As I continue reading America, América by Greg Grandin, I’m understanding how consistent human nature has been.
Historians claim every era believes itself to be unique.
And yet, what we find when opening the pages of the past is the same set of desires, fears, ambitions, and rivalries that plague us today, only wearing different clothes.
The Romans debated power and corruption in their Senate, hurling personal insults and back-handed compliments, just as we argue over politics on television.
Medieval peasants worried about harvests in the same way we worry about rent.
Even Napoleon, as a teenager, confessed that books were his most faithful friends— a sentiment commonly shared by lonely students in libraries today.
What is striking is not that human nature has stayed the same, but that in modern times we treat this sameness as an outlier.
We act surprised when greed corrupts leaders, or when atrocities occur on the other side of the world, or when love compels sacrifices, as if these were new discoveries.
The truth is older: humanity has always been human.
The stage changes, the actors change, but the roles remain.