Imagine siting under a great wide spreading old oak tree. Acorns falling all around. The ground littered with whole ones, crashed ones and half eaten ones. It’s more the half-eaten hazelnuts that the squirrels leave behind that I’m thinking of. On one of those cool days, like this morning, when the rain has abated and the sun beams are streaming across the glistening fields. It was lower than 2 degrees, early this morning, so a heavy drew rests on the grass and leaves.
Think of title for a book or film that sums up the state of current affairs. I’m tempted to say “All the President’s Men” but that’s been well done in the 1970s. Not only that but the word “scandal” may have lost its meaning. Political fiction and reality are melding into one. Anyway, I don’t want to follow the crowd and obsess about America.
Was there ever an age when prosperity seemed assured and the population was happy. When men and women of honourable intentions and wisdom, judicially ruled the land? Maybe not. Or when it happened, to some limited extent it didn’t last beyond a generation.
Any title for a book or film would have to encompass the persistence of change. Nothing upon nothing ever stands still. In fact, that’s one of the few things I can write that is an absolute. A real natural absolute phenomenon. Everything we know of moves relative to something else and movements mean change. We never breath the same air.
In a storage box of my books there’s a title: “Thriving on chaos[1]“. That’s more to do with an attitude to change. It doesn’t sum up the moment although it does imply that chaos is normal. I’m not going there fully since not all change is chaotic. Life is punctuated with regularity. It’s the traditional saying about death and taxes. Those two are regular occurrences.
A financial crisis or stock market crash or bursting bubble seem to hit us as an unexpected instant of violent change. Unexpected that is until hindsight kicks in and we all wish we’d listed to siren voices. Analysis streams from the outcome of a crisis[2].
A title for a book or film would need to include the recurrent nature of both good and bad consequences. It would need to emphasis our inability to accurately predict what’s going to happen next. That is even if one or two of us may get it right.
All this leads me down the road of a manner of thinking that’s all too common to me. That’s the world of probabilities. Addressing that slippery ell called uncertainty. So, what could be better as a title than: “The Age of Uncertainty.” Oh look, that’s been taken back in the 1970s. What could be better than the title chosen by John Kenneth Galbraith[3]?
He looked at the chaotic but repetitious nature of our common history. Going way back. Unsurprisingly a little cynical and monosyllabic at times. I’ve been rewatching his BBC television series. It’s impressive.
Acorns are falling all around. An unusually large number, this year. Next year – who knows? If I could find some reliable data, I could do some probability calculations based on past seasons. But with certainty, I can say that we are in an age of uncertainty. Acorns will fall. How many – well that’s the question isn’t it.
[1] https://tompeters.com/thriving-on-chaos/
[2] “The Storm” by Vince Cable, the Liberal Democrat politician, looking at the 2008 global economic crisis.
[3] https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/m002l6sc/the-age-of-uncertainty
John Vincent 