Choose or Lose

To bring you behind the curtain a bit, I actually got the general idea for this article while walking around an outlet mall. On my less busy days, I often like to drive out of the city, and on this day found myself at an enormous shopping center with dozens of designer stores in the middle of rural New York.

While walking around, I felt overwhelmed and slightly disgusted at the sheer amount of “stuff” that one could acquire. Seeing people walking by with bags upon bags of things that would just take up space in their homes made me feel uncomfortable. A while back, I stumbled across an essay arguing that consumerism serves as a replacement for religion in our society today. As that thought (and its development, which is contained in the rest of this article) occurred to me, I immediately felt more empathy and compassion for the shoppers. 

As humans, we are incredibly predisposed to be a part of a tradition (note that, throughout this piece, I use “tradition” in a very broad way to describe a pattern of thoughts or actions that serves to explain some deeper truth about the human condition). Consumerism is a tradition just as much as religion is a tradition – both claim to lead you to a state of elevated meaning, whether it’s Nike telling you that you will be faster in our shoes or Jesus telling you that you will be saved if you take up the cross and confess your sins.

In The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky (an Orthodox Christian) includes a scathing parable about the Catholic church, in which Jesus comes to visit humanity at the height of the Spanish Inquisition and is arrested by an Inquisitor, whereupon the Inquisitor informs Jesus that modernity has no need for him – the Church has removed the freedom of thought from the practice of religion, in an effort to cater to the masses who lack the mental fortitude to pursue Christ in the face of worldly temptations. (I would strongly recommend reading the full section, which offers far more nuance and thoughtful insight than my paraphrase). Midway through his diatribe, the Inquisitor makes this provoking point: “There is for man no preoccupation more constant or more nagging than, while in a condition of freedom, quickly to find someone to bow down before.”

The western world in 2026 offers much more freedom than the Spanish Inquisition, of course. Whether or not you yourself have chosen or whether someone else has for you, the odds are that you’re bowing down to something — or more realistically, a number of things. For some, that thing is consumerism, or social media, or the pursuit of money, or any one of the near-infinite ways you can give your very being to something without even knowing you’re doing it. For many, that thing is religion, and my hope is that the religion you bow down to is one that prioritizes love, respect, and humility. For others, it may involve a different tradition that resonates with you and offers the most coherent explanation of life. I have often found Nietzsche’s philosophy to resonate in recent years, and I include this example, though there are many such secular examples, to emphasize that my central argument does not require religion specifically.

I’ve appreciated the thoughts of Catholic philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre recently, who argues for a type of Aristotelian Thomism that I find very compelling. His thoughts, which I will again be unable to do justice by paraphrasing, are that a person seeking coherence should enter deeply into a living moral-intellectual tradition, participating in its practices and forms of reasoning. Central to his thinking is the idea that a practice, in his framework, has internal goods – things you can only access by actually doing the thing. Playing chess well, making music, pursuing a craft. A tradition built on genuine practices offers rewards that are intrinsic to participation. Consumerism doesn't have that; its goods are entirely external (status, novelty, comfort).

To conclude the anecdote of the mall trip, I left shortly after the aforementioned revelation, and drove 15 miles further north to West Point, NY, home of the United States Military Academy. At a level rarely seen in our modern society, tradition is known, and tradition is loved. Cadets subordinate themselves to a mission much larger than their own comfort or desire, and in doing so develop the moral foundation that only comes through years of practice within a demanding community. I left USMA feeling inspired and grateful to be connected (even if only tangentially through the Department of War) to such a tradition.

It’s eye-opening to apply MacIntyre’s lens to each of the traditions I’ve touched on: religion, secular philosophy, and even (if not especially) modern stand-ins such as consumerism. If I’m going to observe a tradition regardless, I might as well pick one that offers a lasting and resounding meaning for my entire life – not just until the next sale.

NOTE: I’m not sure how many people still check this site since it’s been so long since my last piece. I hope to start writing again more frequently, and I really appreciate any of you who have reached out about any of my previous pieces as well. It really means a lot to me. Thanks! - Carter