I was at a coffee shop the other day, eavesdropping on a conversation between a mother and her teenage daughter. The girl, maybe 16, was scrolling through her phone, her face a canvas of worry. “Mom,” she said, “is it even worth planning for college when everything’s falling apart?” Her mother sighed, unsure how to respond. It struck me as a small, heartbreaking scene, not because of the question itself, but because it revealed a deeper truth: we’re raising a generation marinated in despair, convinced the world is a house fire with no escape.

For those of us who cherish liberty, this should set off alarms. Not because the world is without flaws—far from it—but because the narrative of inevitable collapse undermines the very agency that defines a free society. If we want our kids to embrace the possibilities of a life unscripted by fear, we need to stop telling them the world is a terrible place. Instead, we must show them it’s a place of problems they can solve, of opportunities they can seize, and of beauty they can create.

The Pessimism Trap
Walk into any classroom or scroll through social media, and you’ll see it: a relentless drumbeat of doom. Climate catastrophe, economic inequality, political dysfunction—these are real challenges, no question. But they’re presented to young people not as puzzles to be tackled, but as proof of a world spiraling toward ruin. A 2023 survey by the American Psychological Association found that 60% of Gen Z feels “very or extremely worried” about the future, with many citing media and adult rhetoric as key drivers. We’re not just informing kids about the world’s problems; we’re teaching them to see those problems as their destiny.

This isn’t just bad for their mental health—it’s an assault on the libertarian spirit. At its core, libertarianism is about the individual’s capacity to shape their own life, to innovate, to build. But how can anyone do that if they’re raised to believe the game is rigged, the planet is dying, and their efforts are futile? Pessimism is a paralytic, and we’re dosing our kids with it daily.

I think of my own childhood in the 1980s, when the specter of nuclear war loomed large. My friends and I would talk about it sometimes, half-joking, half-scared, imagining mushroom clouds on the horizon. But our parents and teachers didn’t dwell on the apocalypse. They told us about the moon landing, about entrepreneurs building new industries, about the fall of the Berlin Wall. They gave us a sense that history wasn’t a death march but a story we could write. Today, we’re failing to offer that same gift to our kids.

The Case for Optimism
The data, if we bother to look, tells a different story from the one dominating headlines. Since the 1980s, global poverty has plummeted—over a billion people have escaped extreme deprivation, thanks to markets and innovation. Life expectancy has risen, literacy rates have soared, and technology has connected humanity in ways unimaginable a generation ago. Even on climate, solutions like renewable energy and carbon capture are advancing faster than many predicted. The world isn’t perfect, but it’s not a dystopian wasteland either. It’s a place where human ingenuity, unleashed by freedom, keeps bending the arc toward progress.

Libertarians understand this better than most. We know that centralized control stifles solutions, while individual liberty unleashes them. Yet we’re letting a narrative of despair take root, one that risks convincing the next generation that their agency is pointless. If we want kids to grow into problem-solvers—entrepreneurs, inventors, community builders—we need to stop feeding them a diet of fatalism.
Consider the story of a young woman I met at a Libertas event last year, a college student named Aisha. She grew up bombarded by messages about ecological collapse and social decay. But instead of retreating into despair, she started a small business designing affordable, sustainable water filters for rural communities. “I got tired of hearing the world was ending,” she told me. “So I decided to fix something.” Aisha’s story isn’t unique—look at the innovators tackling everything from food waste to mental health apps. These are the fruits of optimism, of believing you can act and make a difference.

A Call to Action
So what do we do? First, we change the way we talk. Parents, teachers, and leaders need to stop amplifying catastrophe and start highlighting what’s working. Tell kids about the entrepreneurs revolutionizing energy, the scientists curing diseases, the communities rebuilding after crises. Show them that problems are not endpoints but invitations to create.

Second, we empower them with tools, not fear. Teach kids critical thinking, not ideological scripts. Encourage them to question narratives, to seek out data, to experiment with solutions. Libertarians, of all people, should champion this approach—our philosophy is rooted in the belief that individuals, not systems, drive progress.

Finally, we lead by example. If we want kids to believe in a future worth building, we need to act like we believe in it too. Start a business. Volunteer. Innovate. Show them that liberty isn’t just a buzzword—it’s a way of life that turns challenges into opportunities.

A World Worth Building
The teenager in that coffee shop deserves better than a world painted in shades of doom. She deserves a story that sparks her curiosity, fuels her ambition, and reminds her that she’s not a bystander in history. The world isn’t a terrible place—it’s a messy, vibrant, imperfect place, full of problems waiting for her to solve. As libertarians, we have a duty to tell her that truth, to nurture her sense of possibility, and to trust that she’ll rise to the occasion. Because if we don’t, we’re not just failing her—we’re failing the very idea of freedom itself.