From 1715 onward, apparently.
It is hard to imagine anyone not feeling a kind of thrill on hearing this word; after all, if identity means anything today-and it probably doesn't-then the one thing we like to think of ourselves as, the one picture we have of who we are, is an image of someone who is somehow radically different from previous ages. We've got a vague idea of what it is to be modern and we wouldn't swap it for the world.
But what is it? Partly, I guess, it's an acceptance, slightly tinged with sadness, of uncertainty and finitude; we no longer have any 'models' (or transcendent models) of 'the good'. The Cosmos, Nature, Reason, God. If you're modern then you aren't too worried about the lack of foundations, the inability to ground your views in 'the Real'. A self-consciousness of the fact that you've got to make sense of things on your own and/or that things will not always make sense or fit into a pattern. Fragments, partial insights, small acts of kindness, quotes, reviews, summaries, takings from previous ages or different cultures without any knowledge of contextual background. Of course that can lead to a lot of confusion and superficiality (Coelho, etc.) More: a distrust of all systems-be they economic, political, religious. A sense of wonder at theoretical advances in physics, maths, science, but also a big fistful of salt when it comes to theory and theorizing. Particularity, singularity, the awareness of the paradox that this 'atomisation' is precisely what allows for the growth of state power and, even more worryingly, of totalitarianism ("uprootedness").
A sense of having lived through a lot of time and not much the wiser for it. The notion that it is only through experience, living in the time you do, that you can get any orientation in your life.Which isn't to say that you don't value things from the past but that a medieval mindset and living conditions are not something that much appeal to you. You can recognize that they probably produced better art, had greater religious insights, and possibly warmer relations with other people. To be modern is to live a bit like a mysterious stranger, even though at the same time this world, this place, is deeply familiar and you don't long for some other kind of reality. This place, this place now, is where I am and what I am...
The old virtues sound, well, a bit silly now. Are they universal or do they only make sense in a particular society? Can there be bourgeois virtues, then? If one is sceptical of the old Republican virtues and their narrow base then, equally, one isn't wholly convinced that a commercial society can avoid being shallow and trivial.
~~~
Re-reading The City of Man (mainly for the chapter on Smith). Difficult book. First time round the conservative tenor caught your attention and chimed with some of your views but now it seems fundamentally wrong in many places.
In a similar vein, whenever I turn back to the perennialists, whose books I once loved, I can't but help feel uneasy with their anti-modern sensibilities.
[clarify later]
~~~
My unease is this: distinctions aren't distinctions. Now and then some people realize, for instance, that Muslims are still human beings, much like the rest of humanity, warts and all. From another perspective, how is it that we can be moved by music, art, literature and images that are so very old? It is not the case that modern men and women are so different from any other person. The fundamentals still apply, as time goes by. Play it again.
After all has been said and done, modern Man is still Man, for all that. Aye. There is still much heartache, much longing and regret, tragedy, farce.
Here's a line from TMS:
'A well-fancied coat is done in a twelve-month, and cannot continue longer to propagate, as the fashion, that form according to which it was made. The modes of furniture change less rapidly than those of dress; because furniture is commonly more durable. In five or six years, however, it generally undergoes an entire revolution, and every man in his own time sees the fashion in this respect change many different ways. The productions of the other arts are much more lasting, and, when happily imagined, may continue to propagate the fashion of their make for a much longer time. A well-contrived building may endure many centuries: a beautiful air may be delivered down by a sort of tradition, through many successive generations: a well-written poem may last as long as the world'.
There is much overlapping. There are text, words, memories we carry with us. Some, always. Some things remain. Like the words we don't speak.
But what is it? Partly, I guess, it's an acceptance, slightly tinged with sadness, of uncertainty and finitude; we no longer have any 'models' (or transcendent models) of 'the good'. The Cosmos, Nature, Reason, God. If you're modern then you aren't too worried about the lack of foundations, the inability to ground your views in 'the Real'. A self-consciousness of the fact that you've got to make sense of things on your own and/or that things will not always make sense or fit into a pattern. Fragments, partial insights, small acts of kindness, quotes, reviews, summaries, takings from previous ages or different cultures without any knowledge of contextual background. Of course that can lead to a lot of confusion and superficiality (Coelho, etc.) More: a distrust of all systems-be they economic, political, religious. A sense of wonder at theoretical advances in physics, maths, science, but also a big fistful of salt when it comes to theory and theorizing. Particularity, singularity, the awareness of the paradox that this 'atomisation' is precisely what allows for the growth of state power and, even more worryingly, of totalitarianism ("uprootedness").
A sense of having lived through a lot of time and not much the wiser for it. The notion that it is only through experience, living in the time you do, that you can get any orientation in your life.Which isn't to say that you don't value things from the past but that a medieval mindset and living conditions are not something that much appeal to you. You can recognize that they probably produced better art, had greater religious insights, and possibly warmer relations with other people. To be modern is to live a bit like a mysterious stranger, even though at the same time this world, this place, is deeply familiar and you don't long for some other kind of reality. This place, this place now, is where I am and what I am...
The old virtues sound, well, a bit silly now. Are they universal or do they only make sense in a particular society? Can there be bourgeois virtues, then? If one is sceptical of the old Republican virtues and their narrow base then, equally, one isn't wholly convinced that a commercial society can avoid being shallow and trivial.
~~~
Re-reading The City of Man (mainly for the chapter on Smith). Difficult book. First time round the conservative tenor caught your attention and chimed with some of your views but now it seems fundamentally wrong in many places.
In a similar vein, whenever I turn back to the perennialists, whose books I once loved, I can't but help feel uneasy with their anti-modern sensibilities.
[clarify later]
~~~
My unease is this: distinctions aren't distinctions. Now and then some people realize, for instance, that Muslims are still human beings, much like the rest of humanity, warts and all. From another perspective, how is it that we can be moved by music, art, literature and images that are so very old? It is not the case that modern men and women are so different from any other person. The fundamentals still apply, as time goes by. Play it again.
After all has been said and done, modern Man is still Man, for all that. Aye. There is still much heartache, much longing and regret, tragedy, farce.
Here's a line from TMS:
'A well-fancied coat is done in a twelve-month, and cannot continue longer to propagate, as the fashion, that form according to which it was made. The modes of furniture change less rapidly than those of dress; because furniture is commonly more durable. In five or six years, however, it generally undergoes an entire revolution, and every man in his own time sees the fashion in this respect change many different ways. The productions of the other arts are much more lasting, and, when happily imagined, may continue to propagate the fashion of their make for a much longer time. A well-contrived building may endure many centuries: a beautiful air may be delivered down by a sort of tradition, through many successive generations: a well-written poem may last as long as the world'.
There is much overlapping. There are text, words, memories we carry with us. Some, always. Some things remain. Like the words we don't speak.
No comments:
Post a Comment