I'm done with the nihilism
Retreating from the world won't save it: Thinking about recent elections, my state of mind, real-world filter bubbles, and our current Biedermeier age.
It's been a month since Donald Trump was elected US president again and my emotional reaction whenever I hear anything about him now is a bit between “oh yeah, almost forgot”, “guess this is how the world works now”, “of course he'd do this outrageous thing, sounds about right” and “that's bad. oh well, on to more important things: my personal problems”.
In an attempt to protect myself, I kind of stopped caring.
Of course, after the last couple of years we’re all exhausted and more than a bit disillusioned. And I really wouldn’t find this impulse so bad (protecting your mental health is important and all that) if I didn’t notice the same reaction in myself and many others in response to pretty much every other big topic today. Ukraine is getting closer and closer to losing the war against Russia. Children are being radicalised on TikTok. Climate change is still very much a thing. — And yet, I hear less and less worry and concern in conversations, not more. A decided shift to “what did you expect? that’s how the world works” and “nothing I do has an impact anyway”. (If people even let you bring up the topic, you downer.)
Like we’ve collectively resigned ourselves to our fate.
We seem to have lost all belief that we can actually have an impact on how the world works, and seem to have forgotten that we’re actually a part of a community.
For years, our hyper-individualised society has told us that whatever big problems there are, they’re definitely your fault. As an individual. You took a plane, you ate a steak, you didn’t recycle enough, you didn’t check your privilege, you didn’t consider every possible angle before posting something online. So really, what did you expect?No person can carry all these expectations alone; no wonder we’re exhausted.
But now I feel like we’re overcompensating by basically saying “oh well, I can’t do anything about that” and thereby absolving ourselves from even having to try. There’s a delicate balance between caring for ourselves and holding ourselves accountable — and lately we’re definitely more focused on the former.
“I can’t do anything alone”, so apparently it’s then better to do nothing and wait for some higher force to magically make change happen (“the universe”, god, a utopian technological solution, or simply “someone else”). What happened to collective action?
We seem to have lost all belief that we can actually have an impact on how the world works, and seem to have forgotten that we’re actually a part of a community.
The new Biedermeier: real-world filter bubbles
Much has been said about filter bubbles online and they’re generally considered a “bad thing” (unless when you need new music recommendations and your algorithm just “gets you”).
However, I’m increasingly more worried about our real-world filter bubbles getting smaller and smaller. People used to talk to each other at the bakery, the butcher, the green-grocer, the bus, the church, the pub, the weekly aerobic class. Now we use the self-checkout at the supermarket, we look at our phone in the bus, we don’t go to church anymore, we reserve our restaurant table online or order takeout, and we have a gym membership that allows us to work out alone.
When was the last time you had a real-world conversation with someone who wasn’t “in your bubble”? Someone who you didn’t know from work, your friend group, or your favourite yoga studio? Someone with a very different opinion? A very different socio-economic background?
Biedermeier was a cultural era in Central Europe in the 19th century characterised by people turning inward toward private (rather than public or political) life, with a great artistic emphasis on interior design and furniture. Sound familiar? It feels very much like what we are doing: Focusing on our habits, nutrition, and exercise plans, the winter arc and the 5-9, the orange ambient lighting and the perfect mid-century sideboard.
The outside world feels scary and exhausting and complex — but inside it feels safe and cosy and the worst thing is having to get up at 5am for the scheduled two hour morning routine.
It’s not that we don’t have real-world connections or go outside at all anymore, it’s that we’re focusing on our closest circle possible — loose connections fall by the wayside. Meanwhile, social media gives us the illusion that we are interacting with people all day anyway, when all we’re doing is watching 15s videos. Sometimes I feel less like part of a community or society and more part of a target audience.
All of this comes at a time of intense geopolitical, environmental, humanitarian, and ethical challenges. We’re withdrawing into our homes exactly when a strong civic society is needed more than ever.
Going out into the world
We have to say goodbye to the fantasy that democratic progress and equality will just automatically continue to increase forever and ever without us having to do more than vote every 4-5 years. Our democracy and communities and shared understanding of truth are under threat and we need to make an effort to rebuild them.
But how are we supposed to connect with people outside our bubbles when, deep down, we’re convinced they’re either too stupid or too far gone to listen? While Trump fans aren’t exactly well-known for their loving behaviour, this tendency is definitely also a big problem on the Left. There is a persistent belief that progressive parties are simply “right” and should be in power — and if people don’t vote for them, it’s because these people are either idiots or evil. A 2021 study in the UK showed that Labour voters have much more negative views of Conservatives than the other way around — but how are you going to convince someone to vote for your side next time if you don’t like them and dismiss their concerns?
How can we strike the balance between taking people’s worries and fears and opinions seriously, while also keeping them accountable?
I’m past the point of believing we can simply change people’s minds with perfectly constructed arguments — reality only barely seems to have an impact on voting decisions anymore: Whether people feel like the economy, crime, or society as a whole are getting worse (and whether a political party is doing something against it) seems more important than whether that's actually the case.
But feelings aren’t trivial: they’re at the base of all our experiences. If we want to fight the populist and anti-democratic forces, we’re going to need feelings. We’re going to need connections. We’re going to need pluralism. A community that stands for something, not just against everything.
So how do we turn things around?
I can’t stop a war, or climate change, or online radicalisation. It’s going to need many of us. But I can make sure that the feelings of disconnect and fear and “everything is getting worse, things used to be better” can’t spread in my little sphere of action. I can speak out against injustice and talk about good things that are happening. I can rebuild those loose connections to people outside my usual bubble and foster some understanding for the respective other side. I can vote for people who are committed to working together and building something rather than destroying things. I can vote by choosing what to buy and by choosing where to spend my time.
The world, with all its evils, is terrible and scary. But it’s also beautiful and loving and your actions do have an impact, however small.
I’m going to let myself care again. A lot.
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Incidentally, the Biedermeier period ended with the European Revolutions of 1848, which brought an upsurge of nationalism, but also had people demanding greater political freedom, social reforms, and a free press. It’s in our hands what comes next.
Related:
Some content I found interesting while working on this newsletter edition:
The concept of a “greenlash”.
It’s five years old, but I found this article about “the mindfulness conspiracy” (and how our society’s neoliberalism and hyper-individualisation are discouraging collective action) still relevant.
This paper about “culture wars in the UK”, which contains some interesting data on how labour supporters have more negative views about Conservatives than the reverse (NB: paper is from 2021).
This analysis by the Financial Times (€) about how this year, in a period of economic and geopolitical turmoil, incumbents worldwide have lost vote share in their respective elections. (Free German version with the same graph here.)
This newsletter post by Austrian journalist and internet expert Ingrid Brodnig (in German), about civil courage in bleak times.
This video by Mina Le about the “Friendless Era” and how human interactions are becoming more and more transactional.
“Related” is maybe a strong word here, but there is a quote from sci-fi TV show Doctor Who (yes) that whenever I read it makes me want to really care about and fight for our planet and the people on it: “There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea is asleep and the rivers dream. People made of smoke, and cities made of song. Somewhere there’s danger, somewhere there’s injustice, and somewhere else the tea’s getting cold. Come on, Ace, we’ve got work to do!”
Things I’ve loved lately
I don’t want this newsletter to be all gloomy, so here are some (very much unrelated) things that have made me happy lately:
The few snowflakes December has brought so far.
The news about Orcas bringing back the 80s fashion trend of wearing dead salmon hats (I choose to ignore the recent, more nuanced interpretations).
I went to a workshop to make a (fancy) Advent wreath last weekend and not only was it two hours of blissful, mindful, screen-free time, I also now get insanely happy whenever I look at my finished wreath.
Three songs currently on repeat: “On your side” by The Last Dinner Party, “Bad Day” by R.E.M, and “Du kriegst mich nicht zurück” by Faber.