The term “pessimism” is, notably, of modern provenance. It does not appear in English until the mid-nineteenth century, perhaps as a consequence of Arthur Schopenhauer’s use of pessimismus in The World as Will and Representation (Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, 1818). Of course, Schopenhauer, like Voltaire before him, gained notoriety precisely by countering the overarching optimism of the Enlightenment. Thus the moniker “pessimist,” derived from the Latin pessimus (“worst”), seemed a fitting way to describe those who did not believe that Enlightenment reforms would be able to eradicate the worst aspects of human life. Indeed, if anything, such reforms would merely paper over the corruption and meanness of our condition.
Now, whether or not Christianity can be described as “pessimistic” is a vexed question. One can see this very tension in Søren Kierkegaard’s writings. In an 1854 journal entry, Kierkegaard laments that modern Christianity has become “purely and simply sweet sugar candy, an idyllic life of begetting children,” contrasting it with “the shot of pessimism which still remained in Luther's Christianity.” In a marginal gloss, Kierkegaard adds that pessimism represents spiritual maturity, whereas bourgeois religious life all too easily falls into “childlike” faith. At one point, Kierkegaard even goes so far as to say that “Christianity…is pessimism (Pessimisme).” Elsewhere he defends this claim by referring to Christ’s own resolution to suffer, even unto death, in and for this world. Only in the established order of Christendom—which Kierkegaard broadly associates with a mild, rationalistic gospel of prosperity—is Christ’s call to suffering and imitatio neglected in favor of a rapprochement with the socio-political status quo. As a result, Christendom is nothing more than a ruse or a “swindle,” selling mass quantities of “Christianity” at a discounted rate but thereby failing to nourish genuine Christian discipleship.
Needless to say, many would dispute Kierkegaard’s assertion that Christianity is fundamentally pessimistic. Still, no matter where one stands on this issue, it is undeniable that Kierkegaard’s equation of Christianity and pessimism constitutes a significant response to the Enlightenment. As is clear in his related critiques of the Hegelian “system” and the Danish state church, Kierkegaard simply does not accept narratives of historical progress. That is not to say that he subscribes to what might be termed a Calvinistic conception of “total depravity.” After all, he explicitly wrote The Sickness unto Death (Sygdommen til Døden, 1849) for spiritual “upbuilding.” Still, as Kierkegaard sees it, despair and sin are so rooted in the human experience that no amount of scientific-cum-technical progress can overcome them. The world may not emerge from or culminate in evil, but it is nevertheless a vallis lacrimarum (Ps. 84:6), ineradicably suffused with disappointment, failure, and pain.
It is debatable, I suppose, as to whether Kierkegaard’s insights are dispiriting or reassuring. Myself, I want to believe the latter. Given the various ills currently afflicting society—political rancor, war, economic troubles, and any number of crises (food shortages, pandemics, climate change)—perhaps pessimism is something of a comfort, reminding us that our present-day calamities are actually not all that shocking. Sure, it behooves us to promote hope, love, and justice, but even our best efforts will ultimately miss the mark. There are, in the end, no manmade utopias.
Ironically, it is with this in mind that I’ve come to “make peace” with the pessimistic turn that has dominated popular television over the last decade or so. Shows such as The Wire (2002-08), Mad Men (2007-15), Breaking Bad (2008-13), and, more recently, Better Call Saul (2015-22), Squid Game (오징어 게임, 2021-), and The White Lotus (2021-) all press a pessimistic narrative, suggesting that even upright human beings will resort to selfish and injurious behavior under trying conditions. Each of these shows has a unique setting, from the housing projects of Baltimore to the upscale resorts of Hawaii, but they arrive at the same conclusion—that human beings are simply vulnerable to sinfulness, no matter their socio-economic circumstances. In Squid Game, for example, ostensibly “nice” people commit murder in order to save themselves. In Better Call Saul (whose excellent final season prompted the present reflection), a generally good-natured person is capable of deceit and treachery, even (and perhaps especially) when his conscience dictates otherwise.
Far from contributing to societal decay, then, these series indirectly reveal its roots. One can alter the environment, but the outcome does not radically change. In this way, “prestige TV” offers a homely yet relevant (and arguably Kierkegaardian) lesson: be a pessimist. This advice might not make one happier, but as H.L. Mencken once put it: “I believe that it is better to tell the truth than a lie. I believe it is better to be free than to be a slave. And I believe it is better to know than to be ignorant.” Thus one should watch with discretion, but not with fear or guilt. In seeing the shadow-side of human nature, one might very well look for something greater.
This inspired me to read some lament psalms. It helps me with those “how long, O Lord” moments. Lament. It’s good for the soul. Thanks for the prompting.
Hey, you're back. I'm guessing it's the end of semester grading season.
"Sure, it behooves us to promote hope, love, and justice, but even our best efforts will ultimately miss the mark. There are, in the end, no manmade utopias."
This is to me, practically speaking, and as a matter of discipleship, one of the most important moments in these moves of thought. How does one stand with resolve to love one's neighbor, and to proclaim the gospel, even as at the same time one renounces a false narrative of progress and certainly, progress through one's own projections and technical reasoning.
It's a really important moment because, I think, just as false narratives of progress need to unmasked for the sake of truth, as Kierkegaard unmasks the ruse and swindle of Christendom of his time, so the pessimistic stance itself or the move of renouncing of progress can stand in for a self-serving purpose of protection: I protect myself from the disappointment of suffering on the way of love and the gospel (and yes, even hope), by defending myself with a pessimistic outlook or narrative. This is the moment in "Purity of Heart is To Will One Thing" where repentance is not simply a performance of renunciation for a self-protecting purpose, but a step forward toward the good, as humiliating and as vulnerable that step might be.