On American Nihilism

There is a cosmic approach to the word nihilism. Witness Heidegger's question from Introduction to Metaphysics: "Why are there beings at all instead of nothing?" Why is there anything? Nothingness is fundamental, not simply an absence or disappearance of what is. I just finished with Gombrowicz's A Guide to Philosophy in Six Hours and Fifteen Minutes, and it was clear this thought from Heidegger stayed with him. So much in life revolves around trying to grasp what things are. Do we need the new car or bedroom set; do these statistics describe a real phenomenon; can I trust this person? Then you reflect for a moment and realize that your life is consumed with worry about death. What is death? You've got some idea, but as the end of life it can be called a nothingness taking priority over being. Governing it, marking our time.

I want to set aside–bracket, if you will–the cosmic approach. I promise to return to it in other writings. The cosmic approach spills into questions of meaningfulness, history, and greatness. Why do we remember those we believe authentic? Why do we memorize names and legacies of those long past? The problems are rich but too large; in Heidegger's thinking, this is prelude to how history is generated.

When I'm wondering about the United States of America right now, I am wondering whether anyone will want to remember this. A time we were so petty we welcomed the bullying, kidnapping, and starvation of millions. A not so small example of our attitude: the advertisements said that this one quick trick could cure diabetes, and that's why the entire medical establishment–including doctors who saved your life!–had to be dismantled.

The nihilism we're dealing with is very real. Talking about this nihilism is the most practical thing. Far more practical than its adherents, who are vocal about gutting the entire educational system so only their voice reigns.

Nihilistic behavior at other times came from sources with a certain profundity. If you were furious at the tyranny of Tsarist Russia, you might have declared that nothing matters in your violent quest for freedom. In a more complicated vein, you could say Socrates' interlocutors struggle with the power of words, so much so they only see their own brilliance. They don't exactly believe in nothing, but they are terribly careless for sport. Consider Xenophon, so eager to be a general he could not show his face in his homeland. Xenophon is quite clear that certain rhetorical techniques, learned from Socrates, made this happen. Or Alcibiades, who planned superlative military campaigns because he could. It is said he wanted to be able to do anything with anyone who debated him. This is ambition run amok; there is little or no ability to account for the value of life. It's not strictly nihilism, but then again, it leads to a will to nothingness which constantly destroys more than it creates.

American nihilism does not come from our thirst for freedom or even the ambition we claim to have. It primarily comes from a broken interpretation of the First Amendment. We have free speech, we say. We pretend like no one else had this or has it. We believe it makes us smarter, that we're constantly debating opinions and making our thoughts sharper. That we can't be scammed because the marketplace of ideas filters out terrible things. That whatever we say–no matter how gross or hurtful or violent–we're making the world more rational. More speech is good speech, and so every idiot angrily ranting about what they saw on TV must make us smarter. Stephen A. is a viable Presidential pick; generations have listened to him daily and want to talk like he does.

American nihilism comes from a specific proposition related to this magical thinking: since I can speak freely, I can never be wrong. I never have to accept that I am being told I'm wrong. Free speech means I should always feel free to say whatever I like, and I feel freest when people applaud me for my insights. This is how we have destroyed the world, with an absolute right to "takes." I heard an elderly person declare that there was no such thing as hunger in the U.S. because we don't see images like those of Gaza. That's certainly a take one should be ashamed of; you can't tell the difference between intentional starvation and a broken social safety net? Our President, as you will note, has lots of half-informed takes, on everything from Harambe to Rosie O'Donnell to sex trafficking. He can deploy the full power of the U.S. government in the service of those opinions. The notion that we can be free from consequences seems to have the unfortunate consequence of ensuring one person alone is free from consequences.

You can see how we commit to a will to nothingness. If my speech is all that matters–if I can declare I am right any time I wish–then I will declare I am right regardless of anything else. People deny the reality of diseases actively killing their children. Free speech has become a race to the bottom. The goal isn't to say anything helpful or profound. The goal is to tear anyone and everyone down, to be as shameless and hypocritical as possible so you seem "authentic" compared to someone who cares. They don't understand speech is a game where one person is always right. Suckers! This is how we ended up with the rapper known as Ye admitting on a song that he cannot see his children. Instead of voicing regret, he channels this into sheer anger for the sake of rallying others who are similarly shameless. This is a death cult, plain and simple. The right to speak is now the right to be right. But the only way you can be right about everything is non-existence.

You want me to tell you how to fix this. How do we get a real free speech culture? I'll just illustrate one idea. Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò consistently says there need to be consequences for lying, and I can expand on that. As of this moment, there are lots of people who have power, say the things we want to hear, pretend to care, and then do absolutely nothing. In some cases, worse than nothing: they'll build alliances over positions which are monstrous. Consider how many Democratic politicians worked to pass the crypto bill, a license for widespread financial fraud.

So I believe one thing we can do is make it clear how we're holding power accountable. This isn't going to be a perfect process; some people are going to get blamed for doing the right thing. As of now, though, deeply corrupt people never get called out. It shocked Senator Mike Lee when Senate Democrats said they were offended by his posts about the murders in Minnesota. We're not saying enough about things which are heinous. People with power feel like they can say anything.

I know that sounds counterintuitive. Isn't there lots of complaining, say, about the President? And certain politicians? And people being rude on Facebook? The truth is there actually isn't! If we had the volume we need, the consequences would be felt. It sounds insane to say "posting is praxis," but if we reflect that free speech has become an article of abuse, then the volume of saying the right thing matters. It feels like magical thinking because speech has been so debased.