Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis; A Hegelian Path to Metamodernism

Much of 19th century German philosopher, G.W.F. Hegel’s philosophical outlook was grounded in a dialectical perspective. A perspective that saw ideas and concepts evolving through contradiction and inherent limitation. In this framework, new formulations could emerge without negating prior formulations. The original formulation could be preserved, while enhancing the new formulation that was created through natural progression. Hegel saw this unfolding process as one that trended towards increased understanding and universality. In terms of world history, Hegel saw historical development as the dialectical movement of the ‘World Spirit’ (Weltgeist). For this writing, we will think of the World Spirit as a ‘metaphysical total’; or the entire metaphysical nature of our reality from the 1950’s onward.

In a simplified view of Hegel’s dialectical framework, we can divide the metaphysical total into three parts: the original framework (thesis), the counter framework (antithesis), and the combination framework (synthesis). It should be noted that the exact terminology of ‘thesis, antithesis, synthesis’ should be attributed to the German philosopher Johann Gottlieb Fichte; even though it is often attributed to Hegel. Regardless, the broad Hegelian concept of dialectical historical progression fits very well with the metaphysical concepts of modernism, postmodernism, and metamodernism.

If we view things through this lens, the thesis in this case would be the age of modernism. The nature of metaphysical discourse doesn’t really lend itself to hard lines or definitions. But for the sake of this writing let’s say the age of modernism ended with the assassination of US President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963. A speculative beginning for the modernist age matters little in terms of discussing its nature and how it relates to a Hegelian dialectical framework.

Two of the main metaphysical pillars of the modernist age were tradition and religion. They helped form a cultural structure that ordered the world; which led to ethical and moral beliefs flowing from their guidelines. This created a kind of simple or ‘solid’ metaphysical reality. One where the line between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ was understood to be clear and easily defined. In the United States after World War II, modernist feelings peaked with notions of victorious American ideals, and the seeming blessings of capitalism. All of this was reinforced by the nature (and limited amount) of modernist communication mediums. The nature of books, newspapers, and radio aligned with a slow paced, structured reality. This meant the human mind had less opportunity to escape the metaphysical determinism fate had decided for it.

Yet from a Hegelian outlook, this modernist thesis contained the seeds of its own undoing. Its inherent nature brought about the dialectical response of the postmodern antithesis. The religions and traditions that buttressed the modernist metaphysics contained inherent hypocrisies. Religions that professed chastity were followed and upheld by people who indulged their hedonistic appetites behind closed doors. American ideals that were supposed to represent universal human rights, were limited to WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) men who held power. Every other minority group began to realize that for them, ‘American ideals’ were nothing more than empty lip service.

The destruction of the modernist grip on society was also aided by the changing communication technology of the day. The acceleration of television as a medium began to allow the human mind to escape modernist metaphysical constraints. In the late 1950’s, young viewers began to visually witness taboo breaking entertainment like a young Elvis Presley singing and dancing. Television allowed the human mind to see a metaphysical world beyond what the old religions and traditions were telling them. In a Hegelian sense, communication mediums could be seen as helping unfold the progress of world history. While not an explicit part of the thesis, antithesis, synthesis idea framework; they could be seen as laying the foundation for the idea framework to unfold. They could be seen as both a product, and a driver of human teleological progression.

In an ironic twist, it was television that helped create modernism’s final metaphysical act: the mythos surrounding America’s 35th President, John F. Kennedy. The young, handsome, and eloquent World War II veteran was made for the television age. The first televised presidential debate in history took place in 1960 between Kennedy and then Vice President Richard Nixon. While pretty much equal on debate substance, the visual distinction between the two presidential candidates was profound. The (seemingly) healthy and well groomed Kennedy stood in great contrast to Nixon with his pale complexion, ill fitting suit, and five o'clock shadow. The debate helped solidify the fantasy around Kennedy’s identity, and helped carry him to a narrow election victory in November of the same year.

Yet as with other modernist metaphysical narratives, the Kennedy ideal that would later be known as ‘Camelot’, was empty at its core. While Kennedy projected the image of health and vigor, in reality he suffered from terrible ailments. While Kennedy projected the image of a devoted family man with the ‘perfect’ wife and kids; the reality was anything but. Kennedy’s private life was filled with countless women and affairs. Some of which were rather messy. The major media of the period, coupled with Kennedy's stirring traditional and patriotic rhetoric, preserved the last aspects of the modernist thesis up until November 22, 1963. That was the day Kennedy would be murdered in cold blood; and the facade of the modernist thesis would give way to the reality of the postmodern antithesis.

In the years after Kennedy’s assassination, the generations coming of age in the 1960’s began to forcefully reject the hypocrisy inherent in the modernist world around them. Movements for racial civil rights, women’s rights, gay rights, and workers rights illuminated the need for the old modernist economic and moral structures to be dismantled. The Vietnam War laid violently bare the hypocrisy of a ‘great nation’ disproportionately sending young, poor black men to fight for ‘freedom’ thousands of miles away - while not enjoying freedom in their own country.

The flimsy US foreign policy justification for the war in Vietnam was seen as nothing more than another modernist lie by many of the 60’s generation. In 1969, at the now famous Woodstock Music Festival, the last song of Richie Havens’ opening set was titled ‘Freedom’. Havens’ rhythmic rendition could be seen as an apt metaphor for the metaphysical change of the day. Hegel saw the progression of history as a dialectical process towards ever increasing human freedom and expanded consciousness. In the dialectical rejection of the modernist thesis, ‘freedom’ was an explicit causal force. Freedom from oppressive moral structures, freedom from discrimination, freedom from war, freedom from poverty, and the freedom to live a life without being told what to do or how to think.

In the decades following the cultural upheaval of the 1960’s, the pillars of modernism continued to be deconstructed. The 1980’s saw a brief modernist resurgence with the policies and rhetoric of US President Ronald Reagan. Yet with the falling of the Berlin Wall in 1989, and the final dismantling of the Soviet Union in 1991, the peak metaphysical age of the postmodern antithesis had arrived. The 60’s generation was now entering their prime adult years, and their children were entering the world they created. A world free of all modernist constraints, yet pulsating with the postmodern spirit. In a Hegelian sense, generations that came of age in the 1990’s were blessed with an expanded freedom of consciousness. Yet like the metaphysics of modernism, the metaphysics of postmodernism contained tensions and contradictions that would ultimately lead to its undoing.

By the late 1990’s, the postmodern antithesis had pretty much taken total control over the metaphysics of the day. Freed from religious or traditional moral constraint, music and entertainment regularly depicted realistic sex and violence. Popular culture seemed to thrive on aggression, cynicism, and unchecked hedonism. Political institutions in the US began their downward spiral as politicians discarded any remaining norms of decorum. The major media began to shed its tradition of unbiased, fact based reporting in favor of political partisanship. The old norms of society were coming apart, piece by piece. And all of it was projected through the medium of television, which had become dominant and ubiquitous.

One way to look at the postmodern era would be this: the postmodern antithesis wasn’t about constructing something to replace what it had torn apart; it was about having a party amidst the rubble. Yet it was within this indulgence that lay the problem that would ultimately lead to the end of the postmodern antithesis. No matter how much one tries to deconstruct, or to have no ‘rules’, or no moral constructs; something will always fill the void. In postmodernism’s case, the metaphysical void was filled with hedonism, and unfettered capitalism. The problem with both of these in a human sense is that they are devoid of any true meaning. An individual can have an abundance of money, sex, and drugs, and they will have fun and moments of happiness. But in the long term, these things will leave the individual empty on an existential level. They will yearn for true, authentic meaning. The inherent contradiction within the postmodern antithesis was that its ultimate end lay in conflict with our nature as a species. In the Hegelian view, the postmodern antithesis had gone too far in its reaction and opposition to the modernist thesis.

Countless cultural products from the 1990’s and the early 2000’s dealt with what Austrian psychiatrist Viktor Frankl described as the ‘existential vacuum’. Whether it was HBO’s widely acclaimed television drama ‘The Sopranos’. Or the epic novel ‘Infinite Jest’ by David Foster Wallace. Art that sought to not simply indulge in postmodernism, but reflect the status of the human condition within postmodernism, conveyed existential angst. Human nature had remained unchanged despite the deconstruction of the metaphysical world. And with the seeming nihilistic emptiness of unfettered capitalism surrounding the human mind, the deepest philosophical questions began to emerge: What is the purpose of life? What is truly meaningful? What is really ‘good’? How can one find true happiness?

The metamodern synthesis would emerge mostly from the metaphysics surrounding these questions. As stated before, it can be difficult to assign a concrete date to the start of an ephemeral metaphysical age. Yet for the purposes of this writing, let's say the metamodern synthesis unofficially began with the 2008 presidential campaign of former US President Barack Obama. Obama’s ‘08 campaign stirred the emotions of voters with seemingly modernist campaign slogans like ‘hope’ and ‘change’. Yet through his campaign rhetoric on subjects like race, economics, or government institutions, Obama acknowledged the cynicism many voters felt. Obama’s campaign didn’t try to paint a naive modernist picture, or a totally nihilistic postmodern one. He sought to acknowledge what was truly meaningful in a realist, pragmatic way. He sought to inspire voters by weaving a narrative about what he felt was authentically good, and how politics and government could be as well.

This kind of synthesis can be seen as a calling card of metamodernism. A kind of rebalancing between the poles of superficial modernism, and empty postmodernism. The metamodern synthesis is a kind of collective metaphysical response from the human mind. It’s almost as if after all the years of postmodern metaphysics proclaiming authentic feeling as ‘kitschy’, the human mind began to realize that authentic feeling was what it actually yearned for. Yet it wasn’t going to settle for being sold superficial narratives about patriotism, love, morality, or ‘good’ and ‘bad’. It wanted to find, and construct something new. Something that in a Hegelian sense created a new, and higher form of consciousness. Something that saw reality for what it was: a cynical landscape dotted with moments, and potential wells of authentic meaning or feeling.

The emergence of the metamodern synthesis has also been enabled by the communication mediums of the day. Just as modernist and postmodern notions aligned with (and flowed from) the dominant communication mediums of their time; the same is true for metamodern notions. The age of metamodernism moves through our digital connections and our smartphones. The digital revolution helped pave the road for the human mind to escape the nihilism of postmodernism; and begin to search for something new. The explosion of access to information (and media) that the digital age enabled, has provided an abundance of tools for metamodern construction. The creative combination of disparate pieces of information, cultural realms, or digital artifacts is a metamodern hallmark.

Digital social media feeds oscillate the human mind between authentic feeling and cynicism not in an abstract sense, but in a real physical way. An individual scrolling a social media feed might be exposed to an uplifting post one minute, only to encounter a depressing update moments later. This means the metamodern synthesis is truly a ‘metaphysical total’. One that encompasses human sentiment, culture, and the physical nature of our communication systems. This kind of ephemeral, yet physical metamodern combination could be seen in the 2022 Academy Award winning film, ‘Everything Everywhere All At Once’. In that film, the physical manifestation of the multiverse functioned in a causal role similar to the way our digital connections do now.

From a Hegelian viewpoint, the metamodern synthesis seems to have resolved the tensions within, and between modernism and postmodernism. Authentic feeling and meaning have gained an appropriate foothold in the human cultural experience. Yet the cynicism surrounding failed institutions, unfettered capitalism, and certain aspects of the human condition have rightfully remained. The metamodern synthesis has brought greater opportunity for the expansion and elevation of human consciousness. This would seem to align with Hegel’s view of history having a teleological purpose. Yet if we are to truly follow Hegel’s premise, then the metamodern synthesis will ultimately become a new thesis that sparks the progression of history anew.

The nature of the next metaphysical antithesis is hard to predict. Yet most likely it will be rooted in the human mind’s attempt to find a bit of certainty amid failing political systems, late stage capitalism, digital atomization, the search for true meaning, and technological advancements. If this attempt were to move in a positive direction, it could lead to new economic, social, and political paradigms. If it were to move in a negative direction, we might see the faltering of democracy, the rise of authoritarianism, the widespread appeal of cult-like ideologies, and increased social decay. The metamodern synthesis is a time of new metaphysical construction. And it is the nature of what’s constructed that will determine what comes next in the unfolding dialectic of history.

The Metaphysical Map of Pro Wrestling

Popular culture can offer a clear window into deep cultural and metaphysical shifts over time. The nature of major team sports leagues, popular movies, and chart topping music all serve as surface indicators reflecting the hidden metaphysical pressures underneath. Charting the changes in these popular realms over decades can be particularly revealing. For example, if one were to examine the difference between the way the National Football League handled player safety forty years ago versus now; one could gain insight into deeper cultural shifts concerning empathy and morality. While certain sports or entertainment items can reflect narrow aspects of our deeper metaphysical reality, there are some popular cultural products that offer a wider, all encompassing view. And as unlikely as it might seem, one of these cultural products is professional wrestling; specifically World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE).

In the United States, the history of professional wrestling entertainment dates all the way back to the 1860’s. But for the purposes of this writing, we need only look back forty years, to around 1980. This could be considered the ‘modern era’ for pro wrestling. A time where large promotional companies began to consolidate control over the business. The most well known of these companies is of course WWE; which was formerly known as WWF (World Wrestling Federation). While deeply flawed on a personal level, the longtime owner of WWE Vince McMahon has always been brilliant at recognizing the cultural changes in WWE’s popular audience. McMahon always seemed to understand that his product succeeded best when it reflected the deeper culture at large. Instead of trying to create new culture, McMahon knew that all he had to do was amplify what was already there.

Over the past forty years, the changes in professional wrestling have reflected the basic theoretical framework known as the transition from modernism, to postmodernism, to metamodernism. The 1980’s were a time of modernist narratives and an aligning technological environment. The Cold War created an easily digestible metanarrative where the United States was ‘good’ and the Soviet Union was ‘bad’. Then US President Ronald Reagan appealed to tradition and idealized themes in his rhetoric. News and entertainment choices were limited, which left the human mind in a more focused and simpler place than today. This simplicity combined with the low quality of 80’s television sets and VHS tapes, helped create a metaphysical condition where the human mind was easily swayed by fantasy narratives. One such narrative was that pro wrestling was featuring authentic competition instead of scripted entertainment. Another was the entire persona of pro wrestling’s biggest star of the 80’s; Hulk Hogan.

Hogan was like a real life superhero to kids of the 1980’s. He was larger than life, and ‘good’ in the same Cold War manner that the United States was ‘good’. Hogan carried the American flag proudly, and eventually adopted a song called ‘Real American’ as his theme music. The chorus lyrics to ‘Real American’ were:

‘I am a real American, fight for the rights of every man. I am a real American. And fight for what's right! Fight for your life!’

This kind of kitschy patriotism is modernist to its core. Overly sentimental, optimistic, and immune from any cynicism; it was a deep part of 1980’s culture. Which was part of why Hogan, and ‘Hulkamania’ became cultural phenomena.

Another part of Hogan’s appeal were his in ring performances. His signature style included moments where he would ‘hulk out’ on his opponents. Seemingly nearing defeat, Hogan would suddenly summon a burst of energy and emotion that instantly left his opposition reeling. Flexing, and convulsing around the ring, Hogan would channel the rising energy of the crowd into a force field that rejected his opponents punches. This sequence of events was predictable and melodramatic, but it also worked. It was wrestling as peak modernist performance. A simple, overdone fantasy for a time when popular audiences were readily consuming simple, earnest narratives.

As the 1980’s gave way to the 1990’s, the culture at large began to change; and pro wrestling changed with it. The age of postmodern cynicism would begin, and reach its high point in the 90’s. Notions of earnest feelings and grand patriotic narratives gave way to the hedonistic allure of anger, violence, sex, and rebellion against authority. Whether it was through conscious recognition or intuitive feeling, pro wrestlers began to change their personas. Out were the over the top childish antics, and cheesy gimmicks. In were edgy attitudes, street clothes, and ever realistic violence.

In 1996 Hulk Hogan became ‘Hollywood’ Hulk Hogan. His signature yellow and red outfits were replaced by black t-shirts, sunglasses, black jeans, and the occasional cigar. He led a new group of wrestlers called the ‘New World Order’, which was made up of similarly dressed cohorts. But the most important part of Hogan’s change was his sudden transition from ‘face’ to ‘heel’. This basically means a transition from a hero or good guy, to a villain. Mirroring the Cold War, modernist atmosphere of the 80’s, wrestling faces and heels before the 90’s were pretty much clearly defined. The fans rooted for those that were good; while those that were bad got booed. Yet one of things that came along for the postmodern 90’s ride was a blurring of the lines between the good and the bad. Bad guys became cool, and good guys became naive simpletons susceptible to ridicule. For wrestling fans, heels weren’t bad guys to root against anymore. They were the coolest, edgiest guys in the ring that everyone wanted to emulate.

What became known as the ‘Attitude Era’ for WWE began in November of 1997. This signified a full embrace of PG-13 rated content, and was the apex of WWE’s postmodern era. The most popular wrestlers of this period were ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin, and Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. Stone Cold chugged beers in the ring, popped off middle fingers, wore a leather vest, and terrorized his ‘boss’ (Vince McMahon) in fictional storylines.

The Rock shared Stone Cold’s talent for rebellion and mayhem. But he also displayed unmatched, and uncensored verbal skills in skewering whoever became the target of his ire. Both wrestlers were beloved by fans because of their attitudes and personas. Whether they were good or bad mattered little. In 90’s postmodern paradigms; edginess equated cool. Stone Cold and The Rock embodied the kind of postmodern anti-heros that audiences at the time were gravitating towards.

Another aspect of WWE’s postmodern Attitude Era was its embrace of the moral notions of the day. Or should we say, lack of moral notions of the day. The 90’s were a time when it seemed like the moral landscape had become a complete free for all in the wake of disintegrated moral traditions that were never replaced. Music and entertainment embraced profanity, overt sexuality, and unabashed hedonism. In WWE this development was personified by the group, ‘Degeneration X’ or ‘DX’. For DX, rebellion and debauchery weren’t actions to prove a point; they were the point in themselves. Like drunken frat boys unleashed in a wrestling ring, wrestlers Paul ‘HHH’ Levesque and Shawn Michaels defined DX with their signature gimmicks. The most famous of which was to aggressively gesture towards their crotch while screaming ‘suck it’ at an opponent or rowdy fans. 90’s wrestling audiences loved it, and the DX ‘suck it’ gesture grew to become a 90’s pop culture phenomenon.

The postmodern culture of the 90’s that allowed DX’s debauchery to thrive also opened the door to the fetishization of violence. In popular music and entertainment, ultra realistic depictions of violence became an acceptable norm. Looking back, it seemed like the ‘hyper realism’ of the 1990’s was a reaction to the sugar coated gloss of 1980’s modernism. Generations coming of age in the 90’s were primed with cynicism flowing from the failings of modernist narratives. This led to an almost nihilistic feeling. A feeling where true meaning came from embracing the pain, suffering, and misery that went hand in hand with human existence. I’m not sure whether the intoxication with violence in the 90’s came from generational anger at a seemingly meaningless reality; or simple unchecked hedonistic indulgence. Yet one can be sure the intoxication itself was real. And as it manifested itself in the culture, it found a natural home in the postmodern era of pro wrestling.

Interestingly, the epicenter of realistic violence in 90’s postmodern wrestling wasn’t situated in WWE. Its primary home was a smaller, more regional wrestling company formed in 1992 called ‘Extreme Championship Wrestling’ (ECW). ECW was to the wrestling industry what early hip hop was to the music industry. It was an insurgent that functioned as a constant middle finger to the mainstream. This made its young fans rabid, loyal, and a little cult-like. Instead of large stadiums or arenas, ECW took place in smaller venues or even high school gyms. Fans knew the company not as ECW, but as EC ‘fucking’ W. The authenticity, and constant push towards aggression in the ECW brand was the antithesis of PG rated modernism.

It’s hard to describe the level of violence in ECW. There were matches where the ring ropes were replaced with actual barbed wire. Tables, ladders, and chairs were used in authentic stunts where bodies were thrown from obscene heights. Crowds could bring objects, throw them into the ring, and the wrestlers could use them to pummel their opponent. ECW fans reveled in all this partly because of pure hedonistic indulgence, but also because they connected with the authenticity of the ECW wrestlers. Wrestlers like ‘The Sandman’ or the ‘Innovator of Violence’ Tommy Dreamer were regular guys. Their fuck you attitude in the ring was the same attitude ECW fans were living in their daily lives. ECW was the embodiment of the 90’s postmodern feeling that ‘keeping it real’ was the only way to live. It was one of those cultural products that was so embedded within its time, that there was probably no way for it to exist outside of the time in which it thrived.

Yet as with most counterculture products in America, ECW eventually became absorbed by the mainstream. At first, Vince McMahon noticed the cultural relevance of ECW and began to incorporate some of its violence into WWE. But by around 2002, ECW had run out of steam and money. This gave McMahon the opportunity to acquire all of ECW’s assets and bring an end to the violent rebellion in professional wrestling. The early 2000’s were still maintaining the hallmarks of the postmodern 90’s, but tremors of change were beginning. The culture at large was beginning its shift towards the metamodern age, and as it always does, wrestling was getting ready to follow.

The postmodern Attitude Era in WWE officially ended in July of 2008 when the company received a more family friendly TV-PG rating for its content. Gone was the excessive violence, profanity, and sexuality. In was earnest feeling, positive messaging, and creativity. An unofficial marker for the beginning of the age of metamodernism was the 2008 US presidential campaign of Barack Obama. It seems more than a coincidence that WWE changed its direction officially in the same year. Metaphysical change is one of those things that happens with broad force, but little overt warning. It just kind of happens.

The most well known wrestler of WWE’s early metamodern era was John Cena. Drawing from both 1980’s modernist kitsch and 1990’s postmodern cynicism, Cena created a new paradigm for professional wrestling. He conveyed his feelings in an overly earnest manner, yet maintained a sense of irony and sharp detached wit. Instead of trying to stir the hedonistic passions of young fans, he sought to inspire them through positivity. He wore custom shirts with mantras like ‘never give up’ and ‘hustle, loyalty, respect’. And in an explicitly metamodern twist, Cena would go on to become the single most prolific ‘wish granter’ for the well known ‘Make-A-Wish Foundation’. Cena’s earnest persona, and genuine real world acts, reflected the change that was happening in the culture at large. There was a yearning for hope and meaning that was light years removed from the total cynicism of the 90’s.

Before WWE’s 2008 official entry into its metamodern era, there was an unofficial changing of the metaphysical guard. After Vince McMahon absorbed ECW in 2003 he decided to keep the brand alive in various forms instead of completely ending it. He knew that even though times were changing, the last postmodern gasps of ECW could still generate interest and revenue. This led to WWE producing ECW pay per view events in 2005 and 2006; with each one being dubbed ‘ECW One Night Stand’.

However, it was the main event of the 2006 pay per view that became a physical manifestation of two underlying cultural paradigms crashing into one another. Taking place at the cozy Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City, the main attraction of the evening was a championship match between rising WWE star John Cena, and an old favorite of ECW diehards; Rob Van Dam. Cena, with his earnest persona and positivity represented the metamodern age that was just around the corner. While the pot smoking, kind of sketchy looking Van Dam represented the last vestiges of postmodern, hedonistic cool. Yet the significance of the match wouldn’t be defined by either of the wrestlers. It was the crowd in attendance that would bring the meaning of the night to life.

The best way to describe the vibe of an ECW crowd would be to imagine the rowdiest football fans tossed into a mosh pit at a heavy metal concert. Now imagine the mayhem that ensued wasn’t just fueled by the event. But that it was also fueled by the idea that what the crowd was experiencing might not be seen very often, or ever again. It’s kind of like going to see the last ever show of your favorite musical act. Your emotional state will be a bit different than if you were attending a performance in the middle of their career. The ECW crowd at the Hammerstein Ballroom that night in 2006 was primed to the highest level. Events had shown them the postmodern time of ECW was coming to an end, and they were going to hedonistically indulge in every moment that was left. If postmodern cynicism taken to its extreme conclusion results in nihilism, the One Night Stand crowd seemed determined to get there. The theme of the night was summed up nicely by a sign hanging from the balcony seating that read, ‘If Cena wins, we riot’.

Dropping John Cena into the ECW crowd that night was like dropping pieces of bloody meat into a fish tank full of piranhas. Cena’s earnest, metamodern persona was greeted with venomous boos and middle fingers as he made his way stoically to the ring. Cena played his part well as threw his t-shirt into the crowd. This earnest ‘gift giving’ was greeted with hard cynicism as the t-shirt was thrown back into the ring from a sea of middle fingers and curse words. After about three or four more attempts, Cena gave up and dropped his shirt just outside the ring. Loud chants of ‘Fuck You Cena!’ filled the venue, among other no so politically correct barbs. It was a night that brought into clear view the postmodern response to naive modernism, and the ensuing reaction of metamodernism to postmodernism.

The ECW fans that night were responding to the naive, boy scout, PG nature of John Cena. Because for them he was fake; he wasn’t real or authentic. He was a sellout to the groups that had created the false modernist narratives they had no use for. They saw being real as embracing the ills of the human condition, and indulging human passions or appetites. For them, Cena represented a kind of faux morality that sought to determine what was appropriate for them to say or do. It was almost as if Cena represented a metaphysical return to what they had successfully destroyed in the 1990’s.

Yet for Cena his persona wasn’t a modernist act, it was metamodern sincerity. He wasn’t trying to be someone, he was trying to be himself. He really did want to create meaning and hope in people’s lives. He didn’t become the most prolific wish granter in Make-A-Wish history to spin a narrative. He did it because he recognized that for a sick or dying child to desire to spend their one wish on him, was more meaningful and purposeful than he could ever imagine. In Cena’s own words he was in awe of the ‘joy’ he could bring to the kids and their families. This kind of sincerity pervaded his in-ring persona, which is why he was so antithetical to those clinging on to the postmodern paradigm.

The current metamodern age in the culture at large seems to have some sticking power. An argument could be made that it is the final logical resting point between the swinging opposites of modernism and postmodernism. WWE seems to have settled into a mode where its wrestlers embrace sincere feeling, yet retain aspects of cynicism and irony. Individuality and creativity has become a primary component in deciding which wrestlers gain popularity. In what could be seen as a metamodern gesture, the WWE created a ‘performance center’ in 2013 to help aspiring talent hone their wrestling and creative skills.

One of the hallmarks of this metamodern age is that it is wide open. There are no modernist grand narratives or postmodern feelings to intuitively guide or direct a young individual’s behavior. The WWE’s performance center is seemingly an attempt to fill this vacuum. Its existence is a nice analogy for our metamodern time. Things are so atomized and dissolved from a metaphysical standpoint, we literally have to create new structures to tell us how to be, or how to act. In order to find which direction to head these days, we need to create new things that tell us where to go. For the past forty years, WWE has rode the underlying culture to success. Its trajectory over that time functions as a good example of how pop culture can sometimes serve as a map that actually reflects the deeper, metaphysical territory underneath.

The Metamodern Guardians

If one were thinking up metamodern advertising angles, the tagline ‘once more with feeling’ would fit the bill. This was one of the promotional hooks that was featured on posters for Marvel Studios’ final (as of now) installment of the Guardians of the Galaxy series. The Guardians are probably the most explicitly metamodern creation within the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Oscillating between overly sincere feeling and aggressively sardonic humor, the eclectic group of outcasts endeared themselves to popular audiences. A running joke among comic book movie observers was that the mastermind behind the Guardians (James Gunn) was able to make a talking raccoon (Rocket Raccoon), and a talking tree (Groot) more interesting than the movie versions of iconic comic book characters like Superman and Batman. Ironically, now that Gunn is done with his Marvel commitments, he will oversee the likes of Superman and Batman as the new head of DC Studios.

I’ve written before about how Marvel Studios’ success was due in part to the metamodern nature of its storytelling and construction. Yet many of its titles had built in advantages due to well known performers like Robert Downey Jr., or Scarlett Johansson. Widely known Marvel characters such as Spider Man or Captain America also came with natural advantages for success. Yet for James Gunn, and his initial 2014 conception of the Guardians, he had neither a bankable A-list movie star (at the time), or a group of widely known comic book characters to draw from. What Gunn did seem to have though, was an intuitive knowledge of what kind of character treatment and storytelling would connect with popular audiences in this age of metamodernism.

The first movie in the Guardians trilogy saw the group coming together not out of pure goodwill and harmony. Most of the crew of damaged outcasts first came together after getting arrested for participating in a public melee. Initially, each Guardian had a cynical reason to either steal from, kidnap, or even kill another member. They each had been living lives defined by trauma and a kind of inner emptiness (the existential vacuum). There were no traditions or transcendent structures to guide them. The only true meaning they had in life was either in the past, or it never existed at all. This metaphysical positioning of the characters by Gunn mirrored the positioning of many modern individuals in the real world. No doubt this played a part in how these unknown characters were able to connect with audiences. For many moviegoers, the existential angst of the Guardians was like a reflection in a mirror.

Each of the Guardians yearned for earnest connection, and they found it with one another. Towards the end of the first film, the group shares a moment of kinship and authentic feeling. They are moved by a small, passing instance of beauty and wonder as their teammate Groot lights a path down a darkened hallway. As a sentient tree, Groot produces radiant orbs resembling seeds from his hand, which gracefully float around and above the group. The team of jaded individuals pause for a moment, and become lost in the pure beauty of the scene around them. Their actions almost serve as a metaphor for individuals who escape a rut of depression for a brief moment of pure appreciation and gratitude. As the team begins to move down the hallway towards the film’s climax, the character Drax (played by Dave Bautista) says, ‘I want you all to know that I am grateful for your acceptance after my blunders, it is pleasing to once again have friends’.

This metamodern act of building authentic connection and meaning amid a well of cynicism is a thread that runs throughout all of the Guardians films. This thread of ‘cynical yearning’ is personified by the CGI created, Bradley Cooper voiced Guardians character, Rocket Raccoon. The small, mechanically gifted, short tempered, large gun carrying, wise cracking, yet big hearted talking raccoon became the soul of the Guardians franchise. James Gunn called Rocket the ‘secret protagonist’ of the Guardians films. He saw Rocket as the ‘saddest creature in the universe’. A ‘little animal who was taken and turned into something he shouldn’t be’. Which in turn left the intelligent raccoon feeling ‘ostracized, alienated, and angry’ because of the cards fate had dealt him.

Most importantly Gunn saw Rocket’s story as an extension of his own real life experiences. He would tell Marvel.com that Rocket was him, ‘in so many ways’. Rocket’s existential journey over the three Guardians films consisted of a deep inner sadness interrupted by moments of true meaning, purpose, and transcendence. He realized the joy of having loyal friends and the love of having a real family. He even had a moment of non religious, ‘divine’ inspiration in the wake of a friend’s death. Rocket’s story ended in a place of self realization and contentment. He had gone through the darkness, constructed structures of meaning, and come out the other side whole. This metaphysical transition touched upon metamodern descriptions of postmodern cynicism and modernist sentiment. While Gunn’s treatment of Rocket’s story reflected his own real world feelings surrounding his personal journey through the metaphysical waters that led to the current metamodern age.

One of the primary ways Gunn sought to evoke sincere feeling in the Guardians franchise was through the use of music. For Gunn, the soundtrack for each of the three Guardians films wasn’t a simple compilation. The inspiration for each of the ‘mixtapes’ drew from the feelings of nostalgia the leader of the Guardians (Starlord) had for his time as a child on Earth. Gunn used the songs throughout the films not simply as cool backdrops for action sequences. But rather as emotional vectors that either expanded on an emotion in a scene, or spurred emotions in the characters as they listened. The music throughout the Guardians films became its own character or narrative element. This combination of nostalgia, music compilation, and sincere feeling seems very metamodern in its treatment.

At the end of the first Guardians film, Starlord discovers a new mixtape left to him by his late mother. As he plays the tape, the film's ending montage of scenes plays out amid the tune of ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’, by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. The song mirrors the feeling of new found family connection the team has discovered with one another. At the end of the second Guardians film, Starlord cues up ‘Father and Son’ by Yusef / Cat Stevens. The song elicits strong feelings as the film's final scenes show the characters dealing with issues of fatherhood, grief, friendship, meaning, and spiritual reflection.

But it was the end of the third Guardians film, the end of the trilogy, that saw Gunn's use of music reach its emotional climax. By the end of the third film, each member of the Guardians has arrived at a point of personal fulfillment. They have each moved from places of disarray, anger, and confusion to a place where they can live meaningful, or even happy lives. Rocket Raccoon cues up the song ‘Dog Days Are Over’ by Florence and The Machine amid a crowd of kids the Guardians have saved, and inhabitants of a settlement they have created. As the euphoric song plays from the loudspeakers, everyone begins to dance; even those who have seemingly never danced before. The weight of all their past traumas seems to melt away as the Guardians let out cathartic yells to the heavens. This overly sentimental ending to the Guardians trilogy resonated with audiences because it tapped into something fundamentally human. The yearning for true happiness amid a modern world that seems arranged to prevent happiness at every turn. This fundamental yearning is integral to the nature of metamodernism.

Adding an even deeper layer of emotion to the final scene in the Guardians trilogy was the fact that two of the CGI characters in the dancing scene were played by James Gunn and his brother Sean Gunn. Sean Gunn played the live action character ‘Kraglin’ in the Guardians films, but he also did the CGI motion capture for Rocket Raccoon. In the final scene, as Groot and Rocket dance towards each other, it’s actually James Gunn and his brother Sean dancing together. Of the scene, James Gunn told the New York Times, that it ‘was the high point of his life’, and that it was ‘surreal and beautiful and wonderful’. ‘Everybody was crying as it was happening - it was a really powerful moment’, he would say.

James Gunn poured his emotional self into the Guardians franchise, and layered each film with an overly earnest treatment of feelings and connection. If that doesn’t fall into the bin of metamodernism, I’m not sure what does.

A Case For Art and 'The Good'

It’s hard to define why certain things stick in our memory, and why other things do not. Beyond our control, various points or moments in our lives tend to cement themselves as ever present in our mental landscape. They sit there like a book tucked away on a bookshelf. Always there to be referred to or analyzed. For me, one such moment occurred during my first end of semester critique while in graduate school at Brooklyn College in 2011. The crowd evaluating my work at the time consisted mostly of professors and other professional artists that were invited to participate. The pointed discussion centered around two paintings that I had created amid the charged atmosphere in New York City (and the country) due to Occupy Wall Street, and the wake of the 2008 financial crisis. Yet amid all the comments and verbal arrows lobbed by those in attendance, there was one that always stuck with me. Towards the end of the session, a guest artist in attendance suggested that I should be ‘more cynical’. I assumed this person meant the comment in a kind of overall metaphysical way. Basically it meant that some of the things I had said or tried to depict had ‘too much’ authentic feeling behind them. In his view, I was appealing too much to what some might call ‘The Good’.

At the time, I knew the comment was off the mark. Yet I had neither the chance amid the rapid fire discussion, nor the philosophical coherence to counter it. The person who made the comment was drawing from the well of postmodern cynicism and deconstruction. While I had just begun to draw from the well of metamodern feeling, though I didn’t realize it at the time. The paintings I presented were full of cynicism for the current political and economic moment. Yet they also contained elements of humanistic feeling and dignity. The call for me to be ‘more cynical’ was basically a rejection of the dualism or oscillation that resided in the work. It was a call to negate The Good, and embrace a simplistic, yet seductive cynicism. I guess the person making the comment didn’t realize that having come of age in the 1990’s, I had been there and done that already. It’s no coincidence that my generation invented the modern iteration of the mass school shooting. For bottomed out cynicism turned towards nihilism wasn’t a philosophical journey for many in my generation; it was the reality of how we lived in the world.

I suppose if I’m going to make a case for the importance of The Good, I should probably illustrate some philosophical examples first. In the view of the ‘give me more cynicism’ guy, The Good is probably seen as a kind of kitschy, naive, modernist formulation. In fact, he’d probably argue that The Good doesn’t even really exist; and he’d probably hand-wave away any appeal to authentic feeling - especially in art.

For the ancient Greek philosopher Plato, The Good was the eternal, ‘ideal form’ that was the ultimate goal or aim of human life. The Good was the ‘sun’ that lit the way for humanity to see the truth about the world. It flowed through the virtues of individuals, all the way through to the nature and character of the state they inhabited. For Plato’s student, Aristotle, The Good was a more practical conception. Aristotle saw The Good as a kind of real world ‘happiness’, or ‘human flourishing’. This real world, ‘highest good’ for Aristotle consisted of human activity in accordance with reason and virtue. Whereas Plato saw The Good as something the human soul could reach through contemplation, Aristotle saw The Good as a practical matter that human beings might be able to achieve through cultivated activities and habits.

In Buddhist thought, The Good might be seen as an individual reaching a state of enlightenment, or contentment. A state where the individual has realized a state of detachment from their sense of self, and the spontaneous desires that enter their mind. Along with this state of enlightenment might come a sense of inner and outer compassion, that could lead to a broader good. That is to say, a group of individuals enlightened by a Buddhist sense of The Good would form a community that embodied The Good in itself. Interestingly, this idea of The Good being interlocked with the individual and their wider community, is embodied by the African philosophy, ‘Ubuntu’. For practitioners of Ubuntu, The Good is represented by the notion of ‘I am we’. The Good embodies the quality of the relationships between individuals and others. Things like compassion, cooperation, forgiveness, collective well being, and friendship could be seen as populating an Ubuntu conception of The Good.

These philosophical notions of The Good deal with the totality of human life. They address the largest questions about our short time on this planet. What is our purpose in life? How can our lives be meaningful and ‘happy’? How does The Good function in our metaphysical reality or collective existence? Clearly, the practice of philosophical inquiry goes hand in hand with discourse surrounding The Good. For unpacking and dissecting the true nature of The Good is a primary task of philosophy. In artistic mediums like literature, film, or music; The Good has always been a necessary subject. Stories or songs about human existence (fictional or not) must deal with The Good in some manner. Yet for visual art, like painting or sculpture, The Good isn’t a straightforward concept. It is neither a necessary subject of inquiry like in philosophy - nor is it an inherent narrative aspect of the creative product, like in literature, film, or music.

For visual art in the past, The Good could be seen as being tied to older notions of 'truth', or ‘beauty'. Think Michaelangelo's, 'David', or Claude Monet's 'Water Lilies' paintings. The pure formal wonder of these works could be seen as participating in an ideal Platonic form of 'beauty’. Though Plato himself saw art as a mere (and inferior) imitation of ideal forms or essences; for our purposes, the general point stands. The Good, for many centuries as it related to art, was directly connected to the formal aspects of the work. The technical mastery of the artist was the main vehicle for portraying The Good. Even as abstract art began to gain prominence in the 20th century, The Good was still reflected in the formal excellence of the work. This could be seen as viewers were moved by the ephemeral beauty of works like those from Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, or Helen Frankenthaler.

Yet as the age of postmodern deconstruction (and eventual cynicism) took hold in the 1960’s, visual art became less focused on formal dynamics, and more focused on institutional and societal critique. Artists began to engage the hypocritical morality, racial discrimination, technological advancement, existential emptiness, and emerging mass media culture of the time. It was the beginning of a metaphysical reality that was moving away from condensed, linear progression, towards increasing complexity and uncertainty. And it was the beginning of the end for the mental vice grip that the WASP (White Anglo Saxon Protestant) ruling class held over the rest of society. The 1967 film, ‘The Graduate’ was a brilliant illustration of this. Especially in the scene where recent college graduate Dustin Hoffman gets told by a member of the WASP ‘old guard’ that he should consider an exciting future in ‘plastics’. The uninterested, detached look on Hoffman’s face served as an apt metaphor for a generation that had no use for the stale, traditional structure of the society they were entering.

Unfortunately, this justified rejection of the ruling class status quo brought with it an unintended casualty; the idea of The Good itself. For The Good became associated with things like the false, ‘patriotic’ narratives used to justify the Vietnam War. Or the oppressive, religious ideological constructs that curtailed the rights of women or the LGBT community. Even the seductive advertising, and dehumanizing greed of unfettered capitalism became identified with a nefarious form of The Good. In other words, The Good was seen as a kind of empty vessel of propaganda. Something that was used by those in power to control, and undermine the rest of society. Of course the ruling elite of the time were not exemplifying the true nature of The Good, but this mattered little. The ruling institutions that projected the false notions of The Good were still some of the few institutions in society that put forth an idea of The Good. This meant that when younger generations (including artists) sought to destroy the mirage being presented to them, they accidentally destroyed the benign idea of The Good, along with the false notions. Much of contemporary art then became not only antithetical to notions surrounding The Good, it became antithetical to the idea of The Good itself.

As the decades went by, contemporary art and society at large began to be warped by the advancement of unfettered capitalism. By the late 1980’s, the void created by the ideological deconstruction of the 1960’s had been filled by capitalism itself. The Good was now increasingly defined by what kind of job you obtained, and the material objects you accumulated. The 1987 Oliver Stone movie, ‘Wall Street’ coined a famous line that summed up the era nicely: ‘greed is good’. Business, economic profits, and ‘professionalism’ defined the contours of what it meant to live ‘the good life’. Consciously or not, contemporary art began to be taken in by the gravity of economic hedonism. Thus the art world embraced its own false form of The Good. One that ironically embodied many of the things that artists and activists had been moved to attack and deconstruct in the 1960’s.

Yet by the 1990’s it became evident that there was a significant problem with capitalism filling the well that The Good was intended to be drawn from. In philosophical language, it might be seen as a ‘category mistake’. That is to say, capitalism was an economic system intended to generate wealth. It was never meant to function as something that human beings gave their lives away to, or something that provided meaning and existential fulfillment. Capitalism was basically a tool that human beings created to allow for the greatest amount of pathways to true meaning, or The Good. But contained within itself, capitalism was utterly empty of genuine human meaning, or true manifestations of The Good. In fact, untethered, or unfettered capitalism stoked sentiments in the human mind that were the very opposite of The Good. It was no mistake that greed, hedonism, and existential cynicism reigned during the 90’s amid the rubble of past (flawed) traditions. This metaphysical equation was captured supremely by what many regard as the peak of postmodern storytelling; the HBO television show, ‘The Sopranos’ (1999-2007).

By the end of the first decade of the 21st century, it had become clear that the experiment of capitalism masquerading as The Good had run its course. The financial collapse of 2008 had revealed the true nature of a capitalist economic system left to its own ends. Greed was not ‘good’ anymore; instead it was a wrecking ball that crushed the middle class on down to the poor. The justified cynicism that followed the economic downturn was reminiscent of postmodern social reactions of the past. Yet there was an added sensibility that made it different. Embodied by former US President Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign, there was also a kind of tempered ‘hope’ or optimism. People were angry, but they were also open to meaningful change and purpose. For younger generations especially, there was a feeling of the need to tear things down. But there was also the yearning to build something meaningful in its place. In other words, there was a desire for a new, and true conception of The Good.

This desire for a true conception of The Good is nothing new, in fact it is inherent to human nature. If the idea of The Good is replaced with the notion of ‘meaning’, then Viktor Frankl’s ‘will to meaning’ comes to mind. As human beings, we are oriented to doing things that we believe will give us meaning in life. Things like the will to power or the will to pleasure fall under the ‘meaning umbrella’, as they are pursued by individuals with the hope they will fill what Frankl described as the ‘existential vacuum’. Think about capitalism becoming a false form of The Good. The greed and hedonism that was unleashed captured the minds of individuals because they seemed like pathways to meaning and purpose. The same could be said for never ending postmodern cynicism and deconstruction. The very act of embodying the postmodern outlook became a way to create purpose and meaning in the lives of those that felt disaffected.

In the wake of the 2008 financial crisis, it seemed like this inherent human desire for The Good had aligned with true conceptions of The Good. That is to say our inherent desire for The Good had finally realigned with things that were actually meaningful and fulfilling. False conveyors of The Good like greed or hedonism still maintained their allure. But true reservoirs of The Good like community, meaningful work, family, healthy ‘spirituality’, human dignity, love, grace, and compassion became recognizable aims. It also seemed like there was a kind of subconscious realization that The Good was a critical cornerstone of certain political and social causes. This was illustrated poetically by David Simon in HBO television shows like ‘The Wire’ (2002-2008) or ‘Treme’ (2010-2013). Simon showed how we cared about things like poverty, racial injustice, economic injustice, education inequality, or drug addiction because they created a deficit of The Good. The absence of The Good created by these societal ills was the reason we cared about fixing them.

So as I sat in that room back in 2011 at Brooklyn College during my critique; this was the water I was sitting in. As I was requested to be ‘more cynical’, I was already in a place where cynicism had run its course. I knew there probably wasn’t a ‘God’ in the sky, at least how human religion had conceived. Yet I knew that there was spiritual nature to our existence that dealt with love, grace, and things beyond our comprehension. I didn’t believe in some kind of naive ‘kumbaya’ feeling that would solve all of the problems in society. Yet I did believe that things like friendship, compassion, brotherhood, and understanding were essential to human flourishing. I knew that previous conceptions of ‘traditional values’ were pretty much bullshit. But I also knew that as human beings, in order to thrive, we needed certain moral structures to refer to. Basically I knew that the time I was living in wasn’t one of unbridled cynicism. It was a time where cynicism remained; yet it was also juxtaposed, and increasingly oscillated with, ideas surrounding The Good.

To deny The Good as a part of our reality is to deny a part of reality itself. Therefore, if one wants to capture or reflect the reality human beings experience through art; The Good must be considered in some form. This doesn't mean one should engage in naive sophistry about earnest human feeling. But it also doesn't mean earnest feeling should be negated or cast aside. The Good should be considered in terms of the way it functions in our consciousness. Our minds know The Good is real, and we yearn for it. We recognize the absence of The Good in terms of situations concerning injustice and inequality. We experience The Good in fleeting moments; and sometimes we try to chase it through false means. Unbridled cynicism doesn’t reflect the reality of the human condition, nor does it reflect the metamodern nature of our current times. The question for the artist who seeks to capture our current moment is not whether to engage with The Good. Rather it’s how to engage with The Good in a way that reflects its true nature.

The Metamodern MCU

There has been much discussion in recent years about whether the success of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) has damaged or warped the movie industry. Legendary filmmaker Martin Scorsese opined that MCU movies are closer to ‘theme parks’ than the ‘cinema’ he grew up to love and appreciate. Quentin Tarantino complained that MCU movies seem to be the only films that generate ‘any kind of excitement amongst a fan base, or even for the studio making them’. Tarantino also lamented the ‘death of the movie star’; a phenomenon he partially attributed to the MCU’s success. In his view, the star of a Marvel movie is the iconic character (Captain America, Thor, Spider Man, etc); not the actor playing the role. Whether one agrees or disagrees with criticisms of the MCU that echo those of Scorsese or Tarantino, there is one fact that is indisputable. The MCU has been wildly successful, and made a boatload of money over its lifetime (around $25 billion). Putting artistic criticisms aside, one has to wonder why the MCU has resonated so widely and deeply with the general public.

There are practical and down to earth reasons for the wide cultural success of the MCU. The visual experience that each MCU movie delivers aligns with the cost of a trip to the modern movie theater. If a middle or working class family of four is going to pay close to $70.00 per theater trip; they expect a special effects laden spectacle in return. Martin Scorsese’s ‘theme park’ remark shouldn’t just apply to the MCU movies; it should apply to the theaters they play in as well. The average movie goer isn’t keen to part with their hard earned money for an experience they could have on their 55 inch flat screen television at home. The explosion of on demand viewing, streaming sites, and quality television productions have brought Scorsese’s beloved ‘cinema’ into the living room of every modern home on earth.

But beyond these pragmatic considerations for the MCU’s success lies a more ephemeral one. There is something about the metaphysics behind the MCU that aligns with the metaphysics of our current times. If we take it to be true that we live in a time of metamodernism, then it might be the metamodern nature of the MCU that has helped it connect with such a wide popular audience. Whether it’s the overall structure of MCU storytelling, the oscillation between earnest feeling and cynicism in MCU narratives, the ‘existential arcs’ of individual characters, or an overall feeling of what writer Greg Dember coined ‘ironesty’ - the MCU has captivated audiences through metamodern influence.

The fact that the MCU is structured in a way that creates a shared world and narrative over multiple creative properties isn’t new to comic book readers. Yet this kind of interconnected storytelling has offered a new experience for film audiences. The atomization, yet connectivity of the MCU mirrors the atomized, yet digitally connected nature of our metamodern times. Disparate narrative threads or characters, combine, and overlap through various stories. The combination and construction that the MCU uses to build an overarching storyline displays metamodern sensibilities. The average movie goer in 1990 had a mind that was accustomed to consuming straightforward, isolated narratives. But the average movie goer in 2022 has a mind that has been conditioned by our digital technologies. A mind that is attuned to apprehend multiple points of focus, or consume disparate streams of information; is a mind primed for entertainment that reflects its mental habits. The structure of the MCU is like a language that speaks to the metamodern nature of how our minds now consume news or entertainment.

The emotional structure of the MCU also reflects metamodern sentiments that have arisen in the wake of postmodernism. The emotional pillars of the first ten years of MCU storytelling could be seen as Steve Rogers (Captain America) and Tony Stark (Iron Man). Rogers embodied a kitschy, naive, modernist outlook. While Stark embodied a more cynical, ironic, postmodern detachment. Over the course of ten years, the outlooks of both characters oscillated and clashed with one another. And the individual arcs of each character swung between earnest hope, and cynical despair.

Entire MCU movies themselves often oscillate between authentic human emotion and sardonic humor. Characters in MCU narratives often wisecrack their way through dealing with world ending or universe destroying threats. Yet amid the over the top, grand stakes narratives are the smaller, more personal tribulations of the individual characters. Whether or not one is moved by the earnest, personal emotion in MCU narratives; it is the earnest attempt at conveying that emotion which evokes metamodernism. The MCU portrayed a superhuman demigod (Thor) as someone who is forced to deal with extreme grief and depression. It portrayed a cynical, angry talking raccoon (Rocket Raccoon) as a creature that is moved to cry for his friends, and experiences a moment of divine illumination filled with authentic love. It even treated the main villain of its first ten years (Thanos) as someone who wasn’t purely evil; but was an individual who was motivated by an authentic (yet twisted) desire to ‘save’ all living creatures from themselves.

Many of the MCU characters display aspects of an existential crisis, or the ‘existential vacuum’. They search for personal meaning amid circumstances that have left their world confused or scrambled. This search for meaning aligns with how many people feel today in the post-postmodern era. It also aligns with metamodern creativity, as much of it involves how to find or create authentic meaning and experience. In the MCU, much of the ‘authentic meaning creation’ happens as the characters join together, put aside their differences, and work towards a common goal. The individual ‘Avengers’ don’t simply join together in harmony and triumph over evil. They have to negotiate their different personalities, beliefs, and shortcomings in order to create something greater. This resonates with the general public because it reflects a certain modern emotional experience they can relate to.

The overall sensibility of the MCU is one of ‘ironesty’. As mentioned earlier, the term was coined by writer Greg Dember. ‘Ironesty’ means ‘the braiding together of irony and sincerity into a unified aesthetic expression’. The MCU often embraces the silliness of the whole superhero genre through self reflective humor. Yet even the most absurd aspects of certain characters are embraced with a measure of sincerity. In 2022’s ‘Black Panther: Wakanda Forever’, the main antagonist in the film (Namor) was based off of a comic book character who lives underwater, has pointy ears, and can fly with little wings on his ankles. The director of the film, Ryan Coogler, said he stayed true to the absurd character design because he thought that in ‘making these types of movies, you’ve got to lean into the weird stuff, or you risk missing what makes it fun’.

Yet underlying all the wisecracking and absurdity, the MCU is grounded in sincere, honest feeling. A prime example of this was the way Coogler’s ‘Wakanda Forever’ served as a sincere and honest tribute to recently deceased actor Chadwick Boseman. As the original actor to play the Black Panther role, Boseman’s tragic real life passing was incorporated into the fictional storyline for ‘Wakanda Forever’. The result was a narrative that stirred deep feelings of authentic grief and mourning. For the audience had connected not just with the Black Panther character, but the real life actor that portrayed it. This connection between the audience, the MCU characters, and the actors who play the characters, serves as the foundation that the MCU’s ‘ironest’ storytelling is built upon.

In recent years the MCU has become a victim of its own success. Its corporate overlord, The Walt Disney Corporation, has pushed quantity over quality. New characters and storylines have been introduced. Yet they haven’t had quite the emotional connection to audiences as the narratives defining the MCU’s first ten years. Ironically, the recent MCU ‘multiverse’ narrative mirrors what can be seen as physical aspects of metamodernism. Multiple intersecting universes, multiple intersecting timelines, and multiple versions of single characters; all remind me of what I have described as the ‘metamodern hypergraph’. The MCU’s ‘multiverse saga’ is liquid modernity turned into a pop culture, blockbuster, spectacle. Yet despite the structural metamodern undertones of the MCU’s multiversal turn, its future success will still depend on its ability to evoke earnest emotions in its audiences. For in the post-postmodern age of metamodern metaphysics, movie audiences have shown a preference for entertainment that not only stimulates their visual senses, but bares its heart as well.

'The Wire' as a Bridge to the Metamodern

There was a time in the early 2000’s when HBO was producing four of the most iconic postmodern television shows of all time. ‘The Sopranos’, ‘The Wire’, ‘Six Feet Under’, and ‘Deadwood’ were each benchmarks for the kind of television storytelling we see today. All four dealt with cynicism, and the suffering that can surround the human condition. Some of the suffering was dealt with in a physical sense, while much of it was psychological. Psychological in terms of what Viktor Frankl called, the ‘existential vacuum’. Many of the characters in each show were searching for personal meaning in worlds where there were few remaining traditions, or overall structures to guide them. Each show reflected the metaphysics of the day through various narratives and elements. It was a time when postmodern feelings were peaking, and beginning their turn towards metamodernism. None of the four shows were metamodern in their overall presentation, yet each show did contain moments of earnest, authentic human feeling.

Out of all the four shows, ‘The Wire’ seemed to go the furthest in bridging the postmodern, to the metamodern. David Simon (the creator of ‘The Wire’) shed light on the underlying nature of the Baltimore crime drama in various interviews he gave during its run on HBO. Paraphrasing an answer he gave in 2004, Simon said that the show was ‘cynical about institutions, and their capacity to serve the needs of the individual’. But in terms of the characters in the show, Simon didn’t think the storytelling was ‘cynical at all’. In fact he felt there was ‘a great deal of humanist affection’ throughout. Within the show, the structure of these two sets of feelings was more of juxtaposition, than the oscillation that is a hallmark of metamodern storytelling. Varying degrees of institutional rot served as overarching backdrops during each season. While the dignity and humanity of the characters served as windows into a realm that was separate from the dilapidated world around them.

This juxtaposition of feelings was evident within the first moments of the first scene of the show. The scene opens with blood trails, and a dead body on the concrete of Baltimore’s inner city. Detectives pick up bullet shell casings, young children watch from a nearby stoop, and policemen survey the scene while writing reports. On another stoop near the murder scene, a white homicide detective sits next to a young African American man who apparently knew the murder victim. The detective asks the young man what the victim’s name was, and the young man replies, ‘Snot’. The detective quizzically asks, ‘you called the guy Snot?’. To which the young man replies, ‘Snot-Boogie’. The detective then says, ‘this kid who’s mama went to the trouble to Christen him Omar Isiah Betts; he forgets his jacket, his nose starts running, and some asshole instead of giving him a Kleenex calls him Snot, so he’s Snot forever - doesn’t seem fair’. The young man then replies, ‘Life just be that way I guess’.

The detective then begins to move towards the more pressing matter of who actually shot Snot in cold blood. Reluctant at first, the young man looks over sadly at his dead friend and says, ‘motherfucker ain’t have to put no cap in him though’. The detective replies, ‘definitely not’. The young man then says, ‘I mean he could have whooped his ass like we always whooped his ass’. To which the detective replies, ‘I agree with you’. The young man continues by saying, ‘how you gonna kill Snot, Snot been doing the same thing since how long’. The young man then proceeds to tell the detective how every Friday night him and his friends would shoot dice in the alleyway. He recalls how Snot would play too, until the money in the pot grew and grew. But then, every time, Snot would grab the money in the pot and try to make a run for it.

Upon hearing this, the detective says, ‘let me understand you, every Friday night, you and your boys would shoot craps right. And every Friday night, your pal Snot-Boogie, he’d wait until there was cash on the ground, then grab the money and run away?’. The young man nods without saying anything and the detective responds, ‘you let him do that?’. The young man then tells the detective that they would catch him and beat him up, but nothing past that. With a befuddled look on his face, the detective asks, ‘if every time Snot-Boogie would grab the money and run away, why’d you even let him in the game? If Snot-Boogie always stole the money, why’d you let him play?’. The young man replies, ‘we got to…it’s America man’. And with that, the detective smirks in acknowledgment, and the camera shifts to show the two sitting on a stoop in the background. While in the foreground Snot-Boogie lays dead on the pavement; with his eyes still open. The scene then cuts to the show’s familiar opening credits.

The feeling this scene conveys sets the stage for all five seasons of the show. Amid the overall structure of postmodern institutional decay and hopelessness, the humanity of the characters showed through every minute of every scene. There was a sense of ‘hopeless hope’ that dominated the show's sensibility; which seems very metamodern in hindsight. Whether it was the corrupt urban destruction of the drug war, the failings of the inner city school system, or the decimation of local newspapers - it was all juxtaposed by the dignity of the characters amid these dysfunctional systems. Whether it was a drug dealer, a police chief, a mayor, or a homeless addict; all were portrayed as profoundly human. The characters in the show were not simply empty avatars intended to carry a reductive postmodern, or modernist narrative. Their feelings and consciousness were constant reminders of why the world around them was so deflating and cynical.

This is what made the show a very important bridge between postmodern and metamodern sensibilities. The earnest portrayal of human feeling, and an earnest yearning for ‘the good’. ‘The good’ in this case meaning truth, authentic human meaning, and love. These sorts of constructs are anathema to postmodern narratives, and used as naive veneers in modernist narratives. Yet in metamodernism, they are treated as simply real. There to be acknowledged as true parts of the metaphysical water we all swim in, and the human condition. The humanity of the characters was almost like an alarm going off during the duration of the show. As if to say, ‘there is something wrong here, and this human feeling is showing you why and how’.

It’s an interesting coincidence that the show ended in 2008. For it was former United States President Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign that could be seen as the beginning of the metamodern age. Some of Obama’s campaign slogans were literally ‘hope’ and ‘change’. The age of postmodernism had crested with the September 11th, 2001 terrorist attacks, the Iraq War, and the 2008 financial crisis. The metaphysical mood of the country was one of confusion and despair. The anger that resides in the country today was brewing, but was still mixed with a sense of genuine bewilderment from the events of the decade. There was a lot of ‘hopeless hope’ to go around, just as ‘The Wire’ had depicted. People yearned for something they knew was probably lost, yet they felt inspired to reach for it anyway. This was the essence that Obama’s campaign embodied.

The final moments of ‘The Wire’ were an apt metaphor for the show’s position as a bridge between the postmodern and the metamodern. The detective who appeared in the very first scene discussed earlier, is depicted driving back to Baltimore city as a literal and metaphorical end to his journey. Ironically, he stops on an actual ‘bridge’ or highway overpass to gaze at the city and reflect before he returns. The detective’s actions have weight because the arc of his character throughout the five seasons had mirrored the path of the show. His journey was one of earnest humanity blanketed with overriding cynicism, yet motivated by ‘the good’. Motivated by the ‘hopeless hope’ he could make things right.

As he looks out over the city, the familiar song that opens every show, ‘Way Down in the Hole’ written by Tom Waits plays. Each season of ‘The Wire’ had a different version recorded of the song. For this ending scene, the original recording from the first season plays as a way to signal to the viewer that they are back where they started. A montage of various characters who have survived to the end of the show begins. Since the viewer has a connection to each of the characters by now, each character that appears evokes personal feelings. Each character is seen moving forward with their life, yet the overarching theme is that in the grand scheme of things; nothing has really changed. The overarching institutional dysfunction that all these human beings have been maneuvering in is still in place. 

In the last moments of the montage, the portrayals of the fictional characters in the show are replaced with real life snippets of people and places in Baltimore’s inner city. This removes any notion that ‘The Wire’ was a purely postmodern venture. The inclusion of actual people who go through the actual things the show depicted is an indicator of the show’s humanistic heart. The show was not simply made to entertain, it was made to reflect the reality of its time. David Simon once called the show 'a love letter to Baltimore'. It was this love that I believe led to 'The Wire' being a cultural bridge between the postmodern and the metamodern. A time of semi-coherent 'hopeless hope' before the advent of true liquid modernity, metamodernism, or the metamodern hypergraph. A time where the earnest and the cynical remained in juxtaposition, rather than oscillation or combination. A time when individuals still looked towards the old pathways to meaning, not realizing yet that they were gone for good.

The Individual and the Metamodern Hypergraph

‘A hypergraph is, instead of saying there is a connection between a pair of things, we say there are connections between any number of things. Instead of having two points connected by an edge, you say three points are all associated with a hyper edge.’ - Stephen Wolfram

---

In my view, there is an aspect to metamodernism that is physical in nature. Physical in relation to the structure of our reality. If this is taken to be true, it would mean that the concept of metamodernism doesn’t just serve as a kind of metaphysical metaphor, but partly as a descriptive notion of our material reality. Our digital connections function as a kind of lattice work underlying our subconscious (and conscious) experience. Metamodern oscillation, combination, feeling, entertainment, news, and information; it all flows through this lattice work. It might be no coincidence then that the entropy of metamodern metaphysics resembles the entropy of the physical reality underneath. If one were to view this through the lens of the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle’s ‘four causes’, the ‘material’ cause  of our metamodern reality would be the physical electronic systems and machines that we use. The ‘efficient’ cause (force or action) would be the agency of individuals while they use technology. While the ‘formal cause’ (ideal form), or ‘final cause’ (purpose) wouldn’t really apply. For there is no ideal form or final purpose for a metaphysical reality unless an active ‘God’ is considered a creator. And in my opinion, this is not the case (at least in the traditional religious sense). However, one could make the argument that in considering the physical aspect of metamodernism, the formal and final cause could be seen to relate to some notion of pure or ideal connectivity.

So if we have this metamodern metaphysical construct, that has kind of two parts, one abstract, and one physical, how best can one conceive of it? One possible way is through the concept of a ‘hypergraph’. In particular, the notion of a hypergraph as expressed by Stephen Wolfram, and The Wolfram Physics Project. Wolfram’s hypergraph is an attempt to discover a ‘theory of everything’, or discover the very nature of physical reality itself. This bold venture seeks to describe the ingredients and processes that gives rise to space, time, quantum mechanics, and every other aspect of our vast universe. If there is a creator somewhere who cooked up this universe we inhabit, Wolfram is trying to decipher its ingredients and recipes.

For our purposes however, it is not important that we get into the weeds of Wolfram’s scientific theory. Nor is it possible, considering my scientific aptitude reached its limit while almost failing high school level physics. Yet as a visual (and conceptual) allegory for our metamodern reality, only a surface description or understanding is needed.

Via various ‘points’ and ‘rules’, Wolfram’s hypergraph is constantly growing and changing. Branchlike structures flow and interact with each other. The relationships between aspects of the hypergraph lead to more hypergraphs describing the relationships. It is a deep, rich, organic-like structure that layers complexity upon complexity. Something changes, which causes something else, which affects a group of things, and so on. Wolfram’s theory supposes that the physical reality you and I perceive rests upon the constructs of this miniscule (yet massively complex) hypergraph. A visual conception of which can be seen here:

Credit: Wolfram Physics Project

Imagine then for a moment that the visual of the hypergraph represented not our unseen foundational, scientific materialist reality; but represented our abstract metaphysical reality, as well as our physical digital reality. The branchlike structures would be mostly our digital connections; but ‘pre digital’ ones as well (things like oratory, the written word, etc). While every aspect of our reality; every individual, every news item, every book, religion, emotion, historical fact, artistic movement, geographic location, or scientific discovery - it would all exist within various points of the hypergraph. Our digital connections would ignite the causal relationships across the hypergraph, and add layers of complexity. This would show our reality flowing and changing with no real center. In other words, the hypergraph would give us liquid modernity visualized. Thus, one might call it the ‘metamodern hypergraph’.

If we viewed time in a linear fashion in reference to the metamodern hypergraph, the inception of its current iteration would probably be around the 1960’s. Before this time any visual conception of reality would be a concentrated line or thread. Just a condensed linear progression forward, like a laser beam moving from one point to another. But by the time the cultural revolutions of the 60’s began to take place, the condensed thread or laser would begin to splinter. Slowly at first, then accelerated by the financial deregulation, changing media landscape, and the birth of the internet in the 1980’s and 1990’s. Yet the metamodern hypergraph wouldn’t take it’s current form until the advent of the smartphone, and the introduction of social media. These are the markers that propelled the metamodern hypergraph into accelerating entropy.

We occupy space in the hypergraph in a basic physical way. And though we have more ways than ever to travel in a physical sense, it is our minds that can move across the hypergraph at light speed. Like a spacecraft jumping across the galaxy from one star system to another, our minds can move from one perceptual experience to the next. We can cue up entertainment and historical items from throughout history. We can interact with people from around the globe at a moment's notice. We can consume news and information any which way we like, at any time. We can study religion, philosophy, cooking, woodworking, and everything in between. The metamodern hypergraph pulsates with streams of information and experiences. Yet this is all they are, naked substances, not tethered to any overarching meaning or truth.

There might be cohesive philosophical, or mental streams within the hypergraph. Like various religions or political constructs. But over time, as new generations come of age, it seems less likely that individuals will remain tethered to any of these. They are ‘free to roam’ so to speak. Free to construct their metaphysical reality as they see fit. This opens the door to the downside of our minds traversing the metamodern hypergraph. For we might indulge our curiosity and search out a historical item. Yet we might be consuming something out of context that reinforces our biases. Instead of interacting with people around the globe in a positive manner; our digital discourse might devolve into impulse fueled tribalism. We might consume reams of news and information, but without any way of knowing what is true or false. And we might learn things online whether the person teaching us is qualified or giving proper instruction.

It’s almost as if a young mind enters the hypergraph tabula rasa, or a ‘blank slate’. The only lasting guides being the basic elements of human nature. This unfortunate status would mean an individual is guided by their ‘passions’. Passions (human impulses) that lead one towards hedonism or tribalism. Remember there is no transcendent structure to guide the mind through the hypergraph, and mitigate the passions. Thus, human nature becomes a disproportionate causal actor within the hypergraph itself. Tribalism and hedonism become lenses through which reality presents itself. And the very human act of trying to fill the existential vacuum becomes a futile adventure. One where the physical body is stuck in place, but the mind roams the hypergraph in search of soulful nourishment that seems nowhere to be found. This situation then begs the question, how does an individual properly engage the metamodern hypergraph? How does one orient themselves, figure out what is true, and find meaning or transcendence?

Long ago, the ancient Greek philosopher Plato came up with an allegory to describe how an individual can start to know the ‘true reality’ of their existence. Described as ‘Plato’s cave’, the allegory describes the soul of an individual as being trapped within a body, which is in turn trapped within a cave. The body of the individual is forced to face the wall of the cave, while behind them a fire burns towards the exit. Via the flames, shadows and flickering images appear on the wall in front of the individual. The images constantly change, are untethered, undefined, and removed from actual reality. These images represent the world of ‘changing appearances’ or false perceptions. For our purposes they will represent what an individual sees from their position within the metamodern hypergraph.

Plato would describe a notion called ‘dialectic’, which could be taken loosely as a form of reasoning. A kind of recollection and contemplation of first principles or ‘essences’. A way for the individual trapped in the cave to realize their predicament, and eventually emerge from the cave and know true reality. This line of thinking would seem to make sense when applied to the individual positioned within the metamodern hypergraph. In order for them to understand and contemplate the true nature of reality, they would need some process or mechanism that enabled them to ‘leave the cave’. Something that enabled them to step as far away from the hypergraph as possible, and observe it in its totality. What then, would this modern form of dialectic look like?

The first act for an individual would have to be a realization that their perception is confined by their position in the hypergraph. A simple example of this would be when someone who has been indoctrinated into a certain religious belief is able to step outside of those mental confines and realize the broader philosophical world around them. Yet once the individual realizes their confinement, where can they venture to? What kind of territory lies outside of ‘the cave’ or away from the metamodern hypergraph?

The terrain on the outskirts of the metamodern hypergraph would have to be one of universals and first principles. Ideas and notions that are as ‘true’ as possible, and that have seemed to survive throughout the time human beings have existed on this planet. If an individual is able to enter this mental terrain, and use its vantage point to observe the metamodern hypergraph, I believe they can begin to positively navigate their way through the hypergraph itself. The individual can begin to make sense of things, do their best to figure out what is true, and find meaning or moments of transcendence. In order to find where to go, the individual needs to move to a position that has a view from nowhere.

The hard part in this metaphysical discussion comes when we arrive at the place where first principles and ‘true’ universals need to be defined. It is not the role for me or any other one person to define such things. Maybe a group of philosophers or thinkers could come to some viable conclusions that carried weight. But for the sake of this thought experiment, I will describe some of the first principles and universal truths that I feel are elemental enough to be used as one ventures out from the metamodern hypergraph. But again, this is an attempt done with humility, not one done with certainty or absolute clarity.

The first universal I can see is what Victor Frankl described as the human ‘will to meaning’. As I have discussed ealier, Frankl articulated his view that all humans are meaning-seeking creatures. That our lives are oriented towards this notion, and that we are driven by it. This notion seems very elemental and true in my eyes. In addition, the four realms of existence where we as humans derive authentic meaning seem to have remained constant over thousands of years. Those being, family, vocation, religion, and community.

Another universal that has sadly seemed to stand the test of time and human experience is that ‘more powerful human beings tend to abuse less powerful human beings’. Regardless of race, class, or any other secondary qualities, power in itself has a universal quality. It has its own universal energy that defines human interaction. This is not so much to think of power in the nietzschean sense, as a kind of driving force in humans. But more as a naked causal actor that emerges through different physical juxtapositions. This notion of power has more to do with sheer physical majorities or superior technology than psychological motivation. This concept also relates to the seemingly universal principle that when power is concentrated at the top of a hierarchical structure; it tends to be abused.

From a moral standpoint, the phrase from the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. that humans should be ‘judged by the content of their character and not the color of their skin’ seems like a valid first principle. It’s very hard for me to come up with a counter argument that says, ‘hey, I think it would be better if we as humans judged people by their race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation’. Contained in King’s phrase is the notion that all human beings are deserving of dignity and respect. Again, it’s very hard for me to see how this can be invalid as a true universal principle. It also seems to be a principle that is essential for us to learn if we are to overcome our tribal impulses.

From an epistemological standpoint, one would take these (and other) first principles or themes, and use them to begin to gain knowledge and understanding about what they encounter as they traverse the metamodern hypergraph. They would act as an anchor or tethering line that would always allow an individual to retrace their steps, and find their way ‘home’ so to speak. They would allow the individual to have a certain structure to their experience, and provide a way to fill the existential vacuum. If we thought of this notion in terms of liquid modernity, the use of first principles and universals would be like using a ship to navigate the sea instead of simply being swept from current to current. Notions of truth, meaning, and understanding could emerge via an individual’s use of a certain kind of reasoning. And it is this use of ‘reason’, that I see as another universal, in that all human beings are capable of it.

I do not mean reason as a purely analytical function where one weighs empirical data and facts. But in a more human sense; one where the mind begins to control the passions. A mental place where the individual begins to realize their predicament in the metamodern hypergraph, internalize some first principles, and realize how their passions are stoked by the digital landscape. One could see this as a kind of ‘awakening’ or ‘enlightenment’. I am not a fan of this description, for it can become reductionist or sensationalized. But I cannot deny it does fit when one thinks about an individual realizing their broader reality.

As far as I can see, the metamodern hypergraph is not going anywhere anytime soon. Nor is the age of metamodernism. The German philosopher Hegel described a concept of ideas or history in terms of ‘thesis, antithesis, synthesis’. The thesis comes forward, which is pushed back on or refuted by the antithesis, which then results in a combination, or ‘synthesis’ of both. This concept seems to mirror the progression of modernism, postmodernism, and metamodernism. With modernism being the thesis, postmodernism the antithesis reaction, and metamodernism the synthesis of both. Considering this formulation along with the fact that metamodernism is partially a physical manifestation of our digital network, it would seem that the metamodern landscape will have some staying power.

If we do not destroy ourselves, I could see in the far future something like a ‘pan-modernism’, an all encompassing, unified reality. One where humans have merged with their digital creations to a point where instead of having to navigate reality, reality navigates through us. This would be a world of indistinguishable virtual reality, digital-human mind implants, the ability to upload consciousness, etc. But until then, we as individuals are stuck within our primitive human forms amid the metamodern hypergraph. If we are to survive and flourish, a general recognition of our predicament is needed, along with some broad agreement on prescriptions or ways of being. Otherwise, I fear our inherent tribalism and hedonism will lead to conflict, disaster, and unwarranted suffering. And maybe even our ultimate demise.