Idealistic Nihilism

We live in paradoxical times. Over the last two generations, college students, especially at top-ranking universities, have been educated to believe that there is no transcendence. Human beings are a bundle of instincts, they’re told, or software in meat hardware, or some other reductive explanation. And yet utopian progressive goals are championed with great conviction and unstinting ardor. It’s hard to square the circle. On the one hand the natural sciences, social sciences, and humanities teach an implicit (and sometimes explicit) nihilism; on the other hand, activists tout revolutionary idealism. All truth is “socially constructed,” but the postmodern mind somehow knows that the rainbow flag represents the best and noblest aspirations, not just for our society, but for the entire world.

Richard Rorty was a clear-minded and articulate spokesman for this strange combination of idealism and nihilism. In a 1994 essay, “A World Without Substances or Essences,” he observed that a great deal of twentieth-century philosophy converged on theories of knowledge that were “anti-metaphysical” and “anti-foundational.” On his account, there are no enduring anchors. We must use our minds to navigate the world without universals, without unchanging touchstones.

Rorty claims that the West has inherited a philosophical tradition that socializes us to respond with anxiety, even terror, when confronted by the reality that there are no “hard” truths, that there is nothing (nihil, hence nihilism) guaranteeing the truth of what we say and believe. In a word, Rorty asserts that the desire for transcendence is “socially constructed.” (I would argue the opposite: The reaction of profound existential concern stems from our nature as rational animals—but let’s leave that aside.) The gravamen of Rorty’s essay (along with many others he wrote over the years) is to argue for a cheerful affirmation of the anti-metaphysical outlook. Nihilism is not an oppressive doctrine; it is a liberating one.

Rorty commends John Dewey, “who most clearly and explicitly set aside the goal common to the Greeks and German Idealists (accurate representation of the intrinsic nature of reality) in favour of the political goal of increasingly free societies and increasingly diverse individuals within them.” Released from the fetters of truth, we are free to reshape and reform our lives, our societies, and even reality! Because Rorty’s nihilism denies that there are essences, we are constrained by no metaphysical limits as to what can be done. Only our restricted resources and impoverished imaginations stand in the way. Education therefore adopts a twofold vocation. It must increase power, both technologically and politically. And it must break down the limits imposed upon our imaginations by inherited cultural norms. Rather than helping us to know ourselves, the task of philosophy, Rorty insists, is to clear away impediments and provide us with tools to create better selves, and a better society.

Of course, “better” requires a measure. Rorty urges caution at this point. We must not be seduced back to the old approach, the one that seeks the truth of things. The way forward is through assertions, not arguments. (Rorty’s hero John Dewey warned about arguing against the unwanted conclusions of older traditions of philosophy, observing that it’s more effective to dismiss them as medieval, obscurantist, and authoritarian.) Liberal ideas become god terms, shimmering notions untethered to any particular criteria, plastic and available for whatever political use will bring “progress.” Rorty was troubled by the rise of anti-Western ideologies. Late in life, his jeremiads against the academic left made him a suspect character in university circles. But his intellectual and political children were only following through on the logic of his position. Barack Obama’s daughters add “diversity,” whereas a white kid from rural North Dakota does not. “Equity” amounts to whatever is required at the moment. “Inclusion” means privileging favored groups and downgrading the unfavored.

Meanwhile, the destruction of perceived impediments to “progress” gains momentum. The nihilism Rorty advocated emphasizes debunking and deconstruction. (He was an academic mandarin who wrote on canonical figures, but he never tired of announcing that the entire tradition of Western philosophy had been mistaken.) Over the last four decades, a combination of technocratic attitudes and postmodern theories has pulverized older traditions of transcendence in the humanities. I recently visited Harvard and urged a bright young student to take a class on Aristotle. “Nice idea,” he replied, “but the philosophy department does not offer one.” (His experience is not the final word. Postdoc Mariana Beatrice Noé offers a Spring 2024 class that assigns Aristotle; Professor James Doyle is offering a class on St. Augustine.)

Rorty’s nihilism is ascendant. For technocratic and political reasons, our educational culture no longer sustains pedagogies of transcendence. (See my recent lament, “The Great Forgetting,” November 2023.) For what I can see, this hasn’t made students happy. The lure of transcendence encourages powerful loves that anchor us in what we will not renounce or betray. It binds our hearts. But stability runs counter to what the market demands: flexible souls ready to pounce upon the main chance. The early Facebook slogan says it all: Move fast and break things. But transcendence thickens us, stiffens us, anchors us. Worst of all, it depoliticizes the life of the mind, turning us toward contemplation rather than action, a disposition that is “anti-progressive” and thus must be condemned. Recall the BLM mantra: “Your silence is violence.”

The rampant anti-Western ideology in higher education (and now in primary and secondary education) baffles the Baby Boomers. They took Western Civ classes decades ago. But for a younger person, the pivot away from the Western tradition seems natural. Why bother with old ideas, especially those that have funded today’s status quo, which is full of injustice and suffering? Isn’t it better to wipe the slate clean? Shouldn’t we adopt an experimental approach to ethical and political matters? After all, the scientific method does not concern itself with outdated theories. Physics students don’t read Johannes Kepler; biology students don’t read Linnaeus, or even Darwin. Moreover, isn’t it better to identify with the marginalized and oppressed, rather than with the West’s foundational themes and figures? Hamas may employ regrettable methods, but they are not responsible for colonialism, systemic racism, transphobia, global warming, and the other sins of the West!

The same Baby Boomers imagine that campus progressivism will shipwreck on the hard realities of the economic laws of supply and demand. This is to misread the postmodern condition. Nihilism dovetails with capitalism. A denial of transcendence makes all things available for technological transformation and commodification. Daniel Bell’s 1976 book, The Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism, detailed the ways in which the free-market system colonizes society, forming its members into desire-driven consumers and undermining older traditions of virtue. Far from being “anti-capitalist,” Rorty’s liberal nihilism provides an ideological justification for fusing progressive cultural politics with ever-expanding markets. Both politics and the markets destroy the impediments that stand in the way of our desire to remake ourselves, our society, and the world. They are joined in the conjugal union of “progress.”

A friend recently lamented that young people lack a tragic sense. They frame complex realities in simplistic terms: oppressor/oppressed, privileged/excluded, unjust/just, guilty/innocent. “Exactly,” I replied. “To be delivered from the tragedy of life is the great gift of nihilism.” Released from the recalcitrant truth of the human condition, we are free to imagine a world that is uncomplicated, immaculate, and perfect. And not just to imagine. Nihilism eliminates the temptation to seek contemplation. Rorty hymned the new vocation of philosophy: “the making of a better future for ourselves, constructing a utopian, democratic society.” The ancient nihilism of Lucretius counseled acceptance of things as they are; modern nihilism is an activist faith, ever on the march.

We need to recognize that nihilism preaches a gospel: There are no limits. Why not remake the relations of men and women so that all stereotypes are destroyed and perfect equality is achieved? Why not empower DEI bureaucrats to confect a society without discrimination? Such conditions have never been achieved in the past. But that’s of no moment. We can dream big! Change sex? Defeat death? Do not allow reality to stand in the way of our dreams!