Merely smashing the old order itself does not create anything.
Written by: Noah Smith
Translated by: Block unicorn
"Men don't care what's on TV. They only care what's still on TV." — Jerry Seinfeld
N.S. Lyons is a popular essayist in the "national conservatism" tradition. His Substack, "The Upheaval," is recommended reading, although I agree with less than half of what he writes. However, he is well-read and knowledgeable, able to integrate information from multiple fields, and unafraid to think deeply in real-time about significant historical issues. Reading his work will help you better understand the beliefs of the modern right. On many issues, his insights are what people in the MAGA world urgently need to hear.
In a recent article titled "The Great God of America," Lyons points out what I believe to be a profound truth about our current historical moment. He writes, "The long twentieth century" has ended, a period defined by liberalism (social, political, and economic) and anchored by a rejection of Adolf Hitler:
I believe what we are witnessing today is indeed the end of an era, a seismic upheaval of the world as we know it, the full meaning and impact of which have yet to truly touch us.
More specifically, I believe Donald Trump marks the delayed end of the "long twentieth century"…
Our "long twentieth century" started late, only fully consolidating in 1945, but for the following 80 years, its spirit dominated our civilization's entire understanding of the current state of the world and what it ought to look like… After the horrors wrought by World War II, the leadership classes in America and Europe took it for granted that "never let history repeat itself" would be the core of their ideological framework. They collectively resolved to never again allow fascism, war, and genocide to threaten humanity…
The anti-fascism of the twentieth century evolved into a great crusade… By making "never let history repeat itself" the ultimate priority, the ideology of open societies placed "the greatest evil" (summum malum) at its core, rather than "the highest good" (summum bonum). The unique figure of Hitler not only lurked in the deep thoughts of twentieth-century people; he also dominated their subconscious, becoming a secular Satan… As Renaud Camus humorously noted, this "second career of Adolf Hitler" provided a quasi-religious justification for the consensus of open societies and the entire post-war liberal order: to prevent the resurrection of the immortal Führer…
The "long twentieth century" is characterized by these three interrelated post-war projects: the gradual opening of society through the deconstruction of norms and boundaries, the consolidation of the managerial state, and the hegemony of the liberal international order. It was hoped that these three projects could together lay the foundation for the ultimate realization of world peace and harmonious coexistence among all humanity.
Like all great articles, this one is somewhat exaggerated. The post-war American-led liberalism was not purely a defensive project. The motivations behind the "United Nations Charter" and the "Universal Declaration of Human Rights" were not born out of fear of Hitler's return, but rather a desire to expand the boundaries of human freedom and dignity to unprecedented levels. Ronald Reagan did not need the specter of Hitler to promote his vision of American liberty; he viewed it as a universal ideal.
However, Lyons is right in some important sense. The astonishing horrors and failures of the Hitler regime provided liberals with a moral anchor, allowing them to always advocate for greater liberalism based on this. Advocates of civil rights and other liberalizing laws in America and Europe often used Nazi Germany as a rhetorical foil. Anti-communism once provided the right with another Satan, but its influence was never quite the same, as America was an ally of Stalin during World War II; after the fall of the Soviet Union, anti-communism was quickly forgotten, but Hitler and the Nazis were not.
Lyons is correct that the Trump era marks the end of Hitler as the "ultimate evil" in Western culture—at least in America. The two most popular media figures on the American right, Joe Rogan and Tucker Carlson, invited Daryl Cooper—a historical revisionist who downplays Nazi atrocities and views Winston Churchill as the true villain of World War II—to speak on their shows. Here is one of Cooper's (now deleted) tweets for reference:
This tweet, I believe, showcases the mindset of the American right. It is incorrect to say that the Trump movement or modern national conservatism represents full support for Nazism. But there is no dispute that the American right perceives "wokeness" as a greater threat than a possible return of Hitler.
Why has the legend of Hitler lost its terror? There are several reasons. Most of the generation that defeated the Nazis has passed away, meaning that for most Americans, Hitler is merely a character in movies and books; like Tamerlane or Genghis Khan, the fear of a mass murderer fades over time. The Palestinian movement has effectively removed Jews from the list of protected minority groups on the left, whose rights might be defended through unrest. Social media has led to the overuse of the "Nazi" label, giving rise to the popular saying "everyone I don't like is Hitler."
Lyons is far more optimistic about this shift than I am. Personally, I believe demonizing Hitler is a good idea. As a universal moral principle, "don't be Hitler" does seem quite reliable. Even if you only care about the strength of Western civilization, a military action motivated by ideological motives that led to the end of European global empires, the slaughter of over 20 million Slavs, the end of Germany's great power status, and the consolidation of Soviet rule over half of Europe seems like a cautionary example worth avoiding.
But Lyons believes that the end of anti-Nazism as a guiding principle of the West will pave the way for a return of moral, community, foundational, faith, and civilizational pride—things that conservatives cherish:
Influential liberal thinkers like Karl Popper and Theodor Adorno helped persuade the ideologically compliant establishment of the post-war era to believe that the fundamental source of authoritarianism and conflict in the world is "closed societies." Such societies are marked by what Renaud calls the "Great God": strong beliefs and truth claims, strong moral codes, strong interpersonal bonds, strong community identities, and connections to place and the past—ultimately, all these "objects of human love and loyalty are the sources of passion and loyalty that unite society."
Now, the unifying power of the Great God is seen as dangerous, a hellish source of fanaticism, oppression, hatred, and violence. Meaningful bonds of faith, family, and especially nation are now viewed as suspicious, worrisome temptations leading to fascism…
The consensus of open societies and their weak deities has not produced a utopian world of peace and progress; rather, it has led to the disintegration of civilization and despair. As expected, the Great God of history has been expelled, religious traditions and moral norms have been exposed, community bonds and loyalties have been weakened, distinctions and boundaries have been dismantled, and the discipline of self-governance has been handed over to top-down bureaucratic management. Unsurprisingly, this has resulted in a lack of cohesion in nation-states and broader civilizations, not to mention the inability to resist external threats from non-open, non-delusional societies. In short, the radical self-negation movement pursued by the post-war consensus of open societies has effectively turned into a collective suicide pact for Western liberal democracies.
I am not so sure that Lyons' interpretation of history is correct. After all, as Robert Putnam documents in his book "The Upswing," the post-war decades in America witnessed the greatest surge in church participation, civic engagement, family formation, and social cohesion since the early republic. Here are the data on church attendance, which surged after World War II and remained high for those over 40 into the 2010s:
Here is Putnam's social cohesion index, which combines measures of civic and religious participation as well as family formation:
The New Deal and the post-war period even witnessed a significant increase in the use of the word "we" in American books, replacing "I":
The Great God has never been stronger among a generation in America that grew up listening to Roosevelt preach liberalism on the radio and continued to crush Adolf Hitler into dust. It is not difficult to draw a causal line between the unified struggle of World War II and the subsequent great American unity.
The Greatest Generation wholeheartedly believed that Hitler was the Satan of the earth. But they did not see family, community, and tradition as little Hitlers that needed to be smashed to maintain an open society. In fact, their society was both open and deeply rooted. My grandparents knew the names and life stories of every neighbor until the day they died; how many "national conservatism" intellectuals and die-hard Trump fans can say the same?
But in any case, America's Great God has indeed declined. Lyons believes Trump is bringing them back:
Mary Harrington recently observed that the Trump revolution seems both political and archetypal; she noted the widespread "excited response" of men to Elon Musk and his "young tech brotherhood" in recent work, reflecting a phenomenon that can be "understood from an archetypal perspective as they are fighting against a huge, nebulous enemy whose aim is to destroy male heroism itself." This masculine "thumotic vitality" spirit has been suppressed throughout the "long twentieth century," but now it is back…
Today's populism is… a long-suppressed thumotic desire, a yearning to take action that should have been taken long ago, to break free from the stifling lethargy brought on by procedural management, and to passionately fight for collective survival and self-interest. This is a return of politics to politics. It calls for a restoration of ancient virtues, including a vital perception of the self-worth of the nation and civilization…
This is what Trump represents, with all his ruggedness: the Great God has escaped from exile and returned to America… Trump himself is an actor, not a thinker… He… embodies the entire rebellious new spirit that is overturning the old order… The boldness of Trump's actions reflects not just partisan political maneuvering—it represents the very subversion of the stagnation of the old paradigm; now "you can just do things."
The term "thumotic" here refers to the use of the Greek word "thumos" by Harvey Mansfield to denote a political passion and drive. Francis Fukuyama spelled it as "thymos" and predicted as early as 1992 that Donald Trump might be the perfect embodiment of Americans' thumotic impulse to destroy the liberal establishment.
Thus, Lyons sees Trumpism as a reassertion of a "Fight Club"-style wild, unapologetic masculine drive—only, unlike Tyler Durden, who directed it towards anarchism, Lyons sees Trump and Musk indulging their masculine passions in dismantling the civil service system.
However, Lyons never specifically explains how this destructive impulse will bring about the return of the "Great God" he desires. He views the civil service system and other post-war American institutions as obstacles to the revival of foundations, family, community, and faith, but he does not truly go beyond the smashing of these so-called obstacles to envision actual reconstruction. He merely assumes that this will happen naturally or considers it a future problem.
I believe he will be disappointed. The Trump movement has existed for ten years, during which it has built absolutely nothing. There is no Trump youth group. No Trump community centers, Trump neighborhood associations, or Trump business clubs. Trump's supporters have not flocked to traditional religion; since the pandemic, the decline of Christianity has halted, but the sense of belonging to Christianity and church attendance remains far below the levels of the turn of the century. Republicans still have more children than Democrats, but birth rates in red states are also declining.
During Trump's first term, the right's attempts to organize civic engagement were almost laughably minimal. A few hundred "Proud Boys" gathered to brawl with anti-fascists on the streets of Berkeley and Portland. There were some smaller right-wing anti-lockdown protests in 2020. About two thousand people rioted on January 6—mostly people in their forties and fifties. None of this formed the kind of long-term grassroots organization common in the 1950s.
For a very few, Trump's first term was a live-action role-playing game; for others, it was just a YouTube channel.
And what about Trump's second term to date? Nothing. Even attendance at rallies has significantly declined. National conservatives who might have gone out to meet in 2017 now curl up alone in their living rooms, scrolling between X, OnlyFans, and DraftKings, shaking their fists in the air when they read about Elon Musk and his computer nerd team firing employees or Trump cutting aid to Ukraine. "You can just do things," yet hardly any Trump supporters are actually doing anything, aside from passively cheering for their nominal team. Unless you are one of the few geeks helping Elon Musk dismantle the bureaucracy, this "thumotic" drive is entirely secondhand.
You see, the MAGA movement is a network phenomenon. It is another vertical online community—a group of rootless, atomized individuals weakly connected across vast distances by the illusory bonds of ideology and identity. There is no family, community, or sense of rootedness to any place within it. It is a digital commodity. It is a subforum. It is a fan club.
N.S. Lyons and national conservatives completely misunderstand the reasons for America's abandonment of roots, community, family, and faith. We did not abandon these "Great Gods" because liberals were too harsh on old Adolf (Hitler). We abandoned them because of technology.
In the 1920s, America began to experience mass affluence, alongside technologies that granted individuals unprecedented autonomy and control over their physical location and access to information. Car ownership allowed Americans to travel anywhere at any time, liberating them from ties to specific places. Telephone ownership enabled long-distance communication. Television and radio exposed them to new ideas and cultures, while the internet opened up even more.
Then came social media and smartphones. Suddenly, "society" no longer meant the people in your surrounding physical space—your neighbors, colleagues, gym buddies, etc. First, "society" became a group of avatars writing text on the small glass screens in your pocket. Your phone became the place where you met and talked with friends and lovers, as well as where you debated politics and ideas. People's roots shifted from physical space to digital space.
Increasing evidence suggests that smartphone-supported social media is associated with feelings of isolation and alienation, loneliness and solitude, declines in religious belief, reduced family formation, and lower birth rates. The technologies of the twentieth century—cars, telephones, televisions, and the internet—made American society somewhat disjointed, but they managed to partially resist and retain some remnants of rootedness. However, smartphone-supported social media has broken through these last bastions of resistance, turning us into free-floating particles in an invisible space of memes, identities, and distractions.
It turns out that the Great Gods are more fragile than the new gods made of silicon.
The ones doing this are, more or less, the very people N.S. Lyons is now cheering for. Of course, not Elon Musk himself; he just makes cars and rockets. But Steve Jobs, Jack Dorsey, Zhang Yiming, and a whole host of entrepreneurs chasing massive wealth with their "thumotic" pursuits have constructed the virtual world that has become our most authentic home.
I am not saying that what they are doing is evil. Technology has a way of advancing in developed societies; if it can be realized, it is likely to be realized. No one can know its downsides in advance. But it is rather ironic that the very people Lyons now believes will usher in a new era of roots and community are the ones who are destroying the old era.
But in any case, yes, this thing will fail, because nothing has been built. Yes, every ideological movement assures us that a utopia will replace the old order once it is thoroughly overthrown. For some reason, the utopia never seems to arrive. Instead, the so-called temporary period of pain and sacrifice grows longer, and the ideologues at the helm become increasingly enthusiastic about blaming enemies and eliminating revolutionary foes. At some point, people will clearly see that the promise of utopia is merely an excuse to eliminate enemies—"thumotic" itself has become the goal.
Trump's Treasury Secretary has already told us that the economic pain caused by Trump is merely a "detox period," blaming the stock market decline on "globalists," and Trump's Justice Department has attributed rising egg prices to hoarders and speculators. If you don't recognize this plotline, you must not be following the news or history very closely.
Merely smashing the old order itself does not create anything. The Visigoths and Vandals built nothing on the ruins of Rome. They indulged their "thumotic" impulses, plundering wealth for a time, then vanished into myth and memory.
For the past fifteen years, I have watched in frustration as the real-world communities and families I knew in my youth have been torn apart, replaced by a pile of fictional online identity movements. I am still waiting for someone to figure out how to reassemble society—how to do what Roosevelt and the Greatest Generation did a century ago. Looking at the MAGA movement, I am quite sure this is not the answer.
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