For true satisfaction, forget happiness and seek long-term goals.
This week marked the much-anticipated release of University of Toronto Prof. Jordan Peterson’s latest book, Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life. If his last book, which has sold more than five million copies, is any indication, the newest one is bound to be another massive commercial success.
Peterson is an odd fit for a cultural celebrity. He’s obviously a complicated person who seems a bit awkward and introverted and whose obscure interests (including clinical psychology, philosophy and theology) are far from mainstream. Yet his intellectual and cultural reach is extraordinary.
His Youtube channel, which combines lectures, podcast videos and various speeches, has 3.5 million subscribers and more than 145 million views. His social media accounts (including Facebook, Instagram and Twitter) have another 4.7 million followers. And there are reports that when Peterson was on Patreon, the popular crowdfunding website, he was earning nearly $50,000 per month from individual contributions.
He’s easily Canada’s most significant public intellectual. No one else is even close. In fact, Tyler Cowen, an American economist and serious public intellectual in his own right, has called Peterson the most influential public intellectual in the entire Western world.
It begs the questions: How does a well-regarded yet mostly obscure Canadian psychologist transform into a global phenomenon? How did we end up in what New York Times columnist David Brooks has referred to as a “Jordan Peterson moment”?
I think there are three main reasons. The first is that there’s an incredible hunger among young people — particularly young men — for a combination of practical and transcendental wisdom. The modern ethos of hyper-individualism reflected in platitudinous commencement speech slogans like “find your truth” and “you do you” fails to provide generational guidance on fundamental questions about how to live a good and meaningful life.
The result is that Western societies increasingly have a critical mass of 20-somethings who feel anxious, rudderless and alone. Peterson’s so-called “rules” (such as “make friends with people who want the best for you”) may seem banal to some readers, but for a young person trying to make his or her way in the world, they offer an action plan for life of greater structure and purpose.
The second reason is that in a political culture that seems to descend into lowest-common denominator arguments by default, Peterson generally stands out by refusing to dumb down his ideas. He has enough respect for his audience members to eschew superficial talking points and instead communicate to them as thinking adults, even on complex topics such as moral philosophy, the worldly expression of good and evil and the Bible.
Peterson has implicitly bet that those who think that modern audiences are incapable of engaging beyond carefully calibrated slogans are wrong. And he’s been proven overwhelmingly right.
A few years ago, as Peterson’s profile was on its rapid ascendancy, we both spoke at a policy and political conference in Toronto. I spoke after him, but my then-girlfriend (now wife) and I arrived early to see what all the fuss was about with this eccentric professor who was generating such a buzz in the mainstream and online media.
His remarks were dense and esoteric. There were references to French philosophers Michel Foucault and Jean-paul Sartre and various nods to Marxism, structuralism and postmodernism. I mostly followed what he was saying, but suffice to say, it was far from a light talk.
Yet, as I looked around the fully packed lecture theatre, the audience was spellbound. People’s engrossment was a sign of the underlying demand for Peterson’s unique mix of intellectualism, intensity and soberness.
Which brings me to the third (and most controversial) factor behind Peterson’s passionate support. He has championed a conservative alternative to the prevailing zeitgeist that fairly or unfairly tends to be characterized as “wokeness.” He’s not been afraid to speak bluntly about the forces of “cultural Marxism,” the “radical left” and “political correctness” that he sees as a threat to Enlightenment thinking.
This line of argument doubtlessly resonates with young conservatives who, according to a recent study, are significantly under-represented on university and college campuses. As I’ve written before, there’s a growing sense among conservatives that their ideas aren’t fully permitted in mainstream institutions. Peterson has proven to be a credentialed yet combative advocate for these people.
It doesn’t mean, of course, that he is without his flaws. There’s plenty to disagree with in his ideas, arguments and tact. His hard-headed message can seem unempathetic, clinical and cold. David Brooks has observed an element of joylessness and gracelessness in Peterson’s world view. Reason magazine’s Matt Welch has described him as a “flawed messiah.” His critics would say even worse.
But the story here is less about Peterson and more about what his popularity says about us. The fecundity of his message suggests that modern society’s mix of consumerism and secularism isn’t fulfilling people’s metaphysical needs. There’s something missing in our lives. Peterson, for better or worse, is filling that gap for a large number of young people in Canada and around the world.
It’s made for an unlikely intellectual and cultural icon. And it definitely sells books.