So, given my assumption about your inquisitiveness, I surmise, also, that you are aware of the current goings-on in 2020: A pandemic and a pandemic-driven downturn in the world’s economy, political upheaval in Hong Kong and elsewhere, social turmoil in Europe and the United States, the crush of migrants driven by wars and terrorist organizations and by the promise of better places to live, and by numerous scandals and intrigues that run across the spectrum of humanity: Rich and poor, famous and infamous, religious and nonreligious, and royal and common. You’ve managed to keep all this compartmentalized sufficiently enough to allow your innate inquisitiveness to emerge.
Your awareness of current events and problems makes you think of that famous opening of A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” And as an insightful person, in your wisdom you know that all times are similar to the time described by Charles Dickens.
Some of your less insightful contemporaries might think, however, that these are atypical or abnormal times. Maybe these times are all bad, all the “worst of times” akin to a teenager’s first romantic breakup. There is the pandemic, of course, and all that aforementioned political, economic, and social turmoil. Actually, Dickens nailed it: All times deviate from “typical times” because each person is the center of a universe that began not with the Big Bang, but rather with his or her life—with your life.
What, we might ask under the lingering influence of Freud and Jung, is “typical” or “normal” anyway? Are there “types of times,” some being “atypical” or abnormal and others, “normal”? Only in the generalization we call “history” can we categorize times. In looking back, we find some persons or events that stand out by their influence or impact on “people then” or “people now.” But many “people then” probably never felt any such influence or impact. For each generation there is a mix of times, both the “worst” and the “best.”
Was the second decade of the twentieth century a “typical” time? It fostered the Great War that laid the groundwork for WWII. The middle of that decade might be categorized as “turbulent,” bookended pre-war and post-war by the absence of a widespread war. It was, however, even pre-war and post-war a time of war and disease. Remember the Spanish Flu? Or consider the Russian Revolution and the rise of non-monarchial totalitarianism. Or consider that while many under the influence of Marx and Engels sought “egalitarian” socialism, many others sought individual wealth and capitalism. In looking for a “typical time” or “normality,” we gloss over unknown or partially known persons and events and over the interplay between individuals and circumstances. Just as there are too many details and great diversity in our own time that go unconsidered by one group or another, so the detail and diversity of the past went unconsidered by our predecessors.
We might call a time “peaceful,” another time “turbulent,” and still another time either “dark” or “enlightened.” All such labels are generalities, of course, maybe even idealizations. Think of the Age of Pericles that we might label an “age of enlightenment.” If it runs from Pericles’ birth to the First Peloponnesian War, it includes, in spite of its famed enlightenment, the condemnation of Socrates. Surely, for Athenians in 400 B.C., this rebellious thinker was disruptive and atypical in their society. He stood trial for his anomalous behavior and thinking and underwent a self-execution the following year.
And in our own atypical times, widespread tension over a pandemic, politics, and societal structure has an obvious media-driven exacerbation. The constant messaging from so many sources is an obstruction to inquisitiveness. If you keep hearing that times are exceptional, you start believing it, and you ignore details—contradictory details. If you think matters can’t be worse than they are, you don’t know history. If you think this year is the worst of times, you ignore that it is also the best of times.
Now, that there have been worse times, exceptionally bad times, is neither a consolation nor a fix. My parents went through the Great Depression and a world war. Their parents went through a great pandemic and world war. There’s no way I can capture either experience; I can say only that some times are similar to other times, but the degree to which the enveloping circumstances alter the lives of individuals is difficult to assess. Think past pandemics with no medical help, seemingly interminable wars like the Thirty Years War or the Hundred Years War, and societal upheaval brought on by massive migrations and the growth of empires.
In the long march of humanity every year has been the worst and best of times. Trace the history of the past thousand years that led to your life. Every year saw a war somewhere. Every year saw death by disease. Yet, here you are having made it through the filter of both good and bad. If you think the worst of times are upon us, look not to generalities, but rather to specifics, to the details that you—and maybe only you—can find because or your innate inquisitiveness.