The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self - Carl R. Trueman - E-Book

The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self E-Book

Carl R. Trueman

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Modern culture is obsessed with identity. Since the landmark Obergefell v. Hodges Supreme Court decision in 2015, sexual identity has dominated both public discourse and cultural trends—and yet, no historical phenomenon is its own cause. From Augustine to Marx, various views and perspectives have contributed to the modern understanding of self. In The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self, Carl Trueman carefully analyzes the roots and development of the sexual revolution as a symptom, rather than the cause, of the human search for identity. This timely exploration of the history of thought behind the sexual revolution teaches readers about the past, brings clarity to the present, and gives guidance for the future as Christians navigate the culture's ever-changing search for identity.

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“The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self is perhaps the most significant analysis and evaluation of Western culture written by a Protestant during the past fifty years. If you want to understand the social, cultural, and political convulsions we are now experiencing, buy this book, and read it for all it is worth. Highly recommended.”

Bruce Riley Ashford, Professor of Theology and Culture, Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary; coauthor, The Gospel of Our King

“Carl Trueman has a rare gift for fusing the deep social insights of a Philip Rieff, a Christopher Lasch, or an Augusto Del Noce with a vital Christian faith and marvelously engaging style. Psalm 8 names the central question of every age, including our own: ‘What is man?’ In explaining the development of the modern self and the challenges it poses to human identity and happiness, Trueman makes sense of a fragmenting world. This book is essential reading for anyone concerned for sustaining the Christian faith in a rapidly changing culture.”

Charles J. Chaput, Archbishop Emeritus of Philadelphia

“This is a characteristically brilliant book by Carl Trueman, helping the church understand why people believe that sexual difference is a matter of psychological choice. Indeed, Trueman shows how the story we tell ourselves about normalized LGBTQ+ values is false and foolish. With wisdom and clarity, Trueman guides readers through the work of Charles Taylor, Philip Rieff, British Romantic poets, and Continental philosophers to trace the history of expressive individualism from the eighteenth century to the present. The rejection of mimesis (finding excellence by imitating something greater than yourself) for poiesis (finding authenticity by inventing yourself on your own terms), in addition to the Romantic movement’s welding of sexual expression as a building block of political liberation, ushers in the modern LGBTQ+ movement as if on cue. This book reveals how important it is for thinking Christians to distinguish virtue from virtue signaling. The former makes you brave; the latter renders you a man pleaser, which is a hard line to toe in a world where there are so few real men left to please.”

Rosaria Butterfield, Former Professor of English, Syracuse University; author, The Gospel Comes with a House Key

“Moderns, especially Christian moderns, wonder how our society arrived at this strange moment when nearly everything about the self and sexuality that our grandparents believed is ridiculed. This genealogy of culture, clearly and elegantly written, will help all of us understand how we got to where we are, so that we can plot our own futures with more clarity and confidence. This book is a must-read for Christians and all others who are disturbed by the dictatorship of relativism that surrounds us.”

Gerald R. McDermott, Former Anglican Chair of Divinity, Beeson Divinity School

“Carl Trueman is a superb teacher. Sharp, perceptive, and lucid, this book is the worthy fruit of learnedness and insight. But more than a teacher, Trueman also has the voice of a prophet. He speaks truth masterfully, with power. In bringing clarity on how we got to our present desert wilderness as a culture, Trueman helps us understand our crooked ways—and situates us to make straight the way of the Lord.”

Adeline A. Allen, Associate Professor of Law, Trinity Law School

“This is an amazing piece of work. Blending social commentary with an insightful history of ideas as well as keen philosophical and theological analyses, Carl Trueman has given us what is undoubtedly the most accessible and informed account of the modern self and how it has shaped and informed the cultural battles of the first quarter of the twenty-first century. It is a fair-minded, carefully wrought diagnosis of what ails our present age. This book is essential reading for all serious religious believers who rightly sense that the ground is shifting underneath their feet, that the missionaries for the modern self are not content with simply allowing believers to practice their faith in peace but see these believers and their institutions as targets for colonization and involuntary assimilation. For this reason, every president of a faith-based college or university should read The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self more than once.”

Francis J. Beckwith, Professor of Philosophy and Church-State Studies and Associate Director of the Graduate Program in Philosophy, Baylor University

“Those looking for a light read that provides escape from the cares of the world will not find The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self their book of choice. But this volume will richly reward readers who don’t mind thinking hard about important (though sometimes unpleasant) topics. Christians have been taken off guard by how rapidly cultural mores have changed around them, but Carl Trueman demonstrates that radical thinkers have long been laying a foundation for these developments. Readers should press on to the end—the final paragraphs are among the best.”

David VanDrunen, Robert B. Strimple Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics, Westminster Seminary California

“Carl Trueman’s gifts as an intellectual historian shine in this profound and lucid book. The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self needs to be read by anyone who wants to understand our current cultural distempers.”

R. R. Reno, Editor, First Things

“Carl Trueman has written an excellent book: ambitious in its scope yet circumspect in its claims and temperate, even gentlemanly, in its tone. The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self will prove indispensable in moving beyond the superficiality of moralistic and liberationist interpretations to a deeper understanding and should be required reading for all who truly wish to understand the times we live in or are concerned about the human future. I very much hope it receives the wide readership it deserves.”

Michael Hanby, Associate Professor of Religion and Philosophy of Science, Pontifical John Paul II Institute for Studies on Marriage and Family at the Catholic University of America

Our culture did not simply wake up one morning and decide to reject sexual mores that have held civilization together for millennia. The sexual revolution that has overthrown basic human and teleological assumptions over the past sixty years has a history. With the adroit skill of an intellectual historian, the patience and humility of a master teacher, and the charity and conviction of a Christian pastor, Carl Trueman offers us this necessary book. We cannot respond appropriately to our times unless we understand how and why our times are defined such as they are. Trueman’s work is a great gift to us in our continuing struggle to live in the world but be not of the world.”

John D. Wilsey, Associate Professor of Church History and Philosophy, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary; author, God’s Cold Warrior and American Exceptionalism and Civil Religion

The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self

Other Crossway Books by Carl R. Trueman

The Creedal Imperative

Histories and Fallacies: Problems Faced in the Writing of History

Luther on the Christian Life: Cross and Freedom

The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self

Cultural Amnesia, Expressive Individualism, and the Road to Sexual Revolution

Carl R. Trueman

Foreword by Rod Dreher

The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self: Cultural Amnesia, Expressive Individualism, and the Road to Sexual Revolution

Copyright © 2020 by Carl R. Trueman

Published by Crossway1300 Crescent StreetWheaton, Illinois 60187

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except as provided for by USA copyright law. Crossway® is a registered trademark in the United States of America.

Cover design: Spencer Fuller, Faceout Studios

Cover image: Stocksy Image #1264340, 1825354, 2007929, Shutterstock Image #430366777

First printing 2020

Printed in the United States of America

Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-4335-5633-3 ePub ISBN: 978-1-4335-5636-4 PDF ISBN: 978-1-4335-5634-0 Mobipocket ISBN: 978-1-4335-5635-7

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Trueman, Carl R., author.

Title: The rise and triumph of the modern self : cultural amnesia, expressive individualism, and the road to sexual revolution / Carl R. Trueman ; foreword by Rod Dreher.

Description: Wheaton, Illinois : Crossway, 2020. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2019041970 (print) | LCCN 2019041971 (ebook) | ISBN 9781433556333 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781433556340 (pdf) | ISBN 9781433556357 (mobi) | ISBN 9781433556364 (epub)

Subjects: LCSH: Sexual freedom—History. | Sex. | Self. | Civilization, Modern.

Classification: LCC HQ32 .T78 2020 (print) | LCC HQ32 (ebook) | DDC 306.709—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019041970

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019041971

Crossway is a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

2020-12-28 10:06:47 AM

To

Matt and Gwen Franck

and

Fran and Suann Maier

There is nothing on this earth to be more prized than true friendship.

Thomas Aquinas

Contents

Foreword

Rod Dreher

Preface

Introduction

Part 1

Architecture of the Revolution

 1  Reimagining the Self

 2  Reimagining Our Culture

Part 2

Foundations of the Revolution

 3  The Other Genevan

Jean-Jacques Rousseau and the Foundations of Modern Selfhood

 4  Unacknowledged Legislators

Wordsworth, Shelley, and Blake

 5  The Emergence of Plastic People

Nietzsche, Marx, and Darwin

Epilogue to Part 2

Reflections on the Foundations of the Revolution

Part 3

Sexualization of the Revolution

 6  Sigmund Freud, Civilization, and Sex

 7  The New Left and the Politicization of Sex

Epilogue to Part 3

Reflections on the Sexualization of the Revolution

Part 4

Triumphs of the Revolution

 8  The Triumph of the Erotic

 9  The Triumph of the Therapeutic

10  The Triumph of the T

Epilogue to Part 4

Reflections on the Triumphs of the Revolution

Concluding Unscientific Prologue

Index

Foreword

Rod Dreher

In his 1983 Templeton Prize address, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn offered this summary explanation for why all the horrors of Soviet communism came to pass: “Men have forgotten God; that’s why all this has happened.”1

This answer is also a valid explanation for the crises enveloping the West today, including the widespread falling away from faith, the disintegration of the family, a loss of communal purpose, erotomania, erasing the boundaries between male and female, and a general spirit of demonic destruction that denies the sacredness of human life. Because men have forgotten God, they have also forgotten man; that’s why all this has happened.

We have to go deeper. The ways in which men have forgotten God matter. We have to understand how and why they have forgotten God if we are to diagnose this sickness and to produce a vaccination, even a cure. Unfortunately, the gaze of most Christians cannot seem to penetrate the surface of postmodernity. Many regard the collapse moralistically, as if the tide could be turned back with a robust reassertion of Christian doctrine and ethical rigor.

Three cheers for robust reassertions of doctrinal orthodoxy and ethical rigor! But it’s not enough. Ordinary Christians need—desperately need—a more profound and holistic grasp of the modern and postmodern condition. It is the water in which we swim, the air that we breathe. There is no escaping it, but we can figure out how to live in it and through it without losing our faith. Yet any proposed Christian solution to the crisis of modernity will fail if it does not address the core causes of the Great Forgetting.

Some secular thinkers have produced analyses that are an unappreciated gift to the church in this post-Christian era. The late sociologist and critic Philip Rieff (1922–2006) was an agnostic Jew who understood with unusual perceptiveness how the psychologization of modern life, and its manifestation in the sexual revolution, was the poison pill that was killing our religion and therefore our civilization. Rieff’s prose, though, is not easy to read. Some years ago, as I worked on my book The Benedict Option, I asked my friend Carl Trueman, who shares my view of Rieff’s importance and who is a thinker and writer of impressive lucidity, to write a book about Rieff that explains to the laity why we need his insights to build a defense.

Trueman has written that book—you’re holding it in your hands—but he has given us something much more valuable than a layman’s handbook on Philip Rieff. Indeed, The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self is an indispensable guide to how and why men have forgotten God. Trueman’s tour de force analyzes the roots of the crisis in the thought and writing of men like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Sigmund Freud—the usual suspects, you might say—but he also factors in figures like nineteenth-century English poets, who taught elites how to think and feel in radically different ways.

By the time the reader arrives at the book’s conclusion, which explains why transgenderism is not simply a quirky offshoot of identity politics but rather the ultimate expression of the spirit of modernity, the reader will grasp why the trans phenomenon has been so readily accepted by contemporaries—and why the church’s efforts to resist it and the sexual revolution of which it is a part have been so feeble and ineffective.

Trueman’s book is in no way a standard conservative Christian polemic against modernity. Those are a dime a dozen. Nor is it a pietistic exhortation to prayer, study, and sober living, of which we have countless examples. Rather, it is a sophisticated survey and analysis of cultural history by a brilliant teacher who is not only an orthodox Christian but also a pastor who understands the actual needs of the flock—and who, unlike so many intellectuals, can write like a dream. I can’t emphasize strongly enough how practical this book is and how useful it will be to pastors, priests, and intellectually engaged Christians of all denominations.

So many Christian books seek to explain the church to the modern world. But in these pages, Carl Trueman explains modernity to the church, with depth, clarity, and force. The significance of The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self, arriving at this late hour, is hard to overstate. In his 1983 Templeton Prize address, Solzhenitsyn also said,

Today’s world has reached a state which, if it had been described to preceding centuries, would have called forth the cry: “This is the Apocalypse!”

Yet we have grown used to this kind of world; we even feel at home in it.2

Yes, even Christians. Carl Trueman’s prophetic role is to reveal to the church today how that happened, so that even now, we might repent and, in so doing, find ways to keep the true light of faith burning in this present darkness, which comprehends it not.

1. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, “‘Men Have Forgotten God’: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s 1983 Templeton Address,” National Review, December 11, 2018, https://www.nationalreview.com/2018/12/aleksandr-solzhenitsyn-men-have-forgotten-god-speech/.

2. Solzhenitsyn, “‘Men Have Forgotten God.’”

Preface

Every book I have written has involved incurring significant debts to numerous people, and none more so than this one. Rod Dreher floated the idea in his column at the American Conservative that someone should write an introduction to the thought of Philip Rieff, and Justin Taylor at Crossway picked up on this and asked if I would be willing to do so. Rod’s enthusiasm that I say yes closed the deal. What started as an idea for a modest introductory book has morphed into something much more ambitious, but without Rod and Justin, this work would never have been written. I am, of course, honored that Rod agreed to write the foreword.

This is the fourth book I have published with Crossway, and once again, the experience has been a delightful one for me. All the team deserves thanks, and especially David Barshinger, Darcy Ryan, Lauren Susanto, and Amy Kruis.

I did much of the research for the book during a yearlong sojourn at Princeton University during 2017–2018, where I was the William E. Simon Fellow in Religion and Public Life in the James Madison Program. It was without doubt the high point of my academic life, and I will be forever grateful to Professors Robert P. George and Bradford P. Wilson for granting me such a privilege and to Debra Parker, Ch’nel Duke, Evelyn Behling, and Duanyi Wang, whose hard work made the year so pleasant. I am also indebted to all the 2017–2018 Madison fellows. I always felt that I was by far the stupidest person in the room at the Tuesday coffee discussions over which Robby and Brad presided, but I like to think that at the end I left a little less stupid than when I first arrived. The presentation of chapter 3 to the fellows and of a synopsis of the book to an undergraduate seminar, chaired by my dear friend and fellow Madisonian John Wilsey, were also very important to forming my opinions on the relevant topics.

Numerous friends have offered thoughtful critiques of sections of the book: Nathan Pinkoski gave of his time when we were both at Princeton to help me better understand Alasdair MacIntyre and then kindly read and commented on the MacIntyre section of the manuscript. Matt Franck and Adeline Allen both generously shared their expertise in constitutional law. Any flaws in the final product are, of course, my fault.

I am also thankful to Archbishop Charles Chaput and Fran Maier not only for their personal kindness and friendship toward me but also for introducing me to the work of Augusto Del Noce via a seminar given by Carlo Lancelotti at the Archdiocese of Philadelphia.

A number of the ideas that appear in the book were first tested in lectures and discussions. I am thankful to Patrick Berch, David Hall, Todd Pruitt, Mike Allen, Scott Swain, Scott Redd, Chad Vegas, Reformed Theological Seminary, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, Princeton University, and Grove City College for providing venues for testing out some of my arguments. Aimee Byrd brought my attention to some important literature. Rosaria Butterfield provided fascinating insights into what it was like to be in the LGBTQ+ community. In addition, I am also grateful to Rusty Reno, Matt Schmitz, Julia Yost, and Ramona Tausz for allowing me to engage with the kind of cultural topics at the core of this book via the First Things website and magazine. Julia and Ramona deserve particular thanks for consistently proving that I have never been edited without improvement. Ryan T. Anderson, Serena Sigilitto, and R. J. Snell have also been very kind in allowing me to publish at Public Discourse, another wonderful venue for refining arguments and floating theories. I should also thank Ryan and Serena for permission to reuse material on Rieff for chapters 1 and 2 that first appeared in Public Discourse.

At the end of my Princeton fellowship, I had the great pleasure of taking a position at Grove City College. I am thankful to President Paul J. McNulty for encouraging my work and to Paul Kengor, Jeff Trimbath, and Robert Rider, of the Institute for Faith and Freedom, for providing me with research assistants. Lorenzo Carrazana did great work during the 2018–2019 academic year. Then, in the summer of 2019, Kirsten Holmberg took over and provided truly outstanding feedback, corrections, and commentary on a number of central chapters. It is good to have a student assistant who is unafraid to offer probing criticism of her professor’s work.

As always, Catriona provided a wonderful home environment and tolerated my academic daydreaming far beyond the call of duty. It is a blessed man indeed who has such a life partner.

Finally, I dedicate this book, with gratitude, to four dear friends: Matt and Gwen Franck and Fran and Suann Maier.

Carl R. Trueman

Grove City College

Pennsylvania

August 2019

Introduction

And worse I may be yet; the worst is not

So long as we can say “This is the worst.”

William Shakespeare, King Lear

Why This Book?

The origins of this book lie in my curiosity about how and why a particular statement has come to be regarded as coherent and meaningful: “I am a woman trapped in a man’s body.” My grandfather died in 1994, less than thirty years ago, and yet, had he ever heard that sentence uttered in his presence, I have little doubt that he would have burst out laughing and considered it a piece of incoherent gibberish. And yet today it is a sentence that many in our society regard as not only meaningful but so significant that to deny it or question it in some way is to reveal oneself as stupid, immoral, or subject to yet another irrational phobia. And those who think of it as meaningful are not restricted to the veterans of college seminars on queer theory or French poststructuralism. They are ordinary people with little or no direct knowledge of the critical postmodern philosophies whose advocates swagger along the corridors of our most hallowed centers of learning.

And yet that sentence carries with it a world of metaphysical assumptions. It touches on the connection between the mind and the body, given the priority it grants to inner conviction over biological reality. It separates gender from sex, given that it drives a wedge between chromosomes and how society defines being a man or a woman. And in its political connection to homosexuality and lesbianism via the LGBTQ+ movement, it rests on notions of civil rights and of individual liberty. In short, to move from the commonplace thinking of my grandfather’s world to that of today demands a host of key shifts in popular beliefs in these and other areas. It is the story of those shifts—or, perhaps better, of the background to those shifts—that I seek to address in subsequent chapters.

At the heart of this book lies a basic conviction: the so-called sexual revolution of the last sixty years, culminating in its latest triumph—the normalization of transgenderism—cannot be properly understood until it is set within the context of a much broader transformation in how society understands the nature of human selfhood.1 The sexual revolution is as much a symptom as it is a cause of the culture that now surrounds us everywhere we look, from sitcoms to Congress. In short, the sexual revolution is simply one manifestation of the larger revolution of the self that has taken place in the West. And it is only as we come to understand that wider context that we can truly understand the dynamics of the sexual politics that now dominate our culture.

Such a claim needs not only justification—that is the task of the rest of this book—but also clarification as to the meaning of the terms employed in making it. While many readers probably have some understanding of what is meant by sexual revolution, the idea of the self may prove somewhat more elusive. Yes, we have probably all heard of the sexual revolution, and we no doubt consider ourselves to be selves. But what exactly do I mean by these terms?

The Sexual Revolution

When I use the term sexual revolution, I am referring to the radical and ongoing transformation of sexual attitudes and behaviors that has occurred in the West since the early 1960s. Various factors have contributed to this shift, from the advent of the pill to the anonymity of the internet.

The behaviors that characterize the sexual revolution are not unprecedented: homosexuality, pornography, and sex outside the bounds of marriage, for example, have been hardy perennials throughout human history. What marks the modern sexual revolution out as distinctive is the way it has normalized these and other sexual phenomena. It is not therefore the fact that modern people look at sexually explicit material while earlier generations did not that constitutes the revolutionary nature of our times. It is that the use of pornography no longer carries the connotations of shame and social stigma it once did and has even come to be regarded as a normal part of mainstream culture. The sexual revolution does not simply represent a growth in the routine transgression of traditional sexual codes or even a modest expansion of the boundaries of what is and is not acceptable sexual behavior; rather, it involves the abolition of such codes in their entirety. More than that, it has come in certain areas, such as that of homosexuality, to require the positive repudiation of traditional sexual mores to the point where belief in, or maintenance of, such traditional views has come to be seen as ridiculous and even a sign of serious mental or moral deficiency.

The most obvious evidence of this change is the way language has been transformed to serve the purpose of rendering illegitimate any dissent from the current political consensus on sexuality. Criticism of homosexuality is now homophobia; that of transgenderism is transphobia. The use of the term phobia is deliberate and effectively places such criticism of the new sexual culture into the realm of the irrational and points toward an underlying bigotry on the part of those who hold such views. As I highlight in chapter 9, this kind of thinking underlies even decisions in the Supreme Court. It is also evident in the artifacts of popular culture: no one today needs to be told that a movie with the title The 40-Year-Old Virgin is a comedy. The very idea of someone reaching the age of forty with no experience of sexual intercourse is inherently comic because of the value society now places on sex. To be sexually inactive is to be a less-than-whole person, to be obviously unfulfilled or weird. The old sexual codes of celibacy outside marriage and chastity within it are considered ridiculous and oppressive, and their advocates wicked or stupid or both. The sexual revolution is truly a revolution in that it has turned the moral world upside down.

The Nature of the Self

The second term that needs clarification is that of the self. We all have a consciousness of being a self. At base, this connects to our sense of individuality. I am aware that I am me and not, say, George Clooney or Donald Trump. But in this book I use the term to mean more than simply a basic level of self-consciousness. For me to be a self in the sense I am using the term here involves an understanding of what the purpose of my life is, of what constitutes the good life, of how I understand myself—my self—in relation to others and to the world around me.

In this context—and as will become very clear in subsequent chapters—I am deeply indebted to the work of the Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor, particularly as found in his book Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity.2 In that work, Taylor highlights three points of significance in the modern development of what it means to be a self: a focus on inwardness, or the inner psychological life, as decisive for who we think we are; the affirmation of ordinary life that develops in the modern era; and the notion that nature provides us with an inner moral source.3 These developments manifest themselves in numerous ways. Most significant for my argument in this book, they lead to a prioritization of the individual’s inner psychology—we might even say “feelings” or “intuitions”—for our sense of who we are and what the purpose of our lives is. To leap ahead, transgenderism provides an excellent example: people who think they are a woman trapped in a man’s body are really making their inner psychological convictions absolutely decisive for who they are; and to the extent that, prior to “coming out,” they have publicly denied this inner reality, to that extent they have had an inauthentic existence. This is why the language of “living a lie” often appears in the testimonies of transgender people.

Another way of approaching the matter of the self is to ask what it is that makes a person happy. Is happiness found in directing oneself outward or inward? For example, is job satisfaction to be found in the fact that it enables me to feed and clothe my family? Or is it to be found in the fact that the very actions involved in my work bring me a sense of inner psychological well-being? The answer I give speaks eloquently of what I consider the purpose of life and the meaning of happiness. In sum, it is indicative of how I think of my self.

To return to my earlier statement, that the sexual revolution is a manifestation of a much deeper and wider revolution in what it means to be a self, my basic point should now be clear: the changes we have witnessed in the content and significance of sexual codes since the 1960s are symptomatic of deeper changes in how we think of the purpose of life, the meaning of happiness, and what actually constitutes people’s sense of who they are and what they are for. The sexual revolution did not cause the sexual revolution, nor did technology such as the pill or the internet. Those things may have facilitated it, but its causes lie much deeper, in the changes in what it meant to be an authentic, fulfilled human self. And those changes stretch back well before the Swinging Sixties.

Thinking Clearly about the Sexual Revolution

Having defined the basic terms of discussion, I want to highlight a couple of typical mistakes that individuals, particularly those who are committed to strong religious views, can make in approaching a subject like the sexual revolution. Given the contentious nature of such subjects, and often the deeply personal convictions that they involve, there is a tendency to do one of two things. First, one can so emphasize a universal, metaphysical principle to which one is committed that one fails to understand the particulars of what one is analyzing. Second, one can become so preoccupied with the particulars that one fails to see the significance of the more general context.

To illustrate the former point, in teaching history I often begin my courses by asking students the following question: “Is the statement ‘The Twin Towers fell down on 9/11 because of gravity’ true or false?” The correct response, of course, is that it is true—but as my students quickly realize, that answer actually explains nothing of any significance about the tragic events of that day. To do that with any degree of adequacy, one needs to address other factors, from American foreign policy to the rise of militant Islam. The point I am making in asking the question is simple: the universal law of gravity explains why everything in general falls toward the earth, but it explains no specific incident of such a fall with any degree of adequacy.

Those who hold to grand schemes of reality can all tend this way. The Christian might be tempted to declare that the reason for the sexual revolution was sin. People are sinful; therefore, they will inevitably reject God’s laws regarding sexuality. The Marxist might declare that the reason for the Russian Revolution was class struggle. Rich people exploit the poor; therefore, the poor will inevitably rise up in rebellion. Within the framework of each belief system, the answer is true, but in neither case are such blunt statements capable of explaining the particulars of the events in question—why the sexual revolution has thus far legitimated homosexuality but not incest, for example, or why the workers’ revolution happened in Russia and not in Germany. To answer those questions, one needs to address specific matters of context.

This approach also manifests itself in more subtle and nuanced ways. There is a tendency among social conservatives to blame expressive individualism for the problems that they regard as currently putting strain on the liberal Western order, particularly as it manifests itself in the chaos of identity politics. The difficulty with this claim is that expressive individualism is something that affects us all. It is the very essence of the culture of which we are all a part. To put it bluntly: we are all expressive individuals now. Just as some choose to identify themselves by their sexual orientation, so the religious person chooses to be a Christian or a Muslim. And this raises the question of why society finds some choices to be legitimate and others to be irrelevant or even unacceptable. The answer to that is to be found not by simply repeating the phrase “expressive individualism” but by looking at the historical development of the relationship between society at large and individual identity.

But there is an opposite problem to the temptation presented by overgeneralized explanatory schemes that one must also avoid. That is the tendency to treat symptoms in isolation. This is harder to articulate, but the speed of the transformation of sexual mores over the last two decades provides a good example. Many Christians were amazed at how swiftly society moved from a position where in the early 2000s a majority of people were broadly opposed to gay marriage to one where, by 2020, transgenderism is well on its way to becoming more or less normalized. The mistake such Christians made was failing to realize that broader, underlying social and cultural conditions made both gay marriage and then transgender ideology first plausible and then normative and that these conditions have been developing over hundreds of years. They are therefore by now very deep seated and themselves an intuitive part of life. Acceptance of gay marriage and transgenderism are simply the latest outworking, the most recent symptoms, of deep and long-established cultural pathologies.

The basic principle is this: no individual historical phenomenon is its own cause. The French Revolution did not cause the French Revolution. The First World War did not cause the First World War. Every historical phenomenon is the result of a wide variety of factors that can vary from the technological to the political to the philosophical. Without the development of atomic technology, there could have been no bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Without the Second World War, there would have been no reason to drop a bomb on Hiroshima. And without a certain philosophy of war, there would have been no justification for dropping a bomb on Hiroshima.

It is the same with the sexual revolution. It has a context—a broader revolution in how the self is understood—and emerges from a specific historical matrix. Developments in technology, in philosophy, and in politics are just three of the factors that serve to make it possible, plausible, and finally actual. They also serve to give it decisive shape and help explain why it has taken the form that it currently has. I cannot give an exhaustive account of this causal context, but what I offer in this book is an account of the intellectual shifts, and their popular impact, that have facilitated the revolution in sexual practices and thinking that now dominates key aspects of the public square.

The Argument

Part 1 of this book sets forth in two chapters some of the basic concepts that I subsequently use for exploring the historical narrative. Of particular importance here are the ideas of three philosophers of the modern condition: Philip Rieff, Charles Taylor, and Alasdair MacIntyre. Rieff developed some very useful concepts—the triumph of the therapeutic, psychological man, the anticulture, and deathworks—which I use at various points throughout parts 2 and 3. Taylor is extremely helpful both in understanding how the modern notion of the expressive self has emerged and also how this connects to the wider politics of society. His contributions on the dialogical nature of selfhood, on the nature of what he calls “the social imaginary,” and on the politics of recognition allow for answers to the question of why certain identities (e.g., LGBTQ+) enjoy great cachet today while others (e.g., religious conservatives) are increasingly marginalized. Finally, MacIntyre is useful because in a series of books starting in the early 1980s, he has repeatedly argued that modern ethical discourse has broken down because it rests ultimately on incommensurable narratives and that claims to moral truth are really expressions of emotional preference. These insights are extremely helpful in understanding both the fruitless nature and the extreme polarizing rhetoric of many of the great moral debates of our time, not least those surrounding matters of sex and identity.

Part 2 of the book looks at some important developments in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, starting with the thought of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, examining the contribution of a number of figures associated with Romanticism, and ending with discussion of the ideas of Friedrich Nietzsche, Karl Marx, and Charles Darwin. The central point here is that with the era of Rousseau and Romanticism a new understanding of human selfhood emerged, one focused on the inner life of the individual. This thinking finds its significant critical corollary in a view of society/culture as oppressive. In Percy Bysshe Shelley and William Blake in particular, this aspect of culture is identified above all with society’s Christian sexual codes and particularly with the normative status of lifelong, monogamous marriage.

This suspicion about society/culture receives added power and philosophical depth in the work of Nietzsche and Marx, who in different ways argue that the history of society is a history of power and oppression and that even notions such as human nature are constructs designed to reinforce and perpetuate this subjugation. Indeed, along with Darwin, they deal lethal blows, philosophically and scientifically, to the ideas that nature has an intrinsic meaning and that human beings have special significance or an essence that determines how they should behave. In the hands of Nietzsche, Marx, and Darwin, the world loses its innate teleology. These three effectively strip away the metaphysical foundations for both human identity and for morality, leaving the latter, as Nietzsche is happy to point out, a matter of mere taste and manipulative power games. The Romantics grounded ethics in aesthetics, in the cultivation of empathy and sympathy, confident that a universal, shared human nature provided a firm foundation for such. Nietzsche sees such arguments from taste as a manipulative means by which the weak subjugate the strong, and Marx sees them as a means of oppression by the dominant class. The groundwork for rejecting traditional morality, both philosophical and scientific, is therefore in place by the end of the nineteenth century. With Nietzsche’s genealogical approach to morality and Marx’s dialectical materialism, the foundations have also been laid for an iconoclastic view of the past—for seeing history as a tale of oppression and for making its victims into the real heroes of the narrative.

If part 2 deals with the psychologizing of the self, part 3 deals with the sexualizing of psychology and the politicizing of sex. The central figure here is that of Sigmund Freud. It is Freud, more than any other figure, who made plausible the idea that humans, from infancy onward, are at core sexual beings. It is our sexual desires that are ultimately decisive for who we are. And this belief shaped Freud’s own theory of civilization: society/culture is the result of a trade-off between the anarchic sexual drives of human beings and the necessity for them to live together in communities. When Freud’s thought is then appropriated by certain Marxist thinkers, most notably Wilhelm Reich and Herbert Marcuse, the result is a heady mix of sex and politics. The New Left that emerges from this synthesis sees oppression as a fundamentally psychological category and sexual codes as its primary instruments. The theoretical—and the rhetorical—background to the sexual revolution is therefore established.

Part 4 engages with a number of different areas of contemporary society in order to demonstrate how deeply the conceptual developments of parts 2 and 3 have come to transform modern Western culture. In chapter 8, I outline the rise to prominence of the erotic with examples from both high culture, in the form of surrealism, and pop culture, in the form of pornography. My conclusion is that the triumph of the erotic does not simply involve an expansion of the boundaries of acceptable sexual behavior or of notions of modesty but actually requires the abolition of such in their entirety. In chapter 9, I address three particular areas of relevance, the Supreme Court judgment on gay marriage, the ethics of Peter Singer, and the culture of protest on college campuses. I argue that each is a function of the broader revolution of the self that I describe in parts 2 and 3. Then, in chapter 10, I address the history of the LGBTQ+ movement, arguing that it is not the result of intrinsic affinities shared by its component parties but an alliance of historical and political convenience rooted in a shared sexual iconoclasm. I also make the case that it increasingly reveals the inherent instability of the broader project of the sexual revolution, as is clear from the current conflict that transgenderism has precipitated among feminists.

In conclusion, I offer some reflections on possible futures that we might have to face, from the difficulties posed by transgenderism and the prospects for religious freedom to ways in which the church should prepare for the challenges that are coming.

What This Book Is Not

Before moving to the main body of the argument, three further comments are necessary to clarify my purpose in writing. First, this book is not intended as an exhaustive account of how the present normative understanding of the self has emerged and come to dominate public discourse. As with all historical accounts, the narrative and analysis that I present here are both limited and provisional. I indicate in the conclusion that other factors play into the shaping of modern selfhood and the sexual revolution, not least those associated with developments in technology. Such things are beyond the scope of this book but still relevant to the phenomena that I seek to describe. My task here is limited: to demonstrate how many of the ideas now informing both the conscious thinking and the instinctive intuitions of Western men and women have deep historical roots and a coherent genealogy that helps explain why society thinks and behaves the way it does. I want to help the reader see that the debates about sexuality that increasingly dominate our public square need to be set in a much broader and deeper context than we typically acknowledge—and that all of us are to some extent implicated. It is therefore primarily a history that reveals the intellectual background of the modern revolution in selfhood with a view to showing that the ideas of key figures stretching back centuries have come to permeate our culture at all levels, from the halls of academe to the intuitions of ordinary men and women; it is not an exhaustive account of how those ideas came to do so.

Second, this book is not a lament for a lost golden age or even for the parlous state of culture as we now face it. Lamentation is popular in many conservative and Christian circles, and I have indulged in it a few times myself. No doubt the Ciceronian cry “O tempora! O mores!” has its therapeutic appeal in a therapeutic time like ours, whether as a form of Pharisaic reassurance that we are not like others, such as those in the LGBTQ+ movement, or as a means of convincing ourselves that we have the special knowledge that allows us to stand above the petty enchantments and superficial pleasures of this present age. But in terms of positive action, lamentation offers little and delivers less. As for the notion of some lost golden age, it is truly very hard for any competent historian to be nostalgic. What past times were better than the present? An era before antibiotics when childbirth or even minor cuts might lead to septicemia and death? The great days of the nineteenth century when the church was culturally powerful and marriage was between one man and one woman for life but little children worked in factories and swept chimneys? Perhaps the Great Depression? The Second World War? The era of Vietnam? Every age has had its darkness and its dangers. The task of the Christian is not to whine about the moment in which he or she lives but to understand its problems and respond appropriately to them.

Third, I have written this book with the same principle in mind that I have tried to embody in the classroom for well over a quarter century: my task as a historian is first to explain an action, an idea, or an event in context. Only when that hard work has been done can the teacher move to any kind of critique. While I cannot claim to have always attained this ideal in everything I have said or written, it seems to me that giving an accurate account of one’s opponents’ views, however obnoxious one may consider them to be, is vital, and never more so than in our age of cheap Twitter insults and casual slanders. There is nothing to be gained from refuting a straw man. In the accounts I give of, among others, Rousseau, the Romantics, Nietzsche, Marx, Darwin, Freud, the New Left, surrealism, Hugh Hefner, Anthony Kennedy, Peter Singer, Adrienne Rich, Judith Butler, and LGBTQ+ activism, I have therefore tried to be as careful and dispassionate as possible. Some readers might find this odd, given my personal dissent from much of what they each represent. But truthfulness is not optional. My hope is that I have represented the views of these groups and individuals in such a manner that, were they to read this book, they might demur to my conclusions but at least recognize themselves in my account of their thought. All historians owe that much to the subjects of their inquiries.

What I offer here is essentially a prolegomenon to the many discussions that Christians and others need to have about the most pressing issues of our day, particularly as they manifest themselves in the variety of ways in which the sexual revolution affects us—personally, culturally, legally, theologically, ecclesiastically. My aim is to explain how and why a certain notion of the self has come to dominate the culture of the West, why this self finds its most obvious manifestation in the transformation of sexual mores, and what the wider implications of this transformation are and may well be in the future. Understanding the times is a precondition of responding appropriately to the times. And understanding the times requires a knowledge of the history that has led up to the present. This book is intended as a small contribution to that vital task.

1. I am aware that LGBTQ+ people object to the term transgenderism as indicating a denial of the reality of transgender people and therefore as a pejorative term. Nonetheless, I use it in this book to point to the underlying philosophical assumptions that must be regarded as correct if a person’s claim to be transgender is to be seen as coherent. If it is legitimate for LGBTQ+ theorists and advocates to use terms such as cisgenderism to refer to the ideology that underlies opposition to the transgender movement, then it is also legitimate to use transgenderism to refer to the ideology that underpins it. For the meaning and use of cisgenderism as a term, see Erica Lennon and Brian J. Mistler, “Cisgenderism,” Transgender Studies Quarterly 1, nos. 1–2 (2014): 63–64, https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-2399623. It is also worth noting that the term transgenderism was itself used by transgender groups in the 1970s: see Cristan Williams, “Transgender,” Transgender Studies Quarterly 1, nos. 1–2 (2014): 232–34, https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-2400136. The anathematizing of the term is a good example of how one group uses language to privilege its own position and delegitimize that of its critics, an accusation usually aimed at conservatives but clearly no monopoly of one particular side.

2. Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989).

3. Taylor, Sources of the Self, x.

Part 1

Architecture of the Revolution

1

Reimagining the Self

You see, but you do not observe.

Sherlock Holmes, A Scandal in Bohemia

I noted in the introduction that the underlying argument of this book is that the sexual revolution, and its various manifestations in modern society, cannot be treated in isolation but must rather be interpreted as the specific and perhaps most obvious social manifestation of a much deeper and wider revolution in the understanding of what it means to be a self. While sex may be presented today as little more than a recreational activity, sexuality is presented as that which lies at the very heart of what it means to be an authentic person. That is a profound claim that is arguably unprecedented in history. How that situation comes to be is a long and complicated story, and I can address only a few of the most salient aspects of the relevant narrative in a single volume. And even before I attempt to do so, it is first necessary to set forth a number of basic theoretical concepts that provide a framework, a set of what we might describe as architectural principles, for structuring and analyzing the personalities, events, and ideas that play into the rise of the modern self.

In this task, the writings of three analysts of modernity are particularly useful: Charles Taylor, the philosopher; Philip Rieff, the psychological sociologist; and Alasdair MacIntyre, the ethicist.1 While all three have different emphases and concerns, they offer accounts of the modern world that share certain important affinities and also provide helpful insights into understanding not simply how modern Western society thinks but how and why it has come to think the way that it does. In this chapter and the next, therefore, I want to offer an outline of some of their key ideas that help set the scene for the interpretation of our contemporary world offered in the subsequent account of how the concept of the modern psychologized and sexualized self has emerged.

The Social Imaginary

To return to the questions I posed in the introduction: How has the current highly individualistic, iconoclastic, sexually obsessed, and materialistic mindset come to triumph in the West? Or, to put the question in a more pressing and specific fashion, as I did earlier, Why does the sentence “I am a woman trapped in a man’s body” make sense not simply to those who have sat in poststructuralist and queer-theory seminars but to my neighbors, to people I pass on the street, to coworkers who have no particular political ax to grind and who are blissfully unaware of the rebarbative jargon and arcane concepts of Michel Foucault and his myriad epigones and incomprehensible imitators? The statement is, after all, emblematic of a view of personhood that has almost completely dispensed with the idea of any authority beyond that of personal, psychological conviction, an oddly Cartesian notion: I think I am a woman, therefore I am a woman. How did such a strange idea become the common orthodox currency of our culture?

To make some attempt at addressing the issue, it is useful to take note of a helpful concept deployed by Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor in his analysis of how societies think, that of the social imaginary. Taylor is interesting because he is a philosopher whose work also engages with broader historical and sociological themes. In A Secular Age, he offers a major analysis of the way modern society in general, and not just the intellectual classes, has moved away from being permeated by Christianity and religious faith to the point that such are no longer the default for the majority of people but actually are rather exceptional. In the course of his argument, he introduces the idea of the social imaginary to address the question of how theories developed by social elites might be related to the way ordinary people think and act, even when such people have never read these elites or spent any time self-consciously reflecting on the implications of their theories. Here is how he defines the concept:

I want to speak of “social imaginary” here, rather than social theory, because there are important differences between the two. There are, in fact, several differences. I speak of “imaginary” (i) because I’m talking about the way ordinary people “imagine” their social surroundings, and this is often not expressed in theoretical terms, it is carried in images, stories, legends, etc. But it is also the case that (ii) theory is often the possession of a small minority, whereas what is interesting in the social imaginary is that it is shared by large groups of people, if not the whole society. Which leads to a third difference: (iii) the social imaginary is that common understanding which makes possible common practices, and a widely shared sense of legitimacy.2

As Taylor describes it here, the social imaginary is a somewhat amorphous concept precisely because it refers to the myriad beliefs, practices, normative expectations, and even implicit assumptions that members of a society share and that shape their daily lives. It is not so much a conscious philosophy of life as a set of intuitions and practices. In sum, the social imaginary is the way people think about the world, how they imagine it to be, how they act intuitively in relation to it—though that is emphatically not to make the social imaginary simply into a set of identifiable ideas.3 It is the totality of the way we look at our world, to make sense of it and to make sense of our behavior within it.

This is a very helpful concept precisely because it takes account of the fact that the way we think about many things is not grounded in a self-conscious belief in a particular theory of the world to which we have committed ourselves. We live our lives in a more intuitive fashion than that. The fact that “I am a woman trapped in a man’s body” makes sense to Joe Smith probably has far less to do with him being committed to an elaborate understanding of the nature of gender and its relationship to biological sex than to the fact that it seems intuitively correct to affirm someone in his or her chosen identity and hurtful not to do so, however strange the particulars of that self-identification might have seemed to previous generations. We might perhaps say that, looked at from this angle, the social imaginary is a matter of intuitive social taste. And the question of how the tastes and intuitions of the general public are formed is the question of how the social imaginary comes to take the shape that it does.

Sometimes, as Taylor notes, the theories of the elite do infiltrate these imaginaries.4 For example, the ideas of Luther on church authority came to grip the popular imagination in sixteenth-century Saxony and beyond through myriad popular pamphlets and woodcuts designed to have an impact on everyday people. And one might add that sometimes the theories of the elite have an affinity with elements of the existing social imaginary that reinforces them, that provides them with an idiom by which they might be expressed or justified, or that transforms them. Sexual identity politics might be a good example, whereby sex outside the ideal of monogamous heterosexual marriage has always occurred but has only recently become much easier to transact (with the advent of cheap and efficient contraception). It has also moved from being primarily personal in significance to also being political, given the debates that swirl around abortion, birth control, and LGBTQ+ matters. The way this occurred is fairly simple to discern: first, there was the promiscuous behavior; then there was the technology to facilitate it, in the form of contraception and antibiotics; and, as technology enabled the sexually promiscuous to avoid the natural consequences of their actions (unwanted pregnancies, disease), so those rationales that justified the behavior became more plausible (and arguments against it became less so), and therefore the behavior itself became more acceptable.

Any account of the sexual revolution and of the underlying revolution in the understanding of the self, of which the sexual revolution is simply the latest iteration, must therefore not simply take into account the ideas of the cultural elite but must also look at how the intuitions of society at large have been formed. Ideas in themselves are only part of the story. The notion of the self that makes transgenderism plausible certainly has its theoretical and philosophical rationales. But it is also the product of much wider cultural phenomena that have shaped the intuitions of those who are blissfully unaware of its various intellectual origins and metaphysical assumptions.

Mimesis and Poiesis

A second useful element in Taylor’s work that connects to the social imaginary and to which we will have recourse is the relationship between mimesis and poiesis. Put simply, these terms refer to two different ways of thinking about the world. A mimetic view regards the world as having a given order and a given meaning and thus sees human beings as required to discover that meaning and conform themselves to it. Poiesis, by way of contrast, sees the world as so much raw material out of which meaning and purpose can be created by the individual.

Both of Taylor’s major works—Sources of the Self and A Secular Age—are narratives that tell the story of the move in Western culture from a predominantly mimetic view of the world to one that is primarily poietic. Various matters characterize this shift. As society moves from a view of the world as possessing intrinsic meaning, so it also moves away from a view of humanity as having a specific, given end. Teleology is thereby attenuated, whether it is that of Aristotle, with his view of man as a political animal and his understanding of ethics as an important function of that, or that of Christianity, with its notion that human life in this earthly sphere is to be regulated by the fact that humanity’s ultimate destiny is eternal communion with God.

Again, the story of this shift is not simply one that can be told in terms of great thinkers and their ideas. It is true that individuals such as René Descartes and Francis Bacon served to weaken the significance of the connection between the divine and the created, and therefore of a teleological understanding of human nature, which one finds in the thought of a thinker such as Thomas Aquinas.5 But for a poietic view of reality to eclipse the mimetic in the social imaginary, other factors must be at play.

To make this point more clearly, one might reflect on the nature of life in medieval Europe, a predominantly agrarian society. Given that agricultural technology was then, by today’s standards, relatively primitive, farming was utterly dependent on geography and the seasons. These were givens; while the farmer would plough up the ground and scatter the seed, he had no control over the weather, minimal control over the soil, and thus comparatively little control over whether his endeavors would succeed. That might well have meant for many that they had no control over life or death: they were entirely at the mercy of the environment.