A century ago, during the 1920 US presidential election campaign, Warren G Harding ran on a slogan promising a “return to normalcy”. He insisted that editors use this word, rather than the more popular ‘normality’.
In campaign speeches, he tried to drive the point home. He argued that the present needs required “not heroics, but healing; not nostrums, but normalcy; not revolution, but restoration; not agitation, but adjustment; not surgery, but serenity; not the dramatic, but the dispassionate; not experiment, but equipoise; not submergence in internationality, but sustainment in triumphant nationality.”
His campaign was successful; Harding went on to win the election, carrying 37 states with over 60 per cent of the popular vote. Nonetheless, no amount of effort could have turned to clock back to how things were in 1914. Perhaps, it was not even desirable to do so.
We may be tempted to argue on the same lines – to wish for a ‘return to normalcy’ and how things were before the pandemic. Yet, we may be shocked to find that there was nothing normal in how things were – it was more of a “creeping normalcy” than a much-desired utopia.
In the social sciences, ‘creeping normalcy’ describes those trends which shift slowly and gradually. People only recognise how bad things have become in the long run when something jolts us to remember that things have spiralled beyond control. Perhaps, the COVID-19 pandemic was the jolt we required to realise that, in many ways, we were living unsustainably. Alas, the emerging rhetoric gives little hope that there will be a quantum leap in improving what was not working before the pandemic.
Nonetheless, 2021 opens with a note of great hope. The roll-out of mass-vaccination programmes enables the most vulnerable in society to be protected against this virus. It also gives governing institutions some leverage to begin to plan the recovery from the economic fallout which the pandemic brought with it. This, in itself, is an encouraging development.
January 2021 will also bring to a close the presidency of Donald Trump. So far, Trump has failed to concede the election. However, Joe Biden has the support in the Electoral College required to be sworn in as the 46th President of the United States on January 20. There are several hopes hinged on this presidency; not least in providing a change in style and tone in international affairs.
Perhaps COVID-19 was the jolt we required to realise that, in many ways, we were living unsustainably
As a veteran in the American political scene, he will undoubtedly seek to build bridges and restore some goodwill towards the US. He has already vowed to reverse Trump’s withdrawal from the Paris Climate Agreement and the World Health Organisation. We can also hope that there can be greater emphasis on democracy and human rights.
The most important bilateral relationship in the world will remain between the US and China. China remains the only large economy to grow in 2020. Biden is likely to remain wary of China’s international posturing. While his tone will be different from that adopted by Trump, he is expected to continue to build on what he started – and rightly so. US-China relations will keep on shifting the focus from the North Atlantic to the Pacific. Europe, thus, continues to find itself in a quandary over its place in the world.
2021 starts with Brexit finally kicking in. After protracted negotiations, both sides managed to strike a deal. Britain can go its own way, thus respecting the repeated wishes of the electorate, while the EU can go on its course – once it defines what this should be. However, elections in Scotland may weaken the United Kingdom if the SNP emerges victorious, despite its appalling track record.
The EU emerges from the COVID-19 pandemic in a slightly stronger situation. While its initial response was lacklustre, those who began penning its obituaries underestimated its resilience. On balance, the EU handled the crisis better than many of the member states did. The recovery period might offer the perfect opportunity for the EU to strengthen itself. Its image may be reinvigorated, particularly in those countries where austerity drove a wedge between citizens and Brussels.
Nonetheless, some divisions will remain. In terms of foreign policy, member states remain hopelessly divided on how to deal with China, Russia and Turkey. Moreover, autumn elections in Germany will end Angela Merkel’s tenure as Chancellor of Germany. A clear successor has not yet emerged. Her departure will leave a vacuum of leadership within the Union.
In Malta, the smallest EU member state, the pandemic started while the country was going through its worst political crisis in recent memory. Malta will need to deal effectively with the institutionalised corruption in the highest echelons of power, as well as the lethal mix of political power and criminal behaviour. The country requires more than cosmetic changes and empty rhetoric. Here too is a vacuum of leadership which is unlikely to be filled.
One thing will be apparent the world over – the rhetoric will still focus on a “return to normalcy” and on going back to how things were. Yet, in doing so, there is a failure to create a vision for the future. It is rather disturbing to note that the recovery and the future are not based on forward-looking thinking but, instead, on the nostalgia of how things were. Rose-tinted nostalgia is both dangerous and fallacious.
Whether we like it or not, the future will be different. It will be more diffident, less personal and more remote – significantly so as most of our daily interactions have shifted online. Moreover, suspicion of globalisation is likely to remain.
Perhaps, the aptest quote to describe the future was uttered by the great anti-Nazi Bishop of Munster, Cardinal Clemens August Graf von Galen. When sparring with the British occupying forces, he was prone to remind them: “All’s well that ends well, as your Shakespeare says; but we are not at the end yet!”
We may do well to heed this advice.
André P. DeBattista, independent researcher in politics