I recently listened to an excellent interview of the renowned Canadian historian Margaret MacMillan and as always when I listen to intelligent, thoughtful people like her, Professor Emeritus MacMillan caused me to think — about all sorts of things. One of her comments that struck me, probably because I never actually thought about it before, was that history does not provide lessons; it provides examples. Upon reflection, I had to conclude that she has it right. (Who am I to disagree with an Oxford Don? Just kidding, I have disagreed with some of her writing before.) Seriously though, the difference between an example and a lesson is subtle but important. What is it? A lesson is a structured session designed to teach something and delivered to someone so that they may learn something. Conversely, an example is an event that allows the astute observer to discern how any particular theory applies in practice. Easy to see why most of us gloss over this difference.

Now, if my old friend and cavalry colleague Lieutenant-Colonel (Ret’d) Dr. Roman Jarymowycz were still alive he would no doubt accuse me at this point of Jesuitical sophistry (his perennial criticism of me) but words are tools, and in this case the tools need to be used with delicacy. There are many examples for us to look back upon and study to see what might be coming our way. But in order for us to learn from their study, we must actively do so. We must not simply sit and wait to be hit over the head. Clio, the Greek Muse of History, will not be teaching us; she merely offers the examples. It then falls to us to tease out the lessons, whatever they may be. And there’s the rub. None of this is necessarily new, but the situation in so many countries is both politically and economically parlous, and our leaders, who are supposed to notice, don’t seem to have done so.

And the Rats? What about the dead rats? Many of us may recall that in high school we were obliged to read the novels of Albert Camus. One of those was The Plague, which is set in the Algerian city of Oran. In the novel, dead rats begin to appear on the streets of the city. Of itself, an occasional dead rat is not unusual, but the numbers of rat corpses grows rapidly, and then people begin to fall ill. The authorities and citizens refuse to see a connection. Whether through incompetence or wilful ignorance the local government and citizenry ignore the signs that there is a serious problem in their city. When they finally do make the link between the rat corpses and the infection sweeping through the city panic sets in. We all lived through Covid and so we can perhaps understand how this begins, but in the novel nothing at all is done until it’s too late and the results are predictably catastrophic.

In MacMillan’s words, “Today, there are dead rats all around.” She is speaking metaphorically, but her message is clear: She is telling us that the warning lights are flashing red, and we need to pay attention. Understand. She is not promising inevitable doom, for like all good historians, Professor MacMillan does not believe in inevitability or the ability to predict the future. As my academic mentor used to say, “The arrow of time only moves in one direction.” We cannot foresee the future but there are examples (not lessons) galore for us to study. Examples that demonstrate the need for action, and yet, we seem to be ignoring them. Obviously we do this at our own peril.

Does this necessarily lead to the falling off a cliff? No, but we need to pay attention. We in Canada are fortunate for if we have been paying attention to our Prime Minister, he has been reacting to the metaphorical rat corpses for some time already.

I am reminded of Ebenezer Scrooge’s question of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come : “Are these the shadows of the things that will be, or are they shadows of things that may be, only?”  It is not too late, but we need to wake up.