Ruminations on the unravelling of coherence

Aweh, My Dearly Beloved Fellow Ruminants & Groupies

What does it mean to be coherent, and does it still matter? Coherence is the alignment of thought, speech, and action—a consistency of principle over time. Paired with articulate expression, it becomes clarity of voice. In our age of noise and narrative drift, speaking clearly from a stable core should be persuasive. But is it?

Performative coherence, like Trump’s, keeps the tone and tribal loyalty rock-solid—even as facts are twisted, ignored, or outright fabricated—to exploit a culture where truth matters less than loyalty and spectacle. Trump is perceived as coherent by many supporters because he is emotionally consistent—always combative, always anti-establishment, always “America First.”

His appeal isn’t rational coherence—it’s identity coherence. He signals a stable tribal allegiance, which can be persuasive to some in an age of polarized narratives. Perhaps not so persuasive to those who are not part of his tribe.

 I’m not sure what’s wrong with me because I value rational coherence. Am I in a shrinking intellectual minority: one that still believes arguments should hold together, words should mean what they say, and that clarity isn’t weakness but discipline. In an age of performative confusion, is this commitment becoming radical?

Am I developing yet another mental disorder? Rational coherence disorder (RCD). RCD is a non-fatal but increasingly socially inconvenient condition marked by an obsessive need for arguments to make sense and for people to mean what they say. Sufferers often find themselves exasperated by political discourse, allergic to buzzwords, and chronically baffled by how some others tolerate contradiction without flinching. While RCD offers clarity of thought, it may also lead to frequent muttering of “that doesn’t follow”, sighing, fact-checking at dinner, and the quiet suspicion that the world has lost its mind.

The opposite of RCD is convenient contradiction disorder (CCD).  This is a highly adaptive condition marked by the effortless ability to hold—and switch between—conflicting beliefs based on what feels good, sounds right, or wins approval in the moment.

Those with CCD thrive in the fast-paced, chaotic, and high-attention world we live in and abandon any fixed point of view. They are immune to cognitive dissonance and allergic to follow-up questions.

But is CCD becoming more common and perhaps becoming the norm? Is conventional coherence unravelling?

A few years ago, I started following Jordan Peterson. He clearly articulated his views around free speech, postmodernism, and personal responsibility. He was sharp but measured, composed, and intellectually generous. Although I didn’t always agree with him, I found him thought-provoking, articulate, and coherent. But as he became more famous, he started unravelling slowly at first, and then an almost complete meltdown into CCD.

In the Jubilee “1 Christian vs 20 Atheists” debate, Jordan Peterson faced a group of atheists in a tense, often combative exchange. His tone was angry, patronising, defensive, and evasive, contrasting with his earlier, more composed and articulate style. When pressed on whether he was a Christian, he dodged, stating, “You say that. I haven’t claimed that” frustrating both sides. Rather than addressing challenges directly, he leaned heavily into semantic reframing, shifting definitions mid-debate and focusing on abstract philosophical detours, leaving many viewers with the impression he was avoiding clarity rather than defending a coherent position. Where has the coherence gone?

Is he just an outlier? Well, then, of course, there is Elon Musk. Elon Musk rose as the archetype of the visionary technologist—a bold, obsessive innovator driven by grand ambitions. With Tesla, he redefined the electric car industry, not just as a product but as a mission to end fossil fuel dependence. At the same time, through SpaceX, he revived space exploration with the audacious goal of colonizing Mars. His public persona was that of a restless futurist—committed to renewable energy, interplanetary life, and the technological transcendence of human limitations. For years, his narrative was sharply focused: build, innovate, disrupt, repeat.

But that narrative has since splintered into Convenient Contradiction Disorder (CCD), especially as Musk drifted into social media and politics. As head of Trump’s short-lived “Department of Government Efficiency” (DOGE), he pushed austerity while later blasting Trump’s spending, flipping between ally and critic in a matter of weeks. One day, he’s praising Trump as a “friend,” the next he’s calling his aides “snakes.” What was once focused ambition has been muddied by impulsive tweets, ideological contradictions, and an uncanny ability to contradict yesterday’s position with today’s confidence.

Are the rationally coherent being drowned out by the performance artists? If it is influence you desire then drama, spectacle, and controversy are your friends. Peddling outrageous and sensationalist falsehoods like “they’re eating the dogs, they’re eating the cats” is not a mistake but rather part of a winning strategy. It ensures that you are in the limelight, and it plays to the anti-immigrant and xenophobic support base. The truth is irrelevant. It is the precursor to the public spectacle of feeding immigrants to the lions.

Flooding the zone with never-ending drama and spectacle, no matter how outrageous, can be a winning strategy.

Barack Obama remains a model of rational coherence—measured, articulate, and consistent in a time that increasingly rewards speed, spectacle, and contradiction. His influence, rooted in thoughtfulness and moral clarity, feels almost antiquated in an era where attention trumps substance. While his voice still commands respect, it’s often drowned out by louder, less coherent ones. In a culture where coherence is mistaken for weakness and rage is mistaken for truth, Obama’s steadiness risks becoming not a beacon, but a relic. I’m not necessarily a slavish adherent of everything Obama stands for, but as someone who values rational coherence, he remains an increasingly rare and admirable role model.

So maybe the real question is this: if coherence is no longer currency, should I just give in? Should I start whipping up slogans for the populist mob, peddle a few convenient falsehoods, and abandon consistency for whatever wins the next cheer? Maybe if I traded clarity for charisma and swapped principles for applause, I too could thrive in this age of noise and narrative drift. After all, if truth is negotiable, and contradiction is just clever branding, then maybe coherence isn’t virtue—it’s just self-sabotage dressed up as integrity.

Thanks for all the comments and input.

Bruce