Dan Williams offers a rare, unvarnished autopsy of his own political evolution, arguing that the most profound shift in his worldview came not from changing his mind about policy, but from realizing that the "left" is not a coherent ideology but a loose bundle of contradictions. By applying the "universal acid" of evolutionary biology to human nature, he dismantles the utopian assumptions underpinning modern progressive movements, suggesting that the very traits we try to legislate away are hardwired into our survival.
The Evolutionary Acid
Williams begins by grounding his journey in a stark reality: he was born, raised, and educated within a bubble of left-wing orthodoxy, even serving as a passionate supporter of Jeremy Corbyn until 2016. His departure from this worldview, he insists, is not a move toward the center or the right, but a rejection of the "arbitrary bundle" of ideas that currently defines the contemporary left. The catalyst for this shift was his deep dive into evolutionary theory, specifically the work of Daniel Dennett. Williams writes, "Darwinian evolution is a universal acid that 'eats through just about every traditional concept, and leaves in the wake a revolutionized world-view, with most of the old landmarks still recognizable, but transformed in fundamental ways.'"
This framing is powerful because it treats political ideology not as a moral choice, but as a biological constraint. Williams argues that the left's traditional optimism about human malleability clashes with the "tragic vision" of human nature revealed by natural selection. He posits that competition, nepotism, and limited altruism are not products of capitalism or bad institutions, but "unavoidable" features of a species evolved for reproductive success. As he puts it, "Conflicts of interest and competition are endemic to human social life. They are not the product of capitalism, objectionable institutions, or power structures. They are unavoidable."
Darwin's theory of evolution by natural selection is humanity's most important discovery, not just because of its parsimony, explanatory power, and solution to some of science's deepest puzzles but because of its radicalism.
The author's use of this evolutionary lens to explain political psychology is his most distinctive move. He suggests that what many on the left view as systemic oppression is often just the natural expression of "fitness-relevant goals." He notes that "most of what looks like altruism and genuinely feels like it at the psychological level is rooted in mutualism, the tendency to cooperate when doing so is mutually beneficial." This challenges the notion that poverty or ignorance are the sole drivers of antisocial behavior, arguing instead that "exploitative, aggressive, and antisocial behaviours are not rooted in material hardship or ignorance, such that these things would disappear if only we could rid the world of poverty and 'educate' people."
Critics might argue that this "Darwinian cynicism" risks becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy, where acknowledging human selfishness becomes an excuse for inaction rather than a call for better institutional design. Williams anticipates this, clarifying that a tragic vision does not mean "all progressive activists are motivated by cartoonish forms of selfishness." However, he maintains that we must be "highly suspicious of people and movements that depict themselves as escaping human nature's self-serving and competitive instincts."
The Limits of Utopianism
The second pillar of Williams' argument is the application of this biological realism to the history of political revolutions. He draws a sharp line between the left's hope for a radical transformation of the social order and the historical reality of such attempts. He references the "litany of ad hoc excuses and rationalisations people on the left often concoct to explain away" the failures of movements like the French Revolution or the Bolsheviks. Instead of viewing these as anomalies, he argues they are predictable outcomes of ignoring human nature.
Williams writes, "It is a fundamental mistake to think, as Marx and many other left-wing thinkers and activists have thought, that a radical transformation of the social order can eradicate such features of human nature." He cites Darwin directly to reinforce this point: "Man is the rival of other men; he delights in competition, and this leads to ambition which passes too easily into selfishness. These latter qualities seem to be his natural and unfortunate birthright."
This section is particularly striking for its refusal to assign blame to a specific political villain or administration, focusing instead on the structural impossibility of the left's utopian goals. He notes that the "Great Awokening" in Western institutions serves as a modern case study of these dynamics, where "zealous revolutionaries depicting themselves as heroic justice seekers" often reveal the same "grubby motives" as any other group.
We should be sceptical of any narrative endorsed by those on the left or right that depicts a political movement's motivations as rooted in a purely altruistic concern with justice or virtue.
Williams also touches on the uncomfortable implications of evolutionary theory for gender, noting that while biological sex differences do not logically follow from evolution, the theory demands we "take their possibility seriously." He suggests that the left's discomfort with the idea of innate differences—such as males being more risk-seeking or status-oriented—forces them to rely on the "patriarchal oppression" narrative as the sole explanation for outcome disparities. This is a contentious point; a counterargument worth considering is that emphasizing biological differences can inadvertently reinforce the very stereotypes that progressive movements seek to dismantle, regardless of their evolutionary origins.
Economics and the Neoliberal Myth
The final piece of Williams' puzzle is his journey into economics. He admits that until his PhD, he viewed mainstream economics as a "sinister 'neoliberal' project designed to paint capitalism, an inherently exploitative economic system, in a positive light." Influenced by figures like Noam Chomsky and Naomi Klein, he initially dismissed the field entirely. However, he realized he had never actually studied the discipline he was criticizing.
I set out to correct that, reading a mix of popular books and textbooks to try to learn the basics of mainstream ("neoclassical") economics, as well as books on economic history and arguments by free-market economists outside the neoclassical tradition.
This admission of intellectual humility is rare in political commentary. By engaging with the actual mechanics of neoclassical theory and the arguments of free-market thinkers like Hayek, Williams begins to see the "neoliberal" label as a caricature. He suggests that the left's rejection of economics stems from a misunderstanding of how markets function as information systems rather than just mechanisms for exploitation. While the text cuts off before he fully details his economic conclusions, the trajectory is clear: the "neoliberal" bogeyman is less effective when one understands the underlying incentives and constraints that drive economic behavior.
Bottom Line
Williams' most compelling contribution is his "Darwinian cynicism," a framework that forces readers to confront the biological constraints on political progress rather than relying on moral platitudes. The argument's greatest vulnerability lies in its potential to slide into fatalism, where the inevitability of competition and nepotism discourages the very institutional reforms needed to mitigate their worst effects. However, by refusing to sanitize human nature or attribute all social ills to a single political enemy, he offers a more grounded, if less comforting, path forward for understanding the modern political landscape.