Making Sense with Sam Harris - #483 — The Knots We Tie Ourselves Into

Episode Date: July 1, 2026

Sam Harris speaks with Alain de Botton about the psychology of unhappiness, the secular world's discomfort with ecstasy and ritual, psychedelics as a tool for self-discovery, Freud's legacy, AI as the ultimate mirror, the case against meritocracy, the cancel culture purity trap, the psychological meaning of death, and other topics. If the Making Sense podcast logo in your player is BLACK, you can SUBSCRIBE to gain access to all full-length episodes at samharris.org/subscribe.

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and find it valuable, please consider subscribing today. I am here with Alain de Botton. Alan, thanks for joining me. Thank you so much for having me. So I think this conversation probably is, I don't know, two decades coming. I feel like I've known about you for at least 20 years and admired your work from afar. You've done many things. You've written many books and you

have the School of Life, which I would love to talk about. But how do you describe your career at this point? What is it that you focus on and how are you showing up mostly now as a thinker? Sure. I mean, I'm broadly interested in the slightly paradoxical and elusive source of of human happiness, unhappiness, sorry, that are not really related to material

or political shortfalls or events, but broadly lie in the psychological space are amazing human ability to make a hell out of

often pretty benign circumstances. I'm fascinated by, as I say, the knots we tie ourselves into. And I write books. I operate on YouTube.

I, as you say, I run this organization called the School of Life in London. We were interested in emotional education. And I'm also a psychotherapist. So I see clients one day a week. And as well as writing books and things. And the School of Life has published many books that are you the author of those books? Or do you, is it? I am. I and a colleague are the author of all the books. Yes. Well, so we are

more prolific than you get credit for then. Because how many books have you written? There are a lot of Well, the School of Life has 70 books under its brand, and I've written 15 under my name. So it's a little too much, and I leave it to experts to diagnose what the problem might be. This is Elron Hubbard territory, though happily with much better content. Wow. Okay, well, then I'm glad to see you away from your keyboard for at least the hour that we're speaking. Thank you. Well, see, you have focused on these timeless issues of, I mean, as you just put it, our capacity to suffer unnecessarily.

It's pretty easy to uncouple that from the historical moment. I mean, there are ways in which current technology and changes in culture, I think, are amplifying that capacity and making it more difficult to be happy in some very ordinary ways. perhaps these changes are making it easier too. Let's just talk about culture for a moment. What most concerns you about the cultural changes that we're seeing happening, more or less accelerating, you know, hour by hour around us now? I wonder if I might start in an unusual, slightly unusual and slightly provocative place,

which is with religion and with the decline in much of the modern world, with what I'm, to be careful to call a religious mindset as opposed to belief. And I think it was still, you know, I still diagnose modern societies as coming out of the very long

religious age which preceded it. And, you know, taking my cue from a thinker like Nietzsche, who predicted, I think, very accurately, that the end of belief would be trouble for human beings. I mean, it's not like there was no trouble before. Don't get me wrong.

There was a lot of, trouble before as well, but that there were particular kinds of trouble that were going to beset non-religious eras, predominantly non-religious eras. And I think that's a, it's a good place to look. I mean, let's look at some of the things that religious societies do and secular societies have problems with. One of the things that religious societies do is to socialize in ritual forms, certain kinds of psychological transitions, which secular societies have a lot of trouble orchestrating or putting on the agenda. I mean, our diaries are filled with business meetings and technical priorities. In the more religious eras, days were devoted to ideas, to priorities

of the soul, if you like. Now, one can have all kinds of objections to how those priorities were framed, but it's a very interesting way in which, in the 19th century, what happens is that that private life gets personalized and individualized to an unprecedented degree. And so if you're in love, if you're struck by nature, if you're interested in community, if you're moved by the site of mountains, et cetera, you do that on your own. You don't, you're not within any kind of structure. And, you know, we've had a hard time, cohering people into structures that, you know, guide psychological, I guess when you might call health.

Religions talk to the soul. We don't need to use that word soul, but it's a very interesting word. Let me just explore that in the current context. I mean, there are religious societies or large communities now that you envy for the degree to which their commitment to their specific doctrines and ideology grants them, you know, depth of community and kind of thickness of culture? They're not atomized in ways that you admire? Yeah. Again, slightly strangely, no. I'm not interested in looking backwards or sideways to religious eras. I'm doing something slightly unusual, which is to say, to really advocate

for creativity, creativity in the areas in which religions used to operate. I'm not interested in reviving religions or fostering new forms of religiosity, but rather in exploring what religions were up to and thinking about what some of the gaps, you might say, are. I mean, many of the museums of Europe, take the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam, were explicitly modeled in the late 19th century on churches. There was a very common belief that culture would replace scripture, that in the absence of divine beliefs, what would pick up the slack, what would direct emotion, what would provide points of communion, et cetera, would be the arts. And that's why, as I say, so many civic, cultural buildings look like churches or temples, places of worship, the very direct kind of

reference. And so one might say, well, isn't that fair enough? And I draw attention really to the way in which that seems a slightly incomplete project. So I'm speaking to you from London. if you showed up at the Tate Gallery and went to the Rothko room and knelt down in front of a Rothko and burst into tears and were profoundly moved in a way that we're not really used to in the age of museums and according to the codes of how to behave in a museum, you'd be quickly ushered out by the guards. You're supposed to imbibeart in ways that are, you know, one might say chilly, even cold. It's a private experience. It's non-extatic. It is not done with others. And there's a sort of limit to what we're allowed to expect from a work of art. It's both meant to be

extremely important and nothing to cry about or indeed dance about. And that strikes me. And I'm intrigued because all societies, I mean, take the ancient Greeks who had some fascinating rituals. So once a year, there was the festival of Dionysus, Dionysus, the god of wine, the god of night, the god of folly. And, you know, he's got his ritual moments. And the whole citizenry, especially women exit the city on during the festival of Dionysus, a dance in ecstatic ways to the beating of drums. And, you know, of course, our friend Nietzsche here is very interested in this. What's going on here? What are the ancient Greeks knowing?

What do they know about us that we seem to have forgotten? And, you know, I'm not the first person to point out that there has been a huge increase, at least in recorded incidents of what we call mental illness, mental unwellness. and one of the ways of thinking about that epidemic of mental unwellness is that the extreme emotions, the untenable emotions that manifest themselves now privately have been in different points in history, marshaled around common rituals which, one might say, handled them pretty cleverly, quite intelligently. you know, for the ancient Greeks, the concept of going a little mad once a year, or perhaps more often, was taken very seriously and was not seen as different from actually being mad. Going mad is something that you do because, you know, there's divine madness in each of us. Being mad is a more permanent state, often to do with denying the fact that there is divine madness in us. And so, you know, the Greeks rather cleverly had these two characters.

Polo and Dionysus at the center of their culture. Polo interested in reason, in calm, in order, balance, symmetry, and Dionysus, very interested in other things. Again, I'm less interested in the specifics of these gods. We might find other gods. We might find other festivals. We might look at things differently. But there's a methodology there.

There's a way of structuring experience which modern society doesn't have. And I'm very interested in drawing attention to that. Well, that's very interesting. I think I want to just explore all of that terrain again a little more systematically just because I'm interested to discover if there's anything we disagree about. I think you and I have been thought to have disagreed. I think your book Religion for Atheists came out. When was that? 2012.

Yeah. About the same time as you were very prominent on what looked like another side. I was the foreheaded atheist along with Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins and Danes. Lieutenant. And yeah, and I think people thought you and I fundamentally disagreed about a few things there, and I'm hearing echoes of that suspicion in what you just said. But I'm not sure I disagree with any of what you said, but I just want to try to figure this out. So I think I can completely sign up to the set of claims that I thought I heard, which is that one secular culture is is uncomfortable with ecstasy, right? We don't have a frame in which to think about it and integrate it and

normalize it and even prioritize it. And ecstasy might even be the wrong noun. It's more that there's a positive end to the continuum of human well-being that has not been well-explored, especially in Western culture and especially of late. I mean, Sam, I very much like your use of the word ecstasy. I think it's bang on. And, and, you know, let's go straight to the nightclub at this point. You know, the word ecstasy's been linked to, obviously, traditionally, a drug that you take at a nightclub. And, you know, even if you think of the nightclub, the nightclub, there are nightclubs all over the world, they don't have very high cultural prestige. They don't have, there's no psychological meaning appended to them. There's no transcendental function.

They are in the world of fun, of recreation, which I think is a real. And I think one of the things that the modern world does is it misses out on drawing from things like the nightclub the themes the previous ages would have mined in them. So just to add a few pieces to this puzzle for you to work with. I think what you're arguing for is that secular culture needs a conception of profundity and the sacred that traditionally only religion was able to give us. Totally, totally. That's absolutely right. And even, you know, take the concept of the planetarium. So all around the world, planetariums, you go and look at stars. How do we justify planetarium? It's overwhelmingly to do with scientific explanation rather than awe or A-A-A-W-E. In other words, you know, you go to planetarium and they're very keen to tell you about the precise dimensions of, you know, Kepler 32B and, you know, the rings of Saturn, etc. Rather than what I think would be, you know, an equally opposite point, which is how small we are in the universe, you know, ego reduction, which has traditionally been one of the functions that religion has taken on very effectively. You know, in Zen Buddhism, there were moon-viewing ceremonies on platforms, poetry was red,

rice cakes were eaten, or still are in some parts of Japan at some points. In other words, the moon is being used not as an astronomical phenomenon, but as a sort of psychosocial phenomenon, as a tool. of culture, and that's very helpful. So if we look at the nightclub, the planetarium, etc., there are lots of things that secular culture has, but isn't properly connecting up with some of the themes that religions were pretty good at bringing to the fore. Well, now that's, as you, I'm sure are aware, there's this resurgent interest in psychedelics and, you know, both on the research end and on the so-called recreational end. And, granted,

there are two very different moods with which one can approach this project. It can be the nightclub mood of just having fun or the more contemplative mood of actually trying to understand something deep and durable and profound about the nature of your mind and your capacity for overcoming the unnecessary suffering of which you referenced at the beginning here. Yes, I mean, I think psychedelics are very interesting. I've explored this theme. I mean, if we look at, you know, you mentioned these two functions, absolutely. I mean, one of the functions of psychedelics, MDMA, etc., is socially to remind us of what we have in common with other people. You know, when people say, I took this substance and I loved everybody. This is, of course, one of the feats of kind of spiritual development

in all religions, that it is through meditative activities and also ecstatic activities that you discover that the barriers between humans are, let's put it gently exaggerated in normal life. In normal life, we focus on the differences, but how interesting and how nice life would be if we focused on the similarities, and we may need a substance and a setting in which that can more easily be accessible to us. And then, you know, you mentioned self-exploration. Well, exactly. I mean, the Freudians bless them, and I'm very indebted to the Freudian tradition, they understand that one of the main obstacles to thinking about yourself is fear, that there are resistance based on a fear of all sorts of deeply uncomfortable things about oneself, like, you know, one's sexuality may be more

complicated, one may have aggressive urges, where one's supposed to be merely inverted commas, nice, et cetera, and that a substance like MDMA might lower the defenses, enabling one to achieve insight. And again, you know, what a serious mission for something, which for too long languished in the lane called fun. Have psychedelics been part of your process? I mean, have you taken the various drugs? I don't know if I'm going to be arrested for saying so. I don't know.

But yes, I have taken MDMA and psilocybin in sort of clinical or pseudo-clinical settings, in other words, for these ends of self-exploration more than so-called fun. And they've been tremendously helpful in essentially You know, my problem with drugs and alcohol was always that these things were not being used seriously. It's not the substance itself that I had any problem with. And again, religions have been wonderful at reminding us. I mean, you know, what does Dionysus are responsible? He's responsible for the God of wine. He's the God of wine. And how interesting to put wine right at the center of, you know, ritual and psychological development. And we too often fail to do that. Yeah, well, the Greeks, as you know, had the Ellicinian mysteries for a couple of a millennia, and, you know, those who partook came away saying this was the foundational few days of their lives.

And to some degree, at least if we don't blow it and recapitulate some of the errors of the 1960s here, what the current moment promises is a more sober, more methodical, more scientifically informed, but yet nonetheless profound kind of reintegration of that kind of ritual, you know, the pharmacological ritual in culture. I mean, you know, I'm thinking about why people are boring. All human beings have very complex lives, but we all know some people who,

when you come into their vicinity, you yourself feel that you have an awful lot to say to them and around them and there's a lot of feeling. And other people, we feel, you know, they are say, what have you been up to lately? And the mind goes completely blank. largely because I tend to think that this is a function of how much they've explored of themselves. A so-called interesting person is generally somebody who's been very interested in themselves,

not in a narrow, egocentric way, but they've opened a lot of doors. And I think one unconsciously senses that when you come into contact with them, and then you have a lot to say. I would immediately put you in that category, Sam, which is why people enjoy talking to you. And I think that one of the things that psychedelics allow people to do is more easily, explore bits of their minds, which when they are outside of the substance, continues and gives them a kind of space which they allow to other people to, you know, explore their own minds. And so one ends up, you know, having a more interesting time and a more, you know, if you use a hackneyed word, compassionate time, where there's a lot more on the table to discuss

and to feel. Well, let's talk about the attenuation of the ego, because it strikes me that There's a normative, optimal, entirely desirable version of this, and it's one that I've thought a lot about and spoken a lot about. But there's also a kind of pathological counterfeits, I would say, and they relate to the discomfort we referenced a moment ago around ecstasy and secular culture and its political implications. I mean, when you're talking about, you know, the Dionysian attitude and what that looks like at the level of a lot. crowd. It looks one way in a in a in a rave or you know other nightclub setting. It looks another way in a political context, you know, that you know, one could argue that at a large political rally,

you know, Nuremberg looking or otherwise, there is a kind of self-overcoming of the individual. There's this get a fusion to some larger end that amounts to people kind of losing themselves in shoulder-to-shoulder contact with their brothers and sisters. And the pathology of all of that is all too obvious when you just read any bit of history. How should we think about the success and failure of what lies beyond the ego? Such a fascinating question. I mean, I'd begin with the story of every human in a family. You emerge into the world with a mother and a father. And, you know, it's hard to remember, but essential to remember how mighty every mother and father or every caregiver looks to an infant.

You know, this large person can throw a ball across the garden, can master language, can write, can sing, can pick you up and spin you around the room. And from that experience, all of us have rooted in us, I think, a capacity to be awed by another human. and as it were to imagine, to project onto them an all-knowing quality. And, you know, in normal development, in normal psychological development, we gradually discover in adolescence that our parents are flawed, that even though they looked absolutely powerful when we were seven, by the time we were 17, we discover that they're boring, frightened, uncertain, and in many ways not sure of where they're going. And these are wonderful discoveries, necessary discoveries of adolescence, and if I can make a strange link of democracy. Democracy is,

the democratic mindset is one which is post-adolescent and properly recognizes the impossibility of heroes. There are no heroes. There are merely humans like you and me who are finding their way, prone to error, and not omnipotent. But in moments of stress, in moments of regression, people and peoples will, as you know, of course, regress back to that childhood mentality, and then you get serious dangers because if somebody's the daddy or the mummy and they don't have the benevolence that, you know, we sometimes associate with those words, then you've got trouble on your hands. And I think it's in all of us. All of us can be in danger, depending on our state of mind and the atmosphere around

of projecting onto leaders a power that no adult can possess simply because that's where we all came from and it's a lot easier when you're feeling under pressure to believe that. Members can hear the full conversation by subscribing at samharis.org. Subscribers get a private RSS feed you can use with your favorite podcast player. Death is a very important thing to keep on the agenda, not just for the actual moment you're going to die. but for everything it symbolizes about your limits of understanding and control.

Accepting death in its metaphorical sense of limits is a wonderful route to making you, you know, a little bit less of a difficult person, a little bit less of an awkward person. People become a lot more fun when they accept their limitations.