History is a Rubber Band, not a Steel Pipe
The arc of history does not bend--but it can be bent.
I have an unpopular opinion I’d like to tell you guys; redundancy isn’t a vice. Especially in today’s world, sometimes repeating yourself is necessary. Ideas that have already been explained sometimes need to be explained again, and things that don’t have to be said sometimes have to be said.
That being said, let me repeat something that has been said ad nauseum; words matter. What you say, and how you say it, has meaning beyond the definitions of the words themselves. If I say, “the tree moved” that implies independent impetus on the part of the tree. It suggests (even if the person listening understands otherwise) that something within the tree itself caused it to move. Conversely, if I say, “the tree has been moved” that implies something acting on the tree. The first statement assumes a fluidity, and independent action, inherent to the tree; the latter, a static object to be acted upon.
I’m sure many of you are thinking something along the lines of, “well, obviously a tree does not move by itself, so why would it matter which phrase you use?” To be frank; you’re right. This example is so arbitrary on its face that it seems unnecessary to say. I use it, however, to illustrate that even the most mundane of language differences and the most minute of situations can imply important distinctions. It does not matter in this case, because it is obvious that a tree does not move by itself, but what about in cases of more complex ideas that require more intellectual work to understand?
I set up this thought experiment because today, finally, I want to address an issue I have hinted at in the past and have been contemplating for months now. In my article Fukuyama's Moment, I briefly discuss the idea that aspects of history are inevitable in the context of the post-Cold War era and what is happening in today’s world. In that article, I critiqued what I thought was a faulty notion found in Fukuyama’s article The End of History that with the end of the Cold War the ideas of liberal democracy were inevitable. Today, I do not want to get back into that article or Fukuyama’s presumption, but instead expound upon my personal view of history and why it matters how we talk about ideas.
As I said in the Fukuyama article, there is a notion prevalent across the political and intellectual spectrum that there are aspects of history that are inevitable. This idea is particularly prevalent to progressivism (as one would expect from a movement that assumes “progress”), but it appears in language people across the spectrum use regularly. Think about how many times you’ve heard the term “reactionary” used to describe certain ideas, or how often you see people and ideas described as “forward” or “backward”. President Biden, for example, recently claimed that MAGA Republican’s want to move the country backwards with their ideas. More anecdotally, I once had a conservative acquaintance of mine claim “the world had moved past classical liberalism”, as if some magic property of time had made those ideas obsolete.
All of these terms imply a direction to history; they suggest that certain ideas are true not because of anything related to the idea, but because of their presumed place in some abstract flow of history. Indeed, even the phrase “the flow of history” implies this; how often do you see, hear, or conceive of history as a stream? In my experience, that view seems dominant, and why wouldn’t it? Time, seemingly, only moves one way, so why wouldn’t it hold that ideas do the same?
The issue I have with this notion is that describing ideas as “forward” or “backward” is, in my view, intellectually lazy. That is not to say that the people using these terms are lazy; indeed, some of the smartest, most intellectually thoughtful people I know use these terms. What I mean by this is that using these phrases and descriptions of ideas suggests that they will be beaten and forgotten by the passage of time itself. This was my criticism of Fukuyama’s essay, and the seeming adoption of its ideas in the West; if liberal democracy is inevitable, and opposing ideas doomed to failure, there is less urgency to defend it. For this same reason I despise the use of the phrase “the arc of history bends.” It suggests that, in the long run, some ideas will win out not by merit but simply by being chosen by history. It implies that history has a momentum onto itself.
This isn’t true. History has no momentum, because history is not a stream. It is, at its essence, a string of infinite moments. Ideas are true or false not because history deems it so, but because they are true or false onto themselves. This distinction is important, because it serves as a reminder that the ideas we believe are true must be defended. This is why, to the chagrin of some, I find it necessary to engage with all ideas no matter how heinous; ideas cannot be killed, or permanently forgotten. Good ideas must be constantly defended, and bad ideas constantly disproven, because they will continue to exist in perpetuity.
Now, that is not to say that there is no arc of history. Indeed, it seems self-evident that certain ideas have risen to prominence and stayed there, despite challenges to them. This is not because of some historical impetus, however, but because of a constant defense. The arc of history does not bend by itself, but it can, through constant effort, be bent. History is not a steel pipe, bent permanently into a certain shape, but a rubber band. It can be bent, but that bend requires a permanent effort on the part of those who seek to bend it. As a student of John Locke and proponent of classical liberalism, I believe in certain universal truths about the nature of man and the rights he possesses. I understand, however, that these truths must be defended, always, because they cannot defend themselves, and because there is nothing inherent in the movement of time that suggests these ideas will remain prominent without a defense. The current moment, with all of the threats classical liberalism currently faces, is proof of this.
Regardless of what ideas you espouse, however, this principle holds true. There is no permanence to the passage of time. Going back to my point on the importance of word choice, it matters how we talk about the ideas we want to defend, or discredit, because if the words we choose imply certain things to those listening. It is incumbent on us to remember this, to make a conscious effort in how we talk about certain things, because nothing is written in stone. No ideas are inevitable, and if we can refrain from talking about them as such we will be much better off for it.
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Good arguments. I especially like the phrasing that history doesn’t bend itself but can be bent by our efforts.
In many ways, caring about nuances and distinctions and the little subtleties of language (which many people seem to think don’t matter) is a fundamentally small-c conservative trait. “It’s just an expression,” people will say about something. The natural response is, “what do you mean ‘just?’”
As to your redundancy point, I know you meant redundancy in rhetoric and not in general, but Nassim Taleb, in his classic book Antifragile, makes a very interesting defense of redundancy which you might like given it’s lack of popularity.