Can AI truly Reason? Part 4
Our Journey Exploring the Limits of Machine Intelligence, Computing Logic, and the Future of Hybrid AI Systems
Big Announcement: a True Change of Direction
As this project has unfolded, I’ve come to realize that something more is needed: a more structured and intentional space to explore ideas that stretch beyond the boundaries of any single domain.
While The Software Frontier will continue to be the home for deep technical and architectural explorations, diving into data engineering systems, infrastructure, programming languages, and the evolving craft of software and technology, I am also beginning a parallel endeavor.
This new companion publication will be dedicated to a broader, more ambitious intellectual pursuit. It will be a space where philosophy, mathematics, artificial intelligence, cognition, linguistics, neuroscience, and physics not only coexist, but speak to one another.
It will be the place where insights from formal logic illuminate questions in neuroscience, where the structure of language intersects with the structure of thought, and where the deep logic of computation meets the mysteries of the universe.
These fields are not isolated silos. They are deeply intertwined, bound together by shared questions about reasoning, intelligence, consciousness, abstraction, and reality itself.
Many of the foundational ideas in cognitive science, for example, are inseparable from developments in information theory, neurobiology, and the philosophy of mind. The same can be said for AI, which increasingly demands an understanding not just of statistical learning, but of semantics, intentionality, and epistemology.
In this companion series, I will embark on an ongoing intellectual journey, interdisciplinary, conceptual, and personal. It will include reflections, historical narratives, research digests, and long-form essays that aim to trace the deep connective tissue between these disciplines.
My goal here is not just to analyze, but to synthesize, to follow the patterns that link fields and to illuminate the architectures of thought itself.
If The Software Frontier is about building systems in the world, this new publication, which will be called “ The Cognitive Layer”, will be about the systems that underline our understanding of consciousness, the mind, and many existential questions that shape our lives.
A place to think rigorously, reflect deeply, and try to reach across domains in search of clarity, coherence, and insight.
Welcome to that journey.
But, what Is Cognition?
Let’s begin this post with a simple question that you may have asked yourself many times during your life: What does it mean to think?
Not just to solve a math problem or remember a name, but to feel, to wonder, to choose, to dream. For many centuries, we’ve tried to answer this question with philosophy, poetry, theology and, much later, psychology, math and physics. But somewhere along the way, a deep change began. Quietly at first. Then with growing speed.
This post marks the beginning of a profound paradigm shift: from scattered, fragmented theories of the mind to the birth of a unified, interdisciplinary approach known as cognitive science.
It also marks our departure from the structure of the previous series. With this fourth part, we aim to build something more foundational, more complete. Something that can serve not just as a continuation, but as a lasting reference (hopefully) for the years to come.
In this beginning part of our larger journey, we’ll start weaving together some of the most profound questions we've asked about ourselves, with the frameworks we now use to explore them.
Cognitive science is, at its heart, the scientific study of the mind and its processes. But it’s not just one field: it’s a conversation among many. Psychology, neuroscience, artificial intelligence, linguistics, anthropology, philosophy, and even economics have all pulled up chairs around the same table.
Each brings its own tools and metaphors. Together, they form a kind of interdisciplinary alliance.
The goal? To understand cognition, in all of its forms.
But what is cognition?
In its broadest sense, it includes perception, memory, attention, reasoning, language, emotion, the full suite of mental faculties that shape how we interact with the world and with ourselves.
Cognitive scientists study these processes across levels of organization: from brain circuits and neural computations, to abstract reasoning, behavior, and even social and cultural norms.
One foundational belief has guided much of this work:
That thinking can be understood as computation, mental operations acting on internal representations of the world.
This computational view of the mind, inspired by the rise of computers, gave us powerful models. We could build machines that reasoned, remembered, even learned. But this wasn’t the end of the story: it was barely just the beginning.
Over time, new perspectives emerged. Some scientists argued that emotion isn't separate from reason, it guides it. Others pointed out that thought is shaped by the body, by action, by context.
Some turned to evolutionary biology, or the structure of language, or the rhythms of culture. Others asked entirely different questions: What does it mean to be conscious? Can a machine be aware? Where does subjective experience begin?
So this long series won’t stop with traditional cognitive science. We’ll explore its intersections with:
Affective science – how emotion and cognition intertwine
Cognitive anthropology – how culture and thought co-evolve
Cognitive computing – where machines simulate (or challenge) our minds
Embodied cognition & enactivism – where the mind is not just in the brain
Quantum cognition, dynamicism, situated cognition, and more
We’ll even revisit older frameworks, long-dismissed ideas, and forgotten philosophies, like scholasticism, to understand how past thinkers grappled with these same mysteries centuries before we had MRIs, or even algorithms.
Along the way, we’ll explore why and how these ideas were rejected, what intellectual or cultural forces led certain schools of thought to prevail over others, and what we might still learn from the paths not taken.
Because to ask what is cognition? is not just a scientific question.
It’s a human one.
To explore it is to ask: What are we, really?
This is the beginning of that exploration.
Let’s dive in.
A Journey Into the Architecture of Thought
When I began this massive project, it became clear almost immediately: I didn’t yet possess all the knowledge necessary to fully grasp, let alone explain, the core topics that would shape this series.
These ideas span multiple domains, across disciplines, centuries, and various ways of thinking. They touch psychology and neuroscience, anthropology philosophy, computer science, physics and mathematics. No single lens is enough, and it’s perfectly fine.
But I’ve long been captivated by the study of cognition, by the nature of thinking, and by the evolving duality between humans and machines.
Since early childhood, I’ve found myself drawn to deceptively simple questions: questions I would later discover were somewhat foundational to some of the deepest scientific and philosophical inquiries of our time.
What drives me is pure curiosity, an almost obsessive kind. It’s the same impulse that once led me to study computer architectures not for school or work, but for the joy of understanding how logic gates become a form of language.
It’s what pushed me to teach myself system design, advanced mathematics, and the principles of software engineering: not to master them all, but to see how they connect.
That’s the spirit I bring to this work. I will make mistakes (undoubtedly, so sorry in advance) but this project isn’t about perfection. It’s about learning out loud, about reflecting deeply and sharing knowledge freely.
It’s more about creating a space for exploration and dialogue, because these topics are too important to remain confined to academic journals or behind institutional gates.
The questions we’ll explore together, those about consciousness, emotion, language, memory, perception, reasoning, and machines that think, are not just merely technical ones. They’re existential.
They are the questions that will certainly define this century, and in many ways, shape the story of what it means to be human in an age of artificial minds.
Along the way, we’ll trace the intellectual lineage of ideas, revisiting frameworks that were once dominant but later discarded. We’ll ask why certain philosophies endured while others were dismissed.
We’ll explore how neuroscience, physics, linguistics, computation, and mathematics are converging in an effort to uncover the architecture of the mind.
And we will consider not only mainstream theories but also radical propositions, controversial debates, and research at the frontiers of our current understanding.
I will also include in our discussion the ideas that have been discarded: what was considered wrong, how they fell out of favor, and why new concepts rose from the ashes of those abandoned principles.
This is a journey across the past, present, and possible futures of cognition. I hope you’ll join me in it, not just as a reader or as a passive spectator, but as a fellow explorer.
A Never Ending Project
To be honest, I don’t think writing about a project that will never be complete, or even remotely comprehensive, is a particularly smart marketing move. But then again, who cares about marketing when you're dealing with questions this profound?
In rare cases like this, I believe one must devote all available energy to the task: to allocate the best of their resources, their time, their dedication, and their (hopefully expanding) network of people who are willing to contribute to such a monumental undertaking. This isn’t a selling product, and it isn’t social-media content. It’s a long-form inquiry. And that, I think, deserves our full attention.
I’m fully prepared to invest a significant portion of my life into understanding the intricate complexities of these topics, particularly through the lens of technology, computation, and software engineering.
That will be my compass, my guide. I don’t yet know the perfect starting point, but I’m currently working on what will become the fifth installment, which I believe will mark the true beginning of this titanic endeavor.
And no, I have no editorial calendar, no weekly cadence, no catchy “new post every Monday” promise which, by the way, I am sure I will dismiss. Each chapter will take the time it needs, carefully crafted, deeply researched, and only released when it's ready.
That’s a terrible idea, if you’re optimizing for reach, retention, or click-throughs. Let’s be honest here: most people forget what they read online by lunchtime. Or before. We’re living in a time where attention isn’t just a very scarce commodity; it’s being actively eroded.
Statistically, attention spans are at an all-time low, and declining faster than ever. We’re not just distracted; we’re being systematically conditioned to stay that way. Headlines shout things like “Attention Is Dead” or “The Collapse of Deep Thinking”, as if this decay were an accident, when in fact, it's by design.
Algorithms aren’t built to reward nuance, depth, or reflection. They’re engineered for engagement. Which usually means polarizing takes, emotional spikes, and content you can consume in eight seconds or less.
News has been flattened into a dopamine drip. Information, once something we sought to understand, is now just something we scroll past.
In that landscape, long-form thinking, ideas that demand time, patience, and intellectual investment, feel almost countercultural. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe resisting the algorithmic current is the only way to produce anything truly worth remembering. Not virality at all costs. Not trending. But genuinely useful, in the deepest, most human sense.
So no, this series won't optimize for the feed.
It will optimize for substance. For clarity. For attention in the original sense of the word: to attend, to care for, to give presence to.
And if that means fewer clicks, so be it. What matters more is what stays with you long after you close the tab.
Deep Reflections
But again, this is not for everyone. I believe that this series (if done right) can offer a rare kind of value: the so-called low-entropy, high-density knowledge. The kind I personally love to find and try to deliver in every entry of this newsletter.
I will also share personal reflections along the way, but I will do so with caution, always distinguishing between my subjective interpretations and the objective evidence.
Whenever I add commentary, you’ll know. I’ll clearly mark those sections and make it evident that those are my own thoughts. Even then, I will strive to remain as objective as possible: posing questions, contrasting perspectives, and exploring the boundaries between idea and evidence.
I’ll attempt thought experiments, and (when possible) support them with scientific research and real-world data.
Over time, you may even notice a shift in writing style, in structure, in the language itself. That’s not only expected, it’s inevitable. Projects that span across months (or even years) must evolve, because people evolve.
I’m reminded of Ludwig Wittgenstein, who famously abandoned the very philosophy he once pioneered. His Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus was once presented as a definitive system of logic and meaning.
But later, in Philosophical Investigations, he disavowed many of his earlier conclusions, a thing rarely seen in philosophy. "Whereof one cannot speak", he had once written, "thereof one must be silent".
And yet, decades later, he admitted that much of what he had written was "misguided", not because it lacked logic, but because it misunderstood the lived complexity of language, of mind, of reality itself.
I don’t claim to be Wittgenstein (of course), but I share that caution. I may regret some of what I write today in ten years. Still, I aim to be balanced, rational, and deeply deliberate.
I want to avoid being swayed too often by momentum, emotional spikes, or the noise of the moment. These are part of being human, of course, but I believe they can be channeled and contained, at least in the vast majority of normal situations.
With deep concentration, low-frequency engagement, and rigorous preparation, I hope to resist the temptation to constantly change directions without any practical reason.
I also have plans to bring other researchers into this journey. If you think you have the time, the passion, and the necessary background, or simply a willingness to learn, I warmly invite you to reach out through any of my channels. You are absolutely welcome.
Researchers can offer something invaluable: practical insight, intellectual correction, and domain expertise. They help build a richer picture, correct errors I might overlook, and bring in perspectives I wouldn’t have considered on my own.
Most importantly, they contribute to the spirit of shared inquiry, the collective pursuit of knowledge that lies at the heart of science, philosophy, and discovery.
I don’t know honestly how far this will go. But I promise I’ll do my best to reach out to many of them directly. That said, any help will be greatly appreciated. This isn’t a solo voyage: it’s more like a distributed, collaborative one. A networked kind of thinking.
As for the structure, I’ll try to maintain a logical progression between chapters—at least in theory. But only when it makes sense. I have no intention of forcing artificial connections or weaving together ideas just for the sake of continuity.
That would risk creating false coherence, and intellectual "forced connections”, those contrived links that are way more harmful than helpful.
This series will be messy at times, but I believe it will be honest. And in the words of Wittgenstein once again:
“A philosopher who is not taking part in discussions is like a boxer who never goes into the ring.”
So this is me, stepping into the ring, not to win, but to participate. To learn. To think out loud. And to share the journey with those curious enough to come along.
What Endures Beyond the Drafts
If there’s one thing I’ve learned throughout this journey so far, it’s this: research is a moving target.
The deeper you dig, the more you discover that knowledge, especially in domains like cognition, consciousness, and computation, is very rarely carved in stone. Ideas rise and fall. Paradigms emerge, evolve, and collapse.
What was once a breakthrough can later become a mere footnote. What was dismissed as pseudoscience might, decades later, re-emerge as a vital insight in a new form.
That’s the nature of real inquiry. It’s not a straight line; it’s a spiral.
And this, right here, is what makes it both exhilarating, and difficult.
When you’re working at the boundaries of what is known, you must accept that you’re going to be wrong sometimes. That’s not a bug, it’s a feature. That’s how ideas grow, at least in my opinion: through revision, tension, iteration, and even a lot of failures.
I have no illusions of writing something eternal here. I'm painfully aware that the words I put down today may not reflect the conclusions I’ll arrive at years from now. But still, I write.
Because while the shape of knowledge may shift, I believe there are substances, principles, deep questions that do endure. And those are what I’m chasing.
I’m not aiming for absolute novelty. I’m not even aiming for completion. What I want( and what I need) is for this work to hold substance that lasts. Substance that outlives platforms, algorithms, metrics, and even trends in academia.
Something that, like Ray Dalio’s Principles, isn’t measured by how many people read it tomorrow, but by whether it’s still useful ten years from now, or twenty.
Timelessness doesn’t mean immutability. It means that the core idea, like the tension between thought and structure, between the machine and the mind,or the one between reason and emotion, retains its relevance across the seasons of understanding.
It means you’re anchoring to truths that are way larger than you, even if your own thoughts about them continue to evolve.
This is why I’m committing to a project with no deadline, no purpose for virality that is built in, no monetization plan. Just inquiry. Just reflection. Just craft.
Will some posts become brutally outdated? Definitely.
Will others be challenged, critiqued, maybe even contradicted by better minds? Hopefully.
But if even a few pieces of this work endure as intellectual scaffolding, for example a lens, a tool, a metaphor, a connection, then it will have been worth every hour.
And so I write this not as a destination, but as a beginning.
Not with confidence in my conclusions, but with commitment to the process.
Not in search of permanence in form—but substance that might, just might, last forever.
Thank you for joining me. Let's now begin for real this journey into thought. With a high dose of humility, with curiosity, and with a fierce respect for the ideas that might outlive us all.