A World Undone...or Just Upside-Down?

My brain is bombarded by questions: Am I delusional? Easily confused? Misled? Stupid? Naively nostalgic? Or just old and dull? Alas, I can always blame such cognitive chaos on my 50,000 bouts of COVID.

But the world as I once knew it is completely bonkers—almost upside down. Republicans shy away from confronting Russian aggression; Democrats seem reluctant to support Israel. Republicans are turning isolationist, while Democrats endorse globalism. College football players are getting paid more through NIL deals than some NFL starters (like Brock Purdy). And worst of all: strangers are now eating our pets, when we used to prefer eating them ourselves.

The world is barely recognizable—in many ways marvelously so. But in many other aspects, the fabric woven over centuries of discovery, struggle, learning, and accumulated wisdom has worn threadbare. Neglected here, poorly patched there, and torn to shreds or burned in hate at your local CVS store. Sometimes for good reason. And those reasons are multiplying and collectively mutinous.

Despite many marvelous advances that improve the human condition, the world appears to be teetering on the edge of calamity. Every ripple in today’s river of news grows more ominous. Dangerous currents swell into unavoidable waves of destruction. It’s so easy to be swept up in the waves of doom and despair. Er, yes… because doom and destruction are happening all around us.

Of all the many culprits and conspirators, I blame the fact that the world is still recovering from the Great War of 1914-1918. World War I impacted almost every nation on the planet and was never truly settled. Its devastation blew up more than just fertile farmland in France, as those of us in the West commonly believe. It blew up boundaries and cultures of ancient civilizations, many of which were neither belligerent nor barely involved. Specifically, the maps of Eastern Europe and the Middle East were redrawn, often to satisfy the economic desires of the victorious Allies—primarily Great Britain, France, and America. This continental reconstitution was done with little consideration for, or consultation with, the affected countries. It just happened.

Americans tend to view World War II as pivotal in modern history because we were far more involved in it than in the Great War. But we can’t truly appreciate the Second without understanding the First. My favorite books on the Great War are A World Undone by G.J. Meyer, and Barbara Tuchman’s classic The Guns of August , which is also a literary masterpiece.

For podcast fans, my favorite on the subject is The Old Front Line by Paul Reed . Although the episodes are almost exclusively about the Western Front, Paul’s expertise in military history is broad and deep. Every episode is a worthwhile journey that adds to my appreciation of a conflict often neglected, if not forgotten, which is a horrendous mistake.

The more we look back at the Great War, the clearer its far-reaching impact becomes. And how deeply the world remains entrenched in its aftermath. In working on my book about my family’s involvement in WWII, it’s impossible to not see the overlap of the Great War. My grandfather was killed in 1945 on the Eastern Front; his body was never recovered. His father was killed in 1916 on the Western Front; his body, also, was never recovered. Like so many, they are “Known Unto God,” as Rudyard Kipling beautifully coined.

Perhaps second only to fire, the most important discovery in the world has been oil. It has literally been the fuel that has driven the scale of the industrial age, caused wars to be waged, and been a deciding factor in who won. It set the foundation for the entire global infrastructure and established the current world order.

My favorite resource on the historical importance of oil is The Prize by Daniel Yergin. It’s a must-read for anyone in business or curious about where we are and how we got here.

Few forces have had the longitudinal impact on the world like oil and the Great War. Together, they set the planet ablaze. And just when we think the fire is out, the embers reignite. When we think the battle is over, we still hear the distant guns.

Even if the chaos isn’t happening to us directly, it’s still close to home. We may live in air conditioned cars, gated communities or cloistered enclaves, but we hear the turmoil nearby. If we have any heart at all, we feel the despair of those not cushioned by the privilege of resource or gracious geography. Half a world away can feel close to home because, in this interconnected world, it is.