April is the cruelest month

Some quick reflections

“April is the cruelest month,” wrote T.S. Eliot - the first line of what's considered one of the most important poems in modern English literature.

I’m no poetry expert, but some reading told me The Waste Land was written in the aftermath of WWI and the devastation it left behind. (That wasn’t the only thing influencing Eliot, but it was a big one.)

Fast forward to today, and The Economist recently dubbed April 2nd—officially “Liberation Day” - as “Ruination Day.” That marked Day 73 of the Trump presidency.

We’re still in April as his presidency approaches the 100-day mark. It’s an arbitrary milestone, sure - but one that dates back to FDR in 1933, who launched a whirlwind of reforms to tackle the Great Depression. Ever since, the “first 100 days” has become a shorthand for leadership and expectations.

Most major media outlets are tracking this countdown obsessively. No doubt, forests of newsprint and digital ink will be spent analyzing it.

But here we are on Day 95, and I find myself reflecting on Eliot’s line. It’s hard to say something original at this point - everything’s been said about the upheaval, the delusions, the righteousness.

I’ve written before about my confessions as a capitalist and my growing questions about the future of democracy

I’ve said somewhere along the line, “We get the government we deserve.”

Now I’m wondering: Do the people who voted for this government deserve what they’re getting? And what about the rest of us - those feeling the effects of the dominoes now falling? Do we?

And finally, one last thought I can’t shake: Is there a silent revolution brewing somewhere? Or are we foreseeing a Waste Land?

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Endnote: I was made aware of the T.S. Eliot poem by the weekly UBS newsletter sometime in mid-April. I did not read the poem itself - the first line was enough to set me thinking.

I have drawn from open sources on the internet to write this piece, and given credit wherever I could; but the opinions and views expressed here are entirely my own.

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