Abstract
Disquietude is rare. The inertia of the ordinary sweeps us along, muting all but the most mundane worries. But in moments of tragedy, of deep decision, of disruption, of evil, in moments when we step out of the pull of the ordinary, we understand that something is amiss in the world. Everything does not hang together well. In those moments, when it is no longer possible to simply do what one does, it seems as if there is no authority. We have been thrown off our routine, out of our social world, and now its authority which once assured us that the thing one does is the thing to do looks hopelessly muddled. Norms conflict, violently competing to hold sway, revealing that their nature was arbitrary all along. It all looks so obvious: disquietude is not the truth buried beneath the ordinary world; it is the truth of the ordinary.