The State of the World

It’s no secret that we live in an increasingly hostile world. The future often feels bleak, and sometimes it seems as though we’re all contributing to that in one way or another.

I want to acknowledge before I begin, that thinking about politics and the state of the world brings out a huge amount of distress in me. Some of the things I’ll discuss in this post seriously upset and anger me, and there are moments where it would be very easy to slip into a hateful rant fuelled by bitterness and hostility towards the people and movements I strongly disagree with.

I know some people reading this may disagree strongly with me, and that’s okay. My aim here isn’t to attack individuals, but to express the exhaustion and frustration I feel as I watch the world become increasingly driven by outrage, division, and misinformation. I’ve tried my best to approach these feelings thoughtfully rather than spitefully, even when that hasn’t been easy.

When Politics Became Exhausting

I used to follow the news and politics very closely. I’d even live-tweet Prime Minister’s Questions, as I watched politicians jeer across the chamber while very little appeared to get done. My social media feeds became filled with political arguments, outrage and constant negativity. Over time, I realised I was struggling to cope with the endless stream of bad news unfolding in front of me. It made me anxious, angry, and frustrated at how powerless I felt to change any of it.

I wanted to challenge the people causing the mess, and the people blindly enabling it, but I’m just one person and not somebody with the influence or confidence to make myself heard. Eventually, I realised that constantly immersing myself in politics and world events was damaging my mental wellbeing. I began limiting my exposure to the news, taking breaks from social media, and removing political content from my algorithms, adopting the “ignorance is bliss” mindset for self-preservation. It wasn’t easy, but it felt safer to step back from it all for the sake of my own sanity. I cope with things much better nowadays, although the state of the world still angers me whenever I’m reminded of it.

It makes me wonder whether the world has genuinely become worse, or whether we’ve simply become more aware of the actions of the rich and powerful because of the internet and social media algorithms. In the ’90s, most people relied on newspapers and television news to stay informed, both of which could heavily shape the narrative people received. At the same time, people didn’t have platforms where they could instantly vent their anger to thousands of others, so society perhaps felt less consumed by outrage. Things didn’t feel as relentlessly hostile, even if many of the same “problems” already existed beneath the surface.

Life is made harder when people form strong opinions about issues they don’t fully understand. Autism is one example of this. The phrase “everyone’s autistic these days” ignores a lot of important context. Autistic people have always existed, but in the past, many went undiagnosed or were treated cruelly because there was little understanding or support available. Now, assessments are more accessible, awareness has improved, and autism is now better understood across a wider spectrum of experiences.

There are also genetic factors involved, with autism often running in families. Yet despite this, many people still repeat misconceptions without questioning where those ideas came from or whether they’re actually supported by evidence. Social media has made it incredibly easy for misinformation and oversimplified talking points to spread.

Brexit and Division

I think the Brexit referendum was the point where my frustration with politics really intensified. It felt as though public debate became increasingly driven by slogans, emotional arguments and misleading claims, many of them pushed by powerful people who stood to benefit from the outcome. What frustrated me was the sense that many voters (on both sides) were being encouraged to react emotionally rather than critically examine the facts for themselves.

At the same time, trust in institutions and experts seemed to collapse. Sources that were once widely considered reliable suddenly became easy to dismiss whenever people disagreed with what they were saying. It became less about evidence and more about choosing which narratives felt emotionally satisfying. That shift worried me then, and it still worries me now.

Brexit also seemed to accelerate the tribal nature of politics. Social media became dominated by hostility, point-scoring and abuse from every direction. People increasingly identified themselves by whichever “side” they belonged to, and meaningful discussion became much harder to have. Attempts to challenge misinformation were often dismissed outright, while genuine concerns from either side were frequently mocked instead of addressed. It all felt deeply divisive for something so significant.

COVID and the Collapse of Trust

Then came the COVID-19 pandemic, which deepened many of those divisions even further. Almost immediately, society split into competing camps, each suspicious of the other. For some people, the pandemic reinforced trust in science, public health measures and collective responsibility. For others, it intensified distrust towards governments, institutions and experts.

What unsettled me most during the pandemic was how quickly conspiracy theories and misinformation spread online. Ideas that once existed on the fringes suddenly became mainstream discussion points, amplified constantly through social media and political commentary. I think that period permanently damaged many people’s ability to agree on basic facts. Once distrust takes hold, every piece of information can be dismissed as propaganda, “fake news”, or manipulation from the opposing side, making meaningful discussion increasingly difficult. That creates a dangerous environment, because societies rely on some level of shared reality in order to function properly.

Climate change is another issue that leaves me feeling concerned. Scientific research is built on evidence, testing and repeatable results, yet public discussion around climate issues often becomes dominated by political agendas and culture wars instead. I’ll admit that I’m not an expert on climate science, and I don’t pretend to fully understand every aspect of the debate or have all the answers. But even with that uncertainty, I struggle to see the harm in trying to take better care of the environment and reduce unnecessary damage, just in case the warnings are right. Even people who are sceptical about the scale of the problem could still recognise the value in protecting the world around us.

Some forms of activism can certainly alienate people, and I understand why certain protests frustrate the public and push them more aggressively to reject these ideas. But I don’t think concern for the planet should be mocked or dismissed outright. If future generations look back and realise we failed to act seriously enough, that regret could be enormous. And if some fears ultimately prove overstated, then at least efforts were made with good intentions.

A “Strong and Stable” Government

The constant leadership changes within the Conservative Party were another source of frustration for me. Watching prime ministers resign one after another, only for the same political direction to continue under new leadership, made it feel as though very little was actually being learned from previous failures. It often seemed as though internal power struggles mattered more than the long-term well-being of the country.

Politically, if I had to put myself in a box, I’d describe myself as centre-left, although I don’t see politics entirely in black-and-white terms. There are policies from different sides that I can understand, respect or agree with. What matters most to me is competence, honesty and whether policies genuinely improve the majority of people’s lives.

The Rise of the Far-Right

The rise of the far-right across many countries is something I find genuinely unsettling. Ideas and rhetoric that once felt politically unacceptable are increasingly becoming normalised online and in mainstream discussion. Social media has allowed extreme views to spread rapidly, often fuelled by anger, fear and distrust.

Figures such as Nigel Farage have been particularly influential in shaping that environment. What concerns me is not simply that people support politicians like him, but how easily misinformation and emotionally charged narratives can spread without being critically examined. Political messaging increasingly seems designed to provoke outrage first and encourage reflection second (or not at all).

I think one of the biggest dangers in modern politics is that many people no longer feel able to trust anything outside of the sources they already ‘agree’ with. Once that happens, facts themselves become politicised, and meaningful debate becomes incredibly difficult.

The return of Donald Trump to political prominence has also been difficult for me to understand. Even after years of controversy, criminal investigations and deeply divisive rhetoric, millions of people still view him as someone who represents their frustrations and values. I think that says a lot about the level of distrust many people now feel towards traditional politics and institutions.

What worries me is how political figures increasingly frame themselves as victims whenever they face criticism or legal scrutiny. Supporters are encouraged to see every investigation, disagreement or consequence as proof of persecution rather than something worth examining objectively. That mindset creates a situation where loyalty matters more than truth, and where any criticism can simply be dismissed as part of a conspiracy or “witch hunt”.

I think politics in several countries has become increasingly driven by outrage, identity and emotional reaction rather than thoughtful debate. Education, expertise and evidence often feel undervalued, while confidence and slogans are rewarded instead. That trend feels dangerous, particularly at a time when societies are facing genuinely serious issues.

A Glimmer of Hope

I was genuinely surprised when the Labour Party won a majority in the 2024 general election. By that point, I had started to feel pessimistic about the country’s direction. Although I wouldn’t describe myself as a Labour supporter, I welcomed the possibility of change after nearly fifteen years of Conservative governments.

Initially, there was a sense of optimism. Some Cabinet appointments appeared more focused on competence and experience than political loyalty, which felt refreshing after years of the opposite. However, over time, I began to worry that many of the broader political approaches and economic ideas remained largely unchanged, despite the change in government.

At the same time, public perception often seems disconnected from measurable progress. Political discussion is so heavily shaped by media narratives, social media outrage and constant conflict that even positive developments can struggle to gain attention. Instead, criticism and division tend to dominate the conversation, creating an atmosphere where dissatisfaction becomes permanent regardless of who is in power.

I’m both hopeful and uncertain about the possibility of Andy Burnham one day replacing Keir Starmer as Labour leader. Burnham has built a strong reputation in Manchester and often comes across as more personally connected to ordinary people. At the same time, I don’t know whether another leadership change would help stabilise politics or simply create further division and uncertainty.

More broadly, I sometimes wonder whether electoral reform, such as proportional representation, would lead to a political system that better reflects the country’s voting intentions. Whether it would improve trust in politics is another question entirely, but it’s difficult not to feel that many people currently feel underrepresented by the system we have.

I’m also increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of influence wealthy donors and large corporations appear to have within politics. Even when donations are legal and transparent, they can still create the perception that the general population will never have the same level of influence as those with significant money and connections.

The Age of Misinformation

The relationship between politics and media has become increasingly concerning to me as well. Many major newspapers, broadcasters and online platforms are accused of political bias, and whether those accusations are fair or not, public trust in journalism has clearly deteriorated.

In particular, opinion-driven broadcasting and outrage-based commentary seem to dominate modern political discourse. Complex issues are often reduced to culture war arguments designed to provoke emotional reactions rather than encourage understanding. Discussions become less about informing audiences and more about generating conflict, clicks and engagement.

I strongly dislike seeing public figures confidently spread misinformation or oversimplified arguments, then refuse to acknowledge mistakes when challenged. Instead of admitting fault, many double down, shift the blame, pivot the conversation, or present themselves as victims of unfair criticism. In an online culture driven by performance and confrontation, confidence often seems to matter more than accuracy.

I find it worrying how easily people continue to trust voices that have repeatedly been shown to exaggerate, mislead or distort facts. Once someone becomes emotionally invested in a public figure or political movement, it can become very difficult for them to objectively question what they’re being told. Politics increasingly resembles fandom, where loyalty matters more than truth.

One of the strangest parts of modern political debate is how often concepts like “freedom of speech” and “cancel culture” are weaponised. Freedom of speech has never meant freedom from consequences, criticism or disagreement, regardless of how much someone tells you it does. Other people also have the freedom to respond, disengage, boycott or challenge views they strongly oppose.

Sometimes it feels as though people only support unrestricted expression when it benefits opinions they personally agree with. Genuine freedom in a society means accepting that others are equally free to reject, criticise or distance themselves from what you say.

It’s frightening how easily people can be drawn into increasingly extreme political spaces. Fear, frustration and uncertainty make simple explanations emotionally appealing. Political movements understand this psychology extremely well and use it to their advantage. Social media algorithms make the problem worse, constantly feeding people more content that reinforces their anxieties and existing beliefs. Once someone becomes immersed in those spaces, balanced discussion and opposing viewpoints can gradually disappear altogether.

Patriotism, Identity and Fear

I also dislike how patriotism has increasingly become associated with hostility and division. National identity should be something that brings people together, yet public displays of patriotism can now sometimes feel politically loaded in ways they perhaps didn’t in the past.

To me, real patriotism is about wanting the country and the people within it to thrive. It’s about values, kindness, fairness and creating a society people can genuinely feel proud of; not simply flags, slogans or hostility towards outsiders.

The rise of AI-generated content adds another worrying layer to all of this. Fabricated images, edited clips and misleading posts can spread across social media incredibly quickly, often being shared by people who never stop to question whether they’re real. Even when false information is later corrected, the initial emotional impact remains.

At times, it feels as though reality itself has become negotiable online. Anything inconvenient can simply be dismissed as fake, manipulated or politically motivated. “Truth” becomes something that is open to interpretation. That erosion of shared truth is one of the most unsettling aspects of modern life for me.

I also find it frustrating when religion is used more as a political identity than a reflection of genuine values or compassion. Christianity, for example, places enormous emphasis on kindness, humility, caring for others and helping vulnerable people. Yet political movements sometimes invoke religion to control people, while promoting attitudes that seem completely disconnected from those principles.

More broadly, I think many belief systems, religious or otherwise, can become distorted when they’re used primarily as tools for political division rather than moral guidance or community.

And then, of course, there’s war. Watching world leaders escalate conflicts while ordinary people suffer the consequences is deeply depressing. Too often, civilians pay the price for political ambition, nationalism and power struggles far beyond their control. The suffering in places affected by war and humanitarian crises is horrifying, and the way these events are discussed politically can sometimes feel disturbingly detached from the human cost involved.

Trying to Stay Hopeful

Despite all my frustrations, I do think it’s important to listen and try to understand why people are drawn towards more extreme political movements rather than simply dismissing them. Most people are responding to fears, frustrations or feelings of being unheard, even if I strongly disagree with the conclusions they reach.

Nobody changes their mind through humiliation or constant hostility. If anything, aggressive political tribalism often pushes people further into defensive positions. I still believe facts, evidence and expertise matter, but I also think empathy and communication matter, too.

My own views aren’t perfectly aligned with any political “side” either. There are positions on both the left and the right that I value. What matters to me is honesty, fairness and whether ideas are grounded in reality rather than outrage or manipulation. There has to be a better way for people with different views to talk to each other without every disagreement turning into hostility and moral superiority.

Sometimes I think life would be easier if I simply stopped questioning things so much and accepted the comforting narratives people are given. Constantly analysing politics, media and misinformation can become emotionally exhausting.

Thinking about all of this for too long can feel suffocating. The constant division, outrage, misinformation and hostility make the future feel uncertain and exhausting at times. More than anything, I just hope people eventually begin questioning the voices that profit from keeping society angry, fearful and divided.

But if there’s one thing almost everyone can agree on, it’s that the world feels like a mess right now.