Will the world end in a nuclear Holocaust? Jake Halpern seems to not only consider this a probability, but considers this something to discuss with his kids.

In one conversation, Lucian told me: “Dad, it’s not a matter of ‘if’ there will be nuclear war; it’s a matter of ‘when.’” He had this look in his eyes: a gleam of defiance, as if he were daring me — the resident optimist — to disagree. I was at a loss for words because, truth be told, I had been inching my way toward that same terrifying realization. The only question was whether I was willing to offer him some grand reassurance that we both knew would be a lie.

It’s understandable that Halpern’s 15-year-old son believes that all is lost. Exaggerating threats of doom is all the rage these days. It’s proven to be a very effective motivator, using fear to manipulate the insipid. More than that, it’s provided a ready excuse for failure, thus relieving young people from any serious effort to make serious improvements to their world.

Sure, they pitch tents and don Kiffeyahs from Amazon while play-acting activism that is guaranteed to accomplish nothing of use beyond the endorphin rush they get from feeling outraged and validating their tribal memberships, but that really isn’t about changing the world for the better. It’s only to fill the hole in their world left by loneliness and feelings of inadequacy and uselessness.

But at least they get someone else to blame.

My youngest son, Lucian, who is now 15, has a fatalistic streak. He recently observed to me, “The world is coming apart, isn’t it, Dad?” His proof, which was ample, included climate change, power outages, Ukraine, Gaza and the protests on the college campus near us. And he didn’t seem convinced that any of the world’s “supreme leaders,” as he called them, were doing an especially good job.

“How much faith, in general, do you have in adults?” I asked him recently.

“Not much,” he replied.

“Have you always felt this way?” I asked.

What’s notable here is that they are seeing a world of constant negativity, constant failure, constant misery. It wasn’t so long ago that young people sang “the future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades,” and “don’t worry, be happy.” But they no longer value happiness and positivity. Misery has became their stock in trade, and they seek it, puff it, pump it and dump it. Why?

The real problem with my approach, however, is that I was robbing my kids of a sense of urgency, a sense that the situation, in much of the world, is dire and that it demands their attention. So I’ve embraced the Iron Curtain response: Yes the world is broken, which is why you need to fix it.

Lucian’s response to this, of course, is: We didn’t break it. You did. Touché.

He also reminds us: If you can’t fix things, what makes you think I can? 

Jake Halpern is a Gen Xer. He’s right about one thing, that far too many Boomers failed to raise their own children to be better, smarter, more effective, than this. We should neither be surprised nor saddened that our children, who are now having children of their own, wallow in misery and failure because they were denied the opportunity to fail and thus build resilience.

And I can only reply: Maybe you can’t, but you still have to try.

No, no, no. Of course they can and of course they have not only  try, but accomplish it. If we all die in a nuclear Holocaust tomorrow, then we’ll all be dead and nothing will matter. No sense obsessing about it if we can’t do anything to change it, so we might as well believe that we can, we will, change what needs to be changed, keep what needs to be kept, and overcome the obstacles in our way. There is nothing to be gained by thinking any other way. Life is good. Wallowing in misery is a self-fulfilling prophesy, and Halpern isn’t helping his children find their way out of the mess nearly as much as he believes he is.