'The Disappearance of Rituals' by Byung-Chul Han
In The Disappearance of Rituals: A Topology of the Present, philosopher Byung-Chul Han critiques contemporary society through the lens of ritualistic practice, or rather, its absence. This slim yet dense volume presents ritual as a mechanism for creating meaning and fostering community — what Han argues we are losing in our hyperconnected yet increasingly atomized world.
Han’s central thesis emerges from a paradox: while our era is marked by unprecedented communication, it suffers from a deficit of community. Early in the text, he articulates this as the difference between a “community without communication” (enabled by ritual) and our current state of “communication without community” (enabled by digital communications). This observation sets the stage for a broader examination of how neoliberalism, capitalism, and digital culture have eroded the symbolic frameworks that once gave life its texture and depth.
The philosopher’s analysis is particularly incisive when he examines how rituals function as “symbolic techniques of making oneself at home in the world.” In contrast to the frenetic pace of contemporary life, which Han characterizes as “serial perception” — a perpetual rushing from one sensation to the next — rituals create spaces of depth and intensity through repetition and focus. This argument parallels Sven Birkerts’s prescient warnings about the internet age, where “horizontal” networks threaten our capacity for “vertical,” deep engagement with the world.
Han’s critique extends beyond mere cultural commentary to implicate the very structures of modern selfhood. He argues that contemporary injunctions to “be authentic” and “true to oneself” represent not liberation but a form of captivity by what he terms the “neoliberal regime.” This performative individualism, far from fostering genuine self-expression, incorporates “the whole person into the production process.” The result is what Han memorably describes as “the neoliberal hell of the same” — a world transformed into a market where individuals endlessly and narcissistically exhibit themselves. The “neoliberal regime” exploits the moral weight of what Han calls narcissistic behavior, calling us to produce and perform the self.
The book’s examination of closure, rest, and silence in the context of rituals offers particularly rich insights. Han posits that ritual practices (rites of passage) create necessary boundaries and transitions in human experience, without which we risk remaining in a state of perpetual infantilization. His discussion of the Sabbath as a ritual of contemplation serves as a interesting counterpoint to the never-ending cycle of activity (infinite scrolls, play next, etc.) demanded by digital capitalism.
Perhaps most provocative is Han’s analysis of language and poetry in our utilitarian age. His argument that we have lost the capacity to appreciate poetry because it refuses to produce clear “meaning” or “information” speaks to a broader cultural crisis — one in which language itself has been stripped of its playful, ambiguous, and ritualistic dimensions in favor of pure functionality. Han argues that straightforward, functional information adopts a “pornographic form.”
The book’s weaknesses, such as they are, stem from Han’s brisk analysis; ideas and arguments flash brilliantly only to dissolve into the next observation, leaving the reader longing for deeper elaboration. There’s an irony here: in a work lamenting our culture’s inability to linger, Han’s own prose often mirrors the very acceleration he critiques. But his rapid movement might be understood less as a fault than as the fallout of an ambitious philosophical project. Additionally, Han’s concept of the “neoliberal regime” sometimes functions as an overly capacious catchall for various aspects of modernity, from capitalism, to globalization, to algorithmically mediated feeds, to digital communication. A more granular discussion of the “neoliberal regime” would have been nice. Though, in fairness, while the book is a work of philosophy and may prove challenging to casual readers, it isn’t too difficult to catch his drift.
Nevertheless, The Disappearance of Rituals offers an interesting diagnosis of our cultural moment. It exposes how the erosion of ritual practices has left us unmoored in a world of endless consumption, production, and performance. Han’s book leaves us with urgent questions about our cultural moment: How might we reconstruct meaning in a digital age? Can we create forms of community that resist the logic of modern narcissism? What would it mean to recover a capacity for deep attention and contemplation in a world of endless distraction? It asks us to reconsider how we might reconstruct forms of community and meaning-making that resist the logic of market relations, online culture, and digital acceleration.
Han’s text suggests that the recovery of ritual — understood not as mere ceremony but as a fundamental mode of world-making — might offer a path out of our current “hell of the same.” In a culture obsessed with progress, disruption, and innovation, Han’s conservative defense of ritual feels both radical and necessary. For anyone concerned with the spiritual and social dimensions of modern life, Byung-Chul Han’s The Disappearance of Rituals is worth reading.