The twentieth century began on an optimistic note but quickly lost its idealism as war engulfed the world. World War I “shattered much of Europe’s already fading optimism, and the advent of Nazis and fascists shook men’s confidence in their present and their past.” ((Gary North, Unholy Spirits: Occultism and New Age Humanism (Tyler, TX: Dominion Press, 1986), 22.))

Despite a bloody world war, belief in evolutionary progress had not lost its luster. In 1920, the English novelist H.G. Wells wrote The Outline of History, described as “a song of evolutionary idealism, faith in progress, and complete optimism.” ((Herbert Schlossberg, Idols for Destruction (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, [1983] 1993), 2.))

Before too long, Wells began to lose hope in what he believed would be the inevitabilities of evolutionary advancement and social enrichment. “By 1933, when he published The Shape of Things to Come, he could see no better way to overcome the stubbornness and selfishness between people and nations than a desperate action by intellectual idealists to seize control of the world by force and establish their vision with a universal compulsory educational program.” ((Schlossberg, Idols for Destruction, 2.))

An elite class of social engineers would be needed to force the “good society” on people whether they wanted it or not. “Finally, shortly before his death, [Wells] wrote an aptly‑titled book, The Mind at the End of Its Tether (1945) in which he concluded that ‘there is no way out, or around, or through the impasse. It is the end.’” ((Schlossberg, Idols for Destruction, 2.))

The outlook in America was different. A form of secular optimism prevailed after World War II that even a police action in Korea in the 1950s could not dampen. America had never known defeat in war, and her countryside had not been ravaged by incendiary bombs or nuclear fallout. She was on a roll.

The post‑war optimism continued with the inauguration of President John F. Kennedy in 1960 and dreams of Camelot, a political fiction if there ever was one. “The phenomenon we call ‘the Sixties’ did not begin at 12.01 A.M. on January 1, 1960. It is not a chronological entity so much as a cultural or mythic one. Even if we identify the myth with the decade, it would be more accurate to say that it began on November 8, 1960, with the election of John F. Kennedy, and ended May 4, 1970, on the campus of Kent State” when National Guardsmen killed four students as a crowd gathered to protest escalation of United States military policy in Vietnam. (Annie Gottlieb, Do You Believe in Magic?: The Second Coming of the 60’s Generation [New York: Random House/Times Books, 1987], 17).))

Modernism was running full throttle in the early 1960s with its great scientific advances—man was about to conquer the heavens and put a man on the moon—and official judicial statements of atheism with prayer and Bible reading removed from America’s public schools. The theistic house cleaning was now nearly complete. Since 1859, the year that Darwin’s Origin of Species was published, modern man had been trying to rid the universe of God and His sovereignty. America was about to show the world what man could do without God.

On November 22, 1963, gunfire put an end to the euphoria. As one child of the 1960s put it, “When Kennedy was killed is when America changed.” ((Quoted in Gottlieb, Do You Believe in Magic?, 17.)) As if overnight, everything seemed to change. “Tennessee‑born photographer Jim Smith, who describes his experience of the Sixties as ‘having my world view torn apart with nothing to replace it,’ says that ‘the Kennedy assassination really was the trigger.’” ((Quoted in Gottlieb, Do You Believe in Magic?, 18.)) The following social chaos was hardly encouraging to an idealistic generation:

Lyndon Johnson’s skillfully and ruthlessly imposed legislative substance—the final culmination of the old Progressive optimism—soon turned to dust in the mouths of his followers. The Vietnam war, race riots, and the deficit‑induced price inflation broke the spirit of the age. Johnson could not be re‑elected in 1968, just four years after he was elected President. ((North, Unholy Spirits, 23.))

From visions of Camelot to chants of “Hey! Hey! LBJ! How many kids didja kill today?” America was abandoning what little faith it had in the secular religion of modernism. As if tens of thousands of dead young men were not enough to destroy the worldview of modernism, the murder of two cultural icons confirmed the disintegration of society. “With the assassinations of King and Robert Kennedy, we lost our last hope of combating racism or ending the war through the System, and the System lost our consent.” ((Gottlieb, Do You Believe in Magic?, 47.))

A crisis of secular faith had emerged. The new generation questioned the orthodoxy of rational neutrality. The guardians of modernism had sent young men and women to the rice paddies of Vietnam, and more than 58,000 of them had returned in coffins, 153,000 returned severely wounded, and an equal amount more lightly wounded.

A break with the past was unavoidable. People were calling for “revolution.” They “wanted apocalypse, Utopia,” ((Quoted in Gottlieb, Do You Believe in Magic?, 18.)) a world transformed. Transformed by what to what? That was the question. Drugs, sexual experimentation, Eastern philosophy, and the occult were all viable options. The counter culture of the 1960s wanted something more than the impersonalism offered by rationalism. In fact, the best and the brightest of the rationalists had sent America’s youth to Southeast Asia to die in an immoral war. ((David Halberstam, The Best and the Brightest (New York: Random House, 1972).)) For the first time in her history, America had lost a war. It is no wonder that George Will called the sixties “the most dangerous decade in America’s life as a nation.” ((George Will, “1968: Memories That Dim and Differ,” The Washington Post (January 14, 1988), A27.))

Postmodernism is the logical outworking of modernism. Stephen Connor says that the “concept of postmodernism cannot be said to have crystallized until about the mid‑1970’s. . . .” ((Stephen Connor, Postmodernist Culture: An Introduction to Theories of the Contemporary (Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell, 1989), 6.)) Modernism had received some strong criticism, and it was becoming more tenable to assert that the postmodern had come to stay, but it took some time before scholarship really jumped on the bandwagon.

It is important to distinguish between postmodern and postmodernism. Postmodern refers to a period of time, whereas postmodernism refers to a distinct ideology. As Edward Veith points out, “If the modern era is over, we are all postmodern, even though we reject the tenets of postmodern_ism_” (Gene Edward Veith, Postmodern Times: A Christian Guide to Contemporary Thought and Culture (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1994), 42).)) Events, violent events, forced the hands of the academic community.

If May 4, 1970, was the day that the war between the generations and classes of white America became a war in earnest, in retrospect it was also the day that war began to end. It was as if the rising tensions had needed to climax in the taking of life. After the strikes in the wake of Kent, the energy of confrontation began to ebb. ((Gottlieb, Do You Believe in Magic?, 138.))

But little was resolved. The four protesters who were killed at Kent State University, through no aggression of their own, put an end to a misguided revolution. The worldview of modernism was buried with them. The campuses in the 1970s, and even through the 1990s, remained eerily quiet. The silence, however, was not a sign of inaction. A new worldview was being developed without fanfare—a quiet revolution of pure secularism, even paganism.

Where was the church during these tumultuous times? Almost silent. In fact, the moniker The Silent Majority ((Otto Scott is credited for inventing the phrase, made popular by President Richard Nixon. Pat Buchanan writes that it was a phrase he had given to Richard Nixon in August 1968. Gary North writes: “Otto Scott wrote a speech for the CEO of Ashland Oil, “The Silent Majority,” delivered to the Chicago Men’s Club (May 23, 1968). He was paid for his work. Members of the Chicago Men’s Club were not concerned that someone else wrote the man’s speech. They probably would have been amazed if someone else hadn’t. It was a very good speech. The journalist Jeffrey St. John saw the phrase quoted in a newspaper, and he immediately called Ashland Oil. He asked who the CEO’s speech writer was. The secretary told him. St. John knew as soon as he read the phrase that no CEO had coined it. He wanted to speak with the author. He thought the man would be interesting. He was correct. There are few men more interesting than Otto Scott.”)) had been coined to describe the near passivity of a generation that had capitulated to the status quo, hobbled by the sincere but naive belief that if a person minded his or her business they would be left alone.

Millions of Christians during this period, and unfortunate even today, sincerely believed that they were living in the “terminal generation.” They believed something called the “rapture” would rescue them from the coming tumult. It was all supposed to come to an end before 1988, but here we are more than 30 years later, and the barbarians are long past the gates.