Across much of the world today, a strange and corrosive mood is spreading. It is not captured by headlines or statistics, but it is felt in the marrow of public life.

Almost everyone feels like they are losing.

The rich feel under siege.
The poor feel abandoned.
The young feel shut out of prosperity.
The old feel discarded.
The native-born feel displaced.
The foreign-born feel unwelcome.

In such a world, the instinct is understandable. Retreat inward, defend what little you have, distrust any call to sacrifice for the common good.

But this instinct, though natural, is fatal.

If we all give in to it, the fragile collective fabric that sustains even our remaining hopes will unravel, and we will all lose far more.

The road forward demands something harder and more noble. It requires the courage to take responsibility, even when you feel cheated. It requires the choice to rebuild the collective, even when trust is broken. It requires the willingness to contribute, not because you expect to be rewarded, but because it is right.


The Story We Inherited

Many societies today, from Europe to North America to East Asia, once shared a spirit of collective effort.

In the aftermath of war, depression, or national trauma, people understood that the common good was built through shared sacrifice.

Public services, civic infrastructure, and environmental stewardship were not seen as automatic entitlements, but as the result of conscious, collective effort.

Citizenship carried moral weight. Rights were inseparable from duties.

And for a time, this ethic largely held.


The Drift into Fragmentation

As prosperity rose and memories of hardship faded, that ethic weakened.

Consumerism eclipsed civic life.
Public goods came to be taken for granted.
Identity fractured along political, regional, and cultural lines.

The social contract frayed. Governments borrowed to preserve illusions. Housing became a speculative asset. The environment was treated as expendable.

Above all, trust, both in institutions and in one another, steadily eroded.

Now the consequences are becoming impossible to ignore.


The Universal Sense of Loss

This is the hallmark of our age. Nearly everyone, across class and culture, feels they are losing.

The wealthy fear asset collapse and political backlash.
The poor face economic exclusion and cultural disdain.
The young see rigged systems, unaffordable housing, unstable work, and climate anxiety.
The old face social marginalisation and economic insecurity.
The native-born feel their cultural identity slipping away.
The foreign-born face suspicion and precarious belonging.

In such a world, it is no surprise that people are reluctant to give more to the collective.

Why sacrifice when you feel cheated?
Why trust when others seem to take advantage?
Why act in good faith when the system feels rigged?

Yet this is the deadliest spiral of all.


The False Promise of Resentment

Resentment offers a simple comfort.
Blame others.
Defend your group alone.
Withdraw into cynicism and grievance.

But this path destroys the very possibility of shared goods. Clean air, public health, functioning services, and stable governance cannot survive resentment.

Collective goods do not maintain themselves.
Trust does not regenerate automatically.
The future does not preserve itself.

If no one is willing to sacrifice beyond their own tribe, everyone loses.


The Challenge We Face

The hard truth is this.
We must each choose to act in service of the collective, even when we feel personally embittered or defeated.

Not because it will guarantee personal gain.
Not because the system is perfect or just.
But because it is the only path that offers hope.

This means accepting difficult trade-offs on taxes, housing, environment, and services.
This means choosing civic participation over cynicism.
This means building bridges across divides, even when trust is low.
This means acting as citizens, not merely as consumers or grievance-holders.


Rebuilding Trust, One Choice at a Time

This is not a call for naïve idealism.

Many systems are failing.
Some leaders will disappoint.
Many wounds run deep.

But no technocratic fix, no brilliant policy, and no political leader can succeed if the public ethic remains hollow.

If we do not choose to give time, money, effort, and trust, the goods we all depend upon will collapse.

And they will collapse first and hardest upon those already losing.


The Future Is a Moral Choice

The old models are gone.
The guarantees of the past no longer hold.

We can retreat into resentment and watch society fragment further.

Or we can choose, individually and collectively, to rebuild a culture of responsibility.

To be a citizen is to give, especially when it is hard.

In the end, the future will not be decided by governments alone. It will be shaped by the accumulated weight of millions of personal choices.

You may feel like you are losing. So does almost everyone. This is why your choice matters.

The path of resentment is crowded and leads only to ruin.

The path of responsibility is harder, but it is the only path that offers hope.

Walk it. And encourage others to do the same.