It is easy to look at the daily churn of news—marked by stories of human trafficking, civil unrest, polarized media echo chambers, and the frantic spread of viral misinformation—and conclude that we are living through a unique descent into chaos. We often characterize our modern era as unprecedented, assuming that the technological reach of social media and the 24-hour news cycle have pushed society into uncharted, darker territory. However, historian and Utah Valley University professor Greg Jackson offers a vital, grounding perspective: these tribulations are not modern inventions. They are, in fact, recurring patterns of human behavior that have tested the fabric of civilization across centuries. By studying the past, we realize that while the tools of agitation have evolved, the underlying human impulses driving these crises remain remarkably constant.
When we examine history through this lens, the sense of exceptionalism that often accompanies our current outrage begins to fade. Jackson’s historical analysis suggests that the anxiety we feel today is less a sign of a dying epoch and more a reflection of a recurring cycle of societal friction. Throughout the American story, specifically, we have weathered periods of deep moral panic, violent protests, and intense partisan division that mirror our current landscape with eerie precision. Whether it was the explosive nativism of the 19th century or the information wars that accompanied the birth of the partisan press, the grievances of the past provide a roadmap for how societies eventually settle—or suffer—through their disagreements. Understanding this helps move us away from the paralyzing fear that our current moment is somehow an “end-times” scenario and toward a more pragmatic view of history as a series of tests.
The persistence of misinformation is perhaps the most striking example of how humanity repeats itself. Today, we blame algorithms and echo chambers for the distorted realities we see online, but disinformation is as old as the printing press itself. In earlier centuries, pamphlets and broadsides served the same function as modern social media, spreading rumors and inflammatory rhetoric to radicalize the populace. The difference today is not the nature of the misinformation, but the sheer velocity at which it travels. Recognizing that these patterns are inherent to communication systems allows us to view the “fake news” crisis not as a symptom of a broken moral compass, but as an inevitable pressure point in any society experiencing rapid technological or social change.
Furthermore, the moral panics surrounding issues like sex trafficking and systemic abuse often follow historical scripts that we have seen play out time and again. These issues are undeniably grave, but when they become the fuel for modern “moral crusades,” they often bypass nuanced discourse in favor of sensationalism and mob mentality. History teaches us that during times of high anxiety, fear is the primary currency. When public sentiment is whipped into a frenzy by partisan outlets, society tends to seek clear-cut villains rather than systemic solutions. Jackson’s focus on these patterns encourages a more sober approach: we must discern between legitimate, necessary outrage and the performative, destructive anger that often gains traction in polarized environments, as the latter rarely leads to meaningful reform.
Ultimately, humanizing the history of conflict requires us to acknowledge that our current social friction is an inherent byproduct of living in a free, diverse, and connected society. There is a tendency to look for a “golden age” in the rearview mirror when everything felt rational and orderly, but history reveals that such an era is a myth of our own creation—a form of nostalgic revisionism. By accepting that discord is a standard feature of the human experience rather than an anomaly, we can adopt a more resilient posture. We do not need to despair over the state of the world to be concerned about it; rather, we can study the ways those before us dismantled mobs, processed misinformation, and bridged partisan divides, learning that the path forward rarely involves a complete return to “normalcy,” but rather an adaptation to the changing landscape of human conflict.
In conclusion, Greg Jackson’s perspective serves as an invitation to gain perspective rather than lose ourselves in the moment. The issues that consume our social media feeds—as visceral and urgent as they feel—are merely the latest iteration of a struggle that is as old as democracy itself. By distancing ourselves from the immediate emotional intensity of current events and viewing them through the broad lens of historical patterns, we regain a sense of agency. We are not just subjects of a chaotic time, but participants in a long-standing tradition of societal navigation. The history of humanity is not a record of perfection, but a record of persistence; recognizing this allows us to face the present with less fear, more clarity, and the understanding that we have the capacity to navigate through the storm, just as every generation before us has done.