Prospects of the Metamodern
What elements of postmodernism should we preserve, and what must we discard? What defines the metamodern—what it is and what it is not—and why does it matter?
by Jason Ānanda Josephson Storm
Around 580 CE, Cassiodorus, a former Roman statesman turned Christian monk, authored an influential grammar, De Orthographia. Written while Cassiodorus was already in his nineties, the work aimed to integrate ancient traditions into what he termed “modern culture,” while deliberately discarding what was no longer relevant. Through his writings, he popularized a groundbreaking term: “modernus,” or modern, derived from “hodiernus” (meaning “of today”), which he inflected with an opposition between the past of antiquity and modern developments. Cassiodorus was on the cusp of what would unfold as the European Middle Ages (indeed, our core vocabulary of “modernity” is medieval). The transformations he witnessed were part of the shift from “pagan” antiquity to Christianity, imperial Rome to feudalism. Yet, it would take nearly a millennium for “modernity” to emerge as the defining term for an era.
In a similar vein, I—as a historian and philosopher—have been on a quest, like Cassiodorus, to consolidate the contributions of the past intellectual epoch while exploring the potentialities of the forthcoming one.
For over fifty years, much of academia has been ensnared by a paradigm that, while once revolutionary, has increasingly shown its limitations. This dominant framework, known as “postmodernism,” is now undergoing a profound transformation. As the foundations of anti-foundationalism begin to crumble, we may stand on the precipice of a new intellectual epoch. Emerging from the rubble is metamodernism, a paradigm that aims to reshape our intellectual landscape. This essay describes how the dissolution of postmodernism could herald the emergence of a significantly new paradigm. Are we on the cusp of an intellectual phase transition? What elements of postmodernism should we preserve, and what must we discard? What defines the metamodern—what it is and what it is not—and why does it matter?
I
I first remember coming across “postmodernism” in the late 1990s when my father, in a battered Corolla that had seen better days, drove from me from Ohio to my first year of college in Massachusetts. I felt like I was leaving behind the cornfields of the Midwest for what I imagined was the intellectual epicenter of the world. Despite the geography, I was no hayseed; my upbringing was steeped in international academics—my mother an immigrant, both my parents philosophers, three of my grandparents taught at a college or university, and one grandmother was even a renowned anthropologist. Plus, I had started taking college classes in high school, and by the time I went to college I had reasonably good foundations in three languages (and a stint living abroad). Yet, as we left Ohio, I felt like I was leaving my intellectual sanctuary behind and heading toward a future I could barely imagine.
For the about twelve-hour drive, my father had armed us with a stack of cassette tapes, “The World of Philosophy,” appealing to both of us in part because it had a section on Asian philosophy. As dawn broke, Lynn Redgrave’s voice ushered in the final stretch, introducing us to Jacques Derrida, Martin Heidegger, and Michel Foucault, anthologized together under the banner of “postmodernism,” a term that, at the time, was as exhilarating to me as it was nebulous. But postmodernism seemed to be associated with electrifying concepts: the transformative power of language to shape thought, and an emancipatory skepticism or cynical wisdom that seemed a potent tool for questioning authority, unmasking illusions and inequalities, and striving for a better world.
Later in graduate school, my initial focus was on Japanese philosophy, religion, science, and history, but postmodernism continued to hold a significant allure. I took courses on Continental philosophy, and I seized opportunities to attend lectures by Derrida and other luminaries tagged as “postmodernists,” like Richard Rorty and Giorgio Agamben.
In this respect, “postmodernism” was taught. There are different ways to use the term “postmodernism” but what I mainly have in mind is not a period or broad cultural zeitgeist, but a distinct academic paradigm. Although discussions of paradigms have largely focused on the natural sciences since Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions(1962), paradigms can also be found in the human sciences—humanities and social sciences—where, in our case, they provide not only scholarly models but also preformulated answers to the big questions and theoretical challenges scholars face in our daily endeavors. Moreover, as Kuhn argued, a “community’s paradigms [are] revealed in its textbooks.”1 For instance, the paradigm of a scientific discipline, such as mainstream physics, cannot be discovered by exhaustively reading the complete works of any single physicist. Instead, it is found in textbooks and courses that synthesize and present various theories and experiments as a unified whole. Newtonian physics left most of Newton behind. Likewise, postmodernism, rather than emerging from a singular theorist or a “French invasion,” evolved as an Anglophone bricolage pieced together in textbooks, edited volumes, and even audio cassettes from diverse and sometimes conflicting theorists like Derrida, Foucault, and Heidegger. Hence, no single famous philosopher held the entirety of postmodern positions. These synthetic origins mean overcoming postmodernism is not about interpreting a single theorist but understanding its broader application and impact, which were shaped most significantly by secondary works and second-generation thinkers who often more accurately represent its scholarly paradigms. The imitation was the genuine article.
Crudely speaking, what postmodernism offered scholars like me was epistemological skepticism, ethical relativism paired with moralizing critique, and a focus on discourse and the power of language. These were all inspiring at first.
Yet, my initial fascination began to wane, eventually curdling into disdain. What had once seemed like a beacon of critical inquiry, increasingly seemed to be a stifling dogmatism. It was said that: every concept was problematic, knowledge was merely a face of power, and that humanity was trapped in an endless labyrinth of language. Aspirations toward social and political transformation were regularly mocked by my peers as too normative, too naïve, and too utopian. As scholars, I and my peers were trained to be adept at dissecting anything of value, often leaving nothing but guilt and disillusionment in our wake. My early excitement for postmodernism, fueled by the visions of intellectual rebellion it promised, had evolved into a sobering realization about the limitations of skepticism as an end in itself.
For about a decade, I sought alternatives to postmodernism, yet finding a satisfactory successor proved elusive. Various emerging movements had their merits, but none offered a convincing repudiation of postmodernism. Instead, they often inadvertently perpetuate the very aspects of the philosophy they aim to critique. Moreover, the tendency of these otherwise serious movements to avoid seriously grappling with the philosophical issues on which postmodernism rests only seems to reinforce the latter’s standing. This is reinforced by attacks on postmodernism by popular authors who, more often than not, have not deeply engaged with the original texts or thinkers they criticize. In this way, these supposed alternatives to postmodernism inadvertently undermined their own cause. So, I shifted my focus from searching to actively working on an alternative. It was during this phase that I encountered the work of Nigerian art historian Moyo Okediji, which marked a significant personal turning point.
In his writings from the 1990s, Okediji basically introduced the term “metamodern” to describe artistic movements that aimed to transcend yet critically engage with both modernism and postmodernism. This struck a chord with me, as it aligned with my own aspirations. Okediji’s project also emerged from an attempt to decolonize thought, echoing my deep interest in postcolonial theory and non-Western philosophies. He was not the only one discussing metamodernism, the term has since been embraced by a wide array of thinkers in and outside of academe and across the globe. As one might imagine, there are significant disagreements about what the metamodern might entail. But one common thread among many of metamodernism’s proponents is a sense of intellectual shift and that both modernism and postmodernism must be seriously engaged with and moved beyond.2 Still, metamodernism—as a self-aware philosophical movement—is too new to present a unified stance; theorists apply the term in varied, sometimes conflicting, manners. Here, I offer my own version of the project (for a fuller elaboration see Storm, Metamodernism: The Future of Theory).
II
Metamodernism, a revolutionary paradigm and systematic philosophy for the human sciences, builds upon, rather than dismissing, postmodernism’s critical insights. It addresses the philosophical challenges of knowledge, value, and meaning foundational to postmodernism, and in response introduces: metarealism, Zeteticism, critical virtue ethics, process social ontology, and a hylosemiotic account of meaning. But the validity of the resulting product is not tethered to any particular interpretation of postmodernism. Rather, metamodernism forges a new path, motivated by current disciplinary challenges, ensuring each position stands on its own merit.
One way to get introduced to metamodern philosophy is by exploring its epistemological stance and contrasting it with postmodernism. Postmodernism, as a scholarly paradigm, gained ground by promoting a set of interlocking skeptical doxa, such as: knowledge is impossible; knowledge is just an expression of power; power is domination; no truth claims can be grounded; there are no facts, only interpretations; every perspective is equally legitimate; rationality is phallo-or Euro-centric; classification is imperialism, and so on. That many of these conflicted with each other did not blunt their force, but if anything helped foster a culture of universalized doubt and suspicion. It might seem that there is nothing to be done with such a polyvalent cynicism that might seem capable of deconstructing anything or hurling any positive claims into the abyss.
Furthermore, although postmodern skepticism initially took root within the political Left, it has evidently found a comfortable place on the Right as well (think so-called “post-truth”). This development should not come as a surprise. A broader historical perspective reveals that philosophical skepticism often leads to depoliticization or serves to justify conservatism and authoritarianism. Postmodern skepticism amplifies a distrust of expertise, contributes to culture war issues on both sides, and stands in the way of everything from government health initiatives to dealing with the mounting problems caused by anthropogenic climate change.
On both epistemic and political grounds there has therefore been an understandable pushback against postmodern skepticism. But the most popular response has often been to either dismiss postmodern doubts as unfounded and postmodern writing as incomprehensible, or to emphatically appeal to supposedly undeniable facts and scientific truths. The latter approach—insisting on purportedly certain knowledge—only fuels the very skepticism it aims to counter. This is because all truth claims are potentially subject to doubt, and scientific “facts” are continually revised or overturned. Thus, this common strategy of critiquing postmodernism basically functions as a retreat to modernist assertions, which, paradoxically, only strengthens postmodernism’s doubts and status as a critical, skeptical force.
An alternative strategy emerges from the work of the ancient Greek skeptic, Sextus Empiricus, who identified three philosophical groups. These are: Dogmatic Believers, who claim direct access to truth; Dogmatic Skeptics, who deny the possibility of knowledge; and Zetetics, or seekers, who continuously explore and question. The key thrust of Sextus’s argument is that by adamantly denying the possibility of knowledge, Dogmatic Skeptics are as doctrinaire as their believing counterparts. Indeed, skeptics often define themselves by their firm rejection of the very concepts they disbelieve in (e.g., someone identifying as a “climate skeptic” is convinced that global warming is a hoax, reflecting not doubt but dogma). In contrast, the Zetetic represents a true skeptic who questions even the certainty that knowledge is impossible. This nuanced Zetetic skepticism—skeptical even of skepticism itself—proposes that the advancement of knowledge lies not in amassing indisputable facts but in acknowledging the provisional nature of knowledge.
The real issue lies not in doubt itself but in equating knowledge with certainty. Skepticism cannot be dismissed simply by citing “facts,” as any fact can be questioned or refuted. Embracing doubt leads to a form of humble knowledge—one that acknowledges uncertainty. This approach suggests transforming postmodern dogmas into questions or doubts. Instead of abandoning critique, transforming criticisms into doubts enables us to refine and detail critique further.
Postmodernism’s dogmatic skepticism often bolsters existing power dynamics by discouraging the quest for knowledge. Speaking truth to power is impossible if the very concept of truth has been completely discarded. In contrast, Zeteticism’s self-reflective doubt opens the way for a modest, liberating knowledge that acknowledges its own limitations. Hence, metamodernism adopts Boaventura de Sousa Santos’s vision for an “emancipatory, non-relativistic, cosmopolitan ecology of knowledges.”3
Metamodern philosophy also addresses ethical impasses left by the legacy of postmodernism. Critics have often been puzzled by postmodernism’s simultaneous embrace of ethical relativity/value-neutrality and its normative critiques of societal issues.
In the first case, advocating for cultural relativism and value-neutrality, despite good intentions, does not actually remove values; it merely suppresses without making them any less influential. Metamodern philosophy responds by encouraging scholars to be more public about their values and clearer on how these might influence their research. Openly discussing one’s values subjects them to debate and scrutiny. Therefore, as long as scholars avoid skewing their research to fit predetermined conclusions, acknowledged and owned values do not inherently compromise academic integrity. This approach, rooted in Zeteticism, emphasizes the significance of self-awareness and the critical examination of one’s own values, arguing for a balanced critique that includes both self and societal scrutiny to foster a more inclusive and pluralistic ethics.
In the second case, postmodernism gained ground by calling out oppression and identifying societal issues like sexism, racism, mass incarceration, homophobia, transphobia, and ableism. This was not in itself seen as compromising scholarship insofar as it was framed in a language of critique and scornful condemnation. But negative values are still values.
Metamodern philosophy turns this critique inside out to transform it into a positive project directed toward multispecies flourishing. Again, it does not oppose values, nor does it reject critique. It acknowledges the importance of recognizing societal suffering and injustices, such as victimization, colonization, and climate change. By starting from the injustices identified by previous theorists, metamodernism aims not just to criticize but to use these as a springboard for imagining better futures. This forward-thinking stance is crucial for addressing the intertwined catastrophes of the present and advancing toward a more just and flourishing world for all beings.
Space limits a fuller elaboration, but it is important to note that in addition to its epistemology and ethics, the bulk of metamodern philosophy—my interpretation, at least—concerns the philosophy of social science.
In regard to the philosophy of language, metamodernism introduces a groundbreaking theory on how the world functions through signs, connecting human semiotics with the communicative behaviors of animals and plants. Succinctly, language evolved to leverage pre-existing perceptual systems. Both humans and animals perceive the world based on its functional relevance or meaningfulness. Meaning arises from inference (for instance, a gray cloud might signify rain to a particular observer). There exists an asymmetry between the production and consumption of signs; we process both voluntary and involuntary signs. This theory radically redefines the concept of meaning, indicating that although humans interpret the world through signs, we are not confined by language. In essence, we interpret the world rather than experience it directly, yet we are not imprisoned by words.
Metamodernism also pioneers a fresh outlook on the philosophy of human sciences. It introduces a “process social ontology” to describe society’s fluid nature and its manifestation in transient but comparatively stable “social kinds.” This theoretical approach counters both the pitfalls of over-historicism and the rigid views on cultural categories. The question then becomes not, “Is this real or socially constructed?” But rather, “By what process was this social thing made real?” Exploring the construction of our social kinds shows us how we also deconstruct and better understand them, aim to enhance or abolish them, and ultimately, transform them. It also facilitates our collective endeavor—striving together to forge a better world. Metamodernism is our guide.
III
All told, the postmodern paradigm emerged from a mosaic of competing thinkers put to service in producing interlocking skepticisms and pessimistic criticism. In contrast, metamodernism is distinguished by its self-awareness precisely as a paradigm with aspirations to produce humble, emancipatory knowledge. Accordingly, it strives to offer the best current understanding of the social world, not as the final say, but as a dynamical and evolving framework for addressing critical philosophical and societal issues. Its positions hold practical significance for future policymakers and scholars across the human sciences, presenting a novel orientation for leadership and intellectual inquiry. Let us go further into these aspects.
First, metamodern epistemology, aligning more closely with the natural sciences while eschewing overconfident scientism and Eurocentricism, emerges as a better approach for both the human sciences and policy formulation. Embracing Zeteticism suggests a way of navigating postmodern skepticism, not by overwhelming insistence on facts or dismissing doubts, but by fostering a deeper skepticism towards skepticism itself. It advocates for a critical stance towards knowledge claims, emphasizing the fluidity of even “science” itself and prioritizing the pluralistic pursuit of knowledge over the sanctification of scientism. This nuanced approach also suggests how we should tackle the challenge of communication in a world where knowledge itself is ever-changing. This perspective does not entail the denial of scientific principles or the indiscriminate acceptance or rejection of knowledge claims based solely on their origins. Instead, it promotes a more inclusive, humble, discerning approach to understanding the world.
In times of crisis, the importance of Zetetic humble knowledge becomes even more pronounced. A lack of humility can lead to overpreparing for the wrong anticipated problems, suggesting the (impossible) necessity of planning under uncertainty. Acknowledging the provisional nature of knowledge compels us to hold our understanding lightly, recognizing that definitive conclusions remain elusive, which allows us more flexibility in our problem-solving. This mindset requires moving beyond entrenched dogmas and doubts, fostering a more open, adaptable approach to both challenges and solutions. Through Zeteticism, we are urged to transcend our limitations, embracing a continuous, necessarily collaborative quest for truth amidst the complexities of the current world.
Second, metamodern process social ontology revolutionizes our understanding of institutions, polities, corporate operations, and the formation of new human organizations. This theorical orientation also sheds light on the incentives and constraints influencing these entities, even suggesting new paradigms for social and economic organization. Methodologically, the theory of process social kinds enables us to explore the roots of culture wars by pinpointing anchoring processes. It posits that the driving force behind political history is not class conflict, a decline in cultural unity, or a single-minded notion of progress, but the emergence and evolution of various social kinds, each undergoing significant transformations and sometimes even exchanging properties (for example, the shift of “gun rights” from a predominantly left-wing to right-wing cause). Understanding this dynamic helps to alleviate some of the tensions of culture wars, indicating that the flux of social kinds is a normal part of political history. Process social ontology challenges us to anticipate change rather than resist it or be taken by surprise. By presuming change as a constant (even as we trace the systems of power that work to produce homogeneity or resist transformation), we can employ anchoring mechanisms to steer its direction.
Finally, metamodernism acknowledges the postmodern critique of oppression and victimization as valid, highlighting its importance in directing our focus. While valuing neutrality can be commendable when not taken far enough to be self-sabotaging, achieving it requires transparency about our values rather than attempting their elimination. Yet, beyond pessimistic critique and exposing values, metamodernism urges us toward reconciliation and constructive endeavors.
Many critics of the contemporary world have argued that it has evacuated morality in favor of the market. To some extent, this critique holds water, but it is a trend we have the power to reverse. Rather than advocating for a universal moral framework, we should embrace a pluralistic ethics. Poverty produces suffering, true, but even wealth does not automatically produce happiness, much less a fulfilling life. Historically, education aimed at promoting human flourishing, guiding individuals on leading meaningful lives. We can rekindle the quest for flourishing as a noble goal. Leveraging insights from psychology, anthropology, sociology, and other fields could help this pursuit. Institutions should focus not just on harm reduction but on fostering personal growth and enhancing collective happiness, recognizing the diversity in paths to fulfillment. Pluralistic ethics acknowledges the multitude of ways to lead a fulfilling life, celebrating cultural differences while recognizing our shared pursuit of contentment.
We find ourselves amidst a series of unfolding global catastrophes: the pandemic, climate change driven by human activity, systemic racial injustices, economic turbulence, widening military conflicts, and deep political divides. Amidst these challenges, many seem to have lost the ability to envision brighter futures. This is a critical issue because, as numerous political theorists have pointed out, cynicism and nihilism hardly ever serve as solid foundations for meaningful change. Yet, the dystopian reality we face underscores the urgency of imagining—and striving for—better worlds. In these challenging times, the importance of kindling hope cannot be overstated.
Standing at the brink of an era as unpredictable as the one Cassiodorus faced over a millennium ago, we are invited not only to witness but also to actively participate in the intellectual and societal transformation unfolding before us. Metamodernism shifts our gaze towards the struggle to build a better world. Despite varying economic backgrounds, a pervasive sense of unhappiness afflicts many globally. Acknowledging and addressing this widespread dissatisfaction is the first step towards reconciliation, paving the way for efforts aimed at human and even multispecies flourishing. The path to a better world begins with us.
Notes
Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 43.
For overviews of the different strands in Metamodernism, see Brendan Graham Dempsey, Metamodernism: Or, The Cultural Logic of Cultural Logics and in Spanish Juan Ignacio Iturraspe, Metamodernismo: una introducción, forthcoming.
Boaventura de Sousa Santos, Another Knowledge Is Possible: Beyond Northern Epistemologies (London: Verso, 2008), xiv.