Abstract

Is the endeavour to probe the meaning of modernity other than a form of self-obsession, a kind of collective and conceptual narcissism, characteristic of the perhaps peculiarly modern preoccupation with abstract notions and inwardness? And whatever the motivation and origin, is the endeavour likely to issue in something better than doubtful or empty pronouncements, true to the extent that they are platitudes and false or obscure for the rest? Encountering the title Modernism as a Philosophical Problem one can imagine a Rortyean reading: modernism a philosophical problem?—and the commentary: well, if you think that, you do have a problem, namely, philosophical pretentiousness and an affliction for foundations, for ultimate principles that, if truly ultimate, are unattainable and also unnecessary. In a different voice, a similar cynicism can be heard, the Lyotardean lament at the announcement of yet another unneeded philosophical meta-narrative, a new, idle tale about history, ideas and development, culminating in grand notions confounded by facts.