Jordan Peterson Comes to Aspen
In Aspen, Colorado, up a narrow switchback road, high above the picturesque valley, where a house unburdened by close neighbors opens onto a furnished open-air patio, I found Jordan Peterson, arguably the most influential, most controversial, and most improbable intellectual star in North America, earnestly holding forth to several of the very successful locals who were eager to meet him and to ask what project he is up to, exactly, with his relatively newfound fame.
That particular evening, sitting on an outdoor sofa upholstered in white, eschewing caviar hors d’oeuvres and cocktails for water, his back turned to a spectacular view, he was having a quick dinner before an appearance at the Aspen Ideas Festival. But in general, Peterson is traveling the English-speaking world in order to spread the message of this core conviction: that the way to fix what ails Western societies is a psychological project, targeted at helping individuals to get their lives in order, not a sociological project that seeks to improve society through politics, or popular culture, or by focusing on class, racial, or gender identity.
That’s why, despite a bestselling book, a Patreon page that generates a small fortune in revenue each month, a YouTube channel with a massive audience, and the ability to appear regularly on podcasts that reach millions of people, he has recently traveled to dozens of cities to appear before audiences of 2,500 or 3,000 people. He’s in Sacramento today, San Diego tomorrow, Long Beach on Friday, and Thousand Oaks on Saturday. In July and August, he is scheduled to speak in at least 11 Canadian cities. In September and October, he’ll be back in the United States, with speaking appearances in at least 19 more cities.
In almost all of those appearances, he will speak about 12 Rules for Life, a book full of advice. And his fans will ask questions pertaining to its lessons. But the Aspen Ideas Festival, which is co-sponsored by the Aspen Institute and The Atlantic, was an anomaly in this series of public appearances: a gathering largely populated by people—Democrats and centrist Republicans, corporate leaders, academics, millionaire philanthropists, journalists—invested in the contrary proposition, that the way to fix what ails society is a sociological project, one that effects change by focusing on politics, or changing popular culture, or spurring technological advances, or investing more in diversity and inclusiveness.
Many of its attendees, like many journalists, are most interested in Peterson as a political figure at the center of controversies, whether about the use of trans pronouns, or gender roles, or sundry critiques of the academic milieu where he spent years, most recently as a tenured University of Toronto professor well-liked by students. Before his rise, no one would’ve imagined that a Jungian academic who lectures on religious texts and timeless lessons that humanity might glean from myth would be a household name, or an author outselling self-help gurus among people seeking to turn their lives around; nor would anyone have anticipated that the very same Canadian professor would be seen by many progressive journalists, left-feminists, and trans activists as a menacing force.
As I’ve delved into Peterson’s work and public statements—an ongoing effort—I’ve often been frustrated by how frequently press accounts this person whose beliefs by and a Scott Alexander ), wrestled with the actual substance of his views, finding deep areas of agreement and disagreement, and sought interviews with Peterson fans in hopes of clarifying how he is changing their attitudes toward life, culture, and politics. I’ve hoped to avoid the mode of criticism that identifies and focuses only on a figure’s most controversial words, as if locating a sufficiently problematic statement renders it verboten to glean of value from a person’s work. Peterson deserves a full, appropriately complex accounting of his best and worst arguments; I intend to give him one soon. For now, I can only tell you how the Peterson phenomenon manifested one night in Aspen, during the briefest of interludes from a book tour, before an audience very unlike those that he is accustomed to on the road.
