We live in 鈥渢he age of uncertainty,鈥� John Kenneth Galbraith said. He was so certain of the new uncertainty that he published a provocative book and hosted a television series under that title.
The idea was to contrast the great certainties of economic thought of the 19th century with the great uncertainty of the 20th century. He argued that, while capitalists were once assured of the success of capitalism and socialists were assured of the success of socialism, no one was sure of anything anymore.
鈥淟ittle of that certainty survives,鈥� he wrote in 1977. 鈥淕iven the dismaying complexity of the problems mankind now faces, it would surely be odd if it did.鈥�
But with apologies to the great Galbraith, we might easily turn the argument around. Today, in the industrialized world, it may well be that we have more certainty than ever before.
We can be more certain than previous generations, for example, that babies will not die in infancy and that most of us will reach old age.
We can be more certain that we will go to university, find a job and buy a home.
We can be certain the streets will be cleaned, the garbage collected, the snow cleared. We can be certain that the state will build libraries, schools and museums, that it will protect us from harm, that it will help if we are sick or old, that it will ensure we can marry and divorce.
This is the social contract. It means that, under the law, we have rights. It allows us to borrow, buy, invest and work with confidence. Of course, the system isn鈥檛 foolproof, and the contract is sometimes broken.
More prosaically, we expect public transit to move us, doctors to treat us, lawyers to represent us. We know where to find them all.
Certainty, certainty. It means that mosquitoes rule Winnipeg in summer. It means gasoline prices rise on holiday weekends.
We are so certain of certainty these days that we fall apart without it. If the power goes out, our mobile phones don鈥檛 work or cash machines balk, we panic. When certainty is in question, we don鈥檛 like it.
Was life always this reliable? No. Electricity was once erratic (and still is in the developing world). Airplanes crashed regularly. Banks closed early. Rights were restricted.
The social safety net we enjoy in industrialized nations 鈥� pensions, unemployment insurance, universal health care 鈥� is relatively new. So are codified rights.
In this sense, more than ever, we live in the Age of Certainty. It allows us to make assumptions, to lead orderly, reliable lives. Surprise fosters uncertainty, and that unsettles us.
No wonder, then, that we are stung when uncertainty slaps us in the face. In the election in sa国际传媒, we were told 鈥� repeatedly and firmly, as if from the Voice of God 鈥� that the New Democrats would win. It was written. It was decreed. The pollsters said so.
There was the same reaction after the surprising elections last year in Alberta and Quebec. How could everyone be wrong? How dare voters defy the pollsters? Each time the outcome was different than predicted there was hand-wringing and teeth-gnashing. That pollsters were wrong alarms us. It shakes our confidence. It challenges our delicate culture of certainty.
Fundamentally, we have never liked being told we are not in charge, whether it was Freud explaining our dreams (we don鈥檛 govern our sub-consciousness) or Copernicus explaining our universe (the Earth revolves around the sun, not the other way around). In both cases, for so long, we were absolutely certain.
It is the same in politics and sports, both rudely unpredictable.
More than ever, we lead scripted, dependable lives. We are so sure about everything, so breezily confident in ourselves and our world 鈥� until we realize, once again, that there is much in politics and life beyond our control.
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Andrew Cohen is a professor of journalism and international affairs at Carleton University.
