Feodor Shkrudnev

We concluded the previous discussion with a thought that at first glance may seem unusual, yet upon closer examination becomes key: a person’s energy is not reducible to the physics of the body. It is born neither in the muscles nor in the cells — all of these are merely forms of its manifestation. The source lies deeper — where a person comes into contact with the meaning of their existence. And then a question inevitably arises: why, under similar conditions, do some people retain the strength to live, create, and overcome, while others, possessing comfort and security, lose their inner energy? Why does old age in some begin long before bodily changes, while in others inner youth is preserved despite age? Why does one organism seem to draw nourishment from the very fabric of existence, while another gradually loses this connection?

For many years, I have repeatedly encountered the same situation. In conversations, articles, and presentations devoted to the development of human civilization, I have used the concept of “Brain genotype.” For people who have long been familiar with this subject, its meaning was sufficiently clear. However, for a reader encountering this term for the first time, a perfectly natural question arose: what exactly does the author mean by Brain genotype? It is impossible to answer this question in a single phrase. Not because the concept is too complex, but because IT GOES BEYOND the boundaries of the familiar ideas established in modern science. Upon hearing the word “genotype,” most people immediately associate it with biology, heredity, or genetics. Meanwhile, this term is used here in a different sense. It DOES NOT REFER to a person’s hereditary traits and is not an attempt to replace existing ideas about the structure or functioning of the brain. With this article, specifically within the “369 Articles” series, for those who HAVE NOT READ my books, I will, at their request, briefly and systematically attempt to explain what is meant by “Brain genotype,” why it became necessary to introduce this concept, and how it makes it possible to look at many historical processes in a new way.

There comes a point at which familiar explanations no longer work. Not because they are incorrect, but because their scope is insufficient. People have become accustomed to seeking energy in external things — in money, power, threat, pleasure, and struggle. They have learned to draw strength from fear, desire, and conflict. Yet all of this energy has its limits. It flares up — and then fades. It requires constant replenishment. It does not sustain direction. Therefore, the fundamental question is not how much energy a person possesses, rather — what sustains it.

At this point in the reasoning, we inevitably come up against a boundary that few dare to contemplate to its ultimate conclusion. Until now, everything we have called development, progress, and governance has remained within the framework of what already exists. States grew stronger, systems became more complex, resources were redistributed, yet the principle itself remained unchanged — governance is always directed toward maintaining and strengthening what already exists. And this is precisely why power, however mighty it may appear, PROVES TO BE ENCLOSED within its own limits. However, if the purpose lies beyond the existing — if what is at issue is not the improvement of a form, rather a transition to another level of being, — the familiar mechanisms cease to function. Here, neither force nor resources, nor even power itself in its classical understanding, are sufficient any longer. Because power governs the consequence, whereas purpose forms the cause. This is the very moment of transition between the levels of Systemic Control: from the system — to the supersystem. Where the control of current processes comes to an end, THE FORMATION of the Goal vector BEGINS, which does not arise from the past, rather it defines the future. And this transition is impossible within the old construct — it requires a different principle of organization, a different type of thinking, and a different genotype of perception.

Every system, once it reaches a certain level of complexity, inevitably encounters its own limits. Until that moment, it grows, strengthens, becomes more complex, expands its influence, and appears stable and self-sufficient. Yet it is precisely within that stability that its limit is concealed — the point beyond which further development by the old means becomes impossible. Modern civilization has reached such a limit. We have learned to control matter, energy, and information. We have begun to touch the very code of life. Yet we REMAIN WITHIN the same structures of thought and governance that have been taking shape over thousands of years. The System has attained great power, yet it has not advanced to a new level of understanding of itself. Therefore, the central question is no longer what we are capable of achieving, rather whether we are capable of stepping beyond the limits of the very System that defines our goals, our methods, and the boundaries of what is possible. It is precisely here that not development in the conventional sense begins, rather transition — to a different logic, a different mode of perception, and perhaps even a different form of existence.

Every attempt to comprehend reality eventually leads to an encounter with a boundary — not the boundary of the world, rather the boundary of thought itself. Up to that point, a person is convinced that they are capable of understanding what is taking place, of reducing it to causes and effects, of determining where truth lies, where error lies, where freedom is found, and where necessity prevails. However, the further one advances in the analysis, the more evident it becomes: the familiar categories CANNOT WITHSTAND the burden.

Every time a person attempts to understand the world, they inevitably encounter not reality itself, rather its reflection within their own perception. We are accustomed to accepting our surroundings as self-evident: what we see, hear, and feel is assumed to be reality. However, it takes only a single step aside — and the asking of one simple question: What exactly are we perceiving — the world itself, or merely our interpretation of it? — for that former certainty to begin to crack.

People have become accustomed to believing that their thinking is the highest instrument of cognition. That armed with logic, facts, and experience, they are capable of drawing ever closer to the truth, step by step, and ultimately of understanding the structure of the Universe itself. This confidence has become so deeply rooted in human consciousness that it is rarely questioned. Yet if one carefully examines how religious, scientific, and philosophical worldviews are formed, it becomes evident that thought DOES NOT REVEAL reality. It operates only within the boundaries of what is already permissible to perceive. It does not expand those boundaries — it functions within them. This means that thought is not a universal instrument, rather a function. A function of the Brain, rigidly connected to its structure. And that structure, in turn, is determined by genotype. Consequently, People think not because they “can think about anything,” rather because their Brain permits only A SPECIFIC RANGE of interpretations.

A person is accustomed to believing that they live in reality, that the world exists independently and their task is simply to observe, analyze, and draw conclusions. Yet this is a fundamental mistake, because a human being never encounters reality directly; they interact only with an admissible version of it — the portion that passes through the structure of the Brain. It then becomes clear that the Brain is not merely an organ rather a system of admission, a system of filtering, a system that determines not what a person knows, rather what they are in principle CAPABLE OF RECOGNIZING as reality. This is where the true boundary of a person's world lies — not in external space, not in the level of knowledge, nor in the amount of information available, rather in the limits of perception, within the range in which the Brain is capable of distinguishing, registering, and accepting. This leads to an important conclusion: the history of humanity is not simply a sequence of events rather a PROCESS OF ADJUSTMENT — the adjustment of the Brain, the adjustment of perceptual ranges, and the adjustment of people to particular tasks.

A person is accustomed to thinking that his reasoning is something inherently given. That he perceives the world directly. That his conclusions are the result of analyzing facts. However, this is only the visible part of the process. In reality, a person DOES NOT THINK outside the structure of his Brain. He thinks within the range that his Brain permits. That is precisely why the same facts mean different things to different people. For one, they are an obvious truth. For another, a debatable question. For a third, something that does not exist at all.