The Fragility of Order: Thomas Hobbes and the State of Nature

Lena: Hey everyone, glad you could join us today. I was thinking this morning about how we usually view our world—you know, we look at our cities, our laws, and our technology, and it all feels so permanent. Like we’ve finally solved the riddle of living together without tearing each other apart. But what if that’s just a really convincing stage set? What if the "civilized" world is more like a thin crust over a boiling pot?

Miles: That’s a heavy way to start the day, but it’s actually a perfect metaphor for what we’re diving into. We like to think that violence is something "out there" or part of a distant, primitive past, but the research suggests that organized society is often a lot more fragile than we realize. There’s this idea from the philosopher Thomas Hobbes about the "state of nature"—this condition of a "war of every man against every man" . And the scary part isn't that we came from that; it’s that we might always be just a few steps away from sliding back into it.

Lena: That’s exactly what the listener who reached out to us is feeling. They want to know why humans can turn violent so easily and how a calm, functioning society can just... break down. It feels like a paradox, right? We have all these institutions designed to keep the peace, yet history is full of examples where they just evaporate.

Miles: It really comes down to what keeps that crust from cracking. One of the most fascinating things I’ve seen recently is a massive study on the "shelf-life" of civilizations. Researchers looked at over 300 pre-modern states using a database they called "Moros"—after the Greek god of doom—and they found a consistent pattern . Most of these societies didn't just stay stable forever; they actually "aged" and became more vulnerable to collapse over time.

Lena: So, it’s not just a random accident when things fall apart? There’s an actual statistical trend to it?

Miles: Exactly. The risk of a society terminating actually rises over the first two centuries and then plateaus at a high level . It’s like a complex system that slowly loses its ability to recover from shocks. When you combine that systemic fragility with the psychological triggers that drive individual violence, you start to see why the "Hobbesian state" isn't a historical period—it’s a latent condition.

Lena: That is wild to think about. We’re going to be looking at the specific mechanisms—the "three causes of quarrel" as Hobbes called them—and how things like social polarization and dehumanization act as the catalysts for that breakdown . We’ll also see how our modern world, as connected as it is, might actually be more vulnerable to these "domino effects" than the empires of the past . So let’s dive into what’s actually happening beneath the surface of our "calm" society.

Miles: To really understand why the crust breaks, we have to look at what Hobbes identified as the primary drivers of human conflict. He broke it down into three specific things: competition, diffidence, and glory . And when you look at them through a modern lens, they’re still the exact same gears turning today.

Lena: "Diffidence" is such an old-school word, though. When I hear that, I think of someone being shy or modest. But that’s not what he meant, is it?

Miles: Not at all. In the 17th century, it actually meant a lack of confidence in others—distrust or mistrust . It’s the opposite of being confident that your neighbor isn't going to harm you. Hobbes argued that even if you’re a peaceful person who doesn't want to fight, you might still attack first just because you’re afraid the other guy is going to strike you while you’re sleeping. It’s the "logic of anticipation" .

Lena: So it’s like a "do unto them before they do unto you" situation? That sounds like a recipe for a hair-trigger society.

Miles: It absolutely is. Think of it like a prisoner’s dilemma. If both sides wait, they both stay safe. But if one side anticipates and strikes first, they get a huge advantage. Because humans are so good at making tools and weapons, we have a uniquely high "first-strike capability" . Unlike other animals that mostly kill the young or weak, humans can kill healthy adults by surprise. That reality makes "diffidence"—that fundamental distrust—a constant pressure on the social structure.

Lena: And then you add competition into the mix. If resources are scarce, people fight for gain. Hobbes pointed out that if two people want the same thing that they can't both enjoy, they become enemies .

Miles: Right, and then there’s the third one: Glory. Which sounds a bit dramatic, but it’s really about reputation . In a world without a strong central state to protect you, your reputation is your only shield. If people think you’re powerful and willing to fight over a "trifle"—like a word or a smile you didn't like—they’re less likely to mess with you. So, fighting for "glory" is actually a rational way to attract allies and deter enemies .

Lena: So, if these three engines—competition for gain, distrust for safety, and reputation for power—are always running, how does society ever stay calm?

Miles: Hobbes’s whole point was that the state—the "Leviathan"—is the only thing that keeps these engines in check. It changes the "payoffs." If you strike first, the state punishes you. That makes "waiting" the more rational strategy . But the moment people stop believing the state can or will enforce those rules, that "diffidence" comes roaring back. The "state of nature" isn't a place we left; it’s the default setting that the state is constantly working to override.

Lena: It’s interesting how that ties back to the "Moros" dataset you mentioned. If states have a shelf-life, maybe it’s because they eventually lose that ability to keep those three engines from redlining. What strikes me is how this isn't just about "bad people" being violent—it’s about rational people feeling like they have no choice but to be violent because the system around them is failing .

Miles: You hit on something really important there—the idea that it’s not just about individual "evil," but about systemic failure. The research into pre-modern states shows that societies aren't just static entities; they undergo "critical slowing down" . That’s a term from complexity science. Basically, before a system hits a "tipping point" and collapses, it starts recovering more slowly from small disturbances.

Lena: Like how an older person might take longer to heal from a minor injury than a teenager?

Miles: Exactly that. The researchers found evidence for this in the first farmers of Neolithic Europe and the Pueblo societies of the American Southwest . The Puebloans went through cycles of growth and crisis about every 200 years. Right before a major collapse—where violence would spike and urbanism would fall—they would start taking much longer to recover from things like droughts . Their "resilience" was wearing thin.

Lena: So what causes that wear and tear? Is it just time, or is there something specific happening internally?

Miles: It seems to be a combination of things that build up like plaque in an artery. Growing inequality is a huge one. For example, by the end of the Western Roman Empire, wealth inequality was three-quarters of the way to the theoretical maximum—where one person would own everything . When you have that kind of extreme gap, social friction increases. You get "elite competition"—basically different groups of powerful people fighting over a shrinking pie—which creates polarization and distrust .

Lena: I can see how that feeds right back into Hobbes’s "three causes." If the elites are fighting and the institutions are failing, the average person starts feeling that "diffidence" again. They don't trust the system to protect them, so they start looking for other ways to secure their own safety.

Miles: And that’s where the "anomie" comes in—that feeling that the social fabric is unraveling. There was a psychological study that showed when people perceive society as falling apart, they start feeling politically powerless . That powerlessness leads to a sense of "political uncertainty"—the feeling that the world just doesn't make sense anymore and anything could happen.

Lena: And that uncertainty is terrifying. It’s not just a lack of information; it’s the loss of a predictable future.

Miles: Right. And the study found that this specific chain—anomie leading to powerlessness, leading to uncertainty—is what makes people start craving "strong leaders" who promise order and control . People become willing to bypass democratic principles if someone promises to stop the chaos. So, the "aging" of a state isn't just about old buildings falling down; it’s about the psychological breakdown of the citizens' trust in their shared norms .

Lena: It’s a vicious cycle. The state grows more fragile due to inequality and environmental degradation, which makes people feel uncertain and powerless, which then makes them more receptive to authoritarianism or even violent conflict as a way to "re-establish order" . It’s like the very thing we built to escape the "war of all against all" ends up creating the conditions for it to return if we don't maintain it.

Miles: Exactly. And unlike the ancient states in the Moros study, our modern world is "hyperconnected." While that can buffer against small shocks, it can also "supercharge" and spread a big blow—just like a coral reef can be healthy one day and bleached the next because everything is so tightly linked . A failure in one superpower could trigger a domino effect globally in a way that wouldn't have happened 2,000 years ago.

Lena: It’s fascinating that you mentioned "anomie"—this sense that society’s norms and leadership are breaking down. Because it’s not just a feeling; it has a very specific effect on how we view each other. When the "rules" of society feel like they’re disappearing, does that make it easier for us to stop seeing each other as "fellow citizens" and start seeing each other as threats?

Miles: It absolutely does. The research on anomie shows that it creates a sense of alienation and disconnection . When people feel like institutions are illegitimate or ineffective, they don't just get sad; they get "uncertain." And in political psychology, uncertainty is a huge driver of extremism. If you don't know what’s going to happen tomorrow, you’re going to look for the most certain, most "black-and-white" answers you can find .

Lena: So, the "Hobbesian state" isn't just about people being "naturally" violent; it’s about people being pushed into a corner where violence feels like the only certain option left.

Miles: Right. There was a study involving over 1,500 adults in Germany that tracked this . They found that people who perceived high levels of anomie also felt they had less "political control." And that lack of control directly led to support for authoritarian values. They actually ran experiments to prove the causal link: when you tell people that the future of their country is chaotic and the leaders are incompetent, their support for a "strong leader" who might bypass democratic rules shoots up .

Lena: It’s like we have this "backup program" in our brains. If the "democracy and cooperation" program starts glitching, we switch over to the "order and authority" program.

Miles: And that "order" often comes at a violent cost. This craving for certainty is what fuels "group polarization." When we feel uncertain, we tend to huddle with like-minded people. And when we talk only to people who already agree with us, our views don't just stay the same—they become more extreme .

Lena: Wait, so "deliberation"—which we’re always told is the heartbeat of a healthy society—can actually make things worse?

Miles: If it’s done in a "silo," yes. There’s a "law of group polarization" that shows groups move toward a more extreme point in the direction they were already leaning . If you take a group of people who are moderately skeptical of a government policy and let them talk to each other, they don't come out more "moderate" or "balanced." They come out much more radicalized and convinced they’re right.

Lena: That’s completely counterintuitive. I’d always thought that talking things out leads to compromise.

Miles: That’s the "standard view," but the data says otherwise . It happens because of two things: "social comparison" and "limited argument pools." We want to be perceived favorably by our group, so we shift our position to be a "better" version of the group’s ideal. And because the group only hears arguments from one side, they’re basically "echo-chambering" themselves into a more extreme position .

Lena: So, if a society is experiencing anomie and people are feeling powerless and uncertain, they’re going to seek out these "polarized" groups for comfort. And those groups, by their very nature, are going to move toward more extreme—and potentially violent—positions.

Miles: Exactly. It’s how you get "iterated polarization games" where groups meet repeatedly and push each other further and further past the original pole . This is what fuels feuds, ethnic antagonism, and tribalism. The "state of nature" returns not because people "forgot" how to be civilized, but because they’ve been psychologically funneled into a state where "civilization" feels like a lie and "group defense" feels like the only truth left .

Lena: This brings up a really difficult question about the nature of those who participate in this breakdown. We’ve all heard that term "the banality of evil"—the idea from Hannah Arendt that people like Adolf Eichmann were just "diligent bureaucrats" following orders without thinking . It’s a scary thought because it implies that any of us, in the right role, could become a monster just by being an "automaton." But is that actually true?

Miles: That’s been the dominant view for decades, thanks to things like the Milgram shock experiments and the Stanford Prison Experiment. We’ve been told that humans have this "natural" inclination to conform to authority, no matter how toxic . But a lot of modern researchers are pushing back on that. They’re saying it’s not about "blind obedience"; it’s about "engaged followership" .

Lena: "Engaged followership"? That sounds a lot more active than just "following orders."

Miles: It is. When they re-examined the Milgram studies, they found that if the "experimenter" gave a direct order—like "You have no other choice, you must go on"—most people actually refused . But when the experimenter justified the shocks in terms of the "scientific benefit," people went along with it. They weren't "blind automatons"; they were people who had been convinced that what they were doing was for a "greater good" .

Lena: So it’s not that they "stopped thinking." It’s that they "thought" their way into believing that the harm they were doing was actually a "service."

Miles: Right. And the same thing happened in the Stanford Prison Experiment. It wasn't that the "guards" just naturally became brutal because they put on a uniform. Zimbardo actually gave them a lot of guidance on how to behave—telling them to create feelings of "powerlessness" and "fear" in the prisoners . The ones who were most brutal were the ones who "creatively" interpreted that mission. They were "true believers" in the system they were part of .

Lena: That’s almost scarier, isn't it? If violence was just about "not thinking," maybe we could just tell people to "think more." But if it’s about people actively identifying with a cause that they think is "virtuous," even if it’s horrific... that’s a much harder problem to solve.

Miles: It’s exactly what happened in the Nazi regime. Historical research shows that people like Eichmann weren't just "following orders." They were often "creative" and "imaginative" in how they carried out their tasks, sometimes even disobeying their superiors when they thought those superiors weren't being "faithful" enough to the regime’s goals . They took pride in their work because they identified with the authority.

Lena: This connects so strongly to what we said about "group polarization." Once you identify with a group, you want to be a "good" member of that group. And if that group defines "goodness" as being ruthless toward "enemies," then you’ll be ruthless not because you’re a "mindless robot," but because you want to be a "virtuous" follower .

Miles: And that’s the key to how organized society breaks down. It’s not a sudden lapse into "animal behavior." It’s a shift in "moral identity." People don't stop being "moral"; they just change who they consider part of their "moral universe" . They start believing that "every bit of goodness is needed" and that their violence is a way to provide it .

Lena: So, the "Hobbesian state" isn't a state of "no morality." It’s a state where morality has become "particularized"—where it only applies to "us" and not to "them" . And that’s the bridge to dehumanization.

Miles: When we talk about how people turn violent, the word "dehumanization" always comes up. The traditional idea is that for a person to commit an atrocity, they have to first see their victim as "less than human"—like a "monster" or a "beast" . The idea is that we have "natural inhibitions" against killing other humans, and dehumanization is the "mechanism" that switches those off .

Lena: That makes sense on the surface. If I don't see you as a "person," I don't feel the "moral weight" of hurting you. But is it always that simple?

Miles: Actually, it’s a lot more complicated. There’s a big debate now about whether dehumanization is a cause of violence or sometimes a consequence of it . And scarily, sometimes perpetrators do recognize the humanity of their victims, but they kill them anyway. There are accounts from the "Einsatzgruppen"—the mobile killing units in the Holocaust—where the soldiers admitted that they saw "defenseless women and children," not "beasts." And yet they gunned them down because they believed it was a "moral necessity" for their own "racial survival" .

Lena: That’s deeply disturbing. It means that "recognizing someone as human" isn't enough to protect them if the "moral framework" of the perpetrator has shifted.

Miles: Exactly. Some researchers argue that we shouldn't just look at "dehumanization" as a "cognitive bias" where we "forget" someone is human. Instead, it’s often a "categorical act of exclusion from a moral community" . You can know someone is a "human" in a biological sense but believe they have no "moral status." Think about the Nazi "euthanasia" program, Aktion T4. The doctors involved argued that the people they were killing weren't "human beings endowed with reason and soul"—they were "life unworthy of life" .

Lena: It’s a "stratified" view of humanity. You’re only a "full human" if you belong to the "right" group or have the "right" abilities.

Miles: And that’s where "moral particularism" comes in. Instead of "universal" human rights, you have rights that only apply to your "race" or "community" . In this view, hurting an "outsider" isn't "wrong"—it’s actually "virtuous" because it protects your "insiders." This is why "anomie" and "polarization" are so dangerous. They push us toward these "particularistic" moralities where the "other" is stripped of their moral status, even if they aren't stripped of their "human" status .

Lena: I’m also thinking about the "technocratic" side of this. You mentioned the "architects of annihilation"—the planners and demographers who weren't in the fields with guns, but were "quantifying" people on spreadsheets .

Miles: That’s a different kind of dehumanization—it’s "bureaucratic" or "instrumental." To those planners, the victims weren't "monsters" or "people"; they were just "surplus populations" that were "inhibiting economic development" . They treated mass murder as a "reduction of population numbers" to achieve "economic equilibrium" . It’s a state of "moral indifference" where the victims are just "units" to be administered .

Lena: So, we have two paths to violence here: one is "moral engagement," where you kill because you think it’s "right" for your group; and the other is "moral indifference," where you kill because you’re just "optimizing a system" . Both of them require this "collapse" of the universal moral crust we talked about at the beginning.

Miles: And both of them are fueled by "group polarization." Whether you’re a soldier in a unit or a bureaucrat in an office, if you’re only talking to people who share your "skewed argument pool," you’re going to become more and more convinced that your "particular" morality or your "technical" optimization is the only thing that matters .

Lena: We’ve talked a lot about the internal psychological "gears," but what about the "contagion" factor? You mentioned "social cascades" earlier—the idea that people’s behavior can spread like a "flood" . How does that play into a society actually breaking down into violence?

Miles: Cascades are the "engine" of rapid social change. An "informational cascade" happens when you don't know what to do, so you just follow what everyone else is doing. If you see your neighbors starting to arm themselves because they’re afraid of "outsiders," you’re going to do the same, even if you don't have any direct evidence of a threat . Your behavior then becomes a "signal" to the next person, and suddenly the whole street is armed.

Lena: And then there’s the "reputational cascade," right? Where you might not even believe in the violence, but you go along with it to avoid being the "odd one out."

Miles: Exactly. You don't want to be perceived as "cowardly" or "disloyal" to your group. This is how "ethnification" happens—where ethnic strife isn't a "reawakening" of old hatreds, but a "reputational cascade" where people join in because the social cost of not joining is too high . This can lead a whole nation into war in a shockingly short amount of time.

Lena: This makes me think about the "shelf-life" of states again. If a society is "aged" and "fragile," it’s like dry tinder. One small "spark" of a cascade can set the whole thing on fire.

Miles: And in our modern world, we’re "hyperconnected," which means these cascades can move faster and further than ever before . We saw this with the 2008 financial crisis and COVID-19. A "shook" in one part of the system can "supercharge" and spread across the whole globe. The "interconnectivity" that makes our world so "efficient" also makes it a "domino set" .

Lena: It’s a sobering thought. We have these "three causes of quarrel" always humming in the background—competition, distrust, and reputation . We have "aging" institutions that are losing their resilience . And we have "polarization" and "cascades" that can turn a small disagreement into a "war of all against all" almost overnight .

Miles: It really highlights why "the state" is so important, but also why it’s so fragile. The state’s job is to "change the payoffs"—to make cooperation more "profitable" than anticipation . But if the state "ages" and becomes "inequitable" or "polarizing," it stops being a "refuge" and starts becoming a "source" of anomie .

Lena: So, the "Hobbesian state" isn't a "primitive" condition we’ve outgrown. It’s the "liquid state" that society "melts" into whenever our "solid" institutions fail. And it happens "easily" because the psychological pathways—the desire for certainty, the need for group approval, and the fear of being the "last one to strike"—are not hard-wired into us .

Miles: That’s the "tragedy of the human condition" we touched on: our desire to be "good subjects" for our group is often stronger than our desire to be "subjects who do good" for everyone .

Lena: Okay, so we’ve looked into the abyss here. We’ve seen how systemic aging, "anomie," and the "law of group polarization" create this "fast track" to violence . But for everyone listening, what can we actually do with this? How do we keep our "crust" from cracking?

Miles: The first thing is to recognize that "homogeneity" is a warning sign. If you’re only talking to people who hear "softer or louder echoes of your own voice," you’re likely in a polarization trap . We need to actively seek out "heterogeneous" groups. That doesn't mean listening to every "implausible or invidious" view, but it does mean ensuring you’re exposed to a "range of reasonable competing views" .

Lena: So, intentionally breaking out of our "echo chambers"—not just to be "nice," but as a "defense mechanism" against extremism.

Miles: Exactly. It’s about "checking our partiality." As John Rawls said, discussion is a way of "combining information and enlarging the range of arguments" . When we only hear one side, we lose the "ability to reason" effectively because our "argument pool" is skewed. We have to be "circumspect" about our own certainties .

Lena: I’m also thinking about that "anomie" study. If "political powerlessness" and "uncertainty" are what drive us toward authoritarianism and conflict, then finding ways to increase our "sense of control" and "community" seems vital .

Miles: Right. Building "resilient" local institutions—the kind that can recover from "shocks" like droughts or economic downturns—is what keeps the "aging" process of a state at bay . We also need to be wary of "rhetorical asymmetries"—where it feels "easier" to argue for "extreme" measures than "moderate" ones . We have to make the "moderate" and "cooperative" path as "rhetorically powerful" as the "anticipatory" one.

Lena: And we need to be "accountable" for who we follow. If "engaged followership" is what makes atrocities possible, then we have to be extremely critical of the "authorities" we identify with . We have to ask: "Am I following this because it’s 'virtuous' for my group, or because it’s actually 'good'?" .

Miles: That "self-reflection" is the only thing that can break a "cascade." If enough people stop and say "Wait, why are we all doing this?" the "contagion" can be halted. It’s why having even one "voice of sanity" or a "compatriot" in a group can reduce the "conformity error" by three-quarters .

Lena: So, "resistance" isn't "futile"—it’s actually "essential" to the stability of the system. Being the "one person" who asks a difficult question in a polarized group might be the very thing that keeps that group from "redlining" into violence .

Miles: It’s about maintaining the "public sphere"—a space where multiple perspectives can be heard by people with multiple perspectives . If we can keep that "crust" flexible and inclusive, it’s less likely to shatter when the "boiling pot" underneath starts to bubble.

Lena: We’ve covered a lot of ground today—from the "Moros" database of ancient doom to the modern psychology of Internet echo chambers . It’s a lot to process, but I think the biggest takeaway is that "civilization" isn't a "destination" we’ve reached. It’s an ongoing "maintenance project."

Miles: That’s a great way to put it. The "Hobbesian state" of "all against all" is always there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the "resilience" of our institutions to fail . It’s not "primitive"; it’s the "default" that we have to actively "out-compete" every single day through cooperation, fair institutions, and diverse deliberation .

Lena: It’s a challenge to all of us to look at our own groups and our own "moral boundaries." Are we "particularizing" our morality? Are we letting "anomie" turn us toward "strongmen"? Are we "echo-chambering" ourselves into a more "extreme" version of our own biases? .

Miles: The "shelf-life" of our society might just depend on our ability to stay "uncertain" enough to keep listening, but "certain" enough to keep cooperating . It’s a delicate balance, but it’s the only thing that keeps the "Leviathan" from "aging" into collapse.

Lena: Thanks for exploring this with us today. It’s a lot to think about, but maybe that "thinking" is exactly what keeps us from sliding back into the "state of nature."

Miles: Absolutely. Take some time to reflect on the "argument pools" you’re swimming in this week. Is there a "reasonable competing view" you haven't heard lately? .

Lena: We’ll leave you with that. Thanks for listening, and we'll catch you next time.

Miles: Take care.