Skip to main content

The End of History

Geo-Cosmos in the National Museum of Emerging Science & Innovation (Miraikan) in Tokyo

Francis Fukuyama wrote a famous book in the early 1990's that argued capitalism had won. With the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, capitalism did win - and its victory precipitated the end of history.

Liberal democracy had proven itself the ultimate form of government and a repudiation of Karl Marx's assertion that communism would be that governance system claiming the ultimate position.

For the Gen Y (and younger) generation who did not experience the anxieties of the Cold War, the debates around governance systems are somewhat arcane, replaced by more current worries related to social media and acceptance of various cultural and religious beliefs.

It seems that every generation carries the full potency of their history with them, unique to their times. The Baby Boomer generation, for instance, would know more about the turmoil of the Civil Rights movement and the volatility of a decade of assassinations from JFK to MLK to Malcolm X to RFK. The Greatest Generation would know more about the horrors of war and the want for uneasy peace and prosperity of post-WWII and so on.

I reflected on this in relation to the temporal nature of our lifetimes and the unique circumstances and events that shape what we know. Within our own generations, we directly experience so many things that other generations will not quite know as we do, same as the experiences they know more directly than are only notional for ourselves.

In other words, Mr. Fukuyama was on to something profound, this idea of the end of history. It just had less to do with governance systems and more with his own personal experiences than he might have appreciated.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Everyday Love Poem to my Wife

Over a year of marriage carries Happiness, love, and sometimes cranberries But eventually the pace slows down, Work intrudes, some days a frown And suddenly the world has changed. What we must do is simply rearrange The days so that other things fit neatly In their own places, and move on sweetly To the beauties of the everyday together. Because there is love everywhere, wherever You shall be - and perhaps also Rosie - This is a good thing naturally, So good to state it thus and remember That only frigid mornings in November Can keep us apart, but only so long As the work day lasts because so strong Is our pact that I worry not a wink - Your loveliness is worth so much, I think.

Muggles...

...is what I tweeted last night after having the privilege of attending a private screening of the movie hours before the midnight premiere. As much as the digital revolution has fragmented the shared experiences that we have, it has also greatly expanded the impact of those events that touch various peoples. Witness Harry Potter. In the pre-digital world, this would have been an uniquely British story about wizards and boarding schools, but it has captivated global audiences and transcended the borders of its now-uber-wealthy writer. We were part of the crowd that spanned the globe to see this movie, which I can say, lives up to the hype. On a Thursday evening, we could watch the lines of children queuing up to get a chance to say goodbye to a childhood growing up with Harry Potter and watching the actor grow from a plump-faced little boy into a serious actor and apparent alcoholic. It did not matter for 2.5 hours in the theater, of a movie that was pretty gripping from beginnin...

In Memory of Rose

Pets have an uncanny ability of ingraining themselves into the fabric of a household, so much so that their disappearance can cause great grief and disorientation to their owners. Such is the case with Rose, who passed from our household on Sunday. An older dog when we took her in to our home last year, Rose was supposedly the runt of her litter, a fact confirmed by her diminutive 5-pound Pomeranian frame - too small for her breed but too big to be classified a "teacup." This suited her just fine, however, as she came to embody a singular personality as a dog among people, often little acknowledging some dogs and appearing frightened by others just as a hesitant human being might act around jumpy canines. Rose embodied all of what defines unconditional love. She was raucous when we would leave the house and even more raucous when we returned, partly due to separation anxiety but mostly due to her sadness and excitement of being around us; she let us know her affection b...