Walker Percy wrote “Lost in the Cosmos: The Last Self-Help Book” in 1983. At the time, he made the observation that the primary emotion experienced among “adult Northeastern Americans” was disappointment.
He explains that the accelerating revolution in science and technology did not bring with it a revolution in joy or excitement. To the contrary, it added a new depth to our disenchantment—in work, family life, school, politics, church, and social interaction generally.
Today, 35 years on, the purview and prowess of science and technology have only increased. In all areas of life, the wheels of progress have propelled us forward. But at what cost?
It seems only natural that the (mostly) forward motion of time would come with fits and starts. Every revolution—technological or otherwise—begins uncomfortably. It takes time to work out the kinks, to do away with the disappointment. And yet, I wonder if what Percy writes is prophetic.
By no means would I describe my primary emotion—or the emotion of most people I know—as disappointment. And yet, I suspect disappointment is there, subtly, under the surface. It must be especially true for people with high expectations. If a person doesn’t believe that all good things are grace, their disappointment must be greater for the illusory expectation that some good things are deserved, earned, won. (If you think you deserve something, you’re more disappointed if you don’t receive it than a person who believes whatever good they get is not earned, but is grace.) For better or worse, this may be why Calvinists are less easily disappointed than most: because we know our very breath is an unmerited gift.
Still, it is hard not to post the questions against the promises of progress. Why, after 250 years of this country’s upward rise, aren’t we all living the American Dream? Where are the hovercrafts? Why so much sickness? Why is the earth only moving closer to the brink of destruction? Why, if life is so great, is so much dependent on artificial enhancements and photoshopped enhancements?
The answer is somehow connected to the disillusion so many have with politics and faith—the powers. It is a passive acceptance of the monotony of so much work. It is the fakeness of lives lived online, made up for photographs, but so far from the behind-the-scenes reality.
Writes Percy:
The peculiar predicament of the present-day self surely came to pass as a consequence of the disappointment of the high expectations of the self as it entered the age of science and technology. Dazzled by the overwhelming credentials of science, the beauty and elegance of the scientific method, the triumph of modern medicine over physical ailments, and the technological transformation of the very world itself, the self finds itself in the end disappointed by the failure of science and technique in those very sectors of life which had been its main source of ordinary satisfaction in past ages.
As John Cheever said, the main emotion of the adult Northeastern American who has had all the advantages of wealth, education, and culture is disappointment.
Work is disappointing. In spite of all the talk about making work more creative and self-fulfilling, most people hate their jobs, and with good reason. Most work in modern technological societies is intolerably dull and repetitive.
Marriage and family life are disappointing. Even among defenders of traditional family values, e.g., Christians and Jews, a certain dreariness must be inferred, if only from the average time of TV viewing. Dreary as TV is, it is evidently not as dreary as Mom talking to Dad or the kids talking to either.
School is disappointing. If science is exciting and art is exhilarating, the schools and universities have achieved the not inconsiderable feat of rendering both dull. As every scientist and poet knows, one discovers both vocations in spite of, not because of, school. It takes years to recover from the stupor of being taught Shakespeare in English Lit and Wheatstone’s bridge in Physics.
Politics is disappointing. Most young people turn their backs on politics, not because of the lack of excitement of politics as it is practiced, but because of the shallowness, venality, and image-making as these are perceived through the media–one of the technology’s greatest achievements.
The churches are disappointing, even for most believers. If Christ brings us new life, it is all the more remarkable that the church, the bearer of this good news, should be among the most dispirited institutions of the age. The alternatives to the institutional churches are even more grossly disappointing, from TV evangelists with their blown-dry hairdos to California cults led by prosperous gurus ignored in India but embraced in La Jolla.
Social life is disappointing. The very franticness of attempts to reestablish community and festival, by partying, by groups, by club, by touristy Mardi Gras, is the best evidence of the loss of true community and festival and of the loneliness of self, stranded as it is as an unspeakable consciousness in a world from which it perceives itself as somehow estranged, stranded even within its own body, with which it sees no clear connection.
But there remains the one unquestioned benefit of science: the longer and healthier life made possible by modern medicine, the shorter work-hours made possible by technology, hence what is perceived as the one certain reward of dreary life of home and the marketplace: recreation.
Recreation and good physical health appear to be the only ambivalent benefits of the technological revolution.
I wonder the extent to which science and technology, bursting as they are at seemingly the speed of light, can autocorrect. Does Percy’s observed disappointment perpetuate, or does it fade over time?
Is the promise of progress inevitably a broken promise–at least, an incomplete one?
What is clear to me is that science and technology, for all their blessings, are not salvific. They were never meant to be. Maybe we thought medicine or computers would save us. Maybe we think AI and blockchain are here to make life more utopian.
I think we have to recognize that, though there are such good things as convenience and efficiency, convenience and efficiency are not synonymous with perfection. They don’t even necessarily correlate.
Only Jesus brings perfection—and he does so, in some regards, with supreme inconvenience. It is not with screens or antibiotics, data mining or nanobots that we will overcome disappointment. It is only in the resurrection at the coming of Christ.
Really enjoyed this article! I think disappointment is a good way to describe what underlies much of American culture. To understand that sadness and loneliness elicits compassion, rather than anger, in the heart of the true Christ-follower, seeking to minister to their American neighbor, as well as the immigrant and refugee. Our great hope is to see our American neighbor alongside the refugee and immigrant, experiencing the joy of worshipping the Lord together in the local church!
This is an excellent thought. The question is, “What do we do with the disappointment of the age?” As you say, the proper response is compassion, not anger or fruitless frustration. We might even go deeper to tackle the initial disappointment. How might we address the initial sadness and loneliness, rather than take that as a given? Of course we should respond well to both, but ideally we will address root causes as well as painful symptoms.
I think we can be intentional about our relationships with all those in our “sphere of influence”. Whether it’s the mailman, the cashier, the waitress, the person who cuts your hair, your neighbor, we can try to find ways to bring the relationship to the next level, so that a friendship can be formed. We can get to know them, and love them as they are, not seeing them as a “project”, but committing to loving them even if they forever continue to see your Christianity as fine for you, but never have the desire to know Jesus themselves. We can always have hope, and pray that the Holy Spirit will work in their hearts to enable them to desire to know Jesus.