An Atheist Laments the Loss of Spirituality

I write a lot about influences on my personal philosophy and worldview. 2 undergraduate history courses had a great impact on who I am today.The first was "19th Century Europe," and the second, "The History of Modern Japan." Time-wise, there was overlap, obviously, with both classes focusing on the "long century" that was the 19th. Chronologically, the 19th century was clearly as long as any other. However, certain historians designate the ideological underpinnings and mindset that came to signify the 19th century as beginning in 1789 (first French Revolution) and ending with the outbreak of WW1 in 1914. There is a dialectical forking that persists through this long century - one marked by the ideological optimism of Enlightenment thought that brought sweeping reforms as well as medical, social and technological advancements which ultimately made life more easily lived by most; the other prong characterized by a cynical secularism that arose from the waning power of religious ideology - a disregard for most of human history by training the eye always forward.

These two paths, I'd argue, didn't really coalesce into a new formation until after the devastation of the first truly "world" war. There is something absolutely beautifully breathtaking in the scope of the existential crises that WW1 inflicted upon humanity. Nietzsche was right about the men of his time - the scientists, the secularists, the non-believers in anything spiritual- so sure of themselves that the only thing that mattered was the material. If or when their "spirit" of life sought solace, the only choice became destruction - death. Such a man is capable of committing suicide to alleviate his angst, but only through mass homicide. And thus, the very long 19th century, one marked by practices in  restraint and propriety and logic, led to a bungle so heinous that the world was forever transformed, but scarred, in the process. Thus, for all of the measured control exerted by the Victorians, they succumbed to the same crushing defeat (through mass carnage) as any other historical era.

The burgeoning world power that was Japan at the end of the 19th century (fin de siecle) shared Western Europe's ideological, future-oriented optimism. However, the reasons I gravitated toward Japanese literature were grounded in their philosophical outlook - the first being that "Japanese existential essence." The canonical works (and even entire forms of expression like haiku) reflect Buddhism steeped in fatalistic waters. Japan lies on fault lines, hosts volcanoes, experiences real catastrophes based on sea level changes and is at the forefront of tsunami activity in the Pacific.  Secondly, in many works from the fin de siecle through WW2, the meteoric rise of a culture so divorced from real spirituality is evident. Rituals and relationships begin to ring hollow, and yet leaders push them to mean more and more. After the fall of the Japanese Empire in 1945 through such a brutal explosion of force (re: the atomic bomb) a new interface between existentialism and nihilism opened up. The collective consciousness of an entire nation became one of post traumatic stress disorder.

Personally, that type of existential crises intrigues me. How does someone (or in this case, an entire people) overcome such trauma? Not that my culture has ever experienced anywhere near that level of devastation (maybe some of the more recent hurricanes would fit the bill, but even those were not colored by the same gravity of being a choice made by humans to inflict directly on other humans), but for many empathetic people, one can imagine how quickly everything you know could change. We all know people whose lives were going one way....until they weren't anymore. On the other hand, American culture likes to promote only the successful stories - the rags-to-riches (and even the riches-to-riches) tales. As a species, we tend to learn more from the oppositely-oriented ones.

Subsequently, the development of Japan in the post-WW2 era is also fascinating. Fast-forwarding to today, the country's embrace of technological advancements and capitalism created a society of commodification. No time for a relationship? Go to a host club. No time for a pet of your own? Visit a cat cafe for the afternoon. Is the spiritual edge that once stirred me still there? According to various news reports in the past few years, old ways are indeed dying out. Less and less people are identifying as a member of any particular religion, and without patrons, historic temples are shuttering. Beyond the rise of secularism, Japan also faces a crisis of being at zero population growth. Is this a natural ebbing which will be followed by a flowing of fertility? Or has intense commodification wrought these changes? Much like in the Western world, many people of childbearing age delay having children due to extended educational careers, economic instability and generalized anxiety over bringing a child into a seemingly tumultuous world.

Would things be different if there was some degree of spiritual grounding? Populations that identify as religious have a been studied to have higher birth rates. Is there less anxiety about the future (and your children's futures) if a god/gods is/are involved? Personally, the idea of having children never scared me, nor did I think of "the right time" as being any other time than the present. Perhaps that's a stupid, short-sighted way of approaching the big responsibility of bringing another life into this world, but it's also a biological impulse for many that doesn't really warrant that much thought. People successfully had children when they were mucking around as serfs on some lord's lands. Children were brought into this world in the middle of wars, under enslavement, in concentration camps, during diasporas - in other words, the absolute worst conditions humans could endure. So the middle class professional who's "just waiting for the right time to bear children" might be overthinking things a bit. An industry of child-rearing books, products and experts has stripped away what humans have been able to do naturally, even under duress, for millennia.

Thus, the restrictions we face are often put upon us by ourselves. This fact is evident from about day 3 of being a parent or ever being in charge of anyone (even for a short period of time). Why the fuck do we care to continue to restrict human potential? Are we carrying on in ways we know are unsustainable, illusory, etc? What could possibly end some, even if not all, of the destructive behaviors we engage in? Literally wading through consistently flooded streets? And what can replace the desires that are not acted upon? Distractions...material accumulation? Virtual realities? I would constantly ask myself these questions while studying the 19th century, as I do regarding our society now. Surely we do not live in such a buttoned-up era as the Victorians, but there is some overlap ideologically. The confusing social milieu of now leads to personal censorship akin to the propriety of our predecessors. Say the wrong thing, share the wrong meme, and *poof* "cancelled." The fear of being shunned has dampened personal expression and experimentation. There is little room for mistakes. So people don't even try, as not to fail.

Perhaps with God being dead (and we, and our forebears in Western society, having killed him), the only way out of endless material accumulation IS (self) destruction.And not mass suicide or suicide through homicide, but the tearing down of a system that has failed. For the sake of all of us, and especially for the sake of the generations recently or even yet to be born, fuck this society. Let's band together to build a new, communal one.