That went from zero to apocalypse very quickly.
I think you’ve been chasing the news dragon too long and too hard. Past a point, it doesn’t make you more informed, just… sadder. More given to misanthropy and despair.
We’re here, and we’re not all bad. Most of us want the same things: health, happiness, love, and camaraderie. We want those things for the people we care about— sometimes more than for ourselves.
The vast, vast majority of us are just people. We get caught up in things, and we forget it sometimes, but that’s a people thing too. And so is helping— when tragedy strikes, or those times we create tragedy, people are also the ones running toward the danger and uncertainty to help save those who cannot save themselves.
Are they who are bad by through misinformation or under-education truly bad? Can they be damned with the same vigor as those who promulgate disinformation and have every reason to know better?
No— condemnation is a useful tool, but only sparingly. It does not make the world a kinder place, but a more embittered and distrustful one.
Just as you are convinced of this world’s end by way of the information air you breathe, the information air they breathe leads some to bigotry. The vast, vast majority of them don’t hate for hating’s sake— they want to do good. That is their aim. Everything they think they know points them toward a particular path to do good. When the information is flawed so are the actions. Garbage in, garbage out.
I think I’ve known enough of hate to know that for destruction ice is also good and would suffice.
The world will end someday, somehow. Nuclear war is a modern flavor, but there’s always been some imminent doom nigh upon the world. Life is fragile, fleeting, and I wonder if an obsession with eschatology is a means of distracting ourselves from a more personal existential crisis.
It’s a peculiar switch to flip in oneself to not fixate on the inevitable. Most problems we run into we solve by thinking about them, so we keep throwing thought on the fire. But there are some problems we cannot think ourselves out of, and in those, the bigger problem becomes our fixation with it. It distracts us; sucks joy away, and obscures the business of living from us. The problem is not the end— that’s a moment— it’s living in that end our whole lives through.
Perhaps the world ends in nuclear holocaust— so what? Anticipating it does nothing to prevent it, and can but make me sad or scared or bitter. Let us, as you say, build our house, bake our bread, and let our garden grow, but seek to do so unfettered by whatever the end might be.
And from our gardens, perhaps we’ll see the complicated panoply of humanity: flawed people who sacrifice for others, foolish people who nonetheless find love, timid hearts all, wanting to do good, and waiting for an invitation to be better.