It’s the final week of the year, and what a year it’s been! We started off strong, continued rising trends from previous years, saw the true strength of a nation, affirmed our long-term commitment to our allies and—oh, and our other allies too. No matter what!
Let me immediately say that this is written to vent, and not to provide nuanced analysis, critique or even observation of the aforementioned stories. With that said, it seems like if 2023 was to have a theme, it’d be tension. Rising tensions in US domestic politics, tensions boiling over in Israel and Gaza, or the oppressive tension of enduring strife making it harder and harder to maintain the vigor necessary to see them through.
In the US, you likely don’t walk outside your door without briefly wondering if the all-but-guaranteed mass shooting(s) of the day will happen at a locale near you. In Ukraine, you likely don’t walk outside your door without wondering if today is the day you’re the victim of a war increasingly being fought with drones and minefields. In Israel, if you live on the border you might be wondering if attackers from one of the numerous confirmed fronts will whisk you away as a hostage, or kill you where you stand. In Gaza, you might not even get the chance to walk outside of your door—or return to it.
A new year brings a fresh page, but it can be hard to feel optimistic for what will be written on it when we look to the beginnings of previous years. For whatever reason, when the Gregorian calendar rolls back to the beginning, some of us lose our heads.
I’m reminded of a book I’m fond of thinking about, even if I remain skeptical of the subject it discusses. George Friedman’s The Storm Before the Calm posits in its introductory section that the US has gone through two separate cycles of highs and lows, each happening over the span of years. He refers to these as an “institutional cycle,” which occurs over a roughly 80-year period, and a “socioeconomic cycle,” which occurs over an estimated 50-year period. We’re due to have these two cycles overlap at their nadir sometime during the 2020s, where both the institutions of the US—the framework of the nation itself—will be at their most stressed, along with the economic fabric and all the citizens that make it up.
The good news is that if Mr. Friedman’s predictions hold true, the 2030s should be a positively euphoric time in the US and beyond. The bad news is that regardless if they hold up or not, it seems like the next year will at the very least be as chaotic and bloody as this one, with the added circus of the world’s most powerful nation having an election year that’s shaping up to be a fantasia of Kafkaesque process, performed by a symphony of manic transgressors. This isn’t taking into account the fact that telling a single truth from massive volumes of easily-produced, rapidly-improving fiction will only grow more challenging. Oh, and mother nature’s taking her belt off while mad-dogging us all.
But, I’m optimistic. A lot of positive advancements and righteous resistance occurred—a lot more than the negatives mentioned here. While usually intended as fluff, stories of refugees helping disaster victims and taking solace amid war’s bloody front can remind us of the fundamental goodness our species is capable of. Even the little things, like a gentle push towards reopening the community spirit can be the spark of simple joy that helps us get through each day a little easier. It’s not just the newsworthy helpers, either.
There’s a lot more good people than bad out there, and I think the silver lining, such as it is, of all this recent strife is that more people than ever are waking up to the realization that they can ‘do something about it.’ So maybe 2024 will be worse. Maybe it won’t be. As long as we keep a hand free to lend to those in need and an ear out for the opportunity to do so, in whatever way we can manage, we’ll ensure that the worst of next year is a darkness that never sees the light of day.
