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Americans typically lack a basic knowledge of history, literature, music, philosophy; the void left by what was previously thought of as civilization is filled by self-help, sports, advertising, finance, and the political horserace. For all of his unpopularity, Donald Trump is the perfect American president, the one we deserve: arrogant, stupid, but a tremendous practical manipulator of power and wielder of influence. The operative desire — the half-fulfilled wish — of American culture is to be left alone with one’s meaningless life: nihilism crossed with libertarianism, sensationalism plus ennui. The gradual liquidation of high culture has made us all to the mind-hammering sameness of mass culture — or what, in the 21st century, might be renamed max culture: the culture of maximum stimulation. Somehow, the multiplication of technological power — the harnessing of energy and resources — has not resulted in the multiplication of human happiness. It is easier to live longer — less people die young or in childbirth etc — but it’s not necessarily easier to live more meaningfully. Most people— if they really thought about it — would rather wake up on a frigid day to chop would than wake up with electric heat, on a slushy, unnaturally warm winter day, to read the New York Times on their tablet. We don’t now it, but we’re bored and restless, physically immured in a kind of staring contest with digital media. I can’t imagine this will go on forever: there has to be some kind of reaction, some kind of break-away. It may be centuries in the future, but people will demand to break out of this feudalism of the mind, the serfdom of consciousness.
