What came to be known in the last century as “humanism” was, in reality, nothing new. It actually has an ancient lineage.
Indeed, since the human race first appeared, there have basically been only two “religions”—two existential philosophies that have informed people’s beliefs and behaviors. Each has had multiple variations, to be sure, but still, in the end, there are just two: People can either believe in and worship the Creator, or they can reject that idea and worship themselves, individually and collectively.
The latter belief is essentially the original sin, attributable to Adam and Eve as well as to Lucifer himself. All three, in their pride, attempted to elevate themselves and their own desires above the will of God. At least the first two repented. As for the third—well, you know the rest of that story.
What we call “humanism,” then, is a worldview that is human-centric. It is relativistic rather than absolutist because it recognizes no final authority beyond the individual, except perhaps for the collective. But even then, humanism says that people should do what feels right to them, that they should follow the dictates of their own conscience, rather than adhering to a set of rules established by a Supreme Being.
To a lot of people, that sounds great. “If it feels good, do it.” Remember that mantra from the 1960s? The problem is that human beings, by nature—perhaps because they’re created in the image of God?--long for transcendence, something beyond this life that is, if not tangible, then at least comprehensible. Humanism has never been able to offer that.
Until now. Welcome to the next stage of God-denial—or rather, god-making—which we might term “trans-humanism” (or, if you prefer, “post-humanism”): the belief that human beings can transcend physical reality to become creators in their own right, little gods and goddesses of their own private universes (metaverses?).
Not that this idea is brand new. It has been developing for some time, beginning with the attacks that arose in the last century on truth and beauty (which, as Emily Dickenson noted, “are one”).
In my extensive study of the “humanities”—the greatest art and literature the human race has ever produced—I was taught that their purpose is to remind us of what it means to be human and that, at their best, they express truth on a deep level. The “uglification” of those disciplines, which masquerades as “modern art,” along with the rejection of truth implicit in post-modernist notions of “deconstruction,” can only be understood as a negation of actual “humanistic” values.
Thus, on campuses across the country, today’s “humanities” reject rather than reinforce those qualities that make us human.
The natural next step in the erasure of our basic humanity is the current attack on gender—or, if you prefer (as I do), sex. (Technically speaking, sex is a biological reality. In all mammals, including humans, there are two sexes—male and female—which makes reproduction possible. Gender is a grammatical construct. Languages largely derived from Latin, including English and most other Western tongues, recognize three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter.)
Sex is, after all, an essential characteristic of virtually all human beings—the most fundamental characteristic, one could argue. To say that sex is “fluid” is to say that, in a very real sense, it does not exist at all—which is not very far from claiming that human beings, as we have always known them, do not exist. What we perceive as physical reality is but an illusion. The “real truth” must somehow transcend such base materialism.
Hence, size, musculature, hormones, chromosomes, genitalia—none of those matter. What matters is the reality the individual creates for…well, I suppose the only possible pronoun here is “themself.”
To get to that point, though, we must first rid ourselves of human beings in their current form—which is to say, “dehumanize” them. It should come as no surprise, then, that so many of our responses to the coronavirus “pandemic”—masking, lockdowns, social distancing, preventing people from seeing their loved ones—have had precisely that effect.
And what has come out of all this? A greater reliance on technology, which has increasingly become an accepted substitute for normal human interactions. The rise of “smart devices,” which makes life “easier” for people by relieving them of the necessity of performing common cognitive and physical functions, like driving cars and doing the dishes. Artificial intelligence, which promises an even greater utopia where people won’t even have to make their own decisions anymore.
All culminating, perhaps, in the latest development, Marc Zuckerberg’s much ballyhooed “metaverse.” There, human beings won’t have to be human at all or engage in any sort of normal physical activity. They can live their lives entirely in a virtual reality that Zuckerberg promises will be much more fulfilling and satisfying than plain old reality.
Do not doubt that the ultimate endgame is to capture the human consciousness in a form that can live on long after the body has gone the way of all the earth—to achieve, in other words, a kind of immortality totally separate from the Creator or any “antiquated” notions of Heaven and Hell.
I don’t know about you, but that sounds to me like it might actually BE hell—one of our own making. (Note that C.S. Lewis predicted this almost 80 years ago, in his classic novel That Hideous Strength.) Because if human beings turn out to be good at creating anything apart from God, then a worse Hell than even He imagined is probably it.