The Future Isn't Doomed, We Just All Kinda Gave Up

What kind of a world is my daughter going to grow up in? What about her kids? And their kids? And theirs? I’m sure all parents are asking themselves this question. I keep hearing everywhere that there’s no hope for humanity, that our planet is dying, that it would be immoral to bring a child into a world like this. The best you can do is try to enjoy yourself as much as possible while watching the world burn—or spiral into depression if this doesn’t work out.

In my lifetime so far I’ve only witnessed everything getting better. My generation has access to wealth and opportunities that our parents couldn’t have even dreamed of, and the same was true for my parents and theirs. I know this hasn’t been the case for most of my American friends, and it probably won’t be the case for my children either. How exactly will this look like? Nobody knows, but there aren’t too many popular visions of how things could possibly go right.

How can I best prepare my kids to live in a world like this? Is there anything in their future that they could look forward to? The more I ask myself these questions, the more my mind goes back to my grandparents and all the hardships they’ve survived. How did they live through war, violence, and poverty without either giving up or going completely insane? Where did they find the strength required to carry on?

Psychology books are oddly silent about this. For all the talk about mental health these days, we seem much less resilient than the average peasant in the past. I keep hearing about all the ways how modern life is traumatic, and how it has given us crippling depression and anxiety, and all I can think of is, not a single one of us would survive for a month in a 19th century village. Were people in the past built differently than us? Did they know something that we no longer do?

I sense that psychology can’t give an answer here. It’s not a question of how my ancestors endured all these hardships but rather what motivated them. We give up faster on average than they did because our immediate survival doesn’t depend on it, and because we don’t have the faith or another kind of grand purpose that could possibly give meaning to it all. It’s almost impossible to go beyond your limits unless it’s for the sake of something larger than yourself.

Many people I know are skeptical of grand narratives, and they have good reasons to do so. The worst atrocities ever committed on this planet were for the sake of some kind of grand cosmic narratives. They’ve led us into two world wars and Holocaust, and in many ways we are still collectively processing this lesson. I think this is also why the mainstream western culture is in such a large part nihilistic. It’s tempting to think that if we no longer believe in anything, horrible things like this won’t ever happen again.

But as far as I can tell, nihilism isn’t serving us either. We’re too fast to give up on this planet and its future when seeing hardships ahead. This isn’t surprising at all if the only widely accepted moral value is personal happiness. Why carry on if there’s high chance you’re going to end up unhappy? Why should you bring children to this world if their lives are very likely to suck? Why should you care about anything that happens in 50 or 500 years from now? It’s not like you’re gonna be here anyway.

Why should I care? I can only speak for myself. But when I look back at the thousands of generations who came here before me, at all the people working hard all their lives so that I could be here, I can feel deep respect and a sense of obligation. They all did everything they could to give their children the best possible life—and here I am, living in such opulent and luxurious times they’d all cry out of joy if they could see it. I was given the most incredible gift, and I can feel now it’s my turn to pass it all forward.

Why should I care? Because I look in my baby girl’s eyes, and I can see a whole universe there yet for her to explore. It is my duty to make sure that the universe treats her well, to be a good steward of the places and communities she lives in, so that when she grows up she can tend to them for the sake of her own children and grandchildren. I’m here to plant trees under whose shade I’ll never sit, to do the things that will ripple through the world long after anyone remembers my name.

I care because I’d much rather die trying to create the best world possible for my children and grandchildren than sit around helplessly waiting for someone to save us. I know that whatever hardships they’re going to endure, at least some of our ancestors have been through so much worse. And yet they still carried on, tended to their gardens, raised children, made love and made art. No matter how hard it gets, life will always find a way.

I care because I see how malleable reality is, and how much opportunity there is to create and shape it. I know all we need to do is to focus on the thing right in front of us and encourage everyone else to do the same. I care because I can feel the earth under our feet still supporting us no matter what, and ready to help us out of this mess as soon as we start to listen.

I care because just to be alive is such an incredible miracle, full of so many wonders for all of us to experience and explore. We’re capable of such great things, and beautiful things, and absolutely horrible things, one wouldn’t have been possible without another. Despite all the horrors that have happened and are still happening on this planet, I’m saying yes to life with all my heart. I want life to continue and flourish for long after I’m gone, and I will do everything in my power to make it as beautiful and worth living as possible.

Some of my friends say they don’t want to have children because our planet is doomed. I strongly sense the opposite might be true. Without skin in the game, without something more precious than our own life at stake we’re too fast to give up without actually even trying. Just like you wouldn’t bother cooking just for yourself when you’re tired but will happily do so for someone you love dearly, we might be able to go much further than we believe possible. All we need is a purpose to keep going, compelling enough to keep everyone aligned and motivated when things get tough, that at the same time won’t make us want to kill one another like grand narratives often do.

Where do we find such purpose? Well, it’s our job to figure it out.