Image by Bernd Hildebrandt
Over the past couple of years, I’ve noticed a striking pattern in the way certain people talk about the present moment–people with decades of life experience, who have witnessed major historical shifts firsthand. My father is one of them. They all said some version of this:
“I’ve lived through some tough times–but I’ve never seen things get this bad.”
The first time I heard it, it made me pause. The second time, it made me wonder. And as I continued hearing the same phrase from different people, in different places, I started to ask myself a deeper question: Did my time on earth have to coincide with the worst chapter in modern history? Am I really that unlucky?
It’s a heavy thought. Especially when things are already hard–financially, socially, emotionally–and you’re watching major systems fray or falter.
Right now, for example, the U.S. stock market (and perhaps some others around the world) is struggling, and people retiring in this climate are understandably anxious. Some are seeing the savings they’ve worked for all their lives diminish at the very moment they need them most. It’s unfortunate, and for many, deeply unfair.
And yet, even as these realities bite, some voices offer consolation: “Markets always recover.” Others take it further: “If they collapse to the point where the world collapses, we’ll all be in it together anyway.” In other words, if the system fails completely, personal investments are the least of our problems.
This bleak kind of reassurance brings to mind a classic quote often attributed to John Maynard Keynes, summarizing Adam Smith’s pragmatism:
“In the long run, we’re all dead.”
At first glance, it sounds cold. But it’s also a sober reminder of our limited place in the sweep of history. The “long run” may resolve itself with or without us. And that may be exactly what’s weighing on the voices expressing this concern.
So Why Are People Saying, “This Is the Worst”?
I think there are several reasons why this sentiment is so common today. Here are my thoughts, weaving in my reflections, observations, and some research on the broader emotional and philosophical context.
It’s not necessarily that these times objectively are the worst. It may be that something else–something deeper–is stirring beneath the surface:
1. A Loss of Control
As people accumulate life experience, they often rely on the stability of the systems they grew up with–economic patterns, social norms, institutions that once felt trustworthy. When those structures begin to shift or break down, it doesn’t just feel like change–it feels like chaos. Familiar signposts are missing. And for those who once navigated confidently, it’s easy to feel disoriented and powerless.
2. The Overload of Information
In previous decades, bad news came through newspapers, occasional broadcasts, or word of mouth. Now we absorb global suffering in real time–war footage, climate disasters, political breakdowns, one tragedy after another. The sheer volume and speed of it all make the world seem more unstable than ever before. But maybe it’s not the world that’s more unstable–maybe it’s just more visible.
3. Romanticizing the Past
It’s a common psychological phenomenon: as people look back on earlier chapters of their lives, they tend to idealize their youth. The past appears simpler, more hopeful, more coherent. This isn’t delusion–it’s a kind of memory self-preservation. So even if the present isn’t objectively worse than the past, it can feel that way when viewed through a nostalgic lens.
4. A Shrinking Window for the Future
For those who have lived through many chapters of history, a changing world isn’t just something to observe–it’s something they may not have time to see resolve. It’s not just “the world is in trouble.” It’s “I may not live to see things get better.” That realization carries a special kind of grief. It’s not only a fear of decline; it’s a fear of missing redemption.
So… Is This the Worst Time?
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s just our time–fraught, yes, but also real, alive, and full of choices (as much as possible within the purview of what’s available to us). Here, it's important to be brutally honest with ourselves about what those choices truly are.
The world is always breaking in some places and healing in others. Every generation feels at some point that they’re living through unprecedented hardship–and perhaps they are. But that doesn’t mean all is lost. It just means we’re living through history as it unfolds, not as it will one day be remembered.
And if we can zoom out, we might even see what these voices are really saying. Not just that things are bad–but that they’re unsure, afraid, and perhaps hoping we’ll carry something forward that they no longer can.
Maybe our role isn’t to deny how hard things are. Maybe it’s to hold that difficulty honestly, and still try to move with care, courage, and curiosity.
After all, in the long run, we will all be dead. But in the meantime, there’s still a world here–fragile, imperfect, and worth tending to. (What follows is a little graphic to help with that.)
“I’ve lived through some tough times–but I’ve never seen things get this bad.”
The first time I heard it, it made me pause. The second time, it made me wonder. And as I continued hearing the same phrase from different people, in different places, I started to ask myself a deeper question: Did my time on earth have to coincide with the worst chapter in modern history? Am I really that unlucky?
It’s a heavy thought. Especially when things are already hard–financially, socially, emotionally–and you’re watching major systems fray or falter.
Right now, for example, the U.S. stock market (and perhaps some others around the world) is struggling, and people retiring in this climate are understandably anxious. Some are seeing the savings they’ve worked for all their lives diminish at the very moment they need them most. It’s unfortunate, and for many, deeply unfair.
And yet, even as these realities bite, some voices offer consolation: “Markets always recover.” Others take it further: “If they collapse to the point where the world collapses, we’ll all be in it together anyway.” In other words, if the system fails completely, personal investments are the least of our problems.
This bleak kind of reassurance brings to mind a classic quote often attributed to John Maynard Keynes, summarizing Adam Smith’s pragmatism:
“In the long run, we’re all dead.”
At first glance, it sounds cold. But it’s also a sober reminder of our limited place in the sweep of history. The “long run” may resolve itself with or without us. And that may be exactly what’s weighing on the voices expressing this concern.
So Why Are People Saying, “This Is the Worst”?
I think there are several reasons why this sentiment is so common today. Here are my thoughts, weaving in my reflections, observations, and some research on the broader emotional and philosophical context.
It’s not necessarily that these times objectively are the worst. It may be that something else–something deeper–is stirring beneath the surface:
1. A Loss of Control
As people accumulate life experience, they often rely on the stability of the systems they grew up with–economic patterns, social norms, institutions that once felt trustworthy. When those structures begin to shift or break down, it doesn’t just feel like change–it feels like chaos. Familiar signposts are missing. And for those who once navigated confidently, it’s easy to feel disoriented and powerless.
2. The Overload of Information
In previous decades, bad news came through newspapers, occasional broadcasts, or word of mouth. Now we absorb global suffering in real time–war footage, climate disasters, political breakdowns, one tragedy after another. The sheer volume and speed of it all make the world seem more unstable than ever before. But maybe it’s not the world that’s more unstable–maybe it’s just more visible.
3. Romanticizing the Past
It’s a common psychological phenomenon: as people look back on earlier chapters of their lives, they tend to idealize their youth. The past appears simpler, more hopeful, more coherent. This isn’t delusion–it’s a kind of memory self-preservation. So even if the present isn’t objectively worse than the past, it can feel that way when viewed through a nostalgic lens.
4. A Shrinking Window for the Future
For those who have lived through many chapters of history, a changing world isn’t just something to observe–it’s something they may not have time to see resolve. It’s not just “the world is in trouble.” It’s “I may not live to see things get better.” That realization carries a special kind of grief. It’s not only a fear of decline; it’s a fear of missing redemption.
So… Is This the Worst Time?
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s just our time–fraught, yes, but also real, alive, and full of choices (as much as possible within the purview of what’s available to us). Here, it's important to be brutally honest with ourselves about what those choices truly are.
The world is always breaking in some places and healing in others. Every generation feels at some point that they’re living through unprecedented hardship–and perhaps they are. But that doesn’t mean all is lost. It just means we’re living through history as it unfolds, not as it will one day be remembered.
And if we can zoom out, we might even see what these voices are really saying. Not just that things are bad–but that they’re unsure, afraid, and perhaps hoping we’ll carry something forward that they no longer can.
Maybe our role isn’t to deny how hard things are. Maybe it’s to hold that difficulty honestly, and still try to move with care, courage, and curiosity.
After all, in the long run, we will all be dead. But in the meantime, there’s still a world here–fragile, imperfect, and worth tending to. (What follows is a little graphic to help with that.)
