You may not realise it, but postmodernism has changed your life; all our lives.
This little piece of writing is my own take on this most insidious of twentieth-century intellectual constructs:
Postmodernism is a broad philosophical and cultural movement characterised by scepticism toward grand narratives, an emphasis on relativism, and attention to how power shapes knowledge. Ultimately, similar to certain Marxist frameworks, postmodern thought focuses intensely on power structures; a simplistic framework that could only be envisioned by those obsessed with power dynamics; a reductionism that has been tearing contemporary society to pieces.
Just to clarify terms, a 'grand narrative', also known as a metanarrative, is an overarching story or theory that seeks to explain and legitimise smaller narratives within a culture or society. It often claims to provide universal truths about human experience and history, but in postmodern thought, such narratives are viewed with scepticism.
One clear example of a grand narrative is the Enlightenment story of progress: the idea that human history is a steady, cumulative advance toward greater reason, science, liberty, and moral improvement. It functions as a grand narrative by claiming a single, universal explanation for political change, social reform, and technological development across cultures and eras. According to postmodernists, such stories assert a 'totalising' universal arc that organises many smaller stories; however, postmodern critique views these stories as contestable rather than self-evident, which they indeed are. Just in the same way everything under the sun could be contested, by the way.
'Relativism' is the view that truth, morality, or value judgements are not absolute but depend on frameworks like culture, historical context, or individual perspective. It is true that all truth, morality and value judgements are not absolute because, in fact, no absolutes can exist in a reality grounded in infinity. Such as ours is.
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Postmodernism began to emerge in the mid-twentieth century — roughly from the 1940s to the 1960s — with clearer formulation and a wider cultural influence (such as at art colleges like CalArts) from the 1970s onwards. Early intellectual roots trace to critiques of modernist principles by philosophers and artists between the 1940s and 1960s; the term gained broader currency in the 1970s and 1980s as postmodern literature, architecture, art, and theory coalesced and coincided with the rising cynicism and celebration of ugliness that has come to characterise much of art and architecture today.
Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, Jean-François Lyotard, and Richard Rorty are among the chief strategists of postmodernism. They are the ones who give the movement its unique orientation and its most powerful contrivances. This advance guard was joined by other familiar and often infamous names: Stanley Fish and Frank Lentricchia in literary and legal criticism, Jacques Lacan in psychology, Robert Venturi and Andreas Huyssen in architectural criticism, and Luce Irigaray in the criticism of science. Members of this elite group set the direction and tone for the postmodern intellectual world.
Michel Foucault identified the principal aims: 'All my analyses are against the idea of universal necessities in human existence.' This refers to 'grand narratives' and suggests that they must be discarded as relics of the past: 'It is meaningless to speak in the name of — or against — Reason, Truth, or Knowledge.' This statement is paradoxical, by the way, as it meaningfully critiques the very act of discussing reason, truth, and knowledge.
Richard Rorty expands on this idea, clarifying that it does not imply that postmodernism is true or that it offers genuine knowledge. Such claims would be 'self-contradictory', he asserts, necessitating that postmodernists employ language ‘ironically’. This means that the language of postmodernism should refrain from claiming any final, universal truths and instead present ideas using provisional, 'historically situated' (relativistic) vocabularies — often adopting a self-aware, deflating tone that acknowledges its contingency. This subdued inflection, it can be assumed, is intended to convey a sense of humility, in contrast to the puffed-up silly fellows who have proposed ideas firmly rooted in 'grand narratives' and objective truths. (Objectivism maintains that truths or values are, indeed, objective and therefore discoverable, rather than relative and merely subjective.) Ironically, these not-so-humble philosophers are the same thinkers who are responsible for advancements such as antibiotics, anaesthetics, clean water, food safety, and improved medical imaging and diagnostics, things from which he himself benefitted enormously but seems to dismiss.
Rorty goes on: 'The difficulty faced by a philosopher who, like myself, is sympathetic to this suggestion (for example, Foucault's) is to avoid hinting that this suggestion gets something right, that my sort of philosophy corresponds to the way things really are. For this talk of correspondence brings back just the idea my sort of philosopher wants to get rid of, the idea that the world or the self has an intrinsic nature.' I think what this means is it's difficult but necessary as a philosopher of postmodernism to be as convoluted in his arguments as is possible to be.
The problem here is that their claims are basically true, that this is a relativistic universe — when viewed dispassionately, as if outside of it. Looking around from such an advantage, an observer will notice many logical (or illogical) anomalies 'built in' to reality, not the least of which is the sheer infinity of possible interpretations. As some construals of quantum mechanics have it, any observer seems to have a profound effect on what's being observed merely by looking at it. Such an infinite multiplicity of interpretations, therefor, would potentially give us so great a number of different universes that getting along (cooperation being predicated on agreeing on what is real) would be impossible.
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Earlier thinkers, some of whom were occultists, were also facing a similar perplexity. People like Aleister Crowley, P.D. Ouspensky, William James, and Aldous Huxley, for instance.
P.D. Ouspensky
One day, Ouspensky looked at an ashtray. Suddenly his consciousness was flooded with everything to do with the ashtray; it aroused a 'whirlwind of thoughts and images' and contained an 'infinite number of facts', and Ouspensky came to the sobering conclusion that 'a man can go mad from one ashtray.'
William James
During his nitrous oxide experiments, William James found himself awash in an 'immense emotional sense of reconciliation' in which 'the center and periphery of things seem to come together'. 'Unbroken continuity is of the essence of being,' James saw, and we are 'literally in the midst of an infinite …' Ultimately, James found that this vision of unity produced a 'pessimistic fatalism'. It revealed 'depth within depth of impotence and indifference', with 'reason and silliness united, not in a higher synthesis, but in the fact that whatever way you choose, it is all one.' James came away with the insight that 'indifferentism is the true outcome of every view of the world which makes infinity and continuity to be its essence.' James ultimately withdrew from it: it made him unable to be decisive and make decisions or be able to act.
Aldous Huxley
Aldous Huxley reached a similar conclusion when he experimented with mescaline. Huxley realised that if everyone took mescaline — a drug derived from peyote — there would be no war, but there would be no civilisation either, because no one would bother creating one. Looking at a sink full of dirty dishes, Huxley thought they were too beautiful to bother washing. Under mescaline, Huxley saw that 'the will suffers a profound change for the worse' and that 'the mescaline taker sees no reason for doing anything in particular.'
Aleister Crowley
Aleister Crowley, on the other hand, made a philosophy out of this conundrum. He confessed that he was 'inhibited from everything' and was tempted to 'crucify a toad, or copulate with a duck, sheep or goat, or set a house on fire or murder someone with the idea … that some supreme violation of all the laws of my being would break down my Karma or dissolve the spell that seems to bind me …' Crowley's own revelation suggests that after the experience he suffered from a lack of will, a lack of any purpose, and a philosophy that preached that nothing matters, which was probably unhelpful. He suffered other crises too and actually tried to jettison the yoke of being a Magus, the whole trajectory of his life up to that point. Eventually, though, he returned to magick, Thelema, and all the rest because it seemed that 'there was certainly nothing else for me to do'.
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Now, although I jumped lanes there a bit, I hope the reader gets the connection. The problem with postmodernists, like the philosophers and occultists just mentioned, is that the script eventually becomes ineffective. To live in a reality where purpose plays such an important role, it has to be compartmentalised in some fashion; one has to put a net around things just to locate oneself and one's target; a target that cannot be aimed at if one doesn't know where oneself is.
I mean, imagine being in the Serengeti hunting antelope. You've just realised that you could be anywhere, and so could the antelope; it all depends on your subjective point of view rather than on any objective input. What would happen? Well, you'd starve, that's what.
The postmodernists contend that reality and self are incomprehensible, at least according to their perspective. Then, the next question becomes: what is the purpose of any sort of narrative, grand or otherwise? Including theirs, by the way.
Again, valid discussions in and of themselves arise when grand narratives are questioned and the relativistic nature of morals are posited — if had from the perspective of a disinterested observer. The problem here lies in application. That is, putting postmodern thought into action.
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There is the postmodern analytical tool called 'deconstruction'.
Deconstruction focuses on a text as such rather than as an expression of the author's intention, stressing the limitlessness — or impossibility — of interpretation and rejecting the Western philosophical tradition of seeking certainty through reasoning by privileging certain types of interpretation and repressing others (such as ignoring troubling existential questions in order to sneak up from downwind upon an antelope, plant your feet squarely on the ground, and throw your spear right at the intended mark and hit it, which takes years of practice to know how to do every time).
In other words, deconstruction examines a text independently rather than attempting to uncover the author's original intent. It says interpretation can be endless — or even impossible — and criticises the Western habit of claiming one certain truth by favouring some interpretations and ignoring or silencing others. This is a bit like building a bridge — but without abutments or drilled shafts that connect it to the riverbed and embankments. In theory, such a bridge is entirely possible. In practice … not so much.
After deconstructing grand narratives such as Reason, Truth, and the relationship between thought, speech, and reality, Foucault writes, 'Reason is the ultimate language of madness.' Okay, great! Then there is nothing to provide definition and guidance to our thoughts and emotions. Hooray! This view could justify expressing any feelings we have and potentially acting on any impulses we desire. A little like 'Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law' (but in the way Thelema was mostly misinterpreted by Crowley's followers in order to justify licentiousness and hedonism in the 1960s).
For a further example, deconstruction, according to Stanley Fish, 'relieves me of the obligation to be right … and demands only that I be interesting.'
Many postmodernists, however, are less interested in 'being interesting' than they are inclined towards political activism. They often 'deconstruct' concepts of reason, truth, and reality because they believe that these ideals have enabled Western civilisation to impose dominance, oppression, and destruction. As Jean-François Lyotard asserts, 'Reason and power are one and the same.' Both are associated with 'prisons, prohibitions, selection processes, and the public good.' (The 'public good'? What the heck does that mean?)
This rather ignores the fact that Western civilisation also developed the scientific method (systematic experimentation, peer review, hypothesis testing and reproducible evidence that transformed medicine, engineering, and technology, enabling rapid, reliable progress in understanding and manipulating the natural world); modern republics and the rule of law, ideas and institutions (e.g., separation of powers, individual rights, constitutional government) that spread widely and provide frameworks for political stability, civic participation, and legal protections; and the Industrial Revolution technologies: mechanisation, mass production, and fossil-fuel-powered industry that dramatically increased material standards of living, expanded transportation and communication (railways, steamships, telegraph), and enabled large-scale infrastructure and public-health advances; decreased world poverty and so reduced infant mortality that it is no longer the horrible blight for almost all families that it once was. Just sayin'.
To continue: postmodernism thus becomes an activist strategy against the alliance between reason and power. Frank Lentricchia explains, 'Postmodernism seeks not to find the foundation and the conditions of truth but to exercise power for the purpose of social change.' The point here is that the purpose of professors teaching postmodernism is to get students to 'spot, confront, and work against the political horrors of one's time'. What, specifically, these horrors that are so much worse in the West than elsewhere on planet Earth is a matter of debate. Of course.
Again, according to postmodernism, these horrors are limited mostly to Western civilisation, where reason and power have been most developed. The exercise aims to highlight the unequal infliction of pain and suffering caused by these 'horrors'. Whites, especially white males, and the rich are the most complicit, as they cause the worst insults to women, racial minorities, and the poor.
And so, postmodern activists are determined to set things right by … how, exactly?
I know! By using power to unseat reason! Yay!
The analogy for this sort of Gordian thinking can be illustrated by imagining the tree of philosophy (representing man's love of wisdom) being climbed by some homunculi posing as a modern intellectual, who then decided to go out on a limb and saw it off while sitting on it.
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Now, to appear to jump lanes yet again: in my view, Marxism aligns strategically with postmodernism in certain respects. Marxism concentrates on power as the primary dynamic, positing that the rich oppress the poor, who must therefore 'rise up' and overturn the system. Postmodern activists similarly frame objectivism as a 'power play' that privileges certain viewpoints; thus, subjectivists must 'rise up' and displace objectivism. The tension, however, lies in postmodernism's promotion of infinite viewpoint multiplicity — a difficulty when one seeks coherent political action. Or any sort of useful action at all, for that matter.
To illustrate: the LGBT movement, with its radical inclusivity and ever-expanding acronym (LGB to LGBTQIA2S+ and beyond), shows quite well this postmodern tendency to flatten hierarchies in pursuit of equalised power dynamics. The challenge becomes defining power narrowly enough to mobilise resistance while maintaining the postmodern commitment to endless differentiation — or face paralysis.
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That's just a taste of the postmodern rabbit hole. If the reader has finished reaching for the sick bag and is still interested in a full investigation of postmodernism, I highly recommend a book by Stephen R.C. Hicks, Explaining Postmodernism, from which I cribbed some of the above.
Look, I basically have no problem with mental gymnastics; such queries and mentation can often result in very useful things. However, my critique, as laid out above, draws inspiration from a departure from its traditional role of edification and the celebration of beauty and truth. Over the course of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first, art seems to have descended into a realm that actively promotes ugliness and self-defeating ideologies. Consider the concrete fortresses of brutalist architecture, which many perceive as depressing and intimidating, or the work of artists like Damien Hirst and Andres Serrano, whose pieces often baffle audiences and leave them feeling alienated rather than elevated.
I recognise that very valid counterarguments exist — that artists challenge conventions in critically important ways; that beauty is subjective; and that art need not be comforting to be meaningful. Nevertheless, I maintain that now we inhabit a far uglier and more decadent cultural environment than we did 120 years ago, and I believe pseudo-philosophies such as postmodernism have played a crucial role in this decline as well as the broader decline in ethics and morals. So much so that we could very well be courting extinction.
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To conclude, in my opinion, postmodernism is a gateway sophistry to such idiocies as, 'If everything can mean anything, then everything means nothing.' Such pseudo-intellectualism is quite likely a fast track to nihilism (the rejection of all religious and moral principles in the belief that life is meaningless) — and it opens the door wide to the demons of authoritarianism, waiting in the wings and just drooling to march in and 'restore order'.
If you can stomach more of this darkness, click here to learn about the personality types that revel in these over-complicated and confusing ideologies. Click here if you're curious about the personality types that endorse and support them.