The Myth of Progress: The Conservative Response

Progress is one of the most sacred words in the modern Western vocabulary. To question it is to invite ridicule. Doubts about it are labeled as reactionary, retrograde, or, worse still, dangerous. Yet the idea that human society is inevitably moving toward a better world—morally, socially, and politically—is not only naive; it is historically ignorant.

True progress is not linear. It is not inevitable. It is achieved, preserved, and constantly threatened. The conservative understands this, because history teaches him so clearly.

Let us begin with a simple truth: all civilizations that once considered themselves advanced believed they had reached the pinnacle of development—until they collapsed. Rome boasted of its laws and engineering. Classical Greece prided itself on its philosophy and democratic institutions, but it too was corroded by internal conflicts and moral decline. The Byzantine Empire stood for centuries as a bastion of Christian civilization, until it succumbed to external pressure and internal corruption. Today, we remember them for their decline, their fall—and for the lessons they forgot.

And yet, in contemporary Western Europe, the myth of inevitable progress has become doctrine. Portugal, the nation that once ruled a global empire and produced men brave enough to sail into the unknown and discover half the world, now seems to be resigned to managed decline. After the Estado Novo period and the subsequent years of socialist rule, the Portuguese spirit was lost, replaced by a quiet resignation and a growing dependence on the state. The bravery that once built caravels and crossed oceans is now content with bureaucratic comfort and diminished expectations. Our universities, once beacons of knowledge, have become factories of useless degrees—producing graduates with no real skills and no direction, just to feed the machine of university lobbying and state subsidies. The proud heritage of a courageous people is in danger of being forgotten, buried under layers of institutional complacency.

Germany’s recent history serves as a paradigmatic warning. Few nations have severed their ties to their historical identity so profoundly in the post-war period. In the name of progress, Germany embraced a culture of Vergangenheitsbewältigung — reconciliation with the past — that today manifests itself not as a healthy memory but as a civilizational doubt. Patriotism has become taboo. Christian values ​​are whispered, not proclaimed. The result? A society increasingly uncertain of its identity and therefore more vulnerable to the ideological winds of the moment.

One might ask: what is the importance of this? Because a culture that forgets its foundations cannot sustain its freedoms. Progress, when disconnected from principles, becomes drift. And drift leads to decadence.

The conservative does not reject progress—he rejects its idolatry. Technological advancement? Excellent. Medical innovation? Essential. But moral progress? Social enlightenment? These are measured not by the speed with which we abandon the past, but by the wisdom with which we learn from it.

Let’s look at some of the so-called progressive victories of the past few decades: falling birth rates, the breakdown of the family, dependence on the state at the expense of autonomy, censorship disguised as inclusion. Are these signs of a flourishing society? Or are they symptoms of a civilization that has lost its way?

The fertility rate in Portugal is currently below 1.4 children per woman. Is this progress? Or is it a sign of a society so atomized, so devoid of a future, that it no longer believes in itself enough to reproduce?

Germany faces a similar demographic chasm. Despite its economic strength, its population is aging rapidly, and its integration model—especially since the 2015 migration crisis—continues to generate social tension and political polarization. The promise that “diversity is our strength” has become a mantra that is repeated but rarely questioned. But tolerating everything has not created unity; it has created fragmentation. Today, the country faces more social, cultural, and cohesion problems than it did a decade ago. Top-down multiculturalism, with no demand for assimilation or appreciation of national identity, has weakened the bonds that once held German society together.

It is crucial to remember this: the comforts and stability we take for granted today—our roads, the rule of law, our public health systems, our peace in the streets—are not the result of chance. They are the legacy of generations before us who worked hard, sacrificed, and built the foundations on which we live today. To dismiss their values ​​as obsolete, or their institutions as oppressive, is not progress—it is ingratitude.

The conservative response to all this is not nostalgia but realism. We recognize that Western civilization, including its Portuguese and German branches, was founded on a moral order: faith, family, duty, hierarchy, beauty, and truth. When these pillars are removed, societies may appear modern—but they become hollow.

As conservatives, we defend the past not because we idealize it, but because it contains the memory of what really works. The dignity of the family. The importance of clear boundaries—social, moral, and cultural—that sustain community life. The role of faith as the foundation of the moral order. These are not outdated ideas; they are the silent foundations of any civilization that aspires to endure.

This does not imply blind resistance to change. Portugal has benefited economically from European integration. Germany’s post-war democracy is a model of stability. But the idea that progress means constant reinvention is dangerous. Sometimes true progress is a return to principles—rediscovering what previous generations took for granted: that virtue matters more than fashion, and that freedom without responsibility is a dead end.

We are told that history is a straight road to justice. But reality is more complex. Progress can be reversed. Societies can advance technologically while collapsing morally. A country can build faster trains and deeper ports—and still forget why it exists.

This is why the myth of progress must be challenged. Portugal cannot be afraid to rediscover its courage — the same spirit that survived famine, war, dictatorship and revolution. The same resilience that crossed oceans and dreamed beyond its time. It is not just about faith or history — it is about character. It is about remembering that a people with memory, dignity and strength can build a future worthy of its past.

Germany must also remember that a healthy identity is not born of shame, but of gratitude — acknowledging both its failings and its contributions to the moral, philosophical and cultural foundations of Europe.

In both countries — and throughout Europe — the task at hand is not to turn back the clock, but to stop destroying its landmarks. To remember that not everything old is oppressive, and not everything new is liberating.

History is not a straight line—it is a spiral. We rise when we remember. We fall when we forget. The conservative knows this. And in times like these, this knowledge is not only valuable—it is vital.

Editorial note: The views expressed by the authors of the articles published in this column may not be fully shared by all members of Oficina da Liberdade and do not necessarily reflect the position of Oficina da Liberdade on the topics discussed. Despite having a common view of the State, which they want to be small, and the world, which they want to be free, the members of Oficina da Liberdade and its guest authors do not always agree on the best way to get there.