Resurgent Optimism: A 2025 Prediction

When You Zig We Jag?

Is it me, or is everyone waxing lyrical about the good old days right now? Maybe it’s the Jaguar rebrand uproar. Or comments like this from Tom Goodwin . I don't know, I just get the sense we're glorifying the past at the expense of the present a lot lately.

Of course, on the one hand, this is simply a bit of good old-fashioned British cynicism. On the other though, it’s the pernicious language of declinism—and it's entirely unwarranted.

Sure, we can swoon over the E-Type’s jaw-dropping beauty or some of the best ad copy ever written. And so we should. But we're cherry-picking the good stuff.

Because—and let’s be clear—the past wasn’t all that great.

From the comfort of his Elven retirement home (or wherever he went on that boat at the end of LOTR), Frodo may well get misty-eyed about his adventures on Middle-earth now and again. And who can blame him? But does that mean he should rewind the clock and relive his escapades given the chance? No. Obviously not. Remember the fires of Mordor, Frodo? The Witch-king of Angmar? The massive spider that tried to eat you?

Rosy retrospection is a kind of denial. It's our mind playing tricks on us. It blinds us to the actual reality: the extraordinary progress we've made in recent decades—or centuries, for that matter.

By literally any objective measure, things are better now. Not perfect. Often terrible. But unquestionably, statistically, materially better.

The past is wholly overrated. The present is where it's at (literally). Most importantly, because that's where we build the future. And the future is a different kettle of fish altogether—oozing with potential, dripping with possibilities.

That's why, if you ask me the classic would-you-rather-go-forward-or-back-in-time question, I'm going forward all day long.

Specifically, 100 years from now—far enough to see some cool stuff but not so far that I get enslaved by the half-AI, half-dog cyborgs ruling Earth in 2195.

(*Except, of course, if I could go back and stop Ridley Scott from making Gladiator 2. Really, Ridley? Really? Maximus Decimus Meridius deserved better.)

It's A Generational Thing?

Of course, whether you think the world is going to hell in a handcart might have something to do with your age. Young people are consistently more optimistic about the future than older generations—something that remains true today.

(Incidentally, it's notable that sufferers of "premature eJAGGulation", perfectly coined by Michael Corcoran , were nearly always CDs and ECDs of a certain vintage.)

And if you know me, you know I bang on about Gen Z's inherent optimism all the time. Usually by pushing back against the idea that this generation is—or ever truly was—nihilistic.

Because—spoiler alert—their hopelessness was never particularly hopeless. It was always tinged with a sort of rebellious, ride-or-die positivity.

That said, the fact they are associated with Nihilism at all—and arguably flirted with these philosophies far earlier than previous generations—speaks to something unique about their circumstances: ever-present instability.

Between COVID-induced collective trauma, a permacrisis of epic proportions, and the grand (read: failed) experiment of growing up on screens, who wouldn't be wallowing in a bit of Nietzsche, having an existential crisis?

Unlike Millennials and Gen Xers, who experienced the relative stability of the post-Cold War era (something which now appears to have been a bug, not a feature), young people today were born into chaos. As a coping mechanism, they invented optimistic nihilism, finding purpose by creating meaning in uncertainty.

Yes, they have issues. Lots of them. But this generation doesn't get the credit they deserve for developing a deep resilience to chaos—channelling optimism not in spite of it but because of it.

If Millennials were the post-modern meme generation—joking about everything burning down—Gen Z is something else entirely. They're metamodernists, acknowledging the world is both a total shitshow and a place of infinite possibility.

This ability to blend action with an awareness of life's absurdity is why they can protest climate change while making TikToks about environmental collapse, critique late-stage capitalism while admiring workplace crushes, or—most illustrative of all—live chronically online while being hyper-aware of digital dystopia.

Where Millennials responded to chaos with ironic detachment, Gen Z embraces paradox. They can simultaneously believe that everything is meaningless and that everything matters deeply.

The Future's Bright, The Future's Uncertain

Uncertainty will define 2025.

And while older generations are still trying to make sense of this brave new world, havoc is Gen Z's natural habitat. For them, precariousness isn't a barrier to optimism.

In fact, they feel good about the future despite saying they're not prepared for it. And next year, this generation of uncertainty pros will be more influential than ever. They're in the workforce, in positions of power, and voting in substantial numbers.

Plus, Gen Alpha are now ready to inherit that all-important societal role of teenage provocateur, freeing Gen Z to do the grown-up work of teaching us all how to harvest hope from the depths of despair.

The result for 2025? Resurgent optimism.

Not because the storm is passing. But because this generation knows how to dance in the rain.

WOOF!

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