From the President:
I cannot remember how many times I have driven across Wisconsin on Interstate 90/94. But most of those trips—lasting hours upon hours—seemed to take forever. Likewise, I cannot remember how many times I have flown over that same highway at an altitude of 33,000 feet and at a speed of 575 miles per hour. Flying compresses that route and distance into a few minutes. If the weather is good, I can even see the minuscule cars hurtling down the highway at 70 miles per hour. Both the drivers down there and I up there think we are going very fast. But my plane will be over the Lake Michigan shoreline before the drivers stop for lunch at truck stop near the Wisconsin Dells.
Fernand Braudel, the French historian, noted that time and history pass at different rates of speed, depending on how one looks at them. There are the long-term trends, things like the rise and fall of great empires or processes like industrialization. Then there are the intermediate trends, the lifetimes of average people in those empires and factory towns. And finally there are the passing events, the headlines in yesterday’s newspaper heralding the arrival of a new tax collector or the price of eggs at the market. When we do history, we often work in reverse order. By reading yesterday’s headlines in sequence, we reconstruct the life of a person or a community. By looking at a series of lives we discover patterns that survived for generations and those that eventually passed into disuse. Large scale patterns of behavior formed the building blocks of empires.
None of these insights can be chiseled in granite monuments because we constantly uncover new angles that need to be measured. The accumulation of more time by itself will change the configuration in the kaleidoscope. And suddenly we will understand something about the past in a way we never did before. Many times my airplane window view of Interstate 90/94 is obscured by clouds—remember the plane flies over Wisconsin. But, some times, the wind shifts and the highway that looks so long from the driver’s seat is exposed as the short stretch of concrete it really is, at least as seen from 33,000 feet.