After Postmodernism: OOO, Speculative Realism, and the Metamodern

Harman and OOO

Graham Harman’s Object-Oriented Ontology as a Symptom of Philosophical Crisis

One of the notable post-postmodern philosophies is Graham Harman’s object-oriented ontology. Its key optic is typical of the postmodern optic of the twenty-first century: the need to clear away the remnants of anthropicity that still remain within postmodernism.

Formally, Harman does not identify himself as a postmodernist. He sees his goal as restoring realism to philosophy and removing the privileged position of the subject. However, the optic and the field of his thought are entirely postmodern. This is because the essence of postmodernism is not the privileged position of the observer or the subject, but flat ontology: the removal of the very possibility of constructing any hierarchical metaphysical objects.

In Harman’s case, the main target is the Cartesian subject-object division inherited from the entire modern tradition.

If modernity, one of whose pillars is Cartesianism, built knowledge from the privileged thinking subject — the assembly point of the whole world — then Harman tries to abolish this hierarchy. Yet he does this in an extremely mechanical way: instead of destroying the subject-object schema, he simply inverts it. The subject does not disappear as a special kind of being; it is merely demoted to one object among others. Instead of a tree of relations growing outward from the human being, we get a flat ontology: a vast graph in which a human being, a stone, a shoe, a fly, the neck of a bottle, and Jupiter all turn out to be entities of the same order, included in a network of object-object relations.

In his arguments, Harman displays an anti-humanist pathos, suggesting that the inner world of a non-human object may be no less important than the incomprehensibility of the human essence. But this is more a manifesto of the anti-anthropic vector than a productive philosophy, because apart from demoting the human being to the same level as a dead physical or metaphysical object, he offers no aesthetic or philosophical instrument based on this assumption.

Here the main weakness of this philosophy appears. Harman does not derive the object; he postulates it. He accepts in advance the object as a ready-made autonomous unit that cannot be reduced either to its parts, or to its relations, or to its mode of appearance. But where does this unity come from? Why does this particular set of elements suddenly become one whole rather than a temporary linkage? His schema gives no answer to these questions.

In Cartesianism, the schema of relations is clear: the subject of knowledge — the human being armed with the apparatus of radical doubt — uses the cogito to extract the object of knowledge from the external, extended world. In Harman’s object-object world, this model is mechanically transferred without any additional explanation.

Moreover, the object-object-oriented flat ontology itself, which is obviously taken from Deleuze’s model of the “rhizome,” is also borrowed purely in form, while the loss of meaning is ignored. If Deleuze’s rhizome is an intensely vital substance, a machine of desire in which subjects are endlessly reconfigured, forming new shapes and meanings, then in Harman it is closer to a dead schema, a mathematical graph in which objects are arbitrarily connected and partly endowed with subject-like properties — some inner essence analogous to consciousness — while being only partially disclosed to the world, or not disclosed at all.

For Harman, an object in its relation to other objects is always disclosed only partially, since it interacts only partially or else remains completely isolated. And yet it possesses an inner essence and a mode of existence. In Descartes, the inner world of the subject was intelligible: it followed from the status of thinking substance. In Harman, this schema is mechanically transferred to any object. Every thing seems to receive a hidden interior by analogy with the human being, but without any clear foundation for why an object should have such an “inner life” at all.

The result is a cold, lifeless plane. Everything is declared to be an object, but almost nothing follows from this. Such a construction does not give birth to a new ontological experience, does not provide an effective instrument of thought, and does not disclose a deeper structure of being. It merely records a philosophical crisis instead of overcoming it.

For this reason, Harman’s philosophy is interesting primarily as a cultural and philosophical symptom. It demonstrates a late stage of postmodernism’s self-unfolding: the struggle against anthropocentrism reaches the point where the human being is completely dissolved into an indifferent multitude of objects. Formally claiming radicality, OOO in fact turns out to be a poor rearrangement of an old schema — a sterile construction that most clearly reveals the depth of the contemporary philosophical dead end.


Speculative Realism

The essence of postmodernism can be defined as thinking through a productive struggle against meaning.

If Harman, in OOO, attacked the Cartesian object-subject relation, then Meillassoux’s target is another major figure of modernity: Kant, and the possibility of knowledge in general. Meillassoux declares his enemy to be so-called correlationism — the correlation between thought and being, between the world and us — and quite wittily proves the existence of “contingency”: the only thing that is absolutely necessary is that everything could be otherwise. He does this through Cantor’s set theory. He uses the theorem showing that the cardinality of the set of all subsets of a set is always strictly greater than the cardinality of the set whose subsets they are. From this, he draws a global conclusion: the only correlation that can be logically derived is the global impossibility of deriving any correlations.

Although Meillassoux strictly follows the academic format and uses rigorous logic and mathematics in his reasoning — formally, the highest standards of philosophical thought — he smuggles in a large number of metaphysical assumptions, which is unacceptable when working in the genre of the philosophical limit of foundations.

First of all, one can immediately point out that his thinking is already limited by the methodological framework of scientism. Working with correlations and mathematical apparatuses is already the pure field of science, which is not applicable to art, existential experience, mystical experience, aesthetic experience, or even to everyday life in general. Most people neither use nor have any idea of mathematics or of the scientific method that rests on correlationism, and yet they continue both to exist and to think.

The next serious metaphysical assumption is the assumption of the neutrality and non-anthropic nature of mathematics. And finally, the last strong assumption is the possibility of applying set theory to correlationism as a model, along with the assumption that such a metaphysical object as a model exists in the first place.

Here one can note that although Meillassoux does not say this directly, he implicitly proposes his own ontological model: contingency, in essence, abolishes the laws of causality, and therefore undermines being as such. We cannot be certain of the present if the laws of causality break down. This announces the possibility of a genuine breakthrough toward being, but it offers no positive methods of thinking — precisely what philosophy has always provided through Socrates, Aristotle, Descartes, Hegel, and Kant.

Meillassoux is therefore moving toward a goal common to him and Harman: the legitimization of metaphysical hell, formally by different methods, but with a common aim.


Metamodernism

Metamodernism as a Weak Alternative

In contemporary mass culture and semi-philosophical journalism, metamodernism is occasionally mentioned as an epoch that has replaced postmodernism. In reality, there is no developed ontology or metaphysics of metamodernism. To a large extent, it is a cultural and social phenomenon without serious theoretical grounding. Its own theorists describe metamodernism as a “structure of feeling” and define it through “oscillations” — movements between modernism and postmodernism. Yet the term itself remains empty. Metamodernism simply says: life may be meaningless, but sometimes it also contains pleasant things, like lavender raf and hugs. It is good that we managed to deconstruct grand narratives, but let us stop at the point where it starts to hurt me.

In many ways, metamodernism simply performs the servicing cultural function of social movements. Implicitly, it proceeds from the following idea: it is good that we managed to deconstruct grand narratives and create a society of total equality and creativity, where traditional families, a great multitude of genders, races, and identities peacefully coexist and are integrated into social processes. But precisely in order to maintain this balance of freedoms, control is required — not through a return to totality, but through the protection of fragility and inclusivity.

Postmodernism, an epoch in which a large number of masterpieces were created, demonstrated the high productivity of artistic devices such as irony, quotation, self-negation, and multilayeredness. A classic example here is Umberto Eco’s semiotic novel, in which a mass detective layer, a historical canvas, and philosophical reflections on the nature of knowledge coexist. In such a work, logic and the thirst for truth reveal reality not because of their own transparency, but rather in spite of it.

Here metamodernism looks more like a step backward. It preserves many of postmodernism’s approaches, but cuts away its depth and sharp edges, legitimizing sensitivity and naivety and transferring the artistic gesture from the field of irony and deconstruction into a culturally protected zone. Among significant works of art, metamodernism does not have many achievements; one might include the film Amélie, as well as some of Greta Gerwig’s works, above all Frances Ha and Lady Bird.

Metamodernism is important rather as a symptom of the legitimization of a particular socio-political epoch. It is a way of legitimizing the taboo on productive instruments of power. In a postmodern culture where logical, cultural, moral, and emotional arguments are placed on the same level, the protection of certain emotional arguments that are important at a given moment acquires practical and structural significance for power.

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Outstanding.

I actually read the whole thing more than once.

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Good OP !

This is one of the reasons that I find speculative realism to be a more of an attitude or prayer. The anti-anthropocentric thrust just favors the trans-human edge of the human “species essence,” which has been grasped at least since Feuerbach. We have been cyborgs from the beginning.

The case against primary qualities is also strong. Meillassoux handwaves at the “literal” meaning of ancestral statements, which echoes the platonism adopted uncritically in terms of Cantor’s work. His target is “fideism,” and he’s not unlike Lenin raging against Mach. Lenin’s “arguments” are emotional appeals to a sleepy common sense.

Elsewhere he discusses, seriously, the literal resurrection of the dead —a little known side of his fascinating work. I happened to get an anthology years ago, and was pretty surprised.

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If by postmodern, you simply mean the historical period chronologically after the modern period , I have no problem with that. But if you mean a set of philosophical tropes loosely common to figures like Derrida, Deleuze, Foucault and Lyotard, I strongly disagree. Harman’s thinking is a throwback to pre-Kantian philosophy. He is light years away from anything even vaguely postmodern from a philosophical perspective. In any era there are throwbacks to more traditional ways of thinking. What is it about Harman’s version of intellectual backsliding which merits the label ‘postmodern’? Are Ayn Randians and post-liberal anti-enlightenment theorists postmodern?

Postmodern philosophers generally offer accounts which are performatively relational, in which matter just is what it does or how it moves.No property of any discernible thing (its physical features, agency, or even its speech or thought) entirely precedes or remains unchanged by its actions or encounters with other things. Such an account, therefore, radically refuses a flat ontology. Deleuze may seem to be an exception, but on closer inspection, he rejects both flat ontology and hierarchy.

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And besides he appropriated the name of his philosophy from software development!

I bet you are right, as in he did so intentionally. But I have to hand it to Harman. He’s a charming person in videos, with a great sense of humor. It’s a joy to watch him interact with Zizek.

I classify Meillassoux and Harman as post-postmodernists not because they literally developed the ideas of post-structuralists such as Derrida or Deleuze, but because they work within the context of a contemporary philosophical landscape that has already moved away from the deeper post-structuralist ideas and retained only a flat ontology and the struggle against any hierarchies and meanings, including any form of anthropicity.

I am convinced that if Harman had proposed his idea as the dark soul of objects — on the one hand inaccessible to human beings, and on the other hand a hidden network of signals — no one would have taken it seriously. The same applies to Meillassoux. He presents himself as a post-Kantian and as someone returning to a traditional mode of thought, but the context of his work is post-postmodernist. He seems to discard the philosophical apparatus of postmodernism and radicalize its dark remainder, using other, rather simple methods.

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I agree that Derrida and Deleuze are not flat ontologists in the crude Harmanian sense. My point is rather that their anti-hierarchical gesture, once detached from the full complexity of post-structuralist thought, becomes one of the conditions for the later post-postmodern flattening.

Harman formally moves along a different line, but genealogically he comes after the post-structuralists and radicalizes this anti-hierarchical impulse into a fully flat ontology.

Could you enlarge a little on ‘flat ontology’ (and for that matter vertical ontology) ? It’s a term I’m familiar with but I’m interested to see how you understand it and what comprises the ‘vertical axis’ so to speak.

By “flat ontology” I mean a struggle against all kinds of hierarchies and, as a consequence, the relativization of all meanings.

I would classify as flat ontologies: transhumanism — the equality of human and machine; Latour, with his “parliament of things”; Deleuze, with the rhizome; Derrida, with binary oppositions.

“Vertical ontology” is rather my own internal language. It means a disagreement with the idea that all hierarchies are always bad and necessarily lead to totality. I think that every thought strives toward totality, and flat ontologies do so as well.

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I agree, and I find it in the non-textual poetic assertion that is “behind” or “under” the text. The term “subtext” doesn’t point deep enough for what I mean. It’s prior to signs.

I don’t claim that the following passage is what you are after, but I think it’s a strong moment in Nietzsche that digs deep. Nietzsche’s Jesus is a reflection in a broken mirror.

A faith of this sort is not furious, it does not denounce, it does not defend itself: it does not come with “the sword”—it does not realize how it will one day set man against man. It does not manifest itself either by miracles, or by rewards and promises, or by “scriptures”: it is itself, first and last, its own miracle, its own reward, its own promise, its own “kingdom of God.”

This faith does not formulate itself — it simply lives, and so guards itself against formulae. … It is only on the theory that no word is to be taken literally that this anti-realist is able to speak at all. Set down among Hindus he would have made use of the concepts of Sankhya, and among Chinese he would have employed those of Lao-tse — and in neither case would it have made any difference to him. — With a little freedom in the use of words, one might actually call Jesus a “free spirit” — he cares nothing for what is established: the word killeth, whatever is established killeth.

The idea of “life” as an experience, as he alone conceives it, stands opposed to his mind to every sort of word, formula, law, belief and dogma. He speaks only of inner things: “life” or “truth” or “light” is his word for the innermost—in his sight everything else, the whole of reality, all nature, even language, has significance only as sign, as allegory.

The end suggests the arbitrariness of the disposable passing sign. The “real thing” is deeper than that.

Well let’s do one more.

In the writings of a recluse one always hears something of the echo of the wilderness, something of the murmuring tones and timid vigilance of solitude; in his strongest words, even in his cry itself, there sounds a new and more dangerous kind of silence, of concealment. He who has sat day and night, from year’s end to year’s end, alone with his soul in familiar discord and discourse, he who has become a cave-bear, or a treasure-seeker, or a treasure-guardian and dragon in his cave—it may be a labyrinth, but can also be a gold-mine—his ideas themselves eventually acquire a twilight-colour of their own, and an odour, as much of the depth as of the mould, something uncommunicative and repulsive, which blows chilly upon every passer-by. The recluse does not believe that a philosopher—supposing that a philosopher has always in the first place been a recluse—ever expressed his actual and ultimate opinions in books: are not books written precisely to hide what is in us?—indeed, he will doubt whether a philosopher CAN have “ultimate and actual” opinions at all; whether behind every cave in him there is not, and must necessarily be, a still deeper cave: an ampler, stranger, richer world beyond the surface, an abyss behind every bottom, beneath every “foundation.” Every philosophy is a foreground philosophy…Every deep thinker is more afraid of being understood than of being misunderstood.

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I am inclined to think that what stands behind the text is not a remainder, not a differential, not an “infinitesimal,” but rather the very place where the door to genuine philosophy opens — or more precisely, where many doors, passages, traps, and labyrinths open.

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I would also like to note that I see the problem of “flat ontology” not as something abstract, but as something literal and everyday. The habit of cutting off dominant meanings kills thought itself. I often use GPT to test my thoughts, and in the latest versions there is apparently a system prompt aimed at removing any sharpness; it constantly suggests smoothing out the thought, even when I do not ask it to. But together with sharpness and attack, the thought itself and its message very often disappear.

I believe that, in the end, every thought, or even every statement, contains within itself an imbalance, a claim to power, and an attack. It is impossible to say something new without offending someone. I am not saying that aggression or rudeness contains thought in itself. I mean rather that thought is a kind of ontological shift — a reassembly of hierarchies.

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Here one can also give poetry as an example. The best examples give aesthetic pleasure at the very point where there is risk and danger. Poetry opens up unstable connections in language through rhythm, the external similarity of words, and creates connections where it would seem there should not have been any. The power of poetry lies precisely in the fact that the poet’s thought cannot be defended. At the same time, new connections and new meanings, which are always hierarchical, begin to attack the old ones, which creates a kind of ontological tension or ontological crack.

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Yes. The new as such is offensive, threatening. I see that you are not celebrating cruelty here. The point is to point at the ontological violence of novelty. Poesis is a crowbar.

The pretense of neutrality or of flattening covers an aggressive reassembly, whether consciously or not. But the impact is subject-relative, just as novelty is subject-relative.

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I like this. I think you are on to something here.

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I’m actually very much with you on this, as much as I love to talk about signs. I’d maybe connect it to what I value in Freud and Jung.

Every philosophy is a foreground philosophy…Every deep thinker is more afraid of being understood than of being misunderstood.

This might even include self-understanding, which makes “depth philosophy” difficult.

Human existence itself is possible only within a certain network of relations, which is always hierarchical in itself, always contains certain values. Philosophy, like art, is often very painful, because it requires separation from oneself, a renunciation of wholeness. The philosopher is forced, again and again, to accept blows that strike at his very existence. That is why people are often suspicious of philosophy or poetry — because they feel a direct attack on themselves.

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This sort of touches on No Exit by Sartre. He talks about “ontological shame.” Even if the poet holds his tongue, he is suspect, if one fears a different value-organization of the world in his gaze. “Hell is other people.”

Yes, there has to be resistance. Because if there is no resistance, then there was no thought either — and that is even more disappointing.

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