After the End of History
Eliane Glaser
In the thirty years since Francis Fukuyama declared that history had ‘ended’ with the decisive victory of Western liberal democracy over all other ideologies, his thesis has been mocked as facile, triumphalist or just plain wrong; but it has never quite gone away. This year it could even be said to be having a moment.
A new play by Jack Thorne called The End of History was staged this summer at the Royal Court. It begins in 1997 – ‘the moment before populism completely took over’, according to the director, John Tiffany – and features a middle-aged lefty couple trying to pass their idealism on to their millennial children. Ben Lerner’s forthcoming novel about the Trump era, The Topeka School, excavates end-of-millennium ‘political fantasy’: he is fascinated by the 1990s, he told the New Yorker, ‘and all the “end of history” narratives that were circulating at the time’.
Last month I took part in a conference at the University of Brighton entitled ‘After the End of History’. Scholars travelled from Brazil, Estonia and the Philippines to consider ‘where we are now; where we are heading; and where we should be heading’. Let it not be said that important questions are never asked in seminar rooms. One speaker admitted, however, that it may be too early to tell.
The rise of right-wing populism has been taken as a sign that the end of history has ended, that the stable era of liberal democracy is over; but how stable was it ever, really? Leftist critics have long pointed out that Fukuyama’s talk of an apparently neutral ‘liberal democracy’ was actually a tendentious claim for the primacy of global capitalism. Alain Badiou’s 2012 book responding to the Arab Spring was called The Rebirth of History. And populist politicians, like their pragmatic predecessors, conceal their ideological motivations behind hard hats, hi-vis jackets and down-to-earth rhetoric about ‘what works’, ‘getting the job done’ and ‘listening to ordinary voters’.
Fukuyama has himself rowed back from his original idea. Last year he argued in Identity: The Demand for Dignity and the Politics of Resentment that the ‘desire for recognition’ – from al-Qaida to Black Lives Matter, from gay marriage to Brexit – destabilises the liberal order by privileging the demand for respect over mutual accommodation. Yet the splintering of class-based opposition into the claims of identity politics feels quite post-historical to me. For all the declarations that left and right are ‘obsolete’ poles, persistent economic injustice remains the most potent challenge to end-of-history flag-planting.
Fukuyama’s 1989 article contained notes of surprising melancholy. ‘The end of history will be a very sad time,’ he wrote. ‘The worldwide ideological struggle that called forth daring, courage, imagination and idealism will be replaced by economic calculation, the endless solving of technical problems, environmental concerns and the satisfaction of sophisticated consumer demands.’ For all the subsequent ridicule, Fukuyama’s original idea resonantly captures our era of fragmenting grand narratives and dissolving cultural movements. ‘In the post-historical period,’ he went on, ‘there will be neither art nor philosophy, just the perpetual caretaking of the museum of human history. I can feel in myself, and see in others around me, a powerful nostalgia for the time when history existed.’
Comments
Ouch. He didn't see brexit coming either, did he.
Right now, I am experiencing a powerful nostalgia for the nineties, when we lived in boring times, mobile phones were getting smaller, the information superhighway was a thing (that had too few on-ramps), and the planet had a future.
"As Fukuyama stated explicitly in “The End of History?,” he was adopting an interpretation of Hegel made in the nineteen-thirties by a semi-obscure intellectual adventurer named Alexandre Kojève." More at https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/09/03/francis-fukuyama-postpones-the-end-of-history (a review article on Fukuyama's 'Identity' book and its background)
When I was doing a PhD in history in the 00s I went through a deep crisis when I couldn't make any progress, became disenchanted, and considered dropping out. Of course this is a very common grad student experience. But the particular form my crisis took was formed by the end of history atmosphere. I became convinced of the pointlessness of it: I didn't doubt the intrinsic interest of history, or the rigour of the discipline of history, but it just seemed disconnected from my life and wider society. I knew how to draw links between my research on early modern Islam and contemporary concerns, to pass my dissertation proposal & apply for funding, but I was no longer convinced by it myself. Looking back from today, these doubts seem preposterous, as do the pompous certainties that we still hear pronounced on Radio 4. Everything is up for grabs.
I also wonder whether this end of history atmosphere had a wider impact on my generation - those on the border between gen X and millennials. I think it's striking that while this generation has produced many capable technocrats, it hasn't had much to say in response to our current crises that's original. Many radical movements are led by elderly people - Corbyn, Bernie, Melenchon - and a lot of interesting ideas are coming from younger millennials, who reached adulthood around the financial crisis (everyone should read the recent books by Grace Blakeley and Aaron Bastani!) But the contribution of the 70s/early-80s cohort is represented by Macron or Beto - slick and shiny but essentially vapid.
Maybe I'm thinking about this too much and just trying to find an excuse for joining the Liberal Democrats in my 20s.
Reminds me of Pynchon's underrated 'Vineland', in which the 80s kids are much more conservative and materialistic than their hippy parents.
I'm feeling kinda guilty for hoping that the millennial generation will save the planet, where gen X failed miserably, apparently; apart from presenting to their kids the model to reject.