The Assignment That Sparked a Vision

It was 1977, and Dutch elections were in full motion. For a school assignment, we were tasked with creating our own political parties. Predictably, most of my classmates drafted manifestos that revolved around abolishing school altogether—a dream of endless play and no homework.

Except for Reinier, whose father owned cows, his party was all about better laws for farmers. And then there was me.

My party was different. I proposed something that left even my father astonished when he read it: a movement to take society back in time.

My vision was to return to the simplicity of horse and wagon, undoing the chaos of modernity, and then reintroduce technology—bit by bit—only when society was ready and mature enough to handle it responsibly.

At the time, the result of my homework was dismissed as ridiculous. A child’s folly, the teacher said, and my classmates mocked. Yet here we are, nearly 40 years later, living in an era where the cracks in unchecked progress have become glaringly evident. With the rise of digital exhaustion and environmental crises, I can’t help but wonder if my childhood manifesto wasn’t so absurd after all.

And on top of this, I watch the U.S. president exclaiming excuses for his tariffs and promising to resurrect coal mines, dismantle trade deals, and “Make America Great Again” by force. Regression, it seems, sells—but not the kind I imagined.

My childhood vision was a conscious reset: a return to simplicity to rebuild with intentionality. It demanded agency, collective reflection, and patience—qualities antithetical to modern politics.

Contrast this with today’s coercive regression: tariffs that ignite trade wars, wage stagnation rebranded as “economic patriotism,” and infrastructure decay that leaves communities functionally pre-modern (think crumbling bridges and families boiling tap water to avoid toxins).

The difference? Who controls the narrative. My proposal centred on societal maturity; he leverages chaos as a tool of power. One invites participation; the other demands compliance.

My childhood idea was dismissed as whimsical. Reinier’s farmer advocacy? Quaint. My time-traveling manifesto? Delusional. Yet when a billionaire celebrity peddles nostalgia for a past that never existed—a past where factories hummed, unions were crushed, and pollution was unchecked—it’s framed as “common sense.”

This isn’t just about age or status. It’s about whose nostalgia we legitimize. Agrarian movements, climate activists, and Indigenous land defenders are often sidelined as idealists. But when power brokers resurrect regressive policies, they’re celebrated as “disruptors” or “realists.”

My “homework” anticipated today’s crises: AI ethics, climate collapse, and digital overload. It asked society to earn progress through wisdom. Instead, we’ve gotten regression sold as a quick fix—a pill to numb the pain of globalization’s losers.

Trump’s rhetoric thrives on a fabricated “readiness”: a nostalgia for a 1950s America where white picket fences hid redlined neighbourhoods and silenced voices. It’s regression without reckoning, progress without purpose.

The irony isn’t that both visions involve turning back the clock. It’s that mine was dismissed for being too thoughtful, while his thrives on being deliberately unthoughtful. Anthropology teaches us that culture dictates what’s “possible”—but power dictates what’s permissible. 

The cracks in modernity are undeniable. But do we let chaos impose regression—or do we reclaim the agency to rebuild, as only a child would dare imagine?

May Harmony find you,

Irena Phaedra

P.S. Children are considered to be still connected to the universal wisdom, but so are artists.

P.P.S. All the power’s in the hands
Of people rich enough to buy it
While we walk the street
Too chicken to even try it

Everybody’s doing just what they’re told to
Nobody wants to go to jail

White riot, I wanna riot
White riot, a riot of my own
White riot, I wanna riot
White riot, a riot of my own

Are you taking over, or are you taking orders?
Are you going backwards, or are you going forwards?