On Nowruz, people sing and dance and give gifts. They are celebrating the return of spring. It's a new year. They know why they are happy: they expect warmth and sunlight, crops and longer days and new animals.

On Chinese New Year, people honour the ancient hero who chased away the Nian, a monster who ate villagers. They wear red (which evil spirits hate) and set off firecrackers (ditto) and have family reunions. They celebrate continuity and honour their ancestors.

Every Passover the question is asked: 'Why is this night different from all other nights?' The answer, of course, is that in that tradition, a great miracle happened: people were rescued from an impending evil. The idea is celebrated with readings and food and singing year after year.

On 31 December it is useless to ask that question, and everyone knows it. There is nothing special about 31 December other than the fact that lots of people have set it aside to stay up until midnight, when they yell and make noise and sing 'Auld Lang Syne' off-key. Most of these people are going to have hangovers on 1 January.

Then some fatuous idiot is going to ask them what their 'New Year's Resolutions' are. And not one of them will have the sense to reply, 'Not to stay up all night at the end of it, get drunk, and make a fool of myself.'

Still, for the week leading up to this night, the 'news' media, who have little to report at this time or who will at least not admit they have anything to report because they're lazy and want to go to parties, will pretend that it's absolutely necessary to 'take stock' of the past year and make predictions about the next one. This in spite of the obvious fact that these 'years' are arbitrary divisions of calendars, mere pixels in the lower right-hand corners of our computer screens. They have nothing at all to do with continuity – we lost that long ago – or natural phenomena, or even dragons eating villagers. It's all just a habit we've gotten into.

It might be nice, though, if we did take stock: if we examined the way we as a species are going. If we looked back at recent mistakes and resolved to do better. If we made some concrete plans in that direction.

That's not going to happen. When you ask people what their new year's resolutions are, what do they talk about? Themselves, of course.

'I'm going to lose weight next year, so I'll be healthier, live longer, and fit into all the cool clothes.'

'I'm going to become rich and famous, see if I don't! Well, famous, anyway: I have a sure-fire plan for becoming an influencer on social media.'

'I'm going to work on my spiritual growth. You know, learn how to be calm and serene and above it all. So I won't be worried about you guys any more, I'll be beyond that.'

If you have a personal goal like that, please don't bother telling me about it. Because I will be judgy.

I've figured out why people foster this false optimism and silly self-help mania in the dead of winter: they fret. They look around. They see that the world is in trouble. The climate is threatened. . .by human beings, mostly. The world's governments are ineffective in helping their citizens live safe, healthy, and productive lives. . .because human beings seem to lack the will to do anything about them. People are clannish and opinions are polarised. At the same time, they're worried.

If things are going well, they worry that it won't last. If things are going badly, they worry that they won't get better. They wish 'somebody' would 'do something' to make it all good again. As long as that somebody isn't them.

What if. . .? What if the aliens show up and don't like what they see? What if the climate specialists are right, and heating up the planet really is a bad idea? What if Country X starts a war with Country Y? What will it do to tomato prices in my supermarket?

You want a new year's resolution, folks? What about, 'In the coming year, I will worry more about my neighbour than myself'? What about, 'I will remember that 'those people' over yonder – in the next town, the next county, the next country, across that ocean or over in that desert – have just as much right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as my own friends and family'?

Let's sing a different song this new year's. Instead of that one with the Scots words, let's try a wish for peace.

Maybe then the aliens will leave us alone.

Dmitri Gheorgheni

01.01.24 Front Page

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