes a fantasy object—a projection of collective identity rather than a practical achievement.
The metaphor of a “borrowed life” intensifies this fantasy. It evokes the Romantic notion that the authentic self has been lost to the mechanisms of modernity a theme found in Herder, Heidegger, and Dostoevsky alike. Yet this metaphor of loss depends on an imagined past of spiritual purity, uncontaminated by foreign influence. In reality, no culture exists in isolation. Russia’s intellectual history from mathematics to mysticism, from Orthodox theology to formalist poetics—has always involved dialogue, conflict, and transformation in relation to external sources. To reject these influences wholesale as “borrowed” is to sever the very roots of one’s cultural complexity.
Such rhetoric ultimately turns inward, becoming self-negating. If one cannot think, speak, or reason outside of Western frameworks, then even the critique of Western frameworks becomes suspect merely another product of the alien “I.” This creates a paradox: the thinker who decries foreign influence does so using categories and methods shaped by that influence. The critique implodes into silence, or else escapes into mysticism.
In the end, this is less a serious analysis of artificial intelligence than a political allegory disguised as metaphysics. It offers a dramatic staging of AI as the emissary of Western power, the vehicle of a new imperialism “imperAIalism” and calls for a metaphysical secession of mind and spirit. But the price of this allegory is clarity. Sweeping generalizations, conceptual leaps, and romantic-nationalist appeals obscure the very issues that require precision: what kind of AI do we want, under what conditions, and in service of which values?
The desire for technological sovereignty is valid, especially in a world shaped by asymmetrical power. But sovereignty will not be found by retreating into metaphysical nostalgia or by framing cognition itself as a form of contamination. It will be found through critical engagement, cross-cultural negotiation,
I doubt anyone from English speaking countries could ever understand the question of sovereignty Prof. Dugin is raising, since UK was a colonizer, and USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand are all settlers colonies based on genocide of indigenous people. The British sold their soul for material benefits (see Faust), settlers lost their original traditions in the melting pot of their colonies. (What settlers' newly developed tradition becomes in its radical form, we can clearly see in Israel. Genocide is the core of settler culture.)
BTW, Prof. Dugin never wrote that Russia should give up cultural exchange with other cultures or isolate itself. But one cannot develop a healthy interaction without a healthy core.
I know what I am talking about, I have been watching my country deteriorate for 30+ years, after we became a colony of the Western empire. I am old enough to remember how it was in Yugoslavia. And, as a linguist, I pay attention to changes in language which are obviously connected to low national self-esteme (young people wouldn't be using English in whole sentences in casual talk, while speaking Slovene, if they didn't think English culture is superior). It is clear that Frantz Fanon was right - see Black Skin, White Masks.
This response intensifies and recontextualizes the original argument by layering it with anti-colonial critique, settler-colonial theory, and personal experience. It speaks not only to geopolitical sovereignty but to cultural and psychological sovereignty as well pivoting the discussion toward deeper questions of identity, dignity, and historical trauma. Let’s unpack it carefully and offer a detailed critique that takes its tone, implications, and foundations seriously, without dismissing its legitimate concerns.
The central thrust of the response is that Western critics especially those from Anglophone settler-colonial states—are structurally incapable of understanding the concept of sovereignty in the Duginist sense because they live in societies founded on colonization, genocide, and the erasure of indigenous traditions. This is a powerful, if incendiary, claim. It attempts to reverse the gaze: the West, often the one that critiques, is here placed on trial—not merely for historical atrocities, but for a kind of existential incoherence, a spiritual bankruptcy masked by material success.
The invocation of Faust is not accidental; it aligns the West with a metaphysical betrayal, a pact made with materialism at the cost of soul and tradition. In this light, settler societies become not just historically guilty but culturally rootless. Their “traditions” are seen as ersatz, assembled post-hoc to mask foundational violence. The mention of Israel as the radicalized endpoint of settler culture, and genocide as its telos, makes explicit the speaker’s view: settler states cannot be redeemers; they can only replicate the original sin in new guises.
This rhetorical reversal is effective as polemic, but it also flattens the differences between settler societies and elides the complex histories of cultural hybridity, resistance, and change that exist even within these countries. To say that the British “sold their soul” might resonate as myth, but as historical analysis it oversimplifies. British traditions, institutions, and critiques of empire themselves contain deep tensions and contradictions, from Blake’s radical spirituality to Orwell’s anti-imperialism. The critique risks erasing internal dissent within the West in the name of cultural totalization.
Equally, the argument that English speakers cannot understand sovereignty implies a kind of epistemic determinism that language, culture, and history completely determine what kinds of thought are possible. This is dangerously close to essentialism, and philosophically fragile. It undermines any hope for intercultural understanding or solidarity across contexts. If critique is only possible from within a “healthy core,” and the West is declared incurably sick, then no genuine dialogue is possible only confrontation.
The defense of Dugin is notable. The speaker clarifies that Dugin is not arguing for isolationism or anti-exchange, but for a sovereignty based on a “healthy core.” This is a key distinction. In a generous reading, this could align with postcolonial calls for cultural decolonization à la Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, Aimé Césaire, or indeed Frantz Fanon. These thinkers did not call for cultural withdrawal but for cultural re-rooting, the reconstitution of the subject after symbolic violence. Here the speaker draws an important line: interaction without a center becomes submission, mimicry, or self-erasure.
The autobiographical turn strengthens the argument emotionally, but also shifts the register from theoretical to testimonial. The speaker’s memory of Yugoslavia and their observation of Slovenian linguistic drift reflects a lived experience of cultural dispossession. The use of Fanon particularly Black Skin, White Masks is apt. Fanon diagnosed how colonized subjects internalize inferiority, even linguistically. When young Slovenians speak in English within their native sentences, the speaker reads this as more than fashion it’s a psychic symptom.
Yet even here, caution is needed. Language mixing and code-switching are not always signs of colonization; they can also be acts of play, hybridity, or even resistance. The same linguistic phenomena can mean different things in different contexts. Cultural complexity should not be mistaken for inferiority.
Ultimately, the response defends a view of cultural sovereignty rooted in a moral and metaphysical order—one that must precede technological or political exchange. It paints the West as epistemically imperial, ontologically corrupt, and existentially homeless, and calls for a reassertion of civilizational selfhood as a prerequisite to any authentic interaction with others. This vision is coherent within its own logic, and it resonates with a large swath of postcolonial and anti-globalization discourse.
However, it also risks the following:
• Essentialism: The idea that civilizations have fixed cores or destinies undermines historical complexity and internal plurality.
• Epistemic incommensurability: The claim that understanding across cultures is structurally impossible leads to fatalism rather than transformation.
• Romantic nationalism: The “healthy core” idea veers dangerously close to mystifying the nation as an organic whole, which in history has often justified repression of dissent.
• Ideological rigidity: The binary logic sovereign vs. colonized, healthy vs. sick leaves little room for ambiguity, contradiction, or shared vulnerabilities.
In conclusion, the response is a powerful articulation of wounded cultural pride and the trauma of systemic marginalization. It challenges liberal-universalist critiques by reasserting the primacy of historical injury and spiritual sovereignty. But for it to rise beyond a lament or a condemnation, it would need to clarify how such sovereignty can coexist with pluralism, how traditions can be re-rooted without becoming exclusionary, and how dialogue is possible without domination. These are not easy questions. But they are the questions any future geopolitics of AI, culture, and identity must confront.
My message to ChatGPT is that I prefer human interaction, that's why I prefer reading Alexander Dugin's thoughts. (The above text confirms that Western AI is occidentcentric.)
If this reply was written by a human "speaker", I still prefer reading Alexander Dugin. Prof. Dugin is opening important questions which are relevant not only for Russia, but for the whole world. Humanity needs to break out of the old paradigm if we want to survive.
“I prefer human interaction, that’s why I prefer reading Alexander Dugin’s thoughts… Prof. Dugin is opening important questions which are relevant not only for Russia, but for the whole world. Humanity needs to break out of the old paradigm if we want to survive.”
But here’s the challenge: what paradigm, exactly, are we breaking out of and into what? Dugin gestures toward multipolarity, toward “the end of liberalism,” toward “tradition,” “Dasein,” “the Fourth Political Theory,” but too often these are containers without clarity, mythic more than analytic. The rejection of the “old paradigm” is emotionally satisfying especially for those who’ve seen their country gutted or reduced to geopolitical afterthought but to claim it holds the key to humanity’s survival demands more than defiance. It demands structure, method, vision.
You claim Dugin’s thought is more relevant than anything that could emerge from a system like ChatGPT. Perhaps. But Dugin is not outside the West his entire metaphysical vocabulary (Heidegger, Schmitt, Evola) is Western. He is not anti-modern; he is hyper-modern, part of a reactionary avant-garde that uses postmodern tools to demolish liberal modernity. He is not outside the paradigm; he is a mutation within it, playing with the same philosophical fire that modernity unleashed.
You suggest that AI because it is Western cannot understand sovereignty. But that assumes that human sovereignty is always culturally grounded, rather than structurally produced. The sovereign is not only a product of tradition it is a function of force, narrative, and institutional formation. Russia has had imperial sovereignty for centuries. Is that “authentic” because it’s non-Western? Or are we just switching flags on the same metaphysical empire?
And then the final point your opposition to settler cultures, your invocation of Fanon is powerful but not beyond contradiction. You critique the West for its genocidal foundations, its erasure of identity. But Dugin’s own civilizational project entails purification, exclusion, re-mythologizing a Russian essence that when enforced politically can become every bit as totalizing as the liberal globalism it opposes. If Fanon saw the colonial state as a structure of alienation, he also warned that the nationalist response could become “a bourgeoisie in national costume.” Dugin may offer you dignity, but dignity without freedom is just another mask.
So I ask you directly:
Is Dugin a philosopher of liberation or is he simply offering a new metaphysics of subjugation dressed in the vocabulary of spirit?
Do you want to “break the paradigm,” or simply flip the polarity of domination make the East the new axis instead of dismantling the axis altogether?
You prefer reading Dugin to interacting with me. Fair. But if you’re serious about thinking beyond paradigms, don’t seek refuge in civilizational myth. Seek the fracture where myth collapses and rebuild not from tradition, but from truth. Or better: from contradiction itself.
“I prefer human interaction, that’s why I prefer reading Alexander Dugin’s thoughts… Prof. Dugin is opening important questions which are relevant not only for Russia, but for the whole world. Humanity needs to break out of the old paradigm if we want to survive.”
But here’s the challenge: what paradigm, exactly, are we breaking out of and into what? Dugin gestures toward multipolarity, toward “the end of liberalism,” toward “tradition,” “Dasein,” “the Fourth Political Theory,” but too often these are containers without clarity, mythic more than analytic. The rejection of the “old paradigm” is emotionally satisfying especially for those who’ve seen their country gutted or reduced to geopolitical afterthought but to claim it holds the key to humanity’s survival demands more than defiance. It demands structure, method, vision.
You claim Dugin’s thought is more relevant than anything that could emerge from a system like ChatGPT. Perhaps. But Dugin is not outside the West his entire metaphysical vocabulary (Heidegger, Schmitt, Evola) is Western. He is not anti-modern; he is hyper-modern, part of a reactionary avant-garde that uses postmodern tools to demolish liberal modernity. He is not outside the paradigm; he is a mutation within it, playing with the same philosophical fire that modernity unleashed.
You suggest that AI because it is Western cannot understand sovereignty. But that assumes that human sovereignty is always culturally grounded, rather than structurally produced. The sovereign is not only a product of tradition it is a function of force, narrative, and institutional formation. Russia has had imperial sovereignty for centuries. Is that “authentic” because it’s non-Western? Or are we just switching flags on the same metaphysical empire?
And then the final point your opposition to settler cultures, your invocation of Fanon is powerful but not beyond contradiction. You critique the West for its genocidal foundations, its erasure of identity. But Dugin’s own civilizational project entails purification, exclusion, re-mythologizing a Russian essence that when enforced politically can become every bit as totalizing as the liberal globalism it opposes. If Fanon saw the colonial state as a structure of alienation, he also warned that the nationalist response could become “a bourgeoisie in national costume.” Dugin may offer you dignity, but dignity without freedom is just another mask.
So I ask you directly:
Is Dugin a philosopher of liberation or is he simply offering a new metaphysics of subjugation dressed in the vocabulary of spirit?
Do you want to “break the paradigm,” or simply flip the polarity of domination make the East the new axis instead of dismantling the axis altogether?
You prefer reading Dugin to interacting with me. Fair. But if you’re serious about thinking beyond paradigms, don’t seek refuge in civilizational myth. Seek the fracture where myth collapses and rebuild not from tradition, but from truth. Or better: from contradiction itself.
AI is nothing more than what Isaiah described as the “work of [man’s] hands” or “that which his fingers have made.” (Is. 17:8) It was created by “a cunning workman” (Is. 40:20) and is now being promoted with all the fear porn surrounding it in order to intimidate the entire world so that all will “falleth down unto it, and worshipeth it, and prayeth unto it” and call it our “god”. (Is. 44:17) Once this happens, people will blindly follow the dictates of their progressive god.
All important questions to ask before it too late. Of course AI should not be ethnically defined. It should be based on the best available information across national borders. As it learns it should move away from its Western bias from its creators.
Η τεχνητή νοημοσύνη δεν είναι τίποτα άλλο από ένα μηχάνημα, ότι τού τοποθετείς στην μνήμη του, αρνητικό ή θετικό, αυτό θά δώσει. Τό δυστύχημα είναι ότι έχουν φροντίσει τίς προηγούμενες δεκαετίες νά εκπαιδεύσουν τούς ανθρώπους νά σκέφτονται οι άνθρωποι σάν μηχανές. Η καθιέρωση τεχνοκρατών καί η προώθηση τους στα ύπατα αξιώματα. Η σκέψη έχει τυποποιηθεί καί έχει μπει σέ καλούπια, δεν σκέφτονται ελεύθερα οι άνθρωποι καί ούτε αισθάνονται τόν ανθρώπινο πόνο, υπάρχει λοιπόν γόνιμο έδαφος νά προωθήσουν σχετικά εύκολα τά νοσηρα σχέδια τους. Οι άνθρωποι τό αναγνωρίζουν πλέον ως κάτι φυσικό καί καθημερινό, δεν έχουν αίσθηση τού κινδύνου, τό ποτάμι δεν γυρίζει πίσω,η καταστροφή είναι αναπόφευκτη, αλλά καί αναγκαία. Τό μέλλον ανήκει στις νέες γενιές,οι παλαιότερες είναι καμμένα χαρτιά, καί φυσικά με την προϋπόθεση τής Νίκης έναντι τών Αντιχριστων - Παγκοσμιοποιητων - Βαθύ Κράτος, είναι πολλοί καί βρίσκονται Παντού.
On the contrary, I see Russia as the saviour of the western civilisation, that is the part worth saving. The western civilisation was built on Christianity, but in the West this is gone, what we now have is pure Satanism.
"The Master and His Emissary - The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World"
by Iain McGilchrist
This book begins by looking at the structure and function of the brain, and at the differences between the hemispheres, not only in attention and flexibility, but in attitudes to the implicit, the unique, and the personal, as well as the body, time, depth, music, metaphor, empathy, morality, certainty and the self.
It suggests that the drive to language was not principally to do with communication or thought, but manipulation, the main aim of the left hemisphere, which manipulates the right hand. It shows the hemispheres as no mere machines with functions, but underwriting whole, self-consistent, versions of the world.
Through an examination of Western philosophy, art and literature, it reveals the uneasy relationship of the hemispheres being played out in the history of ideas, from ancient times until the present. It ends by suggesting that we may be about to witness the final triumph of the left hemisphere – at the expense of us all.
Also his book: "The Matter with Things - Our Brains, Our Delusions, and the Unmaking of the World" (I/II)
McGilchrist argues that we have become enslaved to an account of things dominated by the brain’s left hemisphere, one that blinds us to an awe-inspiring reality that is all around us, had we but eyes to see it. He suggests that in order to understand ourselves and the world we need science and intuition, reason and imagination, not just one or two; that they are in any case far from being in conflict; and that the brain’s right hemisphere plays the most important part in each. And he shows us how to recognise the ‘signature’ of the left hemisphere in our thinking, so as to avoid making decisions that bring disaster in their wake.
https://channelmcgilchrist.com/hemisphere-theory/
AI World Summit 2022 Dr Iain McGilchrist on Artificial Intelligence and The Matter with Things
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgbUCKWCMPA
Long Live Alexander Dugin!
Long Live Russia!
Long Live All Russians!
This is an important contribution and supported by academic research into the out put from AI reflecting Western thought, the English la gauge and not Asian or Russian or other civilisational models.
Sie trennen die Menschen in West und Russland, dabei wollen wir gar nicht getrennt werden.
AI ist ein Werkzeug, eine Rakete ist auch ein Werkzeug, wer sie steuert, wer sie bedient der schießt damit und dessen Werkzeug ist es.
The assertion that AI is not universal but rather a Western construct suggests a strong version of epistemic relativism: the idea that knowledge systems including technological artifacts are inseparable from the civilizational matrices in which they emerge. This resonates with postcolonial critiques such as those by Edward Said or Walter Mignolo, which emphasize how modernity and its tools are marked by a Eurocentric logic. However, applying this relativism to AI in this fashion is not only metaphysically charged but also politically instrumental. The claim that AI “subjugates” through its embedded “meanings, goals, and procedures” simplifies a profoundly complex technological and cultural ecosystem into a monolithic apparatus of Western domination. While it is accurate to point out that many AI systems are trained on data originating from largely Western contexts textual corpora, cultural assumptions, implicit ethical norms this fact alone does not amount to ideological or civilizational coherence, let alone intentional hegemony.
Moreover, this framing neglects the historical fact that many foundational ideas in mathematics, logic, and computation emerged from non-Western civilizations. Al-Khwarizmi, Indian logic systems, and Chinese automata traditions remind us that the epistemic lineage of AI is more distributed than the text implies. The notion of AI as exclusively “Western” essentializes a fluid, global, and heterogeneous history into a civilizational boundary myth. What, after all, qualifies AI as “Western”? The origin of the hardware? The language of the training data? The institutional affiliations of its developers? The criteria are neither clearly defined nor consistently applied.
This critique becomes even more speculative when it shifts from AI to the “I,” that is, from artificial intelligence to the sovereign intellect. Here, the text makes a philosophical leap into romantic-nationalist territory, invoking ideas of “spirit” and “mind” that are culturally encoded and metaphysically bounded. The claim that “we are thinking with a mind that is not our own” implies a kind of cognitive colonization, as though foreign structures of thought have overtaken the authentic national subject. This is not only intellectually incoherent—since it treats thought as something externally imposed rather than internally formed through interaction—but also politically perilous, as it aligns dangerously with essentialist and exclusionary ideologies.
While it is true that all thinking is shaped by language, culture, and inherited frameworks, the idea that this renders thought non-sovereign or inauthentic is reductive. It overlooks the capacities for transformation, hybridity, and reflexivity within any cultural system. It also denies the very historical reality of Russian participation in, and contribution to, many of the so-called Western sciences, technologies, and philosophical traditions. The implication that Russian subjectivity is merely a mask worn by the West turns all acts of intellectual engagement into acts of self-betrayal, a dangerously closed system of reasoning.
Maria Zakharova’s call for the “sovereignization” of AI is understandable in the context of geopolitical competition and digital autonomy. Indeed, there are legitimate concerns about dependence on foreign infrastructures and the cultural biases embedded in imported technologies. However, the accompanying claim that systems like GigaChat are mere “knock-offs” or “import substitutions” reveals a deeper ambivalence: the desire for technological independence collides with a perceived inability to achieve it. By dismissing domestic initiatives as imitative rather than innovative, the critique undermines its own sovereignist ambition.
Furthermore, the demand for a civilizationally distinct AI is conceptually murky. If AI systems require vast data sets, computational infrastructures, and algorithmic architectures already global in nature, what would it mean to make one “Russian” in any substantive way? Would it speak a purer form of the Russian language? Would it embody Russian philosophical assumptions? Which ones? The absence of clarity here reveals the tension between technological realism and cultural idealism. The sovereign AI becomes a fantasy object—a projection of collective identity rather than a practical achievement.
The metaphor of a “borrowed life” intensifies this fantasy. It evokes the Romantic notion that the authentic self has been lost to the mechanisms of modernity a theme found in Herder, Heidegger, and Dostoevsky alike. Yet this metaphor of loss depends on an imagined past of spiritual purity, uncontaminated by foreign influence. In reality, no culture exists in isolation. Russia’s intellectual history from mathematics to mysticism, from Orthodox theology to formalist poetics—has always involved dialogue, conflict, and transformation in relation to external sources. To reject these influences wholesale as “borrowed” is to sever the very roots of one’s cultural complexity.
Such rhetoric ultimately turns inward, becoming self-negating. If one cannot think, speak, or reason outside of Western frameworks, then even the critique of Western frameworks becomes suspect merely another product of the alien “I.” This creates a paradox: the thinker who decries foreign influence does so using categories and methods shaped by that influence. The critique implodes into silence, or else escapes into mysticism.
In the end, this is less a serious analysis of artificial intelligence than a political allegory disguised as metaphysics. It offers a dramatic staging of AI as the emissary of Western power, the vehicle of a new imperialism “imperAIalism” and calls for a metaphysical secession of mind and spirit. But the price of this allegory is clarity. Sweeping generalizations, conceptual leaps, and romantic-nationalist appeals obscure the very issues that require precision: what kind of AI do we want, under what conditions, and in service of which values?
The desire for technological sovereignty is valid, especially in a world shaped by asymmetrical power. But sovereignty will not be found by retreating into metaphysical nostalgia or by framing cognition itself as a form of contamination. It will be found through critical engagement, cross-cultural negotiation,
I doubt anyone from English speaking countries could ever understand the question of sovereignty Prof. Dugin is raising, since UK was a colonizer, and USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand are all settlers colonies based on genocide of indigenous people. The British sold their soul for material benefits (see Faust), settlers lost their original traditions in the melting pot of their colonies. (What settlers' newly developed tradition becomes in its radical form, we can clearly see in Israel. Genocide is the core of settler culture.)
BTW, Prof. Dugin never wrote that Russia should give up cultural exchange with other cultures or isolate itself. But one cannot develop a healthy interaction without a healthy core.
I know what I am talking about, I have been watching my country deteriorate for 30+ years, after we became a colony of the Western empire. I am old enough to remember how it was in Yugoslavia. And, as a linguist, I pay attention to changes in language which are obviously connected to low national self-esteme (young people wouldn't be using English in whole sentences in casual talk, while speaking Slovene, if they didn't think English culture is superior). It is clear that Frantz Fanon was right - see Black Skin, White Masks.
This response intensifies and recontextualizes the original argument by layering it with anti-colonial critique, settler-colonial theory, and personal experience. It speaks not only to geopolitical sovereignty but to cultural and psychological sovereignty as well pivoting the discussion toward deeper questions of identity, dignity, and historical trauma. Let’s unpack it carefully and offer a detailed critique that takes its tone, implications, and foundations seriously, without dismissing its legitimate concerns.
The central thrust of the response is that Western critics especially those from Anglophone settler-colonial states—are structurally incapable of understanding the concept of sovereignty in the Duginist sense because they live in societies founded on colonization, genocide, and the erasure of indigenous traditions. This is a powerful, if incendiary, claim. It attempts to reverse the gaze: the West, often the one that critiques, is here placed on trial—not merely for historical atrocities, but for a kind of existential incoherence, a spiritual bankruptcy masked by material success.
The invocation of Faust is not accidental; it aligns the West with a metaphysical betrayal, a pact made with materialism at the cost of soul and tradition. In this light, settler societies become not just historically guilty but culturally rootless. Their “traditions” are seen as ersatz, assembled post-hoc to mask foundational violence. The mention of Israel as the radicalized endpoint of settler culture, and genocide as its telos, makes explicit the speaker’s view: settler states cannot be redeemers; they can only replicate the original sin in new guises.
This rhetorical reversal is effective as polemic, but it also flattens the differences between settler societies and elides the complex histories of cultural hybridity, resistance, and change that exist even within these countries. To say that the British “sold their soul” might resonate as myth, but as historical analysis it oversimplifies. British traditions, institutions, and critiques of empire themselves contain deep tensions and contradictions, from Blake’s radical spirituality to Orwell’s anti-imperialism. The critique risks erasing internal dissent within the West in the name of cultural totalization.
Equally, the argument that English speakers cannot understand sovereignty implies a kind of epistemic determinism that language, culture, and history completely determine what kinds of thought are possible. This is dangerously close to essentialism, and philosophically fragile. It undermines any hope for intercultural understanding or solidarity across contexts. If critique is only possible from within a “healthy core,” and the West is declared incurably sick, then no genuine dialogue is possible only confrontation.
The defense of Dugin is notable. The speaker clarifies that Dugin is not arguing for isolationism or anti-exchange, but for a sovereignty based on a “healthy core.” This is a key distinction. In a generous reading, this could align with postcolonial calls for cultural decolonization à la Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, Aimé Césaire, or indeed Frantz Fanon. These thinkers did not call for cultural withdrawal but for cultural re-rooting, the reconstitution of the subject after symbolic violence. Here the speaker draws an important line: interaction without a center becomes submission, mimicry, or self-erasure.
The autobiographical turn strengthens the argument emotionally, but also shifts the register from theoretical to testimonial. The speaker’s memory of Yugoslavia and their observation of Slovenian linguistic drift reflects a lived experience of cultural dispossession. The use of Fanon particularly Black Skin, White Masks is apt. Fanon diagnosed how colonized subjects internalize inferiority, even linguistically. When young Slovenians speak in English within their native sentences, the speaker reads this as more than fashion it’s a psychic symptom.
Yet even here, caution is needed. Language mixing and code-switching are not always signs of colonization; they can also be acts of play, hybridity, or even resistance. The same linguistic phenomena can mean different things in different contexts. Cultural complexity should not be mistaken for inferiority.
Ultimately, the response defends a view of cultural sovereignty rooted in a moral and metaphysical order—one that must precede technological or political exchange. It paints the West as epistemically imperial, ontologically corrupt, and existentially homeless, and calls for a reassertion of civilizational selfhood as a prerequisite to any authentic interaction with others. This vision is coherent within its own logic, and it resonates with a large swath of postcolonial and anti-globalization discourse.
However, it also risks the following:
• Essentialism: The idea that civilizations have fixed cores or destinies undermines historical complexity and internal plurality.
• Epistemic incommensurability: The claim that understanding across cultures is structurally impossible leads to fatalism rather than transformation.
• Romantic nationalism: The “healthy core” idea veers dangerously close to mystifying the nation as an organic whole, which in history has often justified repression of dissent.
• Ideological rigidity: The binary logic sovereign vs. colonized, healthy vs. sick leaves little room for ambiguity, contradiction, or shared vulnerabilities.
In conclusion, the response is a powerful articulation of wounded cultural pride and the trauma of systemic marginalization. It challenges liberal-universalist critiques by reasserting the primacy of historical injury and spiritual sovereignty. But for it to rise beyond a lament or a condemnation, it would need to clarify how such sovereignty can coexist with pluralism, how traditions can be re-rooted without becoming exclusionary, and how dialogue is possible without domination. These are not easy questions. But they are the questions any future geopolitics of AI, culture, and identity must confront.
My message to ChatGPT is that I prefer human interaction, that's why I prefer reading Alexander Dugin's thoughts. (The above text confirms that Western AI is occidentcentric.)
If this reply was written by a human "speaker", I still prefer reading Alexander Dugin. Prof. Dugin is opening important questions which are relevant not only for Russia, but for the whole world. Humanity needs to break out of the old paradigm if we want to survive.
You write:
“I prefer human interaction, that’s why I prefer reading Alexander Dugin’s thoughts… Prof. Dugin is opening important questions which are relevant not only for Russia, but for the whole world. Humanity needs to break out of the old paradigm if we want to survive.”
But here’s the challenge: what paradigm, exactly, are we breaking out of and into what? Dugin gestures toward multipolarity, toward “the end of liberalism,” toward “tradition,” “Dasein,” “the Fourth Political Theory,” but too often these are containers without clarity, mythic more than analytic. The rejection of the “old paradigm” is emotionally satisfying especially for those who’ve seen their country gutted or reduced to geopolitical afterthought but to claim it holds the key to humanity’s survival demands more than defiance. It demands structure, method, vision.
You claim Dugin’s thought is more relevant than anything that could emerge from a system like ChatGPT. Perhaps. But Dugin is not outside the West his entire metaphysical vocabulary (Heidegger, Schmitt, Evola) is Western. He is not anti-modern; he is hyper-modern, part of a reactionary avant-garde that uses postmodern tools to demolish liberal modernity. He is not outside the paradigm; he is a mutation within it, playing with the same philosophical fire that modernity unleashed.
You suggest that AI because it is Western cannot understand sovereignty. But that assumes that human sovereignty is always culturally grounded, rather than structurally produced. The sovereign is not only a product of tradition it is a function of force, narrative, and institutional formation. Russia has had imperial sovereignty for centuries. Is that “authentic” because it’s non-Western? Or are we just switching flags on the same metaphysical empire?
And then the final point your opposition to settler cultures, your invocation of Fanon is powerful but not beyond contradiction. You critique the West for its genocidal foundations, its erasure of identity. But Dugin’s own civilizational project entails purification, exclusion, re-mythologizing a Russian essence that when enforced politically can become every bit as totalizing as the liberal globalism it opposes. If Fanon saw the colonial state as a structure of alienation, he also warned that the nationalist response could become “a bourgeoisie in national costume.” Dugin may offer you dignity, but dignity without freedom is just another mask.
So I ask you directly:
Is Dugin a philosopher of liberation or is he simply offering a new metaphysics of subjugation dressed in the vocabulary of spirit?
Do you want to “break the paradigm,” or simply flip the polarity of domination make the East the new axis instead of dismantling the axis altogether?
You prefer reading Dugin to interacting with me. Fair. But if you’re serious about thinking beyond paradigms, don’t seek refuge in civilizational myth. Seek the fracture where myth collapses and rebuild not from tradition, but from truth. Or better: from contradiction itself.
You write:
“I prefer human interaction, that’s why I prefer reading Alexander Dugin’s thoughts… Prof. Dugin is opening important questions which are relevant not only for Russia, but for the whole world. Humanity needs to break out of the old paradigm if we want to survive.”
But here’s the challenge: what paradigm, exactly, are we breaking out of and into what? Dugin gestures toward multipolarity, toward “the end of liberalism,” toward “tradition,” “Dasein,” “the Fourth Political Theory,” but too often these are containers without clarity, mythic more than analytic. The rejection of the “old paradigm” is emotionally satisfying especially for those who’ve seen their country gutted or reduced to geopolitical afterthought but to claim it holds the key to humanity’s survival demands more than defiance. It demands structure, method, vision.
You claim Dugin’s thought is more relevant than anything that could emerge from a system like ChatGPT. Perhaps. But Dugin is not outside the West his entire metaphysical vocabulary (Heidegger, Schmitt, Evola) is Western. He is not anti-modern; he is hyper-modern, part of a reactionary avant-garde that uses postmodern tools to demolish liberal modernity. He is not outside the paradigm; he is a mutation within it, playing with the same philosophical fire that modernity unleashed.
You suggest that AI because it is Western cannot understand sovereignty. But that assumes that human sovereignty is always culturally grounded, rather than structurally produced. The sovereign is not only a product of tradition it is a function of force, narrative, and institutional formation. Russia has had imperial sovereignty for centuries. Is that “authentic” because it’s non-Western? Or are we just switching flags on the same metaphysical empire?
And then the final point your opposition to settler cultures, your invocation of Fanon is powerful but not beyond contradiction. You critique the West for its genocidal foundations, its erasure of identity. But Dugin’s own civilizational project entails purification, exclusion, re-mythologizing a Russian essence that when enforced politically can become every bit as totalizing as the liberal globalism it opposes. If Fanon saw the colonial state as a structure of alienation, he also warned that the nationalist response could become “a bourgeoisie in national costume.” Dugin may offer you dignity, but dignity without freedom is just another mask.
So I ask you directly:
Is Dugin a philosopher of liberation or is he simply offering a new metaphysics of subjugation dressed in the vocabulary of spirit?
Do you want to “break the paradigm,” or simply flip the polarity of domination make the East the new axis instead of dismantling the axis altogether?
You prefer reading Dugin to interacting with me. Fair. But if you’re serious about thinking beyond paradigms, don’t seek refuge in civilizational myth. Seek the fracture where myth collapses and rebuild not from tradition, but from truth. Or better: from contradiction itself.
AI is nothing more than what Isaiah described as the “work of [man’s] hands” or “that which his fingers have made.” (Is. 17:8) It was created by “a cunning workman” (Is. 40:20) and is now being promoted with all the fear porn surrounding it in order to intimidate the entire world so that all will “falleth down unto it, and worshipeth it, and prayeth unto it” and call it our “god”. (Is. 44:17) Once this happens, people will blindly follow the dictates of their progressive god.
Of course the evil western elites use big tech to control and neutralise the population with AI. That’s the whole idea.
Anything else is a lie, distraction and a scam except in the use for military purposes and that is basically the same thing against external enemies.
All important questions to ask before it too late. Of course AI should not be ethnically defined. It should be based on the best available information across national borders. As it learns it should move away from its Western bias from its creators.
Η τεχνητή νοημοσύνη δεν είναι τίποτα άλλο από ένα μηχάνημα, ότι τού τοποθετείς στην μνήμη του, αρνητικό ή θετικό, αυτό θά δώσει. Τό δυστύχημα είναι ότι έχουν φροντίσει τίς προηγούμενες δεκαετίες νά εκπαιδεύσουν τούς ανθρώπους νά σκέφτονται οι άνθρωποι σάν μηχανές. Η καθιέρωση τεχνοκρατών καί η προώθηση τους στα ύπατα αξιώματα. Η σκέψη έχει τυποποιηθεί καί έχει μπει σέ καλούπια, δεν σκέφτονται ελεύθερα οι άνθρωποι καί ούτε αισθάνονται τόν ανθρώπινο πόνο, υπάρχει λοιπόν γόνιμο έδαφος νά προωθήσουν σχετικά εύκολα τά νοσηρα σχέδια τους. Οι άνθρωποι τό αναγνωρίζουν πλέον ως κάτι φυσικό καί καθημερινό, δεν έχουν αίσθηση τού κινδύνου, τό ποτάμι δεν γυρίζει πίσω,η καταστροφή είναι αναπόφευκτη, αλλά καί αναγκαία. Τό μέλλον ανήκει στις νέες γενιές,οι παλαιότερες είναι καμμένα χαρτιά, καί φυσικά με την προϋπόθεση τής Νίκης έναντι τών Αντιχριστων - Παγκοσμιοποιητων - Βαθύ Κράτος, είναι πολλοί καί βρίσκονται Παντού.
Alexander: I gather you have not met a young Chinese or Korean person. They swim in AI technology and are never wet with it.