Future proof

Ihave a friend whose son, Avi, is 19 years of age. Earlier this year, Avi made plans to travel overseas – his first trip alone of any real consequence.

Avi settled on the USA, as his first destination in a three-month journey.

His mother drove him to the airport and waved her son goodbye. Soon after that, she received a text. Avi was having doubts. The trip was a mistake.

There were texts from the departure lounge and several more from the aeroplane, as Avi hurtled across the Pacific Ocean.

Avi regained his composure. He landed in America and made his way, day by day, with ever-growing confidence.

Ask him now about his trip and Avi beams with pride. He made lifelong friends in the USA, then flew to Europe and trekked through the Balkans.

He showed me a photo, recently, of a glacial lake, nestled among a ridge of mountains, high above sea level. Avi took the photograph. He’s perched on top of the world.

It is easy to imagine that the country in which you live, and the wider world to which you belong, is fatally wounded and slowly dying: that a golden age lies behind us; that the road to our collective ruin is present and assured.

There is evidence to support this view and plenty of doomsday prophets who shout as much, day and night, through every available medium.

None of it affects me, however, quite like the blithe and tragic postscript that “it was ever thus” – that the future is predetermined, humans never learn, and it is simply wishful thinking to expect a better future.

That is cynicism, which is fear, masquerading as realism.

The sorrows that plague us from age to age – hatred, racism, poverty and cruelty – cannot be defeated by jaded acquiescence or pale resignation.

Even, and especially, if the battle to defeat these afflictions is never wholly won, the battle must be fought anew.

And every generation must be allowed their turn.

To believe otherwise is to stack the deck against a win, before a hand is even dealt. If that’s how you feel, step aside. Give someone else a fighting chance.

Avi is off to university in 2026. He has the brains and character to make a fine and lasting impact in any field he chooses.

So do his friends. So do my neighbours’ children. So do my nieces and nephews.

Let them travel. Let them dream. Let them create, through trial and error, a life of meaning and merit.

At the end of this wild and bruising year, that thought alone – the promise of young people, everywhere – gives me hope and confidence.

I want them to succeed.