The Halcyonite

by: Theo O. (Grade 11)

Header Art by: Leo M. (Grade 11)

The closer we get to our once distant horizon, the more reminiscent we become of the time we saw that same horizon from a healthy distance.

Back in the past, people always seemed to look forward to whatever was going to happen in the future. It was all so exciting, new, and fresh. Only a few decades ago, conversations about what was ahead of us always seemed like they were taken out of Robert Zemeckis’ classic: “Will we have flying cars?” “Telekinesis, what’s that about?” “Will we make it to Mars?”.

It seems, however, that the closer we get to our once distant horizon, the more reminiscent we become of the time we saw that same horizon from a healthy distance.

Speaking of socially-accepted distance, the coronavirus pandemic has brought an aggressive ‘nostalgia wave’ of things that we should probably be distancing ourselves from. Old-school Fascism, unrestrained racism, I mean, science-denial? That’s so 1493! 

The 2010s, perhaps the most concrete expression of what a futuristic decade should have been like, have proven to be the contrary: a macabre combination of forgetfulness, insensibility, and recycled hatred. In the field of politics, which is usually a tool to express people’s hopes and dreams, those values are now an often insignificant afterthought. While in 2008, then-Illinois Senator Barack Obama ran his campaign talking about the future (“Yes we can!” his mostly young supporters would eloquently exclaim in the candidate’s rallies), the latest Presidential campaigns have leaned towards remembrance, rather than seeking progress. Trump’s bet was on “Making America Great Again”, probably wanting to go back to the white America of the 1950s. Biden, on the other hand, wanted to go back to the Obama years, or just back to sleep. 

This phenomenon can not only be seen in American politics, but all over the world. In France, the Le Pen family seems to be reminiscent of the 1940s, similar to the AfD, in Germany. In my native Brazil, far-right President Jair Bolsonaro wants to go back to the brutal military dictatorship that ruled the country from 1964 to 1985. In Russia, Putin wants to go back to… well, nevermind. Putin thinks he’s fine just where he is.

Moving on from my political melancholy, we can also address how this has been expressed in another field that I am particularly fond of: cinema. Out of this year’s Ten Best Picture nominees in the Academy Awards, eight were period pieces. I believe the reason behind that, however, can be found even in the etymology of the term: a period – a span of time with a beginning, middle, and an end. It is what we are all subconsciously looking for. Back in the past, even when humanity was going through its toughest times, people always looked forward to what was going to happen next. Not as a coping mechanism, but as a duty. People wrote, sang, and danced about the future because that was what made the future keep existing while they waited for it to arrive. 

The people of 2020, who are also facing an existential threat in the form of climate change, are taking a different approach. We seem to always be uselessly longing for what’s already long past us. Even the writer of this article (who was loosely inspired by Gregório Duvivier’s text for Folha De São Paulo named Quantos anos a gente voltou só no ano passado?) would wish to go back to December of 2019, when Duvivier’s article was written. A time when we had no idea how to put a mask on, or the name of at least five different vaccine manufacturers. 

Our largest task moving forward is to take action in the present, overcome the issues of the future, and, hopefully, put aside the past – at least for now.