Newton’s and Leibniz’ quibbles notwithstanding, time is continuous. We think and talk about our future much the same way one day after another; for those of us who read or discuss news and opinion near-daily, differences in how we do that are sometimes impossible to discern. And as the news cycle grows ever shorter, it is possible that the new year is the only time when it becomes acceptable to meaningfully talk about historical time-spans, rather than to continue the eternal effort to see if each tiny, incremental change is a defining moment of some sort.

Of course, there are years when such jagged discontinuities are made obvious: 2008 was such a year. September 2008, in particular, the month that Lehman collapsed, was epochal in its own way. But, just as it was not until early 2002 that the initial shock of September 2001 wore off and 9/11-related assumptions that were reasoned began to be an essential part of America’s public discourse, most responses to September 2008 have been reflexive, following well-worn paths of least resistance in blaming capitalism, evil regulators, or George W. Bush. But it is likely that, just as the words and ideas in America’s public sphere were eventually irretrievably altered by 9/11, the catastrophic collapse of trust in Wall Street will change how we think. And thus, as an old year passes in which predictions of all sorts went sadly awry, new year predictions are strangely muted: and the entire idea-generating industry, those who would otherwise produce new predictions, is worried that it itself is under threat.

... contd.