The End of History

One of the marks of the intellectual development of the twentieth century in what we somewhat imprecisely call the “Western world” is an increase in the number of works addressed to what we—again somewhat imprecisely—may call “the philosophy of history.” The sources of this preoccupation with historical philosophies (and they are rather different from philosophical histories) may be varied; but it is safe to say that they all reflect that sense of disturbing fear which now influences most of us in one way or another. It may also be suggested that people are perhaps turning to philosophies of history less because of their interest in the past than because they are seeking a system which would predict, or at least hint at, the future.

This is not altogether a salutary development. It may be asked whether our interest in philosophies of history rather than history is not, in reality, an aspect of the widespread deterioration in the practices of the modem intellect. In literature, for example, this results in an ever-increasing production of criticism while valuable original creation diminishes. I do not suggest that the writing and the reading of philosophies of history ought to be deplored; I suggest, instead, that their actual contribution to the clearing of the extraordinary intellectual confusion of our time ought to be scrutinized more closely. This is what people a generation ago failed to do; and thus the reputation of Spengler’s thesis, for example, may have actually contributed to that process of Western decline which, in many ways erroneously, he had asserted.

JL

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J. A. Lukacs

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One of the marks of the intellectual development of the twentieth century in what we somewhat imprecisely call the “Western world” is an increase in the number of works addressed to what we—again somewhat imprecisely—may call “the philosophy of history.” The sources of this preoccupation with historical philosophies (and they are rather different from philosophical histories) may be varied; but it is safe to say that they all reflect that sense of disturbing fear which now influences most of us in one way or another. It may also be suggested that people are perhaps turning to philosophies of history less because of their interest in the past than because they are seeking a system which would predict, or at least hint at, the future.

This is not altogether a salutary development. It may be asked whether our interest in philosophies of history rather than history is not, in reality, an aspect of the widespread deterioration in the practices of the modem intellect. In literature, for example, this results in an ever-increasing production of criticism while valuable original creation diminishes. I do not suggest that the writing and the reading of philosophies of history ought to be deplored; I suggest, instead, that their actual contribution to the clearing of the extraordinary intellectual confusion of our time ought to be scrutinized more closely. This is what people a generation ago failed to do; and thus the reputation of Spengler’s thesis, for example, may have actually contributed to that process of Western decline which, in many ways erroneously, he had asserted.