When I was growing up, I valued math – but I also valued my family, my friends, school, reading fiction, and playing games, as well as some nature activities such as hiking. These values supported one another and were in tension. The most obvious tension was that time is limited. If I spent five hours playing a computer game, that’s five less hours that I can spend on schoolwork, talking to my family, or reading a fantasy novel.
The obvious synergy between these activities is that most of them are nerdy. Stereotypically, nerds like to do math, to succeed in school, to play games, and to read fantasy novels. So my values were coherent with one another – although I am still not sure why they go together. (Why is it that math and fantasy fiction go together? Do Tolkien’s hobbits do calculus in his books? No! Do schools emphasize fantasy fiction? No, certainly not! So what is the connection between these values? It’s a mystery.)
There are other tensions between the values. Engaging with nature often requires some physical fitness, while reading fiction and playing games doesn’t build that fitness. Reading fantasy fiction also conflicts with a certain view of school, which is that your job is to consume “real literature.”
A Nexus State is this state of synergy and tension. It’s a state of mind in which values coexist in a dynamic balance. It is likely impossible to reconcile all of these contradictions. We may not be able to engage with nature and read a fantasy novel at the same time. (Would that mean scanning Lord of the Rings while climbing a mountain?) We may not convince our high school teacher that Dragonlance or A Song of Ice and Fire are great literature. All of these values have to get along with each other “well enough” but not “too much.”
The Nexus State is not a static personal philosophy: it can change over time as values come and go. It is, in a sense, a living ecosystem, with conflict, interdependence, and an equilibrium between different values.
Values as organisms in an ecosystem
A Nexus State contains diverse values that are interdependent upon each other, cooperate with one another, and compete with one another. This is the ecosystem metaphor: the Nexus State is like Darwin’s “tangled bank” – a complex natural habitat. The foundational values, like truth, love, and justice, are the deep-rooted trees. These values have implications for our whole lives; they can be applied to our relationship with other people, to our political philosophy, and to our academic interests. For example, we can have a just marriage, a just friendship, or a just society. Then there are values associated with our personality, like curiosity and ambition – perhaps these are the small mammals in the forest. They are habits of being with ourselves and with others that come and go in different contexts. There are also values having to do with individual people and things, like our spouse, child, or friend. These are the unique creatures in the forest. Perhaps our forest only has one elephant or one tiger. The Nexus State is the entire ecosystem where these values interact.
In this ecosystem, values can overgrow or undermine themselves. For example, connection pursued too relentlessly can become neediness, undermining itself. If we try to make others feel guilty in order to pressure them to connect with us, we can destroy the very connection that we seek. Likewise, if truth becomes a rigid dogma, it can make us blind to nuance, and therefore paradoxically can lead to falsehood. If we believe that our side in a debate possesses the sole truth, it often (though not always) means that we are slipping into error.
Conflict between values in a Nexus State is like competition between organisms in an ecosystem: it is normal. It can be managed, but need not be eliminated. For example, compassion restrains harsh truth, while discipline must be balanced with freedom. Even “harmful” values have a role if kept in proportion. Some might say that valuing alcohol is simply misguided, but most people would say that it’s bad only in excess. Then again, most values are bad when taken to excess.
Cultural and philosophical variations
Different religions and philosophies propose different Nexus States. To a Buddhist monk, some of the highest values might include impermanence, compassion, and non-attachment. These values cooperate and compete with one another as in any Nexus State. For example, to a layperson, compassion is slightly in competition with non-attachment, since if we aren’t attached to others, we might care about them less. However, a Buddhist would likely be able to understand and integrate these values: they might not see any contradiction here. They might say that attachment involves possessiveness, while compassion avoids it.
On the other hand, consider Existentialism, a framework developed by philosophers including Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Sartre. An Existentialist’s Nexus State might involve authenticity and freedom. These two values are connected in that authenticity means freedom from conformity. If we are in touch with our true self, we act according to our real values rather than artificially adopting other people’s values.
It’s also possible to blend elements from different traditions, leading to hybrid ecosystems. One could be a Christian-Buddhist-Existentialist, for instance. In the Life of Pi, the narrator is a Christian-Hindu-Muslim. Many people have these sorts of hybrid Nexus States – we are all working to manage multiple contradictions in our value systems.
The Universal Map
How can we visualize values and their relationships with one another? The Universal Map represents the set of all possible values – and it is truly infinite. On this map, each point is one value. For example, love and justice might be two points on the map. If that map includes all values similar to love and justice, that’s already a large number of possible values. But it’s bigger than that: Olivia’s justice and Noah’s justice are distinct points on the map. Perhaps Olivia’s justice is harder while Noah’s is softer. Perhaps Olivia’s justice is more related to the law and society, while Noah’s is more connected with relationships. For Olivia, love and justice are quite separate, while for Noah they are connected. All of these differences show that Olivia’s justice and Noah’s justice are quite different things. So the map might contain one justice value for every person on Earth. But the Universal Map is not limited to the values of the Earth’s current population. It contains all values of all humans who could ever exist. (Perhaps it includes the values of all sentient beings, including beings who live in other star systems or other galaxies.) In this way, the Universal Map is truly infinite.
No individual can encompass the entire map. No individual can care equally about every major value – whether justice, compassion, mercy, or loyalty – and it’s certainly impossible for Olivia to care about Noah’s justice to the same degree that she cares about her own justice. Therefore, any personal value system is only a small slice of an infinite space. Olivia’s space of personal values may be large in an absolute sense – she may have thousands of values – but relative to the Universal Map, her values are small in number. The Universal Map, then, is a true infinity that might evoke awe at the full range of human possibility. And yet, if we feel awe about the Universal Map, we are not really engaging with the whole map. We cannot really value the map because we can never be wholly acquainted with it. For every value in the map that we know and understand, there are always infinitely many that we do not. It is a bit like a young child who values history. They do value history, and yet in another sense, they don’t really know what they are valuing. They know a small slice of history; perhaps that and not the whole is what they value.
Thus, most values will always remain unknown to us. Not only is the whole map unknowable, but even local maps – our family’s value map or our nation’s value map – may be too large for us to comprehend. We can know our own values firsthand, but our friend’s or family member’s values will only be known to us secondhand.
Beyond generalized values (truth, justice, love), people hold personal, concrete values: a specific person, a childhood hiding place, or a favorite song. These particularized values multiply the Universal Map’s possibilities further, reinforcing its infinite nature.
My Values
I will address four of my core values: truth, connection, compassion, and self-reliance. These values provide me with a positive orientation, energy, strength, and direction in life. They are not universal values that everyone should share. Rather, they are a case study to illustrate how values can be explored and elaborated. In fact, I do not think it is easy for one human to adopt another human’s values, even if they want to. It’s easy for them to conclude that the value would be helpful but it may not be easy for them to assign positive valence to the new value. The process by which a value comes to have positive valence is a bit mysterious for me. My values have certainly changed over time, but not drastically. My 2020 values were different from my 2010 values, but not that different.
Truth
My truth is a different value from other people’s truth. I value a scientific approach to truth, but with a strong awareness that truth is partial. Truths highlight some events while omitting others. For example, imagine that you’re in a room with a chair. In addition to the chair, the room contains an elephant, a huge stack of gold bars, and an actual time machine. Now you tell me, “there’s a chair in the room.” Is that true? Well, yes – it’s true. But why did you leave out the elephant, the gold bars, and the time machine? It’s a truth, but it’s a partial truth – and it may not be that relevant. Why would I care about the chair in comparison with the time machine? So in addition to the truth value of truths, we should care about their relevance.
Thinking of the previous reference to death anxiety – it is true that I will die. But is it relevant? Since death is a foregone conclusion, and there is nothing we can do to alter this fact, it is in some sense an irrelevant truth. But for some people, the fact of death is magnified beyond its real relevance. If we internalize the issue of partial vs. relevant truths, we could in principle overcome our fear of death.
Truth is also metaphorical. In physics, we talk about an electron being a particle or a wave. But it isn’t really either one – it’s a quantum state. Quantum states can be a bit like particles and a bit like waves. Since humans can’t really understand quantum states in all their complexity, we often rely on metaphors to understand them. Now when it comes to religious and political truths, we’re addressing something even more complex – the Universal Map and other infinities. So our truths are going to be even more metaphorical and partial.
Many people have alternative ways to understand truth in a “soft” way. For example, some people may feel that truth is made of words and language, and language in turn is just a lot of references to other language – there’s nothing at the bottom. Therefore, the hard feeling of clarity that comes with truth is just an illusion. We should be more restrained and even playful when talking about truth.
Another idea is that truth is tied to emotion. If I feel that a truth is true, then that might make it “true for me.” In Star Wars, Obi Wan says that truth is tied to a certain point of view. All of these are softer ways of understanding truth.
Connection
My view of connection is influenced by Martin Buber’s I–Thou relationships, which are based on authentic dialogue and trust. In my reading of Buber, it is important not to control other people, and it is important not to imagine that we know other people better than we actually do. The I-Thou relationship is to be compared with the I-It relationship, where we treat people as an object to be managed, controlled, analyzed, or manipulated. The I-Thou relationship is not sustainable as a permanent way of being; even relationships we care about greatly will slip in and out of this ideal state.
Compassion
Compassion is a “soft” value that comes with a desire to ease suffering in oneself and others. Different people embody compassion differently – for instance, one person might want to help others materially – by giving them resources – and another might want to help emotionally – by listening to them.
Sometimes, compassion is clearly helpful – for instance, if we help a cat that’s stuck in a tree, we’ve clearly helped the cat. (Although if the cat is mean and terrorizes other cats, then maybe we’ve just harmed those other cats!) At other times, compassion is what I called “mu-helpful” meaning that its positive impact is uncertain. (More about this later.) Compassion is mu-helpful if it might aid someone while also fostering dependence, or if we are uncertain that the person really wants the help we are giving them. It’s important to face this ambiguity rather than avoiding it. Instead of pretending that our compassion is definitely wanted – which is a harder and more comforting view of compassion, but is potentially inaccurate – I’d propose that we admit when our compassion may or may not have a positive impact.
Self-reliance
Self-reliance is a complex value. It can’t mean that we literally don’t need others. Most people aren’t able to live alone in the wilderness indefinitely, like a hermit. To me, self-reliance means that we are able to be reasonably independent – that we can do many things for ourselves, and that we work to ensure that we are not relying on others when we could do something ourselves. This is always going to be a matter of degree, and will depend on our capabilities.
As a child, I valued self-reliance through solitary reading and independence. As an adult, however, my interest in connection has increased. Combining the two in a common Nexus State feels challenging, but doing it successfully could lead to secure attachment. That is, if we combine the ability to depend on our partner emotionally and to be independent emotionally, then we are securely attached. An intellectual understanding of secure attachment, however, is not enough to create secure attachment. We could memorize all of the things that securely attached people say and do; that wouldn’t make us securely attached.
Beyond the Four
These four values are certainly an incomplete list. They leave out my connections with individual family and friends. They also leave out other sources of meaning: music, nature, learning, and others. I am not even sure I would say that abstract values like truth and compassion are “higher” or “better” than valuing individual people. They are neither better nor worse – just different. In this book, I will focus more on abstract values – mostly because I don’t know the reader’s friends or family and can’t say anything about them. We may be more likely to share abstract values than to share friends or family.
The purpose of exploring my values is not to reach ultimate truths about values. I can’t claim that my truths about values will be similar to yours. However, exploring my values can show how values give us orientation, strength, and perspective amidst life’s difficulties.
Illusions of universal helpfulness
For all of my four values, there can be an illusion of universal helpfulness. That is, it can appear that a particular truth, connection, act of compassion, or pattern of self-reliance is universally helpful. This allows us to have the best of both worlds: all we need to do is to believe in that particular truth, connection, or act and we will get both the positive valence and the positive impact. But getting the best of both worlds – a simultaneous hardness and softness – may actually be difficult to achieve.
Truth
For example, in the case of my truth value, the illusion is “universal relevance” – the idea that a particular truth is relevant in all situations. The physicist Richard Feynman was once asked: if you could write down one sentence to be transmitted to future generations (assuming that all the rest of our knowledge were lost due to some “cataclysm”) what would it be? Feynman’s answer is that he would want to write down the atomic hypothesis: we should say that everything is made of atoms, and explain what that entails. To Feynman, that sentence is definitely relevant to future generations.
But it really depends on what these post-cataclysm future generations want – doesn’t it? If they are hunter gatherers, they might want information on how to navigate their social world, how to make tools out of rocks, or which plants are safe to eat. Do they really have anything to gain from Feynman’s sentence? Some have said that hunter gatherers are the “original affluent society” – better off, nutritionally, than farming societies – at least for some millennia after farming is developed. In any case, my point is that Feynman’s sentence does not have universal relevance. Even if it’s guaranteed to propel the hunter gatherers toward eventually “accomplishing something” with science, most of them probably aren’t engaged in that effort. It’s still important for them to know which frogs are poisonous.
I might suggest that Feynman’s concern with his one sentence has less to do with its relevance and more to do with high arousal – with its power to protect Feynman (and us) from death anxiety. Feynman wants to imagine that in the case of a catastrophe, this sentence could transmit the very essence of humanity – all of our intellectual accomplishments, which is to say, our collective soul – into the future. This may feel exciting and powerful! But perhaps we’d do better to imagine perpetuating a more diverse set of truths, as with the Encyclopedia Foundation in Isaac Asimov’s work. (In the Foundation series, Hari Seldon says that the Foundation will serve to record the knowledge of the past, awaiting the coming of a second Galactic Empire – much like religious orders preserved knowledge after the fall of the Roman Empire.)
Connection
With connection, the illusion is attachment universality – the belief that there are particular things one can do to connect with anyone. For example, Dale Carnegie’s book How to Win Friends and Influence People says that “smiling” is important as well as “not criticizing” people. And yet, many feminists would be extremely offended at the suggestion that women should smile more. Although I don’t think Carnegie means his advice to be gendered, it’s nevertheless clear that “smile more” isn’t universal advice. (When Aaron Burr gives this advice to Hamilton in the musical, it’s not meant to endear us to Burr!)
And “not criticizing” is fine advice in many cases, but sometimes you need to speak your mind! Again, the advice is not really universal. Maybe Carnegie himself regrets that he smiles less than he ought to; that does not mean he should project his own concern onto everyone else.
Of course, the popularity of the book suggests that many people identify with Carnegie’s advice! But that still does not mean that his advice is universal or is a guaranteed route to connection. Instead, I propose the “puzzle piece” theory. Humans can change ourselves a bit, but we are also like puzzle pieces – we either fit with another person, or we don’t. It’s good to try to improve ourselves, but bad to try so hard to fit with others that we give up what’s most valuable to us.
Attachment theory shows how humans can have diverse styles of relating to others – secure, anxious, or avoidant. I will later argue that these kinds of categories are not always a good thing; but they can remind us of an important fact: not everyone is the same or should want to be the same.
Compassion
The illusion of compassion universality would say that particular kinds of compassionate actions always benefit others. For example, perhaps giving good advice is always beneficial, or giving some money is always beneficial. But both of these beliefs would be flawed. Advice isn’t always beneficial, first of all, because we can’t really be sure that our advice is good. It’s hard even to give good advice to oneself – now imagine giving advice to someone else! What makes us think that we understand that person’s position well enough to help them? When we possess concrete, professional knowledge that they lack – for instance, we are a teacher advising a student on their homework – then advice often makes sense. If there is no such asymmetry, then things get a lot murkier.
What about giving money? One might think that giving money benefits another person, so of course it’s a positive kind of compassion. Yet I recall recently reading a relevant story in the news: there were two friends, one living in a wealthier country and the other living in a more impoverished country. The wealthy friend could afford to give the other a full year’s salary without too much trouble, and did so. But the impoverished friend was quite upset! She felt that this action implied a kind of patronizing superiority and would lead to a greater distance in their friendship. It meant that the wealthier one would no longer truly be her friend, but merely a benefactor. Rather than bringing the two closer together, the gift tore them apart for a time.
My point is not that advice is always bad, or that gifts are always bad! Quite the reverse. It’s that “always” is an unlikely word to be applicable to acts of compassion.
Self-reliance
What would self-reliance universality look like? It might mean that a certain lifestyle could be totally self-reliant – that one wouldn’t need anyone. One knows that one can’t really escape dependence on others without being a hermit, like Ben Gunn in Treasure Island. But one might trick oneself into believing that a kind of almost-as-good self-reliance is possible. Maybe one can try to ensure that one will never be hurt, even if one’s partner leaves, even if one loses one’s job, or even if various other crises happen. Perhaps one can be independent enough that one doesn’t need any particular people – everyone is replaceable.
But this may be an illusion. It is part of human nature to need particular other people, and to be hurt if one loses them. The possibility of being hurt is part of the deal that one accepts by being born – and then, given the eventual certainty of death, the possibility of being separated from others turns out to be a certainty.
Illusions of permanence
Buddhism emphasizes a different set of illusions – having to do with permanence. We may have the sense that things can be unchanging or permanent – yet deep down we are afraid that they cannot be. We are attracted to unchanging things – the Earth, the sun – and unsettled by things that do not last. I remember, as a child, feeling distraught when I learned that many animals only live a few years. How could these animals tolerate such a short allotment of lifespan? For Buddhists, just as the in-breath gives way to the out-breath, and the out-breath gives way to the in-breath, so too each phenomenon (an emotion, a thought, a lifetime) gives way to other phenomena.
To accept impermanence, then, is initially unsettling but ultimately liberating. In the same way, releasing universality illusions can be both unsettling and liberating. I suggest that both illusions are tied to desire for immortality or eternity. Universal helpfulness is not explicitly about immortality, but its positive valence can be used to counter death anxiety.
How can we let go of these illusions? Buddhists try to directly perceive impermanence in a meditative state. By carefully examining the breath and other sensations, they conclude that everything is changing all the time.
Can we “see” through the universality illusions in the same way? What kind of perception or attentiveness can help us to do that?
In the case of truth, we might compare texts to test the limits of their claims.
In the case of connection, we might notice how ideas that worked with one person don’t work with another. Everyone has different feelings and ways of being.
In the case of compassion, we could accept feedback from others about what they perceive as compassionate.
With self-reliance, we might notice how setting protective walls doesn’t always make us feel more safe.
Conditional helpfulness and mu-helpfulness
The underlying question about the helpfulness universality illusion is: does living by this value actually help myself and others? Let’s consider two complex answers to this question.
Conditional helpfulness means that a value helps only in some situations or amounts. For example, alcohol is pleasant in moderation but harmful in excess. Truth is often good, but in some cases it can be disrespectful to say something even if it is true. Conformity has a bad reputation, but in some cases it is necessary – we often have to follow the rules of our community or workplace.
Why can’t we just stop acquiring alcohol, truth, or conformity when it stops being helpful? The problem is that humans can be permanently dissatisfied and want more and more of a given value. This leads us to pursue the value to excess, even when diminishing returns set in. This permanent dissatisfaction, perhaps, results from our underlying knowledge that no matter how much stuff we get, death still awaits us. Wisdom consists in recognizing limits and stopping before the pursuit turns harmful.
.Mu-helpfulness means that a value feels good but its helpfulness is ambiguous or unknowable. “Mu” here is a zen word that stands for un-asking the question (that is, the question: “Does this help?”). It means that we judge the helpfulness question to be, itself, unhelpful or irrelevant. For example, compassion may feel right, but may not clearly help others. Imagine that you’ve been compassionate toward others, but you begin to doubt:
- Whether they benefit from it?
- Whether they appreciate it?
- Whether it changes anything in the long run?
Compassion feels right but may or may not clearly help others. Likewise, imagine that you’ve been truthful, but you’re not sure:
- Whether your truth is relevant to the problem at hand?
- Whether your truth benefits yourself and others?
In these cases, my advice is that if you are truly 50-50 as to whether something is helpful, just do it if it gives you positive valence. It’s important to have positive valence! However, mu-helpfulness does not mean ignoring evidence or feedback. If someone says “stop helping me in that way, it hurts,” a 50-50 estimate will no longer be appropriate. There are many complexities to calculating mu-helpfulness! But my point is that sometimes we should do things without knowing for sure that they are helpful – just because we value them.
Are My Values Universal?
I used to think that my values are universal. After all, don’t all humans care about truth? How could they not – we all need to know truths, even truths as simple as “the store opens at 8:00 AM” or “turn the screwdriver to the right to tighten.” Everyone values connection, compassion, and self-reliance as well – true?
Yes and no. Most people value something that neighbors on these values, but the exact meaning of the values vary widely across cultures and individuals. Although valuing is universal, the values themselves are not. The Universal Map is large and complex.
An example value is love. All cultures value some form of positive connection between humans. But the similarity ends there. In some societies, arranged marriage is the appropriate form of marital connection, while in others, romantic love is desirable. In Greece, same-sex love was considered to be refined and noble, while in the Christian middle ages it was not. Although here too, I am making broad stereotypes – my understanding is that even within the middle ages, the acceptability of same-sex love could vary a great deal from century to century, from location to location, and by social class.
Regarding truth, our enlightenment tradition values science and rationality. But other traditions value truths’ known to elders or stored in sacred texts. We can debate the merits of absolute vs. relative truth and personal vs. objective truth. Should truth be something that’s relevant, as I would have it in my value? Or should it just be something that’s beautiful, interesting, meaningful, or surprising? Regardless, it seems to me that we cannot value all truths equally – every system of truth must prioritize some truths over others. We cannot say that “there is a chair in the room” and “I invented a time machine” are of equal value.
Universality, then exists only up to a point; we may share the word “truth” but differ as to the meaning of the word.
In a world full of diverse value systems, it’s tempting to think that connection might be the most important value of all. But connection isn’t a singular value: Craig’s connection value differs from Emilia’s connection value. There is no universal connection value.
The connection value that succeeds at connecting Craig and Emilia might not be the same value that succeeds at connecting Emilia and Theodore. That’s because Craig and Emilia (let’s say) want to connect by speaking authentically about their emotions, while Emilia and Theodore want to connect by punching each other in a martial arts class. Once we realize that no single connection value is universal, we can see there is no value that is “in charge of” the Universal Map.
So how do we handle situations where values clash entirely? Should we simply “live and let live”? Or avoid those whose views are incompatible with our own? There’s no single rule. Each encounter demands something different.
Connecting across value systems isn’t a generic skill—it’s a collection of skills, each shaped by the particular values in play. Navigating cultural or moral differences is less like using a universal key that opens any door, and more like learning the dialects of human experience—each one with its own grammar and nuance.
Some might argue that certain meta-skills—like empathy, curiosity, or open-mindedness—can serve as bridges across any divide. Aren’t we overlooking the unifying power of these traits?
Yes and no. Empathy is powerful, but its strength often lies in connecting through emotion, not values. Just because we understand one another’s emotions doesn’t mean that we can collaborate. There’s a lot more to understand about people besides their feelings.
This raises a difficult question: if each value-to-value connection is unique, does that mean meaningful cross-cultural understanding requires infinite training? How can anyone prepare for that?
In a sense, yes—endless learning is required to truly understand others across the full spectrum of human values. Consider how an American businessperson preparing to work in Japan might study etiquette, hierarchy, and communication norms. That preparation won’t necessarily help them work effectively in Argentina, where cultural expectations are different. Even within Japan, values might differ between urban and rural areas, or between generations. The same is true within the U.S.
So if there’s no central “connective” value, are people from vastly different value systems doomed to misunderstanding? Could this idea undercut the possibility of shared human understanding?
Not necessarily. It just means that understanding others is ongoing, effortful work. You’re never finished learning how to understand someone. But some amount of misunderstanding is inevitable.Still, people manage to work together across value systems all the time—in politics, business, or personal relationships. Part of their success comes from the effort they put in: studying, asking questions, making mistakes, and trying again. But another part comes from finding common ground in actions rather than beliefs. You don’t have to share someone’s reasons in order to walk alongside them. You can vote for the same candidate, co-sign the same petition, or raise the same child, even if your values differ.
Nexus State Theory 