Some time ago I summed up the situation in the following way:
"This grave dissociation of past and present is the generic fact of our
time and the cause of the suspicion, more or less vague, which gives rise to the
confusion characteristic of our present-day existence. We feel that we actual
men have suddenly been left alone on the earth; that the dead did not die in
appearance only but effectively; that they can no longer help us. Any remains of
the traditional spirit have evaporated. Models, norms, standards are no use to
us. We have to solve our problems without any active collaboration of the past,
in full actuality, be they problems of art, science, or politics. The European
stands alone, without any living ghosts by his side; like Peter Schlehmil he has
lost his shadow. This is what always happens when midday comes."[5]
What, then, in a word is the "height of our times"? It is not
the fullness of time, and yet it feels itself superior to all times past, and
beyond all known fullness. It is not easy to formulate the impression that our
epoch has of itself; it believes itself more than all the rest, and at the same
time feels that it is a beginning. What expression shall we find for it? Perhaps
this one: superior to other times, inferior to itself. Strong, indeed, and at
the same time uncertain of its destiny; proud of its strength and at the same
time fearing it.
