Paradox of Individualism

The "Lone Ranger"

An overly zealous focus on individualism is one of the mechanisms furthering the disconnection between people. Individualism, especially toxic individualism, also plays a role in aiding the disconnection from our own selves. It would seem paradoxical that individualism would do so, as we might intuitively expect that greater attention to the individual would bring us closer to our selves. However, when we explore this in greater depth, we find that individualism, in the way it is expressed in westernised cultures, dislodges us from who we really are.

Individualism, particularly toxic individualism, seems to be more associated with men than with women. Although the term rugged individual is of fairly recent origin, coined by US President Herbert Hoover, stories and myths of this archetype stretch back at least as far as Greek and Roman mythology. Many of us will have heard of, or read of, the exploits of heroes such as Jason, Odysseus, Perseus, Hercules, Romulus, and Remus. Within Norse mythology we know of Odin, Thor, and Hodr. In English mythology we have the rugged individual myths of Beowulf, King Arthur, and Robin Hood. All men. There have been female heroines, although many of us would be hard pressed to name many of them.

More latterly the myth of the rugged individual has been portrayed in Hollywood style Westerns. Butch Cassidy, Wild Bill Hickock, Buffalo Bill, Davy Crockett, the Lone Ranger, and others have all etched their rugged individual heroism onto the minds of young boys growing up in the first half of the 20^th century. Those growing up in the latter half of that century were habituated by male heroes such as James Bond, Indiana Jones, Magnum, Rambo, Jason Bourne, and Neo (hero of the blockbuster movie The Matrix.)

These rugged individuals do not need others to fulfill their destiny, they are highly resilient, and can withstand a hail of bullets, leap from burning buildings, and of course, save the threatened damsel in distress. The hero rises above his pain, is always in control, and never vulnerable. It is one of the most toxic archetypes young men can be exposed to. It is an absurd and unattainable self.

The educator, writer, scholar, and one of the western world’s true Elders, Joanna Macy answered a question during a 1999 interview by saying, ‘The myth of the rugged individual, riding as the Lone Ranger to save our society, is a sure recipe for going crazy.’ The word crazy here may have been used hyperbolically by Macy, yet she was also stating something quite literal. Rugged individualism is often statistically correlated with mental attributes we might label as crazy.

Rugged individualism (akin to toxic individualism) promotes an outlook that views other people as competitors rather than as peers. Accordingly, such an outlook fosters self-promotion and, in its extreme form, narcissism. Furthermore, rugged individualism cultivates a belief that one can, and should, solve one’s own problems, even if the solving involves addictive behaviours, such as alcohol and drug misuse, or gambling. A person entrenched in the mythology of the rugged individual is unlikely to be able to reach out for help, further aggravating the likelihood of resorting to unhealthy behaviours.

The psychologist and grief counsellor, Francis Weller, likens the rugged individual archetype to a prison and says, ‘We are imprisoned by this (hero) image, forced into a fiction of false independence that severs our kinship with the earth, with sensuous reality, and with the myriad wonders of the world. This is a source of grief for many of us.’¹

Sadly, when individuals come to this grief, and crash headfirst into recognising that individualism does not benefit them, the illusion is so firmly entrenched that it becomes extremely difficult to break away from the addictions, habits, and obsessions that have arisen to shore up the false sense of invulnerability.

In a strange twist of ironic proportions, the self-improvement, self-development, and human potential movements of the 1960s and 1970s intensified the myth of individualism. These movements thought that social change would come from individuals improving themselves and this in turn would usher in a new era of improved social conditions. Sadly however, with their emphasis upon the individual these movements inadvertently became the crucible for intensifying the shift towards an individualistic viewpoint. One of the tools utilised in these movements was personal affirmations, which on first glance, look and sound innocuous enough. However, the first item in a recent google search identified a list of 99 affirmations.² Significantly, 67 of these affirmations began with the first-person singular pronoun I and another 10 with the pronoun My. Of the 99 affirmations listed, all but 7 of them included the first-person singular pronouns I, me, mine, and/or myself. That is; 93% of the affirmations were about the individual. What is wrong with this, the reader may ask?

Some researchers at German Universities have the answer to that question. In 2015 they found that their ‘present study unravelled some important insights into the link between first-person singular pronoun use and symptoms of depression and anxiety.’³ Furthermore, such pronoun use ‘is positively related to brooding.’ The researchers defined brooding as referring to the ‘(unceasing) passive comparison of one’s current state with desired but unreached states.’ They were quick to point out that brooding is qualitatively different from reflection which they characterised as a ‘purposeful turning inward to engage in cognitive problem solving to alleviate one’s depressive symptoms.’ The two states are qualitatively different, with reflection being beneficial, whereas brooding is harmful. It may be tempting to claim that the affirmations referred to above are examples of reflection. Sadly, however, those advocating the use of affirmations are often aiming their attention at people ‘who need a little extra daily encouragement.’ Continuing to focus on the use of personal pronouns is akin to attempting to put out a fire by continuing to stoke it with wood.

Of course, as any self-respecting statistician will tell you, correlation is not the same thing as causation. Yet, if we trace the incidence of usage of first-person singular pronouns over time, and the incidence of depression over similar periods of time, the correlation is strong.

The word I in the English language was used approximately 4,000 – 5,000 times in every one million words used between 1800 and 1870. After 1870 the usage of this first-person singular pronoun began to decline to less than 2,500 times per million in the early 1980s. Since then, it’s use has climbed rapidly to around 7,000 times in every one million words today. That is, the word I is used 280% more often today than it was less than 50 years ago. Quite some rise!

Similar increases can be noted in the use of me, myself, and my. All since the early 1980s. Me, for example, is now used four times more often today than it was 50 years ago.

If we track rates of depression over a similar time period, we note a steady increase in depressive symptoms, especially amongst young people.

A focus on me, myself, and I is helping to make us more depressed and anxious. Those 99 affirmations seem in radical need of overhaul.

A further noteworthy word is the word narcissism. Many point to a rise in narcissism in recent decades. Indeed, the word narcissist is now used eight times more often in 2025 than it was in 1980. Eight times!

Hence, although the personal-development and human-potential movements began with worthy intentions they were ultimately flawed because they tended to view the world in a dualistic way – the individual as separate from the wider culture.

The rabbit hole of intense self-absorption was opened up, and many of us have followed the rabbit.

 

Notes:

1. Weller, Francis, The Wild Edge Of Sorrow, North Atlantic Books, Berkeley, CA, 2015

2. 99 Positive Morning Affirmations You Can Use Daily - The Good Trade accessed 12 May 2026

3. Brockmeyer et al., Me, Myself, and I: self-referent word use as an indicator of self-focused attention in relation to depression and anxiety, Frontiers in Psychology, October 2015, Vol 6, article 1564

Arrogant Ape – Book Review

Arrogant! Who? Us (humans)? Never! 

Christine Webb, in The Arrogant Ape,¹ claims that we (Homo sapiens) are indeed arrogant, and this is based on our (often unstated and hidden) belief in human exceptionalism. On page 3 of her book, Webb clearly expresses the tenet of her book. It is ‘that human exceptionalism – a.k.a. anthropocentricism or human supremacy – is at the root of the ecological crisis.’

That is a provocative assertion, yet Webb tackles it with rigour, extensive research, and often with wit and humour.

On the very first page of the book, Webb notes that ‘we’re not the biggest, fastest, or strongest’ beings on the planet. She has countless stories and evidence to back this up. We are not exceptional! We are arrogant to think that we are. In thinking that we are exceptional we have exploited, damaged, and plundered the earth and all her creatures so much that now we, ourselves, are also being harmed. Polluted water, noxious air, climate change, poisoned food sources, and more are all impacting our well-being.

This is no surprise says Webb. It is the natural (sic) outcome of our belief in our supremacy.

Before continuing it is worth pointing out that Webb recognises and acknowledges that not all peoples and cultures of the world share the belief in human exceptionalism. Sadly, however, the culture from within which human exceptionalism arose, has come to dominate the entire world. Additionally, Webb recognises that within this (westernised) culture the drivers of this belief have ‘…long been the dogma of a dominant minority.’

If those of us outside of this dominant minority have been afflicted by the belief in human exceptionalism and internalised it as our own, then The Arrogant Ape is surely one of the best books available to disavow us of this mistaken view. Drawing from her own research and that of many others in her field of primatology, Webb introduces us to many long-held beliefs that once were thought to pertain to humans only, including inter alia, the manufacture and use of tools, language, empathy, and possibly most controversial of all, that of consciousness.

Webb traverses the subject of consciousness from many angles and admits that there remains a lot of dispute and conjecture. Could it be that the belief in human exceptionalism is the reason for doubting, or even refuting, the possibility of consciousness in other-than-human animals? Webb adroitly concludes by asking, ‘Why should we doubt, downplay, or deny something in other species that we barely understand in ourselves?’

One aspect of Webb’s writing that I appreciated was being introduced to a number of concepts I had not previously come across. Many of these concepts are compressed into just one or two words. I will mention just four of them here:

The first word is quite a mouthful – anthropofabulation. Webb does not say where this word originated, but personal research suggests that you won’t find it listed in any dictionary published prior to 2013. Anthropofabulation Webb defines as the ‘tendency to define certain psychological processes by an exaggerated account of typical human performance in order to deny them to other species.’ We humans, via this approach, define standard psychology from a human standpoint, and then measure and judge all other species according to that standard. The flaw in this reasoning should be apparent, yet it is only recently recognised. Thank you, Christine Webb, for pointing out what is right in front of our noses.

The second word from The Arrogant Ape that I have chosen to highlight is a corollary to the belief in human exceptionalism. Human exemptionalism asserts that humans are exempt from the constraints, limits, and boundaries of nature. Our belief in human exceptionalism drives this belief, and results in crazy techno-fixes and other overly optimistic and cornucopian ideas, such as colonising Mars, or placing giant mirrors in space to reflect sunlight away from the earth (known as Solar Radiation Modification – SRM).

Christine Webb, as we might guess, is not a fan of SRM and warns us that ‘…solar geoengineering exacerbates human dominance over Nature precisely when we urgently need to curtail it.’ It is a warning that needs heeding.

The next word is Umwelt. This word and concept, Webb tells us, was coined in the early 1900s by the German biologist Jakob von Uexküll. Umwelt is the world as experienced by a particular organism. For each organism the umwelt is different. I was reminded of the concept of multiverses. Organisms experience the world (whether through sight, hearing, smell, touch, echo-radar, or other non-human sense) in such hugely different ways that we could say that the single world we think it is, is in fact, a plurality of worlds that different creatures experience. Thus ultimately no single world exists, but rather multi-worlds all here on Earth.

The final word I have chosen to highlight is Involution, a term proposed by two anthropologists, Carla Hustak and Natasha Myers. Involution is the flipside of evolution (which literally means to roll outwards), whereas involution means to roll, or curl, inwards. The term recognises how all species intertwine and that symbiosis and co-emergence are important aspects of evolution and the inter-dependence of all phenomena.

Four words, with four profound concepts embedded within them. Two of them indicate how human exceptionalism in the arrogant ape limits our understanding of the complexity and wholeness of the world as well as compelling us towards foolish endeavours. The other two offer us means by which we might better understand the world we are a part of and our unique, but not exceptional, role in it.

The Arrogant Ape is a valuable contribution to not only the environmental movement, but also to understanding our collective psychology. The two are linked, and Webb makes this clear close to the end of her book. She quotes Einstein’s reply² when asked what he would do if he had one hour to save the world, and then follows that reply with this crucial observation:

‘…grappling with the ecological crisis means dismantling not only systems of exploitation and destruction but also the very worldview that makes them possible.’

The Arrogant Ape helps us to recognise the worldview and thus how we can begin dismantling it.

Notes:

1. Christine Webb, The Arrogant Ape: The Myth of Human Exceptionalism and Why It Matters, Avery, New York, 2025

2. Albert Einstein replied to this question that he would spend fifty-five minutes defining the problem and then five minutes solving it. 

Insulting Apes

In 2013 the highly regarded Australian Football League (AFL) player Adam Goodes was playing for his team, the Sydney Swans, when a 13 year old supporter of the opposing club yelled at him – “Ape!” Goodes, whose mother was of Adnyamathanha and Narungga (Australian Aboriginal nations) descent, heard the shout and pointed at the girl. She was escorted from the stadium.

In a display of reconciliation and courage from both Goodes and the young girl, the young girl apologised to Adam Goodes and Goodes called upon people to support her and not blame her. The President of the opposing club also apologised to Goodes and said that the young girl did not know that what she had said was a racial slur.

Following this incident Adam Goodes was often booed by supporters of the team the Swans were playing at the time. Owing to the stress of the booing and the attention he was receiving, Goodes retired from the game in 2015. All 18 AFL clubs (including Goodes’ own “Swannies”) issued an unreserved apology to Goodes for the racism he was subjected to.

The use of the word “Ape” as a racial insult has its origins in the 19^th century with the Theory of Evolution. Many people including other scientists, interpreted evolution to mean that human beings were the pinnacle of the tree of life. Some went further to assert that those of European heritage were superior to those from other nations, particularly humans from Africa. This prejudiced view enabled the trans-Atlantic slave trade to gain pseudo-scientific credibility. The view espoused at the time was that “white” people were ‘closer to the angels’ (who were depicted dressed all in white), and that “black and brown” people were ‘closer to the apes’ (arrayed in black or brown fur). People with black or brown skin were labelled as savages, primitive, and of lesser status and worth to people with whitish skin.

To call someone “Ape” had, and still has, clear racist overtones.

“Ape” is not the only racist slur that depicts people with black or brown skin as being ‘closer to the apes.’ We also hear (inter alia) the terms “monkey” and “knuckle-dragger.” The latter of these phrases has come to take on the additional slur that someone is unintelligent and/or unsophisticated. Lately, the term “knuckle-dragger” has been used as an insult to the perceived lack of intelligence of anyone, whether of black, brown, white, or other coloured skin.

What all these insults and slurs have in common is that they all refer to animals from the Hominidae family. This family includes orangutangs, gorillas, chimpanzees, and bonobos. Note that monkeys are not members of this family, although many people think they are.

There is one further species that is a member of the Hominidae family. It is us – Homo sapiens. We are part of the Great Ape family.

Consequently, the use of the terms “Ape,” “Monkey,” or “Knuckle-dragger” as insults is also an insult to those apes. The use displays human exceptionalism at its worst.

Human exceptionalism (a.k.a. anthropocentrism or human supremacy) is the belief that humans are distinct from, and superior to, all other forms of life on this planet. The primatologist Christine Webb states that, ‘human exceptionalism is at the root of the ecological crisis.’¹ It could also be argued, through the use of insulting words such as ape, monkey, and knuckle-dragger, that human exceptionalism is also at the root of the interpersonal and social crisis.

Use of these words as insults displays an appalling lack of biological knowledge.

When the word “Ape!” was yelled at Adam Goodes, we cannot pretend that it was shouted at him to indicate that he, along with every other member of Homo sapiens, was a member of the family of Great Apes.

No! It was shouted as a racial slur and an insult.

It wasn’t shouted to bring into question, or to criticise, human exceptionalism.

It was shouted because of human exceptionalism.

Note:

1. Christine Webb, The Arrogant Ape, Avery, New York, 2025

Arriving at Compassion

In 1971 the British symphonic rock group, The Moody Blues, released their seventh album – Every Good Boy Deserves Favour. The band’s guitarist, Justin Hayward, described it as a ‘a kind of searching, seeking record.’ There are songs on the album that ask questions of themselves as band members, and also of the world around them.

One of those songs that asks questions of the world around them is the John Lodge penned One More Time To Live.¹ The lyrics of the song begin with the lines, ‘Look out of my window/See the world passing by.’ The impression given is that this is a song in which the writer observes the world outside them and tries to make sense of the desolation, annihilation, and pollution they see. The solution this observer finds is to go on an inner journey and find the riches within.

Another way of hearing the lyrics may be as a commentary on the history of the world from the beginning of time through to the present moment. When this song was written the knowledge of environmental damage was only just beginning to be recognised. The world’s first environmental political party was not formed until the following year. The song was highly prescient then and remains relevant today.

In the song Justin Hayward (the vocalist) recites a total of 21 words, all with a ‘…tion’ or ‘…sion’ suffix.

The words begin with Desolation, the state in which the Universe emerged from, followed by Creation and Evolution.

This new world then descends towards environmental destruction, presumably with the appearance of Homo sapiens, and Hayward sorrowfully sings of Pollution, Saturation, Population (growth), and Annihilation.

Next, we hear of how humanity attempts to fix this mess. Humanity tries Revolution (which fails to fix it) resulting in Confusion and Illusion. The Conclusion to this is Starvation, Degradation, and Humiliation.

But this Conclusion is not the future that the songwriter John Lodge wishes to see. So we hear Justin Hayward inspiring us towards Contemplation and Inspiration. If we take this inner journey, then there may be a chance that we realise an inner Elation which can be our Salvation.

Via the process of Communication, the Moody Blues finally arrive at…

Compassion…

which is the Solution.

John Lodge, Justin Hayward, and the other band members were correct more than half a century ago, and they are no less so today.

Compassion is the Solution. Compassion towards ourselves, compassion towards other humans, compassions to other life forms, and compassion towards Mother Earth.

Note:

1. A beautiful Youtube clip of this song can be heard here.

Caged In - Part 2

Last week’s blog considered whether drug addiction (as well as other addictions) was, in part, triggered by urbanisation. This week the possibility that our brains are changed (for the worse) and that violence is intensified under caged conditions.

When animals are kept in cages they will suffer from zoochosis – a psychotic condition whereby animals display uncharacteristic behaviours, such as monotonous, obsessive, and/or repetitive actions that serve no purpose. Polar bears will swim in circles for hours, lions and tigers will pace back-and-forth nonstop, and elephants will sway to-and-fro. These are all signs of zoochosis.

In some animals, zoochosis can result in self-harm, and in big cats especially, the harm may be taken out on others of their species. In the wild, big cats are normally solitary and territorial by nature. Put into cages conflict and violence can escalate quickly and dangerously.

Zoochosis has been studied and shows that the brains of animals are changed (for the worse) when kept in captivity. A 2024 article¹ notes the following:

‘The chronic stress of living in captivity without any control over their environment leads to learned helplessness, a trauma response that affects the hippocampus, which handles memory functions, and the amygdala, which processes emotions. As a result, a captive animal’s memory and emotions are irregular, and some animals have been shown to become emotionally unpredictable. Prolonged stress also disrupts the balance of serotonin and dopamine in an animal’s brain, which can lead to repetitive and often damaging behaviour.’

Just as we saw last week, human response to being caged in is comparable to the response of caged animals; humans are animals after all!

Neurological research shows that ‘…urbanization represents an evolutionary mismatch between contemporary brains and the neural systems of our human ancestors, an increased vulnerability for psychiatric illness may represent an escalating medical threat as urban populations are projected to rise in future years.’²

So it is then: the brains of we humans too, are changed for the worse when in caged conditions.

Does this changed brain result in greater violence? It appears it might.

A 2012 article on the Active Learning Network for Accountability and Performance (ALNAP) website³ urgently claims that ‘Cities have increasingly become the battlefield of recent conflicts as they serve as the seats of power and gateways to resources.’

Alarmingly, the correlation between violence and urbanisation may not be contained within one or two generations. Transgenerational effects of violence and its related trauma (including Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD) has been shown to exacerbate the harmful effects of caged living.

Breaking the cycle of violence and its associated PTSD may not be easy, especially as we humans continue to cage ourselves in.

Can we re-wild ourselves in time, before we descend into total inter-tribal, inter-generational, and inter-cultural warfare?

Only through re-wiring our brains and cutting the bars of our cages it would seem.

Notes:

1. https://www.worldanimalprotection.us/latest/blogs/heres-how-captivity-affects-mammals-brains/  Accessed 12 April 2026

2. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4774049/  Accessed 12 April 2026

3. https://alnap.org/help-library/resources/rapid-urbanization-and-the-growing-threat-of-violence-and-conflict-a-21st-century/ Accessed 12 April 2026

Caged In (Part 1)

In the late 1970s the Canadian psychologist, Bruce Alexander (and others), conducted a number of famous experiments with rats. Known as the Rat Park experiments these experiments organised rats into four distinct groups, each with eight rats in a group. Each group consisted of rats weaned on their 22^nd day of life.

Group CC were kept in laboratory cages until the age of 80 days, i.e. 58 days.

Group PP were housed in Rat Park: an area 200 times larger than a laboratory cage, and provided with food, balls, and wheels for play, and plenty of space to mate.

Group CP were initially located in laboratory cages and then transferred to Rat Park at 65 days old (i.e. 43 days later).

Group PC started off in Rat Park and then moved to laboratory cages at 65 days old.

Each group had a choice of two drinking dispensers. One dispenser contained sweetened morphine, and the other plain tap water.

So, what happened? What did the rats in each group drink?

The caged rats (Groups CC and PC) took to the sweetened morphine immediately, drinking it nineteen times more often than those in the other two groups (Groups PP and PC). The rats in these other two groups (PP and PC) did try the water with morphine in it occasionally but showed a distinct preference for the tap water.

The difference between the groups was not the choices they had. It was not their cultural background. It was not their family history.

The difference was that caged rats opted for the sweetened morphine at a significantly higher degree than those not caged.

Are We Human Rats?

A question quickly forms when we learn of this research. Might the same be going on in human society? Is drug addiction a symptom of being caged in?

Research indicates a correlation. Research reported in May 2025 noted that: ‘Urban environmental risk factors of economic disparity, marginalization and barriers in accessing healthcare and negative individual characteristics of low education, low income and comorbid diagnosis of mental illness significantly increased risk of drug use.’¹

In 2023 (the year of most recent data) 316 million people worldwide (6% of the population aged 15-64) had used drugs in the previous year. The incidence of drug use had increased over the previous decade, outstripping the increase in population (indicating that per capita use had swelled), with the synthetic drug market having expanded rapidly.

As an example of this increase, consider the production of cocaine. In 2014 the global production of this drug was 869 tonnes, by 2023 the production of cocaine had more than quadrupled to 3,708 tonnes.

Some researchers and psychologists go further than simply urbanisation, suggesting that civilisation itself is a factor in addiction. And not just drug addiction, but most addictions; gambling, sex, alcohol, shopping and consumption, and technology to name a few. The eco-psychologist, Chellis Glendinning, writes of this brilliantly in her 1994 book My Name Is Chellis & I’m in Recovery from Western Civilization.²

For Glendinning and others, the cage we are in may not be a physical one, we may not be able to see it or touch it. But, it is there, nevertheless. And, like the rats in cages, we opt for addictive substances or experiences.

It is a sobering thought, isn’t it? Our addictions may be a natural (albeit unhealthily so) response to being caged in.

As we know, too, the manufacture, transport, and trafficking of illicit drugs have an association with violence. Next weeks blog (Part 2) will consider whether (as with drugs) there is a correlation between violence and being caged in.

Notes:

1. https://journals.lww.com/co-psychiatry/fulltext/2025/05000/drug_addiction_and_impact_of_urbanization__a.13.aspx  Accessed 7 April 2026

2. Chellis Glendinning, My Name Is Chellis & I’m in Recovery from Western Civilization, Shambhala Publications, Boston, Massachusetts, 1994.

What Does The Sorcerer See?

"The Sorcerer"

Around 15,000 years ago someone painted upon the walls of a cave in France a puzzling image of a creature made up of part horse, part lion, part stag, part owl, bear feet and hands that look human. This famous cave art became known as The Sorcerer. The image is found in the Cave of the Trois Frères (Three Brothers) named after the three brothers (Max, Jacques, and Louis Begouën) who, along with their father, discovered the cave in 1912.

The Sorcerer (see graphic) was reproduced by Henri Breuil, who studied cave art and was well versed in archaeology, anthropology, and ethnology. Since Breuil’s rendition other scholars have questioned whether the antlers are truly part of the painting or just appear so because of the rock the painting is situated on. Alternatively, it may be that the paleolithic painter deliberately included cracks in the rock as part of the image.

The painting has been surmised to depict shamanic ritual and as evidence of a Horned God in paleolithic times.

If the Sorcerer was meant to depict a shaman when painted, then it would be unusual for it to have been so, as most paintings in the cave, and other caves in the area, do not depict humans at all, although human form does seem to exist in a few places, for instance in the form of a man-bison.

Thus, the painting is interpreted through the eyes of the beholder. When you look at the painting, what do you see? A shaman? The various animals? A blend of all the animals?

Perhaps the most striking facet that you see is the eyes.

The eyes are looking directly at you. They look out of the wall of the cave, straight at the viewer. The eyes are not looking at other animals or objects on the cave walls. They are looking clearly at us (the viewer). The painter is interacting with us.

Why?

What was the painter of The Sorcerer looking at through those eyes? Was the painter so immersed in the painting that they were painting as if they were The Sorcerer? Were they painting as if it was their own eyes looking out at us (now viewing the painting 15,000 years later)?

If so, then what were they looking at? What did they see?

We don’t know how long these caves had been hidden from human view since the time the art was painted.

Yet, eerily, and perhaps unnervingly, those eyes seem to peer across the centuries and regard the viewer with disdain. It is as if the paleolithic painter 15,000 years ago was peering at us, and asking, what have you done?

Since the painting of The Sorcerer global human population has exploded from an estimated 1 – 10 million people to 8.3 billion this year (2026). That is an increase of 8,000 to 80,000 percent!

Since the painting of The Sorcerer, woolly mammoths, sabre-toothed cats, giant sloths, and cave bears have all gone extinct. Plant biomass has been halved, and wild mammals have been reduced by 85%. 15,000 years ago the Earth’s ecosystems were characterised by high density and a wide diversity. This density and diversity no longer exist, except in parts of Africa.

Is The Sorcerer scrutinising us with an accusatory look?

You be the judge. In this case, culpability may be in the eyes of the beholder.