What is so attractive about deterministic, cyclical theories offered to explain troublingly complex realities? Strauss and Howe, who staked out "generational change" as their mantra in Generations: The History of America's Future, 1584^-2069 (1991) and then 13th-GEN: Abort, Retry, Ignore, Fail? (1993), return to argue that the U.S. can anticipate a major crisis--a fourth turning--in the first decade of the twenty-first century. Regrettably, some 40 percent of the book's 350 pages retrace seasons of time and life, the cycles of history, and the "Anglo-American Saeculum" : largely a rehash of ideas from their earlier books. They discuss the U.S.' most recent three turnings: the "High" of the decades after World War II; the 1964^-84 "Consciousness Revolution" ; and 1984-2005's "Culture Wars." To assess "fourth turnings," they describe examples (England's War of the Roses, Armada Crisis, and Glorious Revolution, and the American Revolution, Civil War, and Depression and World War II) and then predict the kinds of catalysts and crises that might push the U.S. into its next "fourth turning." Strauss and Howe offer suggestions on how we can prepare for these challenges, but few will learn much from their standard words of wisdom. Probably a harmless enough brand of New Age futurism from the GOP Beltway think tanks, but aggressive marketing suggests high visibility. Mary Carroll --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

The Fourth Turning continues the project of mapping out the place of generations in history, a project begun in the authors' earlier books Generations and 13th Gen. If millennial fever takes hold, The Fourth Turning may be only the first of an impending wave of pseudo-scholarly tracts prognosticating future (but imminent!) doom as we collectively close the books on this millennium. Those expecting a serious or dry tome might be put off by the authors' taste for bulleted text and catchy phrasings, but can you blame these guys for wanting to make impending peril as exciting as possible? After all, they think we are headed toward "events on par with the Revolution, the Civil War, or World War II" in the next 20 years. Mixing solid understanding of present generational divisions, with some fairly broad generalizations, Strauss and Howe promise to move from history to prophecy. Fans of Future Shock, Megatrends, or Powershift will be familiar with the authors' style of writing and not at all put off by the book's reach or style. Their take on history provides an intriguing (if not always reliable) lens through which to view the past, present, and maybe even the future. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

William Strauss and Neil Howe, the authors of Generations: The History of America's Future and 13th-GEN, write and lecture frequently on generational issues. Strauss is the cofounder and director of the Capitol Steps, a political cabaret. Howe, an historian and economist, is a senior adviser for the Concord Coalition. They both live in the Washington, D.C., area.


From the Hardcover edition. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

WINTER COMES AGAIN


America feels like it's unraveling.

Though we live in an era of relative peace and comfort, we have sunk into a mood of pessimism about the long-term future, fearful that our superpower nation is somehow rotting from within.

Neither an epic victory over Communism nor an extended upswing of the business cycle can buoy our civic spirit. The Cold War and New Deal struggles are plainly over, but we are of no mind to bask in their successes. The America of today feels worse, in its fundamentals, than the one many of us remember from youth, a society presided over by those of supposedly lesser consciousness. Wherever we look, from L.A. to D.C., from Oklahoma City to Sun City, we see paths to a foreboding future. We perceive no greatness in our leaders, a new meanness in ourselves. Small wonder that each new election brings a new jolt, its aftermath a new disappointment.

Not long ago, America was more than the sum of its parts. Now, it is less. Around World War II, we were proud as a people but modest as individuals. Fewer than two people in ten said yes when asked "Are you a very important person?" Today, more than six in ten say yes to that question. Where we once thought ourselves collectively strong, we now regard ourselves as individually entitled.

Yet even while we exalt our own personal growth, we realize that millions of self-actualized persons don't add up to an actualized society. Popular trust in virtually every American institution--from businesses and governments to churches and newspapers--keeps falling to new lows. Public debts soar, the middle class shrinks, welfare dependencies deepen, and cultural wars worsen by the year. We now have the highest incarceration rate, and the lowest eligible-voter participation rates, of any major democracy. Statistics inform us that many adverse trends (crime, divorce, abortion, scholastic aptitudes) may have bottomed out, but we're not reassured.

Optimism still attaches to self, but no longer to family or community. Most Americans express more hope for their own prospects than for their children's--or the nation's. Parents widely fear that the American Dream, which was there (solidly) for their parents and still there (barely) for them, will not be there for their kids. Young householders are reaching their mid-thirties never having known a time when America seemed to be on the right track. Middle-aged people look at their thin savings accounts and slim-to-none pensions, scoff at an illusory Social Security trust fund, and try not to dwell on what a burden their old age could become. Seniors separate into their own Leisure World, recoiling at the lost virtue of youth while trying not to think about the future.

We perceive our civic challenge as some vast, insoluble Rubik's Cube. Behind each problem lies another problem that must be solved first, and behind that lies yet another, and another, ad infinitum. To fix crime we have to fix the family, but before we do that we have to fix welfare, and that means fixing our budget, and that means fixing our civic spirit, but we can't do that without fixing moral standards, and that means fixing schools and churches, and that means fixing the inner cities, and that's impossible unless we fix crime. There's no fulcrum on which to rest a policy lever. People of all ages sense that something huge will have to sweep across America before the gloom can be lifted but that's an awareness we suppress. As a nation, we're in deep denial.

While we grope for answers, we wonder if analysis may be crowding out our intuition. Like the anxious patient who takes 17 kinds of medicine while poring over his own CAT scan, we find it hard to stop and ask: What is the underlying malady really about? How can we best bring the primal forces of nature to our assistance? Isn't there a choice lying somewhere between total control and total despair? Deep down, beneath the tangle of trend lines, we suspect that our history or biology or very humanity must have something simple and important to say to us. But we don't know what it is. If we once did know, we have since forgotten.

Wherever we're headed, America is evolving in ways most of us don't like or understand. Individually focused yet collectively adrift we wonder if we're heading toward a waterfall.

Are we?


From the Hardcover edition. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.