Cynicism, Ironic Detachment, and the End of Postmodernism (Maybe)
I'll be upfront: Postmodernism is probably not over. Except it may be. More on that later.
As a historical era, postmodernism is defined in part by cynicism and ironic detachment, both of which are still very popular. Consider the WW3 memes, tweets, and TikTok videos that circulated in response to the U.S. assassination of Iranian General Qasem Soleimani. That is content dripping with cynicism and ironic detachment, content that says, "I am powerless to affect this situation, and lack confidence in those who do."*
Postmodernist tendencies are, at their core, coping mechanisms. Cynicism is the natural response to repeated exposure to letdown. Ironic detachment provides a safe mental distance to point, and maybe even laugh, at that which could otherwise hurt you. In a way, the ethos of any historical era represents a means by which to cope—after all, it arose in response to something.
In the case of the 21st century, these somethings include a rejection of a grand narrative of human existence, a recognition of the fragility of human society, and a vague awareness of the stupefying vastness of space. Nihilism, like the color black, is back in vogue.** Shows like Rick and Morty have risen to great acclaim by riding the swelling wave of nihilism. When one stops to consider what the show is about—namely, the misadventures of a grandson traveling the multiverse with his alcoholic grandfather leaving a trail of destruction in their wake—the show sounds less funny. But it is funny. When whole universes are destroyed, it's especially funny. It's funny because it's incomprehensible. Laughter, at its core, is a response to being surprised.***
As a society, we've been coping with a sublimated sense of despair since right around the end of WW2. I didn't make up that date—it's generally accepted as the beginning of the Anthropocene, our currently geological era. Once humans invented the atomic bomb, and held in their hands for the first time the total power to end themselves, the conversation was different. There wasn't much room for the grand romanticism of the 1800s. People spoke in whispers. You had to be serious. Modern. But eventually we grew tired of being serious and became postmodern. We were still quiet, but we wanted to be funny, too; mainly to dissipate the chronic stress of impending annihilation. Thus, ironic detachment. Which I believe is okay. There is a time and a place for ironic detachment. But it's been a while. We need something new.
A Banksy which relies on the ironic juxtaposition of real life/image to generate meaning.
New Sincerity, Bronies, and Too Many Footnotes
The late David Foster Wallace popularized what would later be called "New Sincerity" in his essay "E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction." All the way back in 1993, he claimed that "the next real literary 'rebels' in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of anti-rebels….who dare somehow to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles." Essentially, those at the forefront of art in the new millennia would "risk disapproval," but not for the same reasons faced by "postmodern insurgents," who aimed to shock, awe, disgust, dispute, outrage. No, "today's risks are different," Foster writes. "The new rebels might be artists willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the 'Oh how banal.' To risk accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Of overcredulity. Of softness."
That was 25 years ago. In the meantime, we've had Wes Anderson and Neutral Milk Hotel—both of whom cite postmodern cynicism and ironic detachment in their work while subverting it in favor of sincerity. Add to this category of the self-self-aware Sufjan Stevens, Father John Misty, the Vlogbrothers, and Wallace's own Infinite Jest. We've also had Bronies—adult men who unabashedly celebrate the TV series, My Little Pony—but please don't ask about them.
Of the newly sincere acts I just listed, how many of them would you describe as "alt?" My guess is most—if not all—of them. That's because New Sincerity is a response to the dominant culture of postmodernism. To make a long story short, a new historical era arises from a past one through a continuous back-and-forth which indelibly shapes both.**** So, basically, at the time of this writing, we're probably somewhere between postmodernism and something new.***** The dialectic—to use a fancy word I learned in college—is taking place.******
Where does that leave us? Well, in a way, exactly where we started at the beginning of this essay: Postmodernism is still a thing, albeit potentially a thing on the decline. New sincerity is a response to it, which, while it has practitioners, is still relatively niche. Nihilism is fashionable, as well as funny. And we make many memes. So, as a friend of mine asked recently, what-do?
Wallace: ahead, behind, and representative of his time
Meaning-Making and Maintaining Your Island
The ratio of irony to sincerity in art and culture doesn't really matter. What matters is what you choose to engage with, and how. I suggest engaging with New Sincerity on a daily basis. Fundamentally, it's about caring—authentically, un-ironically caring about and engaging with the world. Yes, continents are burning and you can watch it on your iPhone. Yes, it is difficult to care in 2020. Yes, you will need to chose where to invest your emotional energy. Yes yes yes. But to those ends, I'd suggest investing your emotional energy in the people immediately around you, caring about the things you can fix, and bearing witness to that which you can't—if you so choose—while remaining sensitive to your role in the system.
Choosing not to care doesn't make you cool. It just makes you feel less. Which, if that's your aim, okay. But you're only depriving yourself.
I'd suggest risking softness. Risk the banality of endorsing a single principle. You love sunsets. Cool. Love sunsets. Or maybe it's Korean Barbecue. Or waking up to natural light. Or your mom. Whatever it is, love the hell out of it. Whoever they are, tell them. You love them. Tell them. It's okay to care about things.
And even if the nihilists are right, and intrinsic meaning doesn't exist, that doesn't mean meaning doesn't exist. Meaning exists. We make it exist. We choose what to care about, and we decide what we love. Ultimately, that freedom is what life is: Choosing what you want to love.*******
If I can leave you with anything, let it be this: The universe is vast and filled with more than you or I can comprehend. Your consciousness is an island sheltered from the immensity of existence. Choose wisely what you keep on your island. The heat-death of the universe is probably not one of those things. Maybe 15-second videos are what you want to keep. Perhaps sensationalist headlines are, too. But, and I mean this gently, I hope not. Your island is small. You must be selective. You may want to consider bringing your favorite book, smell, album, animal, plant, pastry, painting, summer camp memory; the dumbest thing you've ever said; the smartest thing you've ever said, candles (if you're into that); your favorite drink; a pencil; shoes that feel good on your feet; an outfit you feel cute in; the record of an utterly brilliant coincidence; whatever brings you close to the divine; paper; the oldest existing photograph of a known ancestor; the memory of your bravest moment. Oh—and bring your best friends. Laugh a lot. Cry when you must. Listen fully. Seek to understand. And, no matter what anyone says, don't forget it's okay to be soft on your island.
Kawartha Golden Sky by David Bierk.
David Bierk, who painted in the style of masters like Vermeer, produced his works on industrial materials such as steel framing. His imposition of classical style atop modern materials represents a postmodern expression that retains a sense of sincerity while also producing something new.
Too many footnotes:
*Some additional examples of postmodern content include ads that advertise they are ads, movies that relentlessly break the fourth wall, and art that shreds itself in auction (hi Banksy!).
**At the same time, religious fundamentalism has not wained. If anything, it has grown stronger in response to the rise of nihilism. A bifurcation is taking place on the spectrum of theological ideology. Nihilists flock to one end of the spectrum, convinced of the utter lack of intrinsic meaning of anything. Religious fundamentalists crowd the other end of the spectrum, balancing the scales, convinced of the total meaningfulness imbued into the world by their (usually) one true god.
***Biologically, laughter is a variation of shrieking, which is a variation of screaming. Ape communities have been observed laugh-shrieking in response to novel stimuli as a means to warn other members of the group. This is why jokes often have this set up: Set expectations, draw the audience in with a story, subvert expectations. We laugh because our expectations have been subverted, creating a small fear-response, which we then signal to other human beings. This, in turn, facilities group bonding. All in all, laughter is amazingly weird.
****Metamodernism, post-postmodernism, and trans-modernism are some of the lovely names suggested for the supposedly new historical era we are supposedly living in.
*****It's possible to cherry-pick examples of cultural products for almost any era to substantiate a claim that the originating subculture had a sort of prominence during the time. For instance, if an alien were to land in Brooklyn tomorrow, they would think that the dominant American culture was constituted by handlebar mustaches, single-origin pour-over, and flannel everything.
******One of the reasons it is so hard to define a historical era is that the effects of whatever event you chose to include or exclude from the era are still being felt. For instance, try to answer this question: What historical era are we in? Well, that depends. Who are we asking? It's been a while since the 2008 financial crisis. Yeah, we're still feeling the effects. But we're also feeling the impact of the 2016 election, America's withdrawal from the Paris Climate Accord, the Me-too movement. Actually, nevermind recent events. We're still feeling the effects of the Vietnam War (draft abolished), Cold War (US-Russian relations), WWII (United Nations), WWI (WWII), Civil War (organized white supremacy), Revolutionary War (independence!), Battle of Hastings (animal/food synonyms), Greco-Persian War (democracy!!), and the uncountable number of undocumented skirmishes undertaken by Paleolithic humans here, there. And that's not even scratching the surface of how conflict has shaped and continues to shape us. There's art, fashion, politics, technology, philosophy, music, this new thing called the internet, and much much more.
*******One of those things for me is running. I run to be surprised, emboldened, toughened, exposed, found out, connected, alone. I love running for the same reason dancers love to dance and painters love to paint and writers love to write: it's one way to get the inside out. There's no bigger reason nor would I want one.
More modernist than postmodernist, Rothko, who pioneered colorfield painting, represents an interesting figure. Some find his work viscerally inspiring; others, bland. Leaving this here so you can gaze a while.