The Slow Death of American Seriousness

On April 18th, 2020, venture capitalist, Katherine Boyle, published an article called The Case for American Seriousness.

“Seriousness,” she wrote, is “a fire in the eyes,” and “a ferocity of speech and action,” it is the belief that “God or the universe has bestowed upon you an immense task that no one else can achieve.”

In the post-World War II era, American seriousness took humanity to the moon, it functioned as a military deterrent and an engine for economic growth, it drove innovation in technology and manufacturing, and since the beginning of the 21st century, American seriousness has declined just as rivals like Russia and China got extremely serious about their visions of the world.

Boyle’s essay was one of those rare gems that I couldn’t stop thinking about, even years later. Mainly because it eloquently pointed to something important, but also because I felt sure it had left something important out.

Something that made sense of the political apathy that millions of people feel.

Something that explained the breakdown of our political discourse and the concept of a shared reality.

Something that came sharply into focus when two of the most powerful men in the world started calling each other names on social media.

I’m only slightly ashamed to admit that my first reaction to the Donald Trump/Elon Musk catfight was extremely unserious.

I don’t remember much of what happened after I popped some popcorn and logged on to Twitter, but when I regained my senses, five hours had passed, my brain was full of memes about Jeffrey Epstein and ketamine, and I’d written nineteen potential subtitles for a satirical piece called “Why Daddy and Daddy Are Fighting.”

But then I remembered Boyle’s article.

Because the problem here isn’t just that these two enormously powerful and influential people lack the maturity to handle their differences productively, it’s not just that Trump calling Musk a “big-time drug addict” generated so much more media attention than the specifics of the “Big Beautiful Bill” (God, even the name is unserious), it’s not even the revelation that Trump knowingly granted this big time drug addict unfettered access to the private data of American citizens, it’s that none of this is shocking or embarrassing enough to affect their political careers at all.

This isn’t just unserious, it’s a culture that has forgotten what seriousness is.

Seriousness isn’t moon landings or military strength, it isn’t financial influence or political leverage, these are the fruits of seriousness, the rewards of decades of sustained and focused work.

But seriousness itself, the kind of culture that generates these things, has specific requirements.