a brain scientist teaching the patterns you live by—patterns of
thought, of feeling, and of action. One pattern, one podcast; you
see if it works for you.
I mostly write my articles for me. These lectures are for you. I spend so much of my time teaching, why not do some of that in front of a microphone. The btrmt. lectures, where I take one concept I write about or teach, and try and teach it to you.
Two ordinary people suddenly go insane together. It’s a
premise we enjoy from a safe distance—because surely it
could never be us. I’m not so sure. Shared madness isn’t
rare, it isn’t aberrant, and it sits a lot closer to
ordinary love than we’d like to think. Strip away the
spectacle and what’s left is the most common thing in the
world: two lonely people who found a home in each other.
Meditation is the one practice everyone agrees on. It’s on the
NHS, in schools, in every influencer’s guide to life, and the
pitch is always the same: good for you, good for everyone,
can’t hurt. Two of those three are false. It can hurt, it isn’t
for everyone—and once you see what it actually is underneath
the cushion, you realise you’re probably already doing it.
The modern Western story is that real knowledge comes from
science or careful reasoning, and anything else—the elder,
the guru, the village wise woman—is suspect. But science
and reflection themselves rest on a third, intuitive,
embodied mode of knowing that we use constantly and pretend
we don’t. The doctor and the guru are running on the same
authority structure; the only difference is who’s allowed to
wear the coat. Which means we’re picking our sages by taste
instead of principle—and that’s how charlatans win.
Science feels like the most reliable thing we have. The opposite of belief.
But it’s a belief system itself—a ritual, with all the failure modes that
rituals have. And the receipts are right there in the replication crisis.
Everyone’s worried about social media and mental health. Jonathan Haidt
sold two million copies telling us smartphones rewired our children’s
brains. Thirty-five US states passed phone restriction legislation off
the back of it. But when you look at the research—really look—the
evidence for social media causing mental health problems is shockingly
thin. What isn’t thin is the evidence that life, structurally, is getting
worse in a dozen measurable ways. Maybe we’re blaming the screen because
the alternative is harder to fix.
Amygdala hijack, polyvagal theory, the lizard brain, vagus nerve hacks,
brain wave states—these look like different theories explaining different
things about human behaviour. They’re not. They’re all the same theory:
a wildly overengineered version of “just cool the fuck out, and you’ll be
better at stuff.” Why do we keep building these things? And what do we
miss when we do?
Everyone’s been told that bias is the enemy of good thinking. Over 200
cognitive biases catalogued on Wikipedia, and the message is clear: your
brain is broken, and if you could just think more rationally, you’d make
better decisions. But when researchers actually tested whether knowledge of
biases helped predict behaviour, the experts did worse than random
laypeople. Maybe the problem isn’t bias. Maybe the problem is what we
think bias is.
Everyone’s been told the amygdala is the fear centre of the brain. That it
hijacks your rational mind and throws you into fight-or-flight at the sound of
an email notification. This is nonsense—the kind of nonsense that makes
every McKinsey consultant sound like a neuroscientist and every neuroscientist
cringe. The amygdala is an emotional intensity detector, not an emotional
dictator. And focusing on it is distracting you from what actually matters:
how you respond to the world.
Karl Wittfogel’s theory of hydraulic despotism was savaged by his peers and
rightly so. But the pattern he was reaching for—that whoever controls the
essential flowing resource controls the people—is the story of modern
infrastructure. Energy, social media, payment systems, AI compute. We handed
over the water. We don’t have to hand over everything else.
Seed oils, raw milk, carnivore diets, tradwives, phone bans, anti-sunscreen,
cold plunges—these look like separate cultural phenomena across health, diet,
gender, and technology. They’re all the same pattern: the same two faulty
assumptions, the same Just So Story template, the same political movement.
The yearnings are real. The reasoning isn’t.
Everyone loves organisational values. Corporates, militaries, sports clubs,
schools—any place where people collect in a serious way has a list of qualities
they want everyone to embody. But values are just virtue ethics by another name.
And virtue ethics suffer two rather troubling problems: virtues are hugely context-dependent,
and the situation overwhelmingly drives behaviour anyway. So if you want people
to act virtuously, design the context.
What is consciousness? From Mary’s Room to philosophical zombies, from
panpsychism to eliminativism, everyone has theories about the “hard problem.” But
under what realistic circumstances would it actually matter whether something is
truly conscious versus merely appearing conscious?
From Libet’s experiments to modern neuroscience, evidence keeps mounting
that our decisions might be predetermined. But even if free will is an illusion,
what would actually change? Behaviour is still something we can modify, determinism
doesn’t excuse us from consequence, and the debate itself is practically irrelevant.
The nature versus nurture debate seems foundational to understanding human
behaviour. But evolutionary stories are just stories, genetics is shaped by environment,
and the environment matters far more anyway. So why are we still arguing about it?
The word cult conjures images of hooded figures, mass suicide, and narcissistic
leaders. But this dark image is nonsense—the kind that makes us more vulnerable
to destructive groups. Cults are actually a pervasive building block of modern community,
from veganism to fitness franchises to health movements. The question isn’t whether
you’re in one, but whether it’s one you chose.
Gender essentialism is having a moment. Everyone’s reading books about what it
means to be a man or woman, and Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus keeps
getting recommended to me like it’s gospel. Here’s the thing: the book perfectly
illustrates a pattern we see everywhere. The same behaviours—complaining, offering
advice, needing reassurance, getting defensive—are cast as reasonable when men do
them and unreasonable when women do them. Gray’s men are emotionally fragile and
his women just want basic partnership, but somehow it’s the women who need to
lower their expectations. This isn’t about men and women. It’s about how we frame
identical behaviours differently based on who’s doing them.
Everyone’s convinced stress is this outdated evolutionary technology—poorly
calibrated to modern life, something to avoid at all costs. The story goes that
it evolved to help us run from tigers, but now it’s just triggered by email
notifications. This is nonsense. Stress is the only thing that gets us to
perform at all. It’s the most valuable biological technology we have. This
lecture walks through the Yerkes-Dodson Law—a simple, 100-year-old model that
explains how stress actually works, why we need it, and how to use it well.
A text-only version of this site is available at txt.btr.mt — same content, zero JavaScript, minimal presentation.
btrmt. (betterment) examines ideologies worth choosing. Created by Dorian Minors—Cambridge PhD in cognitive neuroscience, Associate Professor at Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. Core philosophy: humans are animals first, with automatic patterns shaped for us, not by us. Better to examine and choose.
Core concepts.Animals First: automatic patterns of thought and action, but our greatest capacity is nurture. Half Awake: deadened by systems that narrow rather than expand potential. Karstica: unexamined ideologies (hidden sinkholes beneath). Credenda: belief systems we should choose deliberately.
The manifesto. Cynosure (focus): betterment, gratification, connection. Architecture (support): inner (somatic, spiritual, thought) and outer (digital, collective, wealth).
Mission. Not answers but examination. Break academic gatekeeping. Make sciences of mind accessible. Question rather than prescribe.
Writing style. Scholarly without jargon barriers. Philosophical yet practical—grounded in neuroscience and lived experience. Reflective, discovery-oriented. Literary references and metaphor. Critical of systems that narrow human potential. Rejects "humans are flawed"—we're half awake, not broken.
Analects: Collection of writings/audio examining ideologies
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About Dorian Minors. Started btrmt. in 2013 to share sciences of mind with people who weren't studying them. Background: six years Australian Defence Force (Platoon Commander, Infantry); Gates Cambridge Scholar; PhD cognitive neuroscience, University of Cambridge (2018-2024); currently Associate Professor, Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. Research interests: neural basis of intelligent behaviour, decision intelligence, ritual formation/breakdown, ethical leadership, wellbeing.
External projects (links also available via Analects):