I have always loved the opening lines of William Butler Yeats’ The Second Coming – his words seem at once mystical, haunting, and as meaningful in our time as in his:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre/ The falcon cannot hear the falconer/ Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold/ Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world/ The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere/ The ceremony of innocence is drowned/ The best lack all conviction, while the worst/ Are full of passionate intensity.
Yeats wrote those words in 1919, in the aftermath of The Great War, when it must have seemed that the whole world had lost its way. Americans have been spoiled because in our lifetime war has taken place “over there” instead of “over here.” We know little of what it is like to watch the structures and institutions that provide order and meaning disintegrate overnight. Continue reading

