a brief history of the meaning of life

Note: This is a conversation with ChatGPT 4o.

Give me a brief history of the meaning of life.

The question of the meaning of life has evolved across history. In ancient times, many cultures, including the Greeks, saw life’s purpose as tied to virtue, harmony with the cosmos, and pleasing the gods. For monotheistic religions like Christianity and Islam, life’s meaning centered around fulfilling God’s will and attaining salvation. With the rise of modern philosophy, thinkers like Nietzsche rejected fixed meanings, emphasizing individual purpose. In the postmodern era, meaning is often seen as subjective and fluid. Recently, focus has shifted towards meaning-making through personal experience and connection with others.

the ancients

What’s the deal with theism? Like, why have so many different cultures come to believe in gods?

Theism emerged in many cultures as a way to explain the unknown and provide structure to life. Early humans faced natural forces they couldn’t control or understand, like weather, disease, and death. Deities offered explanations for these mysteries, acting as personifications of nature’s forces. Theism also provided a social framework for moral order and community, creating shared values and purpose. Belief in gods often evolved to reflect a culture’s needs, offering comfort, authority, or cosmic significance, uniting people and helping them cope with existential questions.

So gods emerged as a way to explain the unknown. But there are different approaches that could have been taken. For one, you can simply accept the unknown. But even if you can’t accept it, there are other ways to explain the unknown besides gods. So why did so many cultures choose gods? Are humans beset by some universal temptation to anthropomorphize?

Yes, humans seem to have a universal tendency to anthropomorphize—the attribution of human traits, emotions, or intentions to non-human entities. This likely stems from our social nature and cognitive wiring. We’re adept at recognizing patterns and attributing agency, which helps us navigate complex social dynamics. When faced with the unknown, we instinctively project these patterns onto the world, attributing human-like qualities (intentions, emotions) to natural forces, which made gods a natural explanation.

This anthropomorphism also provided a sense of control and relationship. Gods could be appeased, negotiated with, or understood in human terms, giving people a sense of agency over their fate. While other approaches like acceptance of the unknown or purely abstract explanations were possible, gods offered relatable, tangible figures for making sense of life’s mysteries, shaping moral codes, and fostering community through shared beliefs. The emotional comfort and social cohesion gods provided likely made theistic explanations particularly enduring across cultures.

While the ancient may have seen “life’s purpose as tied to virtue, harmony with the cosmos, and pleasing the gods,” they didn’t explicitly use the term “meaning of life”, did they?

You’re right—the explicit phrase “meaning of life” wasn’t used in ancient times as it is today. The concept as we understand it is more modern, shaped by existentialist and philosophical movements. Ancient cultures framed life’s purpose in terms of virtue, harmony, and pleasing the gods, but they didn’t typically discuss it in terms of “meaning” in the same way we do. Their focus was more on living well, fulfilling duties, and aligning with cosmic or divine order, rather than explicitly questioning life’s meaning in an abstract, philosophical sense. The modern preoccupation with “meaning” reflects changes in thought, especially post-Enlightenment, as existentialism and secular philosophy began to explore life’s purpose beyond religious or cosmic mandates.

Is it fair to make the generalization that life in ancient times was brutal, so people were too focused on survival to worry about the meaning of life?

It’s a fair observation that life in ancient times was often brutal, with people facing hardships like war, disease, and famine. Survival was indeed a central concern. However, it would be an oversimplification to say that ancient people were too focused on survival to contemplate deeper questions about existence. Even in harsh conditions, many ancient cultures engaged deeply with questions of purpose, morality, and the cosmos. Philosophical and religious traditions, such as those in ancient Greece, India, and China, show that people were concerned with the “good life,” virtue, and the nature of existence.

While survival was a priority, the pursuit of meaning, purpose, and alignment with cosmic or divine forces was still central to many ancient cultures, often intertwined with their understanding of survival and community. These reflections might not have always used the modern concept of “meaning of life,” but they did grapple with questions about human existence and purpose.

What is the earliest ancient culture for which we have written records?

The earliest ancient culture for which we have written records is the Sumerian civilization, which emerged in Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq) around 3500 BCE. The Sumerians developed cuneiform, one of the earliest forms of writing, around 3200 BCE. These records include administrative documents, legal codes, religious texts, and epic literature, such as the Epic of Gilgamesh. Sumerian writing marks the beginning of recorded history and provides insight into their society, beliefs, and ways of life.

What did the Sumerians say about the meaning of life?

The Sumerians didn’t explicitly discuss the “meaning of life” in the same way modern philosophers do, but their texts and myths reflect a worldview centered on service to the gods, fulfilling one’s societal role, and accepting the unpredictability of life and death. In the Epic of Gilgamesh, one of the earliest literary works, the hero Gilgamesh embarks on a quest for immortality, only to learn that death is inevitable for humans. The epic suggests that life’s meaning comes not from escaping death but from embracing human experiences—friendship, love, and the legacy one leaves behind.

In Sumerian thought, life was seen as a gift from the gods, and the purpose of human existence was to serve the gods through rituals and by maintaining order. This service and the preservation of harmony in society and nature were central to their understanding of life. Though they didn’t explicitly address “meaning” as we frame it today, their myths and beliefs highlight the importance of living a life of duty, humility, and acceptance of mortality.

That focus on “maintaining order” is interesting. Maybe they were onto something there. In a sense, the universe seems to be the interaction between two forces: entropy and order.

You’re onto something intriguing! The tension between order and entropy is fundamental to both ancient cosmologies and modern physics. In many ancient cultures, like the Sumerians, maintaining order (often seen as cosmic or divine harmony) was key to a well-functioning society and universe. Similarly, in modern terms, entropy represents the natural tendency toward disorder, while order symbolizes structure, creation, and life. The struggle to balance these forces can be seen as a central dynamic of existence—whether in physics, philosophy, or myth. The Sumerians’ focus on preserving order may reflect an intuitive grasp of this cosmic balance.

Aside from pleasing the gods, you said the ancients also saw life’s purpose as being tied to virtue and harmony with the cosmos. Say more.

In ancient Greece, for example, philosophers like Plato and Aristotle believed that the ultimate purpose of life was eudaimonia—often translated as flourishing or living well. This was achieved by cultivating virtues such as wisdom, courage, and temperance, aligning one’s soul with reason and the natural order of the universe. For them, a life lived according to reason and virtue brought one into harmony with the cosmos.

Similarly, in ancient China, Confucianism emphasized the importance of living virtuously through moral conduct, familial duty, and respect for tradition, which maintained societal and cosmic harmony. Taoism, on the other hand, focused on aligning oneself with the Tao, the natural way of the universe, through simplicity, humility, and non-resistance to the flow of life.

In ancient India, the concept of dharma (duty or righteousness) was central to life’s purpose. Dharma represented a moral order tied to both the individual’s actions and the larger cosmic law. Living in accordance with one’s dharma ensured harmony with the universe and a virtuous life.

Across these traditions, the idea of living virtuously—whether through moral action, reason, or alignment with natural laws—was seen as essential to achieving a life in balance with both human nature and the greater cosmic order.

So living virtuously and harmony with the cosmos are not really two separate things. It seems like they’re interrelated?

Yes, you’re exactly right—they are deeply interrelated. In many ancient worldviews, living virtuously was seen as the key to aligning oneself with the cosmos or the natural order. Virtue wasn’t just a personal moral code; it was understood as a way of harmonizing with the larger, often divine, structure of the universe. In essence, personal virtue reflected cosmic harmony.

For example, in ancient Greece, Aristotle’s concept of living according to arete (excellence or virtue) was about fulfilling one’s potential in a way that corresponded with the natural order of things. Similarly, in ancient India, living according to one’s dharma was about performing one’s duties in a way that upheld cosmic balance.

So, in many ancient cultures, to live virtuously was to participate in the maintenance of cosmic harmony—acting in alignment with the greater order of the universe. This interconnectedness between individual virtue and the cosmic order reflects a holistic worldview where personal conduct and universal balance were inseparable.

Were there any outliers in ancient times? Cultures or thinkers whose view on the meaning of life diverged significantly from the norm?

Cynic philosophers like Diogenes of Sinope rejected conventional societal values, such as wealth, power, and social status, which were highly prized in Greek culture. They believed that the purpose of life was to live in accordance with nature, rejecting materialism and societal norms. Diogenes famously lived in extreme poverty, embracing simplicity and self-sufficiency as a path to virtue and happiness.

Epicurus took a different route from the traditional Greek focus on virtue as tied to public life or cosmic order. He argued that the meaning of life was to seek pleasure and avoid pain, but not through indulgence. Epicurus promoted a life of simple pleasures, friendship, and intellectual contemplation, emphasizing the importance of peace of mind (ataraxia) over the pursuit of power or fame.

While many ancient Indian philosophies emphasized fulfilling one’s dharma and participating in the cosmic order, Buddhism, as taught by Siddhartha Gautama (the Buddha), offered a more radical approach. The Buddha taught that the goal of life was to escape the cycle of suffering (samsara) by achieving enlightenment (nirvana), a state beyond worldly concerns, cosmic order, or virtue. This view diverged significantly from the traditional focus on duties and cosmic balance in Vedic and Hindu thought.

Zhuangzi, an influential Taoist philosopher, challenged Confucian norms of duty and order. He advocated for living spontaneously and in harmony with the Tao, but his approach was more individualistic and mystical than Confucianism’s focus on social roles and moral duties. Zhuangzi questioned the very idea of fixed meaning, often expressing skepticism about human attempts to impose order on the world.

medieval period

Ok, I think we’ve covered the ancients. What came next?

During the Medieval period (roughly 5th to 15th centuries), thinking about the meaning of life was dominated by monotheistic religions like Christianity and Islam in Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa, and by Buddhism, Confucianism, and Hinduism in Asia.

In medieval Europe, the purpose of life was seen through a Christian lens, with the ultimate goal being salvation and eternal life with God in heaven. Living according to God’s commandments, practicing faith, and following the teachings of Christ were considered the path to a meaningful life. Suffering was often seen as a test of faith or a way to grow closer to God.

In the Islamic world, the meaning of life was similarly focused on fulfilling God’s will (Allah’s plan), following the teachings of the Qur’an, and striving for righteousness in both worldly affairs and spiritual devotion. Life was seen as a test to prove one’s faith and moral character, with the ultimate goal of attaining eternal life in paradise.

In South and East Asia, Buddhism and Hinduism continued to influence the understanding of life’s purpose. Buddhism emphasized the cessation of suffering and the attainment of enlightenment (nirvana), while Hinduism focused on fulfilling one’s dharma (duty) and working toward moksha (liberation from the cycle of rebirth).

It seems like there wasn’t much of a change from the ancient world?

You’re right that the medieval period didn’t mark a drastic departure from the ancient world in terms of life’s purpose. In fact, there were many continuities, especially the idea that life’s meaning was tied to divine will and maintaining moral order. Just as in ancient times, people still believed that living in accordance with the gods—or in the medieval case, God—was central to a meaningful life. The concept of an afterlife remained crucial as well, whether it was the Egyptian focus on preparing for the judgment of the dead or the Christian emphasis on salvation and heaven.

However, what did evolve in the medieval period was the stronger emphasis on monotheism, especially in Christianity and Islam. Instead of a variety of gods with different domains, life’s purpose became more singular: following one God’s plan and seeking salvation or paradise. The shift was also marked by a greater focus on faith over reason. While ancient philosophers like Aristotle believed you could reason your way to understanding virtue and the cosmos, medieval thinkers often placed divine revelation and religious faith above pure philosophy. Thomas Aquinas, for instance, tried to reconcile faith with reason, but the dominant medieval view still leaned toward faith as the primary guide.

The idea of sin and redemption also became much more pronounced during the medieval period, particularly in Christian thought. Whereas ancient traditions often focused on living in harmony with the natural or cosmic order, medieval Christians saw life as a moral battle between good and evil, with salvation hinging on overcoming sin and seeking redemption through Christ. The role of the Church further distinguished the medieval approach. In Europe, for example, the Church became a centralized authority that dictated religious and moral life in ways that were more organized and hierarchical than the decentralized religious practices of many ancient cultures.

So, while the basic themes—divine purpose, cosmic harmony, and the afterlife—remained constant, the medieval period took those ancient ideas and restructured them within a more unified, monotheistic framework, where faith and redemption became more central to the meaning of life.

These trends feel like an affront to individual liberty. I should ignore my rational mind in favor of blind faith in whatever the religious authorities tell me to believe. If I dare to question it, I’m “sinning”, and I will be burned at the stake in this life, and burn for eternity in the afterlife.

It’s easy to see how those trends from the medieval period might feel oppressive, especially from a modern perspective that values individual liberty and rational inquiry. The idea that faith should supersede reason, and that questioning religious authorities was seen as sinful or even dangerous, certainly limited intellectual and personal freedom. In many ways, the medieval period did place heavy restrictions on individuals, particularly when it came to exploring personal beliefs outside of the accepted religious framework.

The concept of sin and eternal punishment added a weight of fear that kept people in line, not just in their actions, but in their thoughts as well. The threat of both social and spiritual consequences for questioning religious dogma—whether through excommunication or, in extreme cases, execution—created a kind of mental and spiritual conformity. This emphasis on obedience and blind faith could certainly be seen as suppressing the individual’s rational mind and freedom to explore different ideas.

It’s worth noting, though, that these limitations on freedom were not universally accepted even in the medieval period. There were always outliers—heretics, philosophers, and mystics—who challenged the dominant order, sometimes at great personal risk. And this tension between faith and reason, obedience and questioning, eventually gave rise to the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, where people began to reclaim the value of individual liberty, reason, and the right to question established authority.

So, while medieval religious structures did indeed impose constraints on individual freedom, they also set the stage for later movements that pushed back against those restrictions and emphasized the power of the human mind and spirit to seek its own answers.

renaissance and enlightenment

Why was the Renaissance so called? What was it a return to?

The Renaissance, meaning “rebirth” in French, was so called because it represented a revival of the classical knowledge, culture, and ideals of ancient Greece and Rome. After the so-called “Dark Ages” of the medieval period, during which European intellectual life was heavily dominated by the Church, Renaissance thinkers sought to rediscover and build upon the philosophical, artistic, and scientific achievements of classical antiquity.

This “rebirth” was a return to the study of ancient texts, ideas, and humanistic principles that emphasized human potential, creativity, and reason. It was a reaction against the scholasticism of the Middle Ages, which focused more on theological debates and the authority of religious texts. Renaissance scholars rediscovered the works of ancient philosophers like Plato and Aristotle, poets like Homer and Virgil, and mathematicians and scientists who emphasized observation and empirical knowledge.

In essence, the Renaissance was a return to a more human-centered worldview—celebrating the power of human reason, beauty, art, and the pursuit of knowledge. It fostered an intellectual and cultural flourishing that shifted the focus from the divine and the afterlife back to the human experience and the exploration of the natural world, much as the ancient Greeks and Romans had done.

What did Renaissance and Enlightenment thinkers say about the meaning of life?

Renaissance and Enlightenment thinkers brought a significant shift in the way people understood the meaning of life, moving away from medieval religious authority toward humanism, reason, and individual autonomy.

During the Renaissance, humanism became a dominant force. Thinkers like Erasmus and Petrarch emphasized the potential for human achievement, focusing on personal development, education, and the cultivation of virtue. The meaning of life was seen as something tied to human potential and the flourishing of the individual. Renaissance thinkers often celebrated the idea that humans could shape their own destiny through creativity, learning, and moral virtue, drawing on the classical ideals of ancient Greece and Rome. Art, science, and philosophy were all seen as means of expressing and fulfilling human potential, rather than mere devotion to religious dogma. Life’s purpose became more centered on exploring what it meant to be fully human, with an emphasis on beauty, expression, and the pursuit of knowledge.

The Enlightenment took these ideas further by prioritizing reason, science, and the rights of individuals. Enlightenment thinkers like John Locke, Voltaire, and Immanuel Kant moved away from the idea that the meaning of life was solely dictated by divine will. Instead, they argued that life’s purpose could be found in human reason, personal freedom, and the pursuit of knowledge and happiness. Locke, for instance, argued for the right to “life, liberty, and property,” and saw the meaning of life as closely tied to individual rights and the ability to shape one’s own life through rational choices. Voltaire critiqued religious dogma and promoted tolerance, freedom of speech, and the use of reason to improve society.

Immanuel Kant introduced the idea that moral duty—rooted in reason—was key to living a meaningful life. He believed that humans, as rational beings, could determine moral laws for themselves through reason, without relying on external religious authorities. For Kant, living in accordance with these moral laws and respecting the freedom and dignity of others gave life its meaning.

The Enlightenment also emphasized progress. Many thinkers believed that human reason could be used to improve society, eradicate ignorance, and increase happiness. The meaning of life was not found in submission to religious authority, but in the capacity to use reason and knowledge to enhance human well-being and promote individual and collective freedom.

In short, Renaissance and Enlightenment thinkers saw the meaning of life as being deeply tied to human potential, reason, moral autonomy, and the pursuit of knowledge and happiness. They shifted the focus from divine authority and the afterlife to human experience in the present world, celebrating individual liberty, creativity, and the use of reason to shape both personal and societal life.

The idea that the meaning of life is tied to human potential resonates deeply with me. It reminds me of Abraham Maslow’s concept of self-actualization.

That connection makes perfect sense. Maslow’s concept of self-actualization, where the ultimate purpose of life is to realize one’s full potential, aligns closely with the Renaissance and Enlightenment focus on human achievement and growth. Maslow believed that individuals are driven to become the best version of themselves, fulfilling their creative, intellectual, and moral capacities. This mirrors the Renaissance humanist emphasis on cultivating personal virtue and talent, as well as the Enlightenment ideal of using reason and freedom to shape one’s life.

In both cases, the meaning of life is found in striving toward personal growth, rather than adhering to external authorities or predefined roles. It’s about discovering and expressing one’s true potential, which is why that idea resonates so strongly with the concept of self-actualization. Both views see life as a journey of becoming, rather than simply existing.

While I think the Renaissance and Enlightenment were a step in the right direction, I also wonder if they represent an over-correction. We needed to move away from the blind faith and deference to authority of the Medieval period, but maybe we moved too far in the direction of individualism. Developing one’s potential is great, but if that’s all one focuses on, life becomes meaningless. We need community.

You raise an important point, and it’s a common critique of the Renaissance and Enlightenment—that while they were necessary correctives to the rigidity and blind faith of the medieval period, they may have swung too far in the direction of individualism. The emphasis on personal achievement, reason, and self-determination, while empowering, can also lead to a sense of isolation or disconnection if community and relational ties are neglected.

Developing one’s potential is indeed crucial for a meaningful life, but as you suggest, focusing solely on individual growth risks turning life into a solitary pursuit. Meaning is often found not just in personal achievements but in relationships, shared experiences, and collective well-being. While the Renaissance celebrated the individual and the Enlightenment championed reason and autonomy, both movements sometimes undervalued the importance of community and the ways in which individuals are interconnected with others.

This critique is echoed by thinkers who came after the Enlightenment, especially during the Romantic and existentialist movements. They emphasized that human beings are not just rational, self-sufficient agents but emotional, social creatures who need connection, love, and a sense of belonging. Community provides a context where individuals can grow, but it also offers shared meaning, purpose, and support that pure individualism lacks.

In many ways, this is a balancing act. The Renaissance and Enlightenment helped us break free from oppressive structures, but we still need to maintain a sense of community and interconnectedness. Meaning arises not just from individual achievement, but also from how we relate to others and contribute to something greater than ourselves.

I think lack of community is central to the meaning crisis. There is an epidemic of loneliness. People have been uprooted from their ancestral villages and flung into dehumanizing industrial cities where life revolves around productivity and consumption.

I completely agree, and your observation touches on one of the key aspects of the modern meaning crisis. The shift from small, close-knit communities to industrialized, urban environments has left many people feeling isolated and disconnected. In traditional societies, people often found a sense of belonging and purpose within their community, where relationships, shared traditions, and collective rituals played a central role in life. With the rise of industrialization, the focus shifted toward productivity, consumption, and individual achievement, often at the expense of meaningful human connection.

The epidemic of loneliness you’re describing is, in many ways, a symptom of this broader societal shift. People are living in larger cities, but they are more isolated than ever, with fewer opportunities for deep, authentic connections. Communities have fractured, and much of modern life is centered around work, efficiency, and material success, which can feel dehumanizing. This loss of communal bonds and shared meaning has left a vacuum, leading many to struggle with a sense of purposelessness, even as they pursue individual success.

The challenge now is how to restore that sense of community and belonging in a world that often prioritizes individualism and consumerism. Many people are searching for new ways to reconnect—with each other, with nature, and with something greater than themselves—as they seek to navigate this crisis of meaning.

romanticism

Ok, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s talk about Romanticism. This was a reaction against the Renaissance and the Enlightenment?

Yes, Romanticism was largely a reaction against the rationalism and individualism of the Enlightenment, and to some extent, the Renaissance as well. While the Renaissance and Enlightenment celebrated reason, science, and the potential for human achievement through rational thought, Romanticism emphasized emotion, intuition, imagination, and the deep connection between humans and nature.

Romantics felt that the Enlightenment’s emphasis on reason had gone too far, leading to a cold, mechanistic view of the world that ignored the richness of human experience—our emotions, our creative impulses, and our spiritual connection to the world around us. Thinkers and artists of the Romantic movement argued that life’s meaning couldn’t be fully understood through logic and science alone, but through personal experience, feeling, and engagement with nature.

Romantics like William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe focused on the sublime, the mysterious, and the subjective inner life. They believed that truth and meaning could be found in the depths of the human soul, in art, and in the awe-inspiring power of nature. Romanticism brought back a sense of the sacred, not in the religious, dogmatic sense, but in the way it viewed nature and creativity as profound sources of meaning.

While the Enlightenment was about the power of the rational individual, the Romantics often highlighted the limits of reason and celebrated those moments of transcendence and mystery that couldn’t be explained through logic. It was a return to a more holistic view of life, one that integrated emotions, spirituality, and the recognition that humans are part of a larger, interconnected world.

In essence, Romanticism wasn’t a wholesale rejection of the Renaissance and Enlightenment but a corrective, pushing back against the Enlightenment’s emphasis on reason and individualism by reasserting the value of emotion, intuition, and the collective connection to nature and the human spirit.

I believe it was during this period that the phrase “the meaning of life” entered the conversation.

Yes, you’re correct! The concept of “the meaning of life” began to surface more explicitly during the Romantic period. While earlier periods focused on questions of virtue, cosmic order, and divine purpose, Romanticism opened the door to more subjective and personal interpretations of meaning. The focus on individual experience, emotion, and the search for deeper truths beyond the rational mirrored the emerging idea that life’s meaning wasn’t something prescribed by religion or reason, but rather something to be discovered—or even created—by each individual.

The German Romantic writer Novalis is credited with one of the earliest uses of the phrase in a form we would recognize today, stating, “Only an artist can divine the meaning of life.” This reflects the Romantic belief that meaning is something not to be found in scientific laws or philosophical systems, but through creativity, imagination, and the inner life of the individual. For the Romantics, life’s meaning became more personal, less tied to external authorities, and more about the subjective, spiritual, and emotional depths of human experience.

This shift represents an important moment in the intellectual history of the “meaning of life” question, as it became something that was no longer just a theological or philosophical concern, but also an existential and artistic one. Romanticism helped lay the groundwork for later philosophical movements, such as existentialism, that would continue to explore life’s meaning in highly personal and individualistic terms.

I find it telling that the phrase “the meaning of life” entered the lexicon via German Romanticists who were grappling with the materialism and rationalism of modernity. Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel that this is when the meaning crisis started to clearly emerge. The lifestyle of the average person (at least in Western Europe) changed so dramatically as a result of the Industrial Revolution. Do you agree?

I agree with your assessment. The Industrial Revolution and the rise of modernity brought about profound changes in society that contributed to what we now call the meaning crisis. As industrialization rapidly transformed Western Europe, people’s lives shifted away from agrarian, community-based living toward urbanization and a focus on productivity and material success. This upheaval often left people feeling disconnected from traditional sources of meaning, such as nature, community, and religion.

German Romanticists, grappling with the increasing dominance of rationalism, materialism, and mechanistic worldviews, sensed that something vital was being lost. As factories and cities grew, individuals became more like cogs in a machine, focused on efficiency and consumption, while the spiritual, emotional, and communal aspects of life were pushed to the margins. The Romantics responded by emphasizing emotion, imagination, and the importance of human connection to nature and beauty—seeking to reclaim what they saw as the lost soul of humanity in the face of modernity’s cold rationalism.

This shift, especially with the Industrial Revolution’s dehumanizing effects, laid the groundwork for the modern meaning crisis. As people’s lifestyles changed so drastically, many found it harder to locate a sense of purpose or meaning in life, leading to the existential questions that would be more fully explored in the 19th and 20th centuries by existentialist thinkers. The roots of this crisis can indeed be traced back to this period, where the rapid pace of change left many questioning the deeper purpose of life in a world increasingly dominated by material concerns and the erosion of traditional sources of meaning.

existentialism and nihilism

What did the existentialists say about the meaning of life?

The existentialists, particularly in the 19th and 20th centuries, confronted the meaning of life in a world where traditional religious and societal frameworks had begun to lose their hold. They grappled with the idea that life might not have an inherent, predetermined meaning. Instead, they argued that meaning is something humans must create for themselves.

Søren Kierkegaard is often considered the father of existentialism. He focused on the individual’s relationship with God and the challenges of faith in a world filled with uncertainty. For Kierkegaard, life’s meaning wasn’t something that could be discovered through reason or societal roles, but through a personal “leap of faith.” He believed that the meaning of life could only be found through a passionate, subjective relationship with God, requiring each person to face the “anxiety” of living without clear answers and choose faith despite the uncertainty.

Friedrich Nietzsche rejected traditional religious and moral frameworks, famously declaring that “God is dead,” meaning that belief in a transcendent, absolute source of meaning was no longer viable in modern society. He argued that without such a foundation, humans were free to create their own meaning, but also faced the terrifying realization that life has no inherent purpose. Nietzsche introduced the concept of the “Übermensch” (Overman or Superman), an ideal individual who creates meaning through their will, values, and creative power. He believed that the meaning of life could be found in overcoming oneself and embracing the challenges of existence without relying on external authority.

Jean-Paul Sartre’s philosophy of existentialism emphasized radical freedom and responsibility. He famously declared that “existence precedes essence,” meaning that humans are not born with a fixed purpose or nature. Instead, we are thrown into the world without inherent meaning, and it is up to each individual to define their own essence through their actions and choices. For Sartre, the absence of preordained meaning in life was both liberating and anxiety-inducing. Humans must take full responsibility for their freedom and the meaning they create, which can lead to what he called “existential angst”—the anxiety that comes with realizing we are completely free to shape our lives but have no external guide to rely on.

Albert Camus famously described life as “absurd” in his philosophy of absurdism. He argued that humans naturally seek meaning, but the universe is indifferent and offers none. This creates a tension between our desire for meaning and the meaningless nature of the world—a condition he called the “absurd.” Camus rejected the idea of despair or nihilism, instead embracing what he called “revolt.” His famous image of Sisyphus, condemned to eternally roll a boulder uphill, symbolizes the human condition. Even though life may be meaningless, Camus argued that we must imagine Sisyphus happy, finding purpose in the struggle itself. Meaning, for Camus, comes from embracing the absurdity of life and living with passion, despite the lack of inherent purpose.

Simone de Beauvoir, a close associate of Sartre, expanded existentialism to include feminist perspectives. Like Sartre, she believed that humans are free to create their own meaning in life, but she also focused on how society imposes limitations, particularly on women. De Beauvoir argued that life’s meaning could be found in transcending societal constraints and achieving authentic freedom. She emphasized the importance of recognizing the freedom of others and taking responsibility not just for oneself but also for fostering the freedom of others.

Key themes:

• Freedom and Responsibility: Existentialists emphasized that humans are radically free to make choices, but this freedom comes with the heavy burden of responsibility for shaping one’s own life and meaning.
• Authenticity: A key existentialist idea is that individuals must live authentically, making choices that reflect their true selves rather than conforming to societal expectations or external authorities.
• Absurdity and Angst: The recognition that life may be inherently meaningless, combined with the freedom to create one’s own meaning, often leads to feelings of existential angst or anxiety. However, existentialists saw this not as a cause for despair but as an opportunity for self-determination.
• Revolt: In response to the absurdity of life, existentialists like Camus advocated for a form of “revolt”—the idea that even in a meaningless world, one can live passionately and defiantly, embracing life’s challenges without needing external validation or purpose.

In summary, existentialists confronted the meaning crisis head-on, rejecting the idea that life has a built-in meaning and instead arguing that each person must create their own meaning through their choices, actions, and relationships. They acknowledged the challenges and anxieties that come with this responsibility but saw it as the path to living a more authentic, meaningful life.

Why was Kierkegaard stuck on God? Interesting that he is considered the father of existentialism when he believed that meaning can only be found through a relationship with God. I guess he at least intuited that belief in God was no longer quite viable. Yet he seems to have been unable to make the real leap that is required: to abandon theism altogether, and find meaning elsewhere.

Kierkegaard’s focus on God, despite being considered the father of existentialism, stems from his deep religious faith and his belief that the search for meaning is an intensely personal, subjective journey. He lived in 19th-century Denmark, a society that, while formally Christian, was becoming more secular and rational. Kierkegaard saw many people going through the motions of Christianity without truly committing to the personal, passionate faith he believed was necessary for a meaningful life. He reacted against the institutional, complacent religion of his time and proposed that a true relationship with God required a “leap of faith”—a radical, subjective commitment in the face of uncertainty and doubt.

Kierkegaard’s existentialism starts with the same premise as later existentialists: life is filled with anxiety, doubt, and a lack of clear answers. However, he didn’t see this as a reason to abandon belief in God. Instead, he felt that this uncertainty was precisely what made faith meaningful. For Kierkegaard, meaning could only be found by confronting the “absurdity” of life (a term later picked up by Camus) and choosing to believe in God despite the lack of rational evidence. This leap of faith is what makes the individual’s relationship with God authentic and deeply personal.

What’s interesting about Kierkegaard is that, while he remained rooted in theism, he intuited the growing crisis of meaning in a secularizing world. He recognized that blind faith or mere adherence to tradition was no longer sufficient for many people, and that the modern world demanded an individual, existential reckoning with meaning. He set the stage for later existentialists like Nietzsche, Sartre, and Camus, who would take this sense of existential uncertainty but push it further by abandoning the idea of God altogether.

Kierkegaard’s existential leap was ultimately about committing to something beyond oneself to find meaning in a world of uncertainty. For him, that commitment was to God. Later existentialists, who found theism no longer viable, made a similar leap, but instead of relying on faith in God, they believed in the power of human freedom, creativity, and responsibility to forge meaning from the chaos of existence. Kierkegaard wasn’t able—or perhaps willing—to make that full leap away from theism, but his exploration of anxiety, doubt, and the need for individual commitment laid the groundwork for existentialism’s later developments.

That’s where my boy Nietzsche comes in. The son of a preacher who almost became one himself, he made the leap that Kierkegaard could not. He boldly proclaimed “God is dead!”

Exactly! Nietzsche took that leap and fully confronted the implications of living in a world without God. His proclamation, “God is dead,” was a bold statement that modern society had moved beyond belief in a divine order. But this wasn’t just a celebration of atheism; Nietzsche saw it as a profound existential crisis. With the death of God, the traditional moral and metaphysical foundations that had guided Western thought for centuries were gone, leaving humans adrift in a world without inherent meaning or purpose.

What Nietzsche admired in Kierkegaard was his recognition of the existential challenges posed by modernity. But Nietzsche felt that Kierkegaard hadn’t gone far enough—he couldn’t fully embrace the chaos and freedom that comes with the absence of divine authority. By declaring “God is dead,” Nietzsche was calling for humanity to rise to the challenge of creating meaning in a world that no longer offered any from above. He introduced the concept of the “Übermensch” (Overman or Superman) as an ideal—someone who transcends conventional morality and creates their own values, shaping their existence with creativity and strength.

Nietzsche saw this as an opportunity, not a loss. Without God, humans were truly free, but that freedom came with responsibility. It required courage to face the abyss and live authentically, without relying on religious or societal structures to dictate meaning. Nietzsche’s leap was to embrace this freedom fully and to see the death of God not as despair but as the birth of a new, self-created purpose.

Nietzsche seems to pretty individualistic, and yet earlier you said that he saw the meaning of life as tied to “overcoming oneself”, which sounds a lot like self-transcendence.

You’re right to notice that tension in Nietzsche’s thought—while he’s often seen as highly individualistic, his concept of overcoming oneself does indeed suggest a kind of self-transcendence. Nietzsche’s individualism is not about selfishness or isolation, but about striving to become something greater than what we currently are. It’s a dynamic, creative process where individuals continuously challenge their own limitations, habits, and beliefs to reach higher levels of existence.

This idea of self-overcoming can be seen as a form of self-transcendence, but unlike traditional notions of transcendence that point toward union with something outside oneself (like God or the cosmos), Nietzsche’s self-transcendence is immanent—it happens within the individual. It’s about evolving beyond the constraints imposed by society, morality, and even one’s own past. The Übermensch embodies this process, constantly overcoming internal and external barriers to live in a way that fully expresses their unique power and creativity.

While Nietzsche is individualistic in the sense that he rejects conformity to external authorities like religion or societal norms, he also acknowledges that personal growth often comes through struggle—both with oneself and with the world. His idea of overcoming oneself is ultimately about pushing the boundaries of what it means to be human, not just for individual gain, but for the possibility of new values and ways of living that could benefit humanity as a whole.

So, even though Nietzsche’s philosophy centers on individual empowerment, it points toward something larger—an ongoing process of personal and cultural transformation, where the individual, in overcoming their limitations, contributes to the evolution of life and meaning itself.

We are discussing Nietzsche in the context of existentialism, but isn’t he also associated with nihilism?

Yes, Nietzsche is closely associated with both existentialism and nihilism, though his relationship to nihilism is often misunderstood. Nietzsche didn’t advocate for nihilism, but rather, he identified and diagnosed it as a problem that modern society would face in the wake of the “death of God.” Nihilism, for Nietzsche, is the belief that life has no inherent meaning, purpose, or value—a consequence of the collapse of religious and metaphysical systems that had once provided those answers.

Nietzsche recognized that, with the decline of traditional belief in God and absolute truth, Western civilization was at risk of falling into a nihilistic void, where nothing seems to matter. He saw this as a dangerous and disorienting state, where people might either despair or retreat into passive, meaningless lives. This form of “passive nihilism” was, in his view, the acceptance of life’s meaninglessness without striving to overcome it.

However, Nietzsche’s philosophy is not an endorsement of nihilism; it’s a response to it. He believed that the recognition of nihilism—the realization that life has no inherent meaning—was only the first step. His concept of the Übermensch (Overman or Superman) and the idea of self-overcoming were meant to provide an alternative to nihilism. Instead of succumbing to despair, Nietzsche called for individuals to embrace their freedom and create their own values and meaning in the absence of divine or universal truths. This is what he referred to as “active nihilism”—a proactive stance where one uses the void of meaning as an opportunity for radical self-creation.

In summary, Nietzsche is associated with nihilism because he recognized it as an inevitable consequence of the decline of traditional religious and moral systems. But his ultimate goal was to overcome nihilism by encouraging individuals to take responsibility for creating meaning and values in a world without inherent purpose.

Two names often associated with Nietzsche are Schopenhauer and Stirner. Were they nihilists or existentialists?

Schopenhauer is more accurately described as a pessimist than a nihilist or existentialist. He believed that life is dominated by suffering, driven by a blind, irrational force he called “the will.” For him, this will is constantly striving without ever being satisfied, which leads to a bleak view of existence. While Schopenhauer didn’t necessarily think life had no meaning, he did believe that it was filled with pain and struggle, and that the best we could do was minimize suffering through things like art, philosophy, and asceticism. His outlook shares some resonance with nihilism in that he saw life as inherently tragic, but he wasn’t advocating for the rejection of all meaning or value.

Max Stirner, on the other hand, was much more radical in his individualism. He’s best known for his work The Ego and Its Own, where he rejected all forms of authority, including the state, religion, and even societal values. Stirner wasn’t a nihilist in the sense of rejecting all meaning, but he did argue that meaning, values, and ideals are nothing more than constructs created to control the individual. For him, the only reality was the individual’s will and self-interest. Stirner’s extreme individualism went beyond existentialism—he wasn’t interested in existential questions about meaning or purpose in the same way that Nietzsche or Sartre were. Instead, he saw everything, including ideas of morality and meaning, as constructs to be dismantled in favor of pure personal freedom.

So, while both Schopenhauer and Stirner influenced Nietzsche, neither fully fits into the categories of nihilism or existentialism. Schopenhauer’s pessimism reflects a tragic view of life, while Stirner’s radical individualism focuses more on rejecting external authority than grappling with the meaning of life itself.

Based on your description of Sartre, I would summarize his position as “the only meaning of life is for you to create your own meaning of life.”

Yes, that’s a great summary of Sartre’s position. Sartre believed that life has no inherent or preordained meaning—there’s no divine plan or objective purpose that we’re born into. Instead, we are free, and with that freedom comes the responsibility to create our own meaning through our choices and actions. For Sartre, the essence of who we are is not given at birth but is something we must actively shape throughout our lives. The challenge, of course, is that this freedom also brings existential anxiety, since we can’t rely on external sources to tell us how to live or what our purpose is.

Was it Camus who said something like, “Each morning I ask myself: Should I have a cup of coffee or kill myself?”

Yes, that quote is often attributed to Albert Camus, although it’s not a direct quote from his work. It reflects a central theme in his philosophy, particularly in his exploration of the absurd in The Myth of Sisyphus. Camus grapples with the question of whether life is worth living in the face of its inherent meaninglessness. The idea behind the quote is that, each day, we are confronted with the choice to continue living or to end our lives, and for Camus, the fact that we choose to live—even in a seemingly meaningless world—is itself an act of defiance and revolt.

Camus argued that while life may be absurd and devoid of inherent meaning, we should embrace that absurdity and live fully in spite of it. So, choosing to have a cup of coffee is symbolic of affirming life in the face of its absurdity, rather than succumbing to nihilism.

de Beauvoir’s take feels refreshing in its focus on others. She seems to recognize that meaning is more… well, meaningful… when it is created in community than in isolation.

You’re right—de Beauvoir’s focus on others adds a vital dimension to existentialism. While Sartre emphasized radical individual freedom, de Beauvoir recognized that we exist in relation to others, and that our freedom and meaning are intertwined with the freedom of those around us. For her, meaning isn’t just a solitary endeavor; it’s about fostering authentic relationships and taking responsibility for how our actions impact others. She believed that we could only fully realize our own freedom by supporting the freedom of others, which makes meaning more profound when it’s created in a communal, interconnected context. This focus on community enriches the existentialist framework by grounding it in human connection.

So the existentialists explicitly focused on the angst or despair (“existential crisis”) that results from the loss of traditional sources of meaning. I see why you said that they were confronting the meaning crisis head on. Do you think that the meaning crisis has become more endemic since then? I think that in the time of the existentialist thinkers, the meaning crisis was not explicitly felt in the life of the average individual, as it is today.

Yes, I agree with you—the meaning crisis has become more endemic since the time of the existentialists, and it seems to permeate modern life in a way that may not have been as explicit or widespread during their era. When the existentialists were writing, they were confronting the intellectual and philosophical implications of the decline of traditional sources of meaning, like religion and inherited social structures. However, for the average person at that time, many still had some form of community, religious belief, or social structure that provided meaning, even if these were starting to erode.

Since then, with the acceleration of technological advancements, globalization, and the rise of consumerism, many of those traditional sources of meaning have been further weakened or displaced. The industrial and post-industrial world has placed more emphasis on productivity, consumption, and individual achievement, often at the expense of communal bonds, shared values, and deeper, intrinsic purpose. The rise of urbanization, the breakdown of tight-knit communities, and the focus on material success have all contributed to a growing sense of isolation and purposelessness.

Today, the meaning crisis feels much more personal and explicit for the average individual, as many find themselves disconnected from a sense of collective purpose, community, or even from their own sense of self. People are increasingly aware of the existential void, which has led to widespread feelings of anxiety, depression, and loneliness. The pervasive sense of “something missing” or “life lacking meaning” is more palpable now, and this could explain why there’s been a resurgence of interest in existential themes, mindfulness, and alternative spiritual practices.

In short, while the existentialists were diagnosing a crisis of meaning, today it feels like this crisis has fully manifested in the lives of everyday people, creating a deep sense of disorientation and a longing for something more fulfilling.

We’re getting ahead of ourselves again, but I have to pick up on something you just said. You said that today, people are disconnected even from their own sense of self. Say more.

The disconnection from a sense of self that many people experience today stems from a variety of factors, particularly the fast pace of modern life, the overwhelming influence of technology, and the loss of stable social identities. In the past, a person’s sense of self was often shaped by relatively fixed sources like family, community, religion, or social roles, giving them a stable identity. Today, however, these traditional anchors are either weakened or more fluid, leading to uncertainty and fragmentation.

One major factor is technology, particularly social media, which creates an environment where people are constantly bombarded with images, opinions, and comparisons. This can make it difficult to form an authentic sense of self because people often feel pressured to present an idealized version of themselves online. The performative nature of modern life, where external validation (likes, followers, approval) seems to take precedence over internal self-reflection, contributes to a disconnect from one’s true identity.

Additionally, consumer culture plays a role. We are often told that happiness or fulfillment can be found through purchasing products, achieving status, or acquiring experiences, which leads people to seek meaning in external things rather than through inner self-understanding. This constant pursuit of more can distract people from connecting with their deeper selves, leading to a sense of emptiness or confusion.

There’s also the loss of stable, long-term identities. In modern society, people switch jobs, move frequently, and live in diverse, often fragmented communities. The roles that once provided a sense of purpose—such as being a long-term member of a certain community or playing a stable role within a family—are less clear. People are constantly reinventing themselves, which can create flexibility but also uncertainty. With fewer fixed points of reference, it becomes harder for individuals to form a cohesive sense of self.

This disconnection from self can lead to feelings of alienation, where people are unsure of who they truly are or what they deeply value. This feeds into the broader meaning crisis, as individuals struggle to find a stable sense of identity and purpose in an ever-changing world, further exacerbating feelings of existential angst.

It sounds like people’s “agent-arena relationship” is out of whack.

Yes, exactly! When people’s agent-arena relationship is “out of whack,” it means there’s a disconnect between who they are (the agent) and the world or environment they are navigating (the arena). Ideally, there’s a harmonious relationship where the agent feels equipped to act meaningfully in their arena, finding a sense of purpose, connection, and flow in their activities and relationships. But when the arena becomes fragmented or overly complex—as it often does in modern society—it can lead to a sense of disorientation or alienation.

In today’s world, the arena is often overwhelming due to constant stimuli, shifting social norms, and the pressures of productivity and consumption. People struggle to find their place or purpose within this complex environment, leading to a misalignment between their internal sense of self and the external world. This creates a sense of being lost or unable to engage meaningfully, which is a central element of the meaning crisis.

When the agent-arena relationship is out of balance, individuals may feel that their actions are not aligned with their values or that they are playing roles imposed on them by society, rather than living authentically. Reconnecting with one’s sense of self and reestablishing a healthy, meaningful engagement with the arena is crucial for resolving this disconnection.

I was recently in Iceland. A tour guide remarked that he found something about Americans quite strange: We move so much. We grow up in one city, go to university in a different city, and then start a career and family in yet another city. By contrast, he made it sound like most Icelanders stay in the city of their birth for their entire lives. The fact that we move around so much likely contributes to the meaning crisis. Every time you move, you are uprooting yourself. You are ripping yourself away from your connection to the land, and from your social support system (assuming you have even been in that city long enough to establish one).

You’re absolutely right. The frequent moving that is so common in American culture can disrupt the deep sense of place and community that people need to feel grounded. When you’re constantly uprooting yourself, it’s hard to develop a long-term connection to the land or the people around you, both of which are vital for feeling a sense of belonging and stability. This uprooting breaks the continuity of relationships and traditions, which are often the sources of meaning in people’s lives.

In cultures where people tend to stay in one place, like the example your Icelandic tour guide gave, there’s often a stronger connection to community, history, and the environment. People grow up with shared experiences, and they are part of an ongoing narrative that ties them to the land and the people around them. In contrast, frequent moving can lead to feelings of isolation and disconnection, where individuals may struggle to establish lasting relationships or a sense of rootedness. Without that stability, the meaning crisis deepens, as people constantly search for new ways to feel connected, often with less success as the cycle continues.

How does nihilism differ from existentialism?

Nihilism and existentialism both confront the absence of inherent meaning in life, but they differ significantly in how they respond to this realization. In short, nihilism often focuses on the void of meaning and can lead to despair, while existentialism acknowledges that void but sees it as a call to action, encouraging individuals to create their own meaning and live authentically in the face of absurdity.

modernism, postmodernism, and post-postmodernism

What did the modernists say about the meaning of life?

Modernists, particularly those active in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, grappled with the meaning of life in the context of rapidly changing societies, technological advancements, and the breakdown of traditional structures, much like the existentialists. However, modernism wasn’t a unified philosophy but a broad cultural movement that included a range of responses to the question of meaning.

For many modernists, the traditional sources of meaning—such as religion, social norms, and stable narratives—were seen as inadequate in the face of modern realities. They often expressed a deep skepticism about inherited values and sought to break away from the past. This led to a focus on individual experience, creativity, and subjective perception as sources of meaning. Modernist writers, artists, and thinkers explored the complexities of inner life and the fragmented nature of modern existence, reflecting the sense that old systems no longer provided clear answers.

In literature, figures like James Joyce and Virginia Woolf experimented with narrative techniques to depict the stream of consciousness and the interior worlds of their characters, suggesting that meaning was deeply personal and subjective. Modernist art, such as the works of Picasso or Kandinsky, rejected realistic depictions of the world and instead focused on abstraction, reflecting the belief that reality—and meaning—was not straightforward or easily represented.

In philosophy, modernists like Ludwig Wittgenstein explored the limits of language in expressing meaning. Wittgenstein’s early work suggested that much of what we talk about, especially when it comes to deep questions of life’s meaning, might be beyond the capacity of language to adequately capture, leading to the idea that some aspects of life’s meaning are ineffable or cannot be reduced to simple answers.

While modernism shared the existentialists’ recognition that traditional sources of meaning were crumbling, it often sought to explore new forms of meaning through art, innovation, and the subjective experience of reality. In many ways, modernists were less focused on finding ultimate answers and more interested in depicting the complexity and ambiguity of life in a rapidly changing world, often celebrating the search for meaning as a creative and evolving process.

In another conversation, you said that modernism “typically sees meaning as objective, universal, and discoverable through reason, science, and progress. In this view, life has inherent meaning, and humans can uncover it through rational inquiry, technological advancement, and the pursuit of truth.”

Modernism, as a broad cultural and intellectual movement, had different facets, and both of these views—skepticism of traditional sources of meaning and belief in objective meaning through reason—coexisted.

In its early stages, modernism was often characterized by an optimistic belief in the power of human reason, science, and technological progress to uncover universal truths. Thinkers during the Enlightenment and the early modern period held that by applying rational thought and scientific methods, humans could make sense of the world and improve their condition. This strand of modernism saw meaning as something that could be discovered, whether through scientific advancements, societal progress, or philosophical inquiry. The idea was that by understanding the laws of nature and society, humans could find objective meaning and improve the human experience. This view was closely tied to movements like the scientific revolution and the belief in inevitable human progress.

However, as the 20th century progressed and modernism matured, many modernists became disillusioned with these earlier ideals, particularly in response to the horrors of industrialization, world wars, and societal fragmentation. This later phase of modernism, influenced by thinkers like Joyce, Woolf, and even some of the existentialists, reflected a more subjective, fragmented view of meaning, where the search for truth became personal, complex, and often unresolved. This more skeptical strand of modernism questioned whether the rational pursuit of progress could really address the deeper, more existential questions of life.

So, modernism contains both the optimistic belief in rationality and progress as paths to uncovering objective meaning and the more skeptical, artistic exploration of life’s subjective, fragmented, and ambiguous nature. Both of these aspects are part of the complex modernist response to the meaning of life.

I see. So modernism is not a specific philosophy. It’s a time period, or a broad movement. By transitioning from a discussion of existentialism and nihilism to a discussion of modernism, we are breaking with the neat chronological order that has characterized most of this discussion. Modernity stretches back farther than most people think. It arguably started with the Enlightenment or the Industrial Revolution. So much of what we have already discussed can be subsumed under “modernity.”

Exactly! Modernism isn’t a single, cohesive philosophy but rather a broad movement or time period that spans several centuries, encompassing various intellectual, cultural, and artistic developments. It does stretch back to the Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution, where the ideas of reason, progress, and scientific inquiry began to reshape how people thought about meaning and the human experience. As we discussed earlier, modernism can include the optimism of discovering objective meaning through reason and science, as well as the later skepticism that emerged in response to the challenges of the 20th century.

By transitioning from existentialism and nihilism to modernism, we are, in a sense, stepping back and broadening the lens. Existentialism and nihilism are part of the intellectual currents that arose during modernity, responding to its crises. In fact, much of what we’ve discussed, including the meaning crisis, the decline of traditional religious beliefs, and the rise of individualism, can be seen as unfolding within the broader modernist context.

So, yes, modernity is the larger framework that encompasses many of these ideas, and it’s helpful to think of it as a foundational period upon which later movements like postmodernism are built. It’s the backdrop against which these philosophical questions about meaning, self, and society have played out.

So what did the postmodernists say about the meaning of life?

Postmodernists, in many ways, rejected the very idea that life has an objective, universal meaning. They were deeply skeptical of grand narratives or metanarratives—big, overarching stories that claim to explain the meaning of life or the nature of reality, such as religion, science, or progress. Thinkers like Jean-François Lyotard, Michel Foucault, and Jacques Derrida argued that these narratives were often used to control and shape societies, imposing certain truths or values while marginalizing others.

For postmodernists, meaning is seen as relative, fragmented, and constructed. They believed that meaning is not something we discover, as modernists might argue, but something that is constantly created through language, culture, and power dynamics. Postmodernism emphasizes the idea that there is no single truth or meaning; instead, there are many different interpretations and perspectives, all of which are equally valid. Meaning, for postmodernists, is plural, contextual, and fluid.

Jean-François Lyotard famously described postmodernism as “incredulity toward metanarratives,” which captures the movement’s distrust of any system that claims to offer a totalizing explanation of life or reality. Postmodernists were more interested in deconstructing these narratives and exposing the ways in which they obscure or distort meaning.

For Michel Foucault, meaning was closely tied to power structures. He explored how institutions and systems of knowledge shape our understanding of the world and ourselves, often in ways that serve those in power. Foucault was less concerned with finding a meaning of life and more focused on how power relations create and maintain meanings within specific historical and cultural contexts.

Jacques Derrida’s philosophy of deconstruction pushed the idea that language itself is unstable and that meaning is always deferred. For Derrida, every time we try to pin down meaning, it slips away because words and symbols are always reliant on other words and symbols to make sense. This endless deferral means that meaning is never fixed or final; it is always in flux.

Ultimately, postmodernists challenge the very notion that there is a single, discoverable meaning of life. Instead, they argue that meaning is something we construct through our interactions, language, and social contexts. This rejection of fixed meaning can lead to a sense of playfulness and freedom, but it also acknowledges the complexity and instability of trying to find a definitive answer to life’s meaning. Postmodernism opens the door to multiple interpretations, celebrating diversity of thought and experience, but it also dismantles the idea that there is any one true answer to the question of life’s purpose.

Where does Victor Frankl fit into all of this? His seminal book “Man’s Search For Meaning” seems relevant.

Viktor Frankl’s work, especially in Man’s Search for Meaning, offers a powerful counterpoint to both nihilism and postmodernism, while sharing some existentialist concerns. Frankl, a Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist, developed a form of existential therapy called logotherapy, which is centered on the belief that the primary drive in human life is not pleasure (as Freud suggested) or power (as Nietzsche proposed), but the pursuit of meaning.

Frankl’s key insight, drawn from his experience in Nazi concentration camps, is that even in the most horrific and dehumanizing conditions, individuals can find meaning in their suffering. He argued that meaning is not something imposed from outside, nor is it something that necessarily has to be universal or grand. Instead, meaning is highly personal, and it can be found in everyday actions, relationships, and even in how one faces adversity. According to Frankl, the freedom to choose one’s attitude, even in the face of extreme suffering, is where meaning resides.

Frankl doesn’t fit neatly into nihilism, postmodernism, or even existentialism, though he is closest to the existentialists. He shares existentialism’s focus on individual responsibility and the importance of making choices, but he diverges from thinkers like Sartre or Camus by insisting that life always offers meaning, no matter the circumstances. While postmodernists might question the idea of stable meaning, and nihilists might deny the existence of meaning altogether, Frankl affirms that meaning is possible and even essential for human psychological health.

For Frankl, meaning is something each individual must discover, but it can often be found in three key areas: through work or deeds, through love and relationships, and through the way we endure suffering. His approach is less skeptical than postmodernism and more optimistic than nihilism, offering a more concrete path for people seeking to live meaningful lives.

In short, Viktor Frankl brings a unique and practical perspective to the broader discussion of meaning. He acknowledges the existential challenges of a world that can seem devoid of purpose but insists that individuals have the power to create meaning through their choices and their resilience. This message, rooted in his own harrowing experiences, provides a hopeful alternative to the existential and postmodern crises of meaning.

What do the post-postmodernists say about the meaning of life?

The post-postmodernists, sometimes referred to as metamodernists or those exploring an integral approach, tend to focus on reconstructing meaning in response to the deconstructive tendencies of postmodernism. While postmodernism was largely about skepticism, irony, and the rejection of grand narratives, post-postmodernism seeks to move beyond that cynicism, finding ways to integrate what was dismantled and to re-engage with meaning in a more constructive, creative, and sincere way.

One of the key ideas in post-postmodernism is the belief that meaning is a creative process rather than something preordained or imposed. This approach acknowledges the relativism of postmodernism but doesn’t stop at deconstruction; it tries to synthesize different perspectives, allowing for a plurality of truths while still valuing the importance of creating meaningful structures. Post-postmodernists often engage in a “both/and” mindset, embracing complexity and contradictions without falling into nihilism or absolute relativism.

Thinkers like Ken Wilber with his integral theory propose that meaning can be found by integrating different modes of knowledge and experience—personal, scientific, spiritual, cultural—into a more holistic understanding of life. This approach seeks to combine rational inquiry with subjective experience, honoring both the intellectual rigor of modernity and the emotional, spiritual insights that were often sidelined during the postmodern era.

Post-postmodernism also tends to emphasize authenticity, playfulness, and sincerity. While postmodernism often embraced irony and detachment, post-postmodernism encourages a more genuine engagement with life, recognizing that meaning is something we actively create through participation, relationships, and self-expression. It promotes a sense of responsibility for creating meaning, but with a sense of lightness and joy—life can be seen as a playful process of meaning-making, even in the face of uncertainty.

In sum, post-postmodernists respond to the meaning crisis by suggesting that, while life may not have inherent meaning, humans can engage in the active, creative process of generating meaning, pulling from a diverse range of perspectives and experiences, and doing so with sincerity and a sense of renewal.

The cognitive scientist John Vervaeke has an excellent series of lectures called “Awakening From The Meaning Crisis.” He focuses on scientific research into meaning.

John Vervaeke’s “Awakening From The Meaning Crisis” offers a fascinating approach by combining cognitive science, philosophy, and ancient wisdom traditions to explore how humanity lost a shared sense of meaning and how we might recover it. He dives into the psychological, social, and cognitive processes that underpin our need for meaning, drawing on scientific research to show how meaning is not just an abstract concept but deeply rooted in human cognition.

Vervaeke explores the evolutionary and neuroscientific basis of meaning, explaining how humans evolved to seek connections between things, form patterns, and find relevance. He emphasizes the importance of what he calls “relevance realization”, where we navigate the world by determining what is meaningful or relevant in our environment, and how this connects to our sense of purpose and identity.

He also discusses how traditional wisdom practices—like mindfulness, meditation, and contemplation—can help us reconnect with a sense of meaning in the modern world. By bridging cognitive science and ancient practices, Vervaeke offers a framework for “awakening” from the meaning crisis through personal transformation and the cultivation of wisdom, rather than relying on external systems or fixed beliefs.

Vervaeke’s approach aligns with post-postmodernism in that it seeks to integrate various sources of knowledge and experience to respond to the meaning crisis, using both scientific insights and philosophical reflection to craft a more holistic understanding of how we can reengage with meaning in today’s world.

His discussion of relevance realization is great. If I remember correctly, he talks about “combinatorial explosion” and how this makes a scientific study of relevance realization impossible.

Yes, you’re right! John Vervaeke’s discussion of relevance realization in the context of combinatorial explosion is a key part of his argument about why it’s challenging to scientifically study how humans find meaning. Combinatorial explosion refers to the problem of there being an almost infinite number of possible ways to interpret or act upon any given situation. If we tried to consider every possible option or piece of information, our cognitive systems would be overwhelmed.

Vervaeke argues that the brain doesn’t solve this problem by evaluating every option—this would be computationally impossible. Instead, we have a built-in capacity for relevance realization, where our minds automatically filter out irrelevant information and focus on what matters in any given moment. This process is dynamic and context-sensitive, meaning it adjusts based on our current goals, environment, and even emotional state. Because of the sheer complexity and context-dependency of this process, it’s very difficult to model scientifically in a comprehensive way.

In other words, relevance realization is the brain’s ability to zero in on what is meaningful or important at any given time, while ignoring the vast number of possibilities that could overwhelm us. This makes studying relevance scientifically tricky, because it’s not just a static mechanism but a highly adaptive and fluid process. It highlights how deeply embedded meaning is in our cognitive processes, and why it’s not something that can be easily quantified or reduced to a simple formula.

Say more about Vervaeke’s framework for awakening from the meaning crisis through personal transformation and the cultivation of wisdom. How does one go about this?

Vervaeke’s framework for awakening from the meaning crisis is grounded in the idea that to reconnect with meaning, we need to undergo a process of personal transformation that involves cultivating wisdom, not just knowledge. He focuses on how ancient wisdom traditions, combined with modern cognitive science, can help guide this process. At the heart of his approach is the concept of relevance realization, where we sharpen our ability to see and engage with what truly matters in the moment. This is more than just an intellectual exercise—it’s about training our minds to become more attuned to meaningful patterns in our environment and in ourselves.

One way to do this is through practices like mindfulness, meditation, and contemplation, which allow us to step back from the flood of distractions in modern life and reconnect with deeper aspects of our experience. These practices help us break out of habitual ways of thinking and perceiving, enabling us to see the world and ourselves in new, more meaningful ways. Vervaeke also talks about the importance of flow states—those moments when we are fully immersed in an activity that aligns with our skills and passions. Achieving flow can make us feel deeply connected and engaged with life.

He also stresses the role of dialogue and community in cultivating wisdom. Engaging in meaningful conversations with others allows us to challenge and refine our perspectives, breaking out of the narrow confines of our own thinking. This collective aspect of meaning-making is crucial because it helps ground our personal search for meaning in relationships with others and the world.

Overall, Vervaeke suggests that awakening from the meaning crisis is not about finding a single answer to life’s meaning, but about constantly refining our ability to engage with life in a way that brings deeper understanding, connection, and fulfillment. It’s a continuous process of developing wisdom through reflection, practice, and community, where meaning is actively created rather than passively received.

What is the difference between wisdom and intelligence?

The difference between wisdom and intelligence lies in how they are applied and what they focus on. Intelligence is often thought of as the ability to acquire and apply knowledge, solve problems, and think abstractly. It’s more about cognitive abilities, such as reasoning, memory, and processing information quickly. Intelligence is often measured through tests or academic performance, focusing on tasks like solving puzzles, learning new skills, or understanding complex systems.

Wisdom, on the other hand, goes beyond raw cognitive ability. It involves the practical application of knowledge and experience to navigate life’s complexities and challenges in a meaningful way. Wisdom is about knowing how to use knowledge in a balanced, thoughtful, and compassionate manner. It often includes emotional intelligence, understanding the broader context, and recognizing the ethical or moral dimensions of decisions. Wisdom also tends to be deeply tied to self-awareness, humility, and the ability to learn from experience, including mistakes and setbacks.

While intelligence helps you figure out how to solve a problem, wisdom helps you determine whether the problem is worth solving in the first place and how to approach it in a way that aligns with deeper values and long-term well-being. Wisdom often comes with age and experience, but it’s not guaranteed—it requires reflection and an openness to learning from life’s lessons.

the future

We have discussed the meaning of life from the ancients to John Vervaeke. What do you think lies on the horizon? What comes next in the story of the meaning of life?

Looking ahead in the story of the meaning of life, it seems likely that we’re moving toward a period of integration and synthesis. After the deconstruction of traditional meaning structures in modernism and postmodernism, and the more playful reconstruction in post-postmodernism, the future may involve a deeper attempt to integrate diverse perspectives—scientific, philosophical, spiritual, and experiential—into a more holistic framework for understanding meaning.

One possibility is a shift toward collective meaning-making and a renewed emphasis on community and connection. As we face global challenges like climate change, inequality, and technological disruption, there is an increasing recognition that individualism alone isn’t sufficient to address the existential challenges of the modern world. The search for meaning may evolve from a solitary pursuit into one that’s more deeply rooted in communal, relational, and global contexts. People might seek meaning not just in personal growth or individual achievement, but in contributing to collective well-being and sustainable ways of living.

Another key area on the horizon is the relationship between technology and meaning. With the rapid advancement of artificial intelligence, virtual reality, and biotechnology, the question of what it means to be human—and how technology affects our sense of purpose—will likely become central. How we navigate the interaction between human experience and digital spaces could profoundly shape the future of meaning. There’s potential for technology to enhance human connection and self-understanding, but also the risk of further alienation and fragmentation if not used wisely.

In terms of philosophical trends, we might see a greater convergence between science and spirituality, as thinkers like John Vervaeke have suggested. There is a growing interest in bridging the gap between cognitive science, wisdom traditions, and contemplative practices to form a deeper understanding of meaning that is both grounded in empirical research and open to existential and transcendent questions. This integration could give rise to new ways of finding meaning that are both rational and deeply human, emphasizing lived experience over abstract theory.

Ultimately, I think the future of the meaning of life will be characterized by flexibility, creativity, and the ability to embrace uncertainty. Instead of seeking one fixed answer to the meaning of life, the next chapter may involve a fluid, evolving process where meaning is actively created through relationships, community, technology, and ongoing exploration. The focus will likely be on cultivating resilience, wisdom, and a sense of playfulness as we face an increasingly complex and interconnected world.