We live in an age of breathtaking technology. We carry supercomputers in our pockets, instantaneously communicate across the globe, and have unlocked the very code of life. We call this era "modernity," and we often wear the term as a badge of honor, implying a state of advanced civilization, moral enlightenment, and progress far beyond our ancestors.

But what if this is a comforting illusion? What if, in the ways that matter most, our "modernity" is not a step forward, but a regression?

The lecture offers a stark, shocking statistic that should give us all pause: The 16th century was the most lethal in human history in terms of human-inflicted death, and the 20th century is number two.

Let that sink in. The century we often view as the pinnacle of progress—the century of airplanes, penicillin, and the internet—was also a charnel house of unprecedented scale. The World Wars, the Holocaust, strategic bombing of cities, genocides... all orchestrated with the cold, industrial efficiency that only a "modern" society can muster.

The lecture points out that even the "good guys" in World War II engaged in "pure sadistic cruelty" through bombing campaigns that went far beyond strategic necessity. This isn't the passionate, face-to-face violence of a ancient battle. It is the detached, bureaucratic, and scalable cruelty that defines modern warfare. We perfected the art of killing from a distance, both physically and morally.

Compare this to the story of Caliph Omar’s conquest of Jerusalem in 637 AD. Here was the leader of a new, victorious empire, arriving in rags, negotiating a surrender that guaranteed the lives, property, and places of worship of the conquered. He cleansed the Temple Mount with his own hands, not to erect a monument to himself, but to restore a holy site for another faith. The Arab Empire’s tax system, as discussed, was structurally designed to encourage religious tolerance because it was economically and socially beneficial.

Now, contrast this with the "modern" Crusader conquest of Jerusalem in 1099. The result was streets running with blood, the burning of synagogues with people inside, and the mass execution of civilians based on their faith. This wasn't an anomaly; it was a pattern. The lecture describes this as the inevitable victory of intolerance—a pattern where tolerant empires, when faced with intolerant ones, either fall or are forced to become just as brutal to survive.

In this light, our modern world, with its genocides, ethnic cleansings, and religiously-motivated terrorism, looks less like an evolution and more like a continuation of this brutal, intolerant pattern. The technology has changed, but the human capacity for organized viciousness has not diminished; it has been amplified.

The lecture provocatively suggests that the Mongols might be the inauguration of our modern, vicious world. Why? Because of their industrial approach to cruelty. They weren’t just conquering; they were systemically depopulating and terrorizing on a scale never before seen. They didn't just execute enemies; they invented creative, sadistic methods like building fortifications from cemented-together living people.

This shift from conflict to systematic, almost bureaucratic annihilation is a hallmark of modern atrocities. The Mongols, in their relentless efficiency and detachment from the humanity of their victims, prefigured the horrors of the 20th century.

So, what is modernity? If we define it by our technology, then we are undoubtedly modern. But if we define it by our morality, our tolerance, and our capacity for peace, the term becomes a grim irony.

The lecture forces us to question the narrative of linear progress. The examples of the early Arab Empire, and even aspects of Alexander the Great's reign, show that sophisticated models of tolerance and co-existence are not modern inventions. In many ways, they are ancient ones that we have forgotten or abandoned.

Our smartphones and satellites are not proof of a more advanced civilization. True modernity would be a world where our moral and ethical structures have evolved to match our technological power. The historical record, as vividly laid out in this lecture, suggests we are not there yet. The veneer of civilization is thin, and beneath it, the old, intolerant patterns of history are still painfully alive.