David Brooks has announced that he is leaving The New York Times, for an as-yet unexplained position involving Yale University.
Most days when the Times publishes a Brooks article, I read it–often with appreciation, other times shaking my head at what comes across as a self-satisfied imperviousness to contrary understandings. (His warnings against elitism display a lack of self-awareness–in my view, Brooks is the epitome of an elitist.)
That said, most of this “goodby” article belongs in the perceptive category. I entirely agree with this paragraph:
In reality, I’ve long believed that there is a weird market failure in American culture. There are a lot of shows on politics, business and technology, but there are not enough on the fundamental questions of life that get addressed as part of a great liberal arts education: How do you become a better person? How do you find meaning in retirement? Does America still have a unifying national narrative? How do great nations recover from tyranny?
Brooks steps back and takes a long view of what can only be described as American decline: the loss of faith in democracy, in America’s goodness, in technology and especially in our fellow Americans. As he points out, Barack Obama could run a presidential campaign on hope as recently as 2008, but other trends have erased that hopefulness.
The Iraq war shattered America’s confidence in its own power. The financial crisis shattered Americans’ faith that capitalism when left alone would produce broad and stable prosperity. The internet did not usher in an era of deep connection but rather an era of growing depression, enmity and loneliness. Collapsing levels of social trust revealed a comprehensive loss of faith in our neighbors. The rise of China and everything about Donald Trump shattered our serene assumptions about America’s role in the world.
He lists evidence that America is a “sadder, meaner and more pessimistic country” these days. Public discourse is distressingly negative. Majorities believe the country is in decline. Americans distrust experts and so-called elites. “Only 13 percent of young adults believe America is heading in the right direction. Sixty-nine percent of Americans say they do not believe in the American dream.”
Brooks sees nihilism everywhere, especially in Donald Trump, and–like so many of us–finds it incredible and immensely disheartening that In the election of 2024, “77 million American voters looked at Trump and saw nothing morally disqualifying about the man.” Then he makes a point I have frequently made. It isn’t just Trump.
It’s tempting to say that Trump corrupted America. But the shredding of values from the top was preceded by a decades-long collapse of values from within. Four decades of hyper-individualism expanded individual choice but weakened the bonds between people. Multiple generations of students and their parents fled from the humanities and the liberal arts, driven by the belief that the prime purpose of education is to learn how to make money.
Brooks returns to one of his favorite themes–that Americans occupy a “naked public square,” that we lack a shared moral order. He bemoans what he calls the “privatization of morality,” and says the lack of shared standards makes social cohesion impossible. There is both truth and danger in that assertion. A shared morality/philosophy is important–but so is the content of those shared commitments.
After all, White Christian nationalists agree with Brooks–and are intent upon dictating the contents of that “shared morality.”
I strongly believe that a shared allegiance to the principles of America’s founding documents–the importance of individual liberty, civic equality and the rule of law, rather than a shared theology or the “spiritual climate” Brooks recommends–provide a sufficient basis upon which Americans can and should clothe that naked public square.
I do agree with Brooks’ assertion that a “true humanism” that upholds the dignity of each person is the antidote to nihilism. True humanism, as he says, “comes in many flavors”– secular, Christian, Jewish and so on. He defines it as “any endeavor that deepens our understanding of the human heart, any gesture that makes other people feel seen, heard and respected.”
Finally, Brooks recommends that readers engage in what he calls the “Great Conversation” over theology, philosophy, psychology, history, literature, music, the study of global civilizations and the arts. What he doesn’t seem to recognize is that he’s preaching to a relatively small choir. (A criticism that admittedly could be leveled at this blog.) One of the thorniest issues we face is how to engage all or most of our fellow Americans in a common conversation–how we bridge the distances between the bubbles we inhabit.
The essay is quintessential Brooks. He’ll be missed.
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