The Winter of Our Discontent Continues

Unlike Gloucester’s situation, this time it’s entirely out of our hands. We are not related to those in the struggle, and have no princely ambitions of our own. There are villains about, some of their own making. We can tell which is which, but we must merely await the outcome of the joust.

The end of any year is always a time for reflection, but this year the image in the glass is not clear at all. It’s a foggy Christmas.

It’s hard to know what to make of it. There are omens all around, but there usually are. Maybe the indications are different now. This year the signs have been building in a particular direction, and it isn’t a good one. Which omens will rule?

To anyone who cares to look carefully, it is an ominous time. Age-old precedents have fallen like ninepins over the past few years, and these always trouble the tradition-minded. Nominees to federal appointments and to the federal bench at all levels have made astonishing statements of ignorance, pleading that they don’t know how to define a woman or claiming they just don’t know much about their jobs, basic trial procedure, or legal terms. Those who adhere to the original intent of the Founders find themselves attacked in vicious and personal ways, their lives and families threatened. Law enforcement agencies at the federal level just don’t enforce laws that are demonstrably on the books while at the same time delighting in the incarceration of people who merely express their civic opinions.

Everything seems to be directed at weakening the country and undermining Western Civilization. That’s very troubling to those who value its origins and benefits.

I’m reminded this year of how my dad’s optimism changed over the years.

He grew pessimistic in his later years. Born in the early 1920s, he had known the depression of the 1930s as a teenager, then went to the war in ’42, drafted along with the rest of his cohorts. He saw a great many things in war-torn Europe that would have justified pessimism, but he knew that the West had identified and defeated the sources of evil in that time, or at least most of the worst of them. 

He survived the war and came home to an economy in transition. He helped reconvert the country to civilian production in his own small way in the late 1940s and early 1950s. He presided over our family in the 1950s and took the transition to the 1960s in stride, working different jobs, sending us boys off to college, and working toward a comfortable, if basic, retirement.

My dad passed away in 1999 while already deep in mourning for the republic. It was one thing to see a Jimmy Carter elected to serve only one term, but it was another to see the character of the person who won the 1992 election take the oath, then take it again four years later.

He couldn’t understand it. If he accepted that people had actually chosen that person, then did it again on purpose, then it wasn’t a fluke like the ’76 election had been. It meant that the country could actually make a mistake, but then deliberately confirm it. It was an ominous sign that troubled him deeply. He began to shake his head and mutter that it was too late to save the republic. That was 24 years ago. I’m so thankful that he did not live to see another official given two terms, or the third term we’re seeing now. He would have been able to see the signs clearly. He would have warned us that something terrible would come to us, either sooner or later. That terrible thing that looms over us now is the source of our discontent.

Unlike in the 1940s, this time the sources of our discontent have not been identified so they can be vanquished. A considerable segment of the population cheers the decline and makes every effort to make things worse. It’s frightening, sickening, in a visceral way. The winter of our discontent has been ongoing for more than three years now.

Amid all of this the solid citizens of the country are demonized, singled out for scorn and abuse. The profligate and the debauched are celebrated as the answers to our questions and problems. Anyone who doesn’t join the mob du jour with a full embrace is not just ignored, but demonized. I’ve not seen this before the recent past. Puzzling doesn’t come close to describing the feeling I have.

It’s a time of foreboding, a time of concern, a time of despair, of restless moodiness. People are concerned, they’re depressed. There’s a sense of dread abroad in the land. They lower their voices when they express their deep fears to a friend. Those fears are very real and very vivid. They worry quietly every day, wondering if these days of a fading republic will end soon.

Nothing has come along lately to lighten the mood, to reassure everyone that it will all be okay. There is talk of more lawfare and more behind-the-scenes maneuvering to decide who will be the main party nominees after the primary season wraps up. Others will decide.

One thing is for sure. Inside of the next calendar year, we’re going to find out whether all is lost or not. I had predicted (remind me not to do that again!) that we would know our fate shortly after the 2022 election. I was wrong. I won’t predict it again, but everyone will likely have a better idea by this time next year.

Traditions and tenets and beliefs have been challenged and wrecked in the recent past. Unless those foundations can be restored, and soon, there will be little to hold up the façade. What, and who, might be destroyed in the collapse? Will the days begin to get longer and brighter as they do after the solstice? They always have before, but it isn’t so sure this time. Time will tell.