In This Article:

• Understanding the Fourth Turning and its relevance today.
• Tracing the path that led us to this pivotal moment.
• Recognizing the perils of complacency in times of upheaval.
• A personal journey of political and spiritual transformation.
• Empowering individuals to cultivate change and resilience.
• Introducing David Brooks' perspective on conservatism's evolution.

A Time to Reflect, A Time to Act

The concept of the Fourth Turning, introduced by Neil Howe and William Strauss, posits that history moves in cyclical patterns, each lasting approximately 80 to 100 years and culminating in a crisis that reshapes society. Today, as we witness political polarization, institutional distrust, and social unrest, it's clear that we are in the midst of such a transformative period. The emergence of Trumpism didn't create these challenges but illuminated existing vulnerabilities, forcing us to confront them head-on.

History’s Recurring Cycle

Howe and Strauss’s framework presents history as a continuous cycle, moving through four distinct phases, or “turnings,” each spanning roughly 20 to 25 years. These cycles, much like the shifting of seasons, shape the trajectory of societies, influencing their rise, fall, and eventual renewal.

The First Turning, known as the High, emerges in the aftermath of a major crisis. It is a time of collective confidence, where institutions are strong, social cohesion is high, and a sense of shared purpose drives society forward. Stability and order dominate, and the cultural focus leans toward conformity and unity rather than disruption or reform. However, over time, this very stability sows the seeds of the next turning.

As the grip of order tightens, the Second Turning, or the Awakening, begins to unfold. This is an era of cultural and spiritual upheaval, where new ideas challenge the established norms. Institutions, once revered, come under scrutiny as people push back against societal constraints, seeking deeper meaning and greater personal freedoms. The Awakening is often marked by movements for civil rights, religious revivals, and shifts in artistic and philosophical thought. It is a time when the rigidity of the previous era begins to crack, making way for new ways of thinking.

Following this cultural shake-up, the Third Turning, called the Unraveling, sees institutions lose their credibility. Society fractures as individualism takes center stage, and trust in collective structures erodes. Instead of cohesion, polarization takes hold, with competing factions vying for dominance. Politics grows increasingly volatile, the economy becomes more unstable, and the sense of shared purpose that once held society together begins to fade. During this phase, people retreat into ideological bubbles, and the seeds of deep discord are planted.

Finally, the Fourth Turning, the Crisis, erupts as the old order collapses under the weight of accumulated tensions. This is the moment of reckoning, a period of upheaval where institutions are dismantled, norms are upended, and society faces an existential crossroads. Historically, these periods have been marked by wars, revolutions, and economic disasters—the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and World War II all stand as past Fourth Turnings that reshaped the American identity. Each time, the resolution of the crisis forged a new national order, setting the stage for another cycle to begin.

Today, as economic inequality deepens, political divisions widen, and global crises—from pandemics to climate change—intensify, we find ourselves in the midst of our own Fourth Turning. The question is not whether we will emerge from this period transformed, but rather what kind of transformation will take place. Will this be a moment of collapse and regression, or will it serve as the foundation for a new era of renewal? The outcome, as history shows, is not predetermined—but it will depend on the choices we make in the years ahead.

How Did We Get Here?

The predicament we find ourselves in today did not emerge overnight. It is the product of decades—if not centuries—of economic, political, and cultural forces converging into an inevitable reckoning. The fractures in our society were not created by a single event or a single leader but were instead the result of long-standing trends that have slowly eroded trust, deepened inequality, and frayed the very fabric of democracy.

One of the most destructive forces at play has been unregulated capitalism and monopolization. The relentless pursuit of profit, unrestrained by ethical considerations or public accountability, has concentrated wealth and power into the hands of a few, leaving vast portions of the population struggling under the weight of economic insecurity. As corporate monopolies expand their reach, small businesses vanish, workers lose bargaining power, and entire industries become dominated by financial speculation rather than productive innovation. The promise of capitalism—that hard work leads to prosperity—has become a hollow myth for most, while those at the top manipulate the system to ensure their own dominance.

Meanwhile, institutional failures have allowed this crisis to deepen. Many of the governing bodies and social structures that once served as stabilizing forces have resisted necessary adaptation, choosing instead to cling to outdated models that no longer meet the needs of the people. Public trust in institutions—whether government, media, or education—has eroded as corruption, bureaucracy, and inefficiency have rendered them incapable of addressing modern challenges. When institutions fail to deliver, cynicism festers, and people seek alternatives—often in the form of authoritarian figures who promise to tear down the existing order.

At the same time, a cultural shift toward hyper-individualism has weakened the bonds that once held communities together. The glorification of self-reliance, personal success, and the pursuit of individual goals over collective well-being has left society fragmented. The idea that we are responsible not only for ourselves but also for one another has been systematically dismantled, replaced by a philosophy that views cooperation as weakness and solidarity as naive. Without a sense of shared purpose, divisions grow deeper, and polarization becomes inevitable.

Compounding these issues is the profound fragmentation of the media. Once seen as the guardian of democracy, the media landscape has devolved into a battlefield of sensationalism and profit-driven content. Rather than informing and uniting, it thrives on division, amplifying fears, spreading misinformation, and reinforcing ideological bubbles. The rise of social media has only accelerated this trend, turning discourse into a series of echo chambers where facts are secondary to emotional manipulation. In this environment, it is easy for people to feel disconnected from a shared reality, making meaningful dialogue and collective problem-solving nearly impossible.

The rise of Trumpism is not the cause of this crisis but a symptom of it. It is the political expression of decades of growing disenchantment, economic despair, and institutional decay. Trump did not create the anger and disillusionment that fueled his ascent—he merely exploited it. His rise represents a desperate lurch toward disruption, a rejection of the status quo by those who feel abandoned and unheard. But disruption, on its own, is not a solution. The forces that led us here are still at play, and if left unaddressed, they will continue to shape the course of history, regardless of who occupies the halls of power.

My Path to Reflection: A Personal Fourth Turning

My own journey of transformation has, in many ways, mirrored the broader shifts in the nation. Like many, I was shaped by the political currents of my time, influenced by the narratives that dominated the airwaves and the institutions that guided my early understanding of the world. My first vote for president was cast for George Wallace, a choice made not out of malice but out of a limited perspective shaped by the cultural and political forces around me. That same trajectory led me to support Nixon, then Reagan, and later George H.W. Bush. At the time, the conservative vision of strength, order, and economic prosperity seemed like a logical path forward. I saw my votes as pragmatic, aligned with what I had been taught about stability and national progress. But over time, cracks began to form in the foundation of those beliefs.

One of the most profound catalysts for change came during the AIDS crisis. The conservative church—an institution I had long seen as a moral compass—responded not with compassion but with judgment, not with love but with condemnation. Their actions contradicted the very teachings of Christ that I had internalized: love thy neighbor, care for the sick, show kindness to the outcast. Instead of standing with those in need, they turned their backs, using faith as a weapon rather than a source of solace. That hypocrisy was impossible to ignore, and it forced me to begin questioning long-held assumptions. If the institutions I had trusted were capable of such moral failure, what else had I failed to see?

At around 40 years old, I stepped away from the noise of politics and turned inward. I found myself drawn to Zen Buddhism and the practice of meditation, not as a rejection of my past but as a way to slow down and examine it with greater clarity. Zen provided me with something I hadn’t realized I was missing: stillness. It allowed me to separate the core teachings of the Four Gospels—which I still hold dear—from the monopolistic grasp of organized religion. Instead of seeing the world through rigid ideological frameworks, I began to see interconnectedness, the way ideas and actions ripple outward, shaping the world in ways both seen and unseen.

That realization led to action. In 1996, we founded InnerSelf.com, not with grand ambitions of wealth or widespread recognition, but with the simple desire to share insights that might help others on their own journeys of questioning and growth. Over the years, the site has reached millions, a testament to the butterfly effect—how small actions, when repeated and nurtured, can create waves of impact far beyond what we ever anticipate.

Personal growth, I’ve come to understand, is not a destination but a continuous process. My own evolution has been a reminder that the willingness to stop, reflect, and change course is what ultimately shapes the trajectory of our lives. Just as societies undergo transformation, so too do individuals. The Fourth Turning we face today is not just a historical moment—it is a personal one for each of us. The question is whether we will engage in it passively or take an active role in shaping what comes next.

Reflection Alone Is Not Enough

Recognizing the crisis we are in is an important first step, but awareness alone is not enough. Reflection, if not followed by action, can easily slip into complacency—a comfortable state of intellectual engagement that fails to translate into real-world change. It is tempting to believe that simply understanding the forces at play is sufficient, but history has shown time and again that societies do not change because people see the problems; they change because people do something about them.

The most insidious danger is inaction—the belief that the tides of history will correct themselves without intervention. The reality is far less forgiving. When people passively observe societal decline, the forces that seek to dismantle democracy and human rights are emboldened. Power, like nature, abhors a vacuum. When those who believe in justice and progress hesitate, the space is quickly filled by those who seek control, manipulation, and regression. Every moment of delay allows destructive forces to entrench themselves further, making the task of reversing the damage even more difficult.

Another obstacle is cynicism, the belief that individual efforts are meaningless in the face of overwhelming power. It is easy to fall into this mindset, to look at the enormity of corruption, inequality, and political dysfunction and assume that nothing one person does will make a difference. But that very belief is what keeps oppressive systems in place. The status quo thrives on hopelessness, on the idea that resistance is futile. Those in power benefit when people feel too small to challenge them, and they count on that apathy to maintain control. Real change has never been initiated by those waiting for the "perfect moment"—it has always been sparked by individuals who refused to accept that their actions were insignificant.

This is a lesson authoritarian regimes have long understood. Throughout history, despots and oligarchs have relied not just on brute force but on public disengagement to consolidate their rule. When people withdraw—when they stop voting, stop organizing, stop demanding accountability—authoritarianism takes root. Democracy does not vanish overnight; it erodes slowly, piece by piece, while those who might have stopped its decline watch in resigned silence.

If the Fourth Turning is to be more than just another cycle of collapse and rebirth, if we are to ensure that what emerges from this crisis is a better world rather than a darker one, then we must reject the seductive comfort of reflection without action. Awareness is necessary, but it is not the end goal—it is only the beginning.

The Path Forward

Navigating this Fourth Turning successfully will require more than just survival—it will demand deliberate action to cultivate a society that is more equitable, just, and resilient. The transformation ahead is not something that will happen on its own; it must be nurtured, much like a garden that requires careful attention. If we want a future worth living in, we must be the ones to plant the seeds, water them, and ensure they grow strong enough to flourish beyond this period of upheaval.

Planting begins with ideas. Ideas shape the world, and right now, the dominant ones—unchecked capitalism, hyper-individualism, and authoritarian impulses—are leading us toward ruin. To counter this, we must actively spread transformative ideas that challenge the status quo. This means supporting independent media, uplifting voices that promote truth and justice, and ensuring that younger generations are equipped with an education that teaches them critical thinking, history, and civic responsibility. The foundation for change is knowledge, and without it, the same cycles of exploitation and corruption will repeat indefinitely.

But planting seeds is not enough. They must be watered—nurtured through real-world engagement. That means stepping beyond theory and into action. Change starts at the local level, where policies are shaped and communities are built. It means supporting alternative economic models that prioritize people over profits, resisting monopolization, and embracing cooperative structures that empower individuals rather than corporations. It means forging real-world networks, strengthening communities so that when crises hit, people are not left isolated, dependent on failing institutions. Movements are not built online alone; they require human connection, a shared sense of purpose, and collective effort.

Finally, we must fertilize the soil, ensuring that what we build today is sustainable for the future. That means committing to the long game—investing in movements that may not bear fruit immediately but will create lasting change. It requires backing policies that serve the common good, not just short-term political victories that benefit a select few. And just as importantly, it means developing resilience, both personally and societally. The coming years will test our endurance, and without the ability to withstand setbacks, the best-laid plans will crumble under pressure.

The work ahead is daunting, but history reminds us that every great transformation began with individuals who refused to let the world be shaped solely by those in power. The seeds of renewal have already been planted. The question is whether we will tend to them—or allow them to wither before they have a chance to grow.

Can Conservatives Reckon With the Damage?

In a surprising turn, conservative writer David Brooks has begun to acknowledge his role in shaping the ideology that led to Trumpism. For decades, figures like Brooks, Buckley, and other conservative intellectuals dismissed or underestimated the radicalization of their movement.

Now, in what seems like a moment of remorse or reckoning, Brooks is admitting that the slippery slope led exactly where critics warned it would. Watch as David Brooks reflects on his own role in this crisis—what does it mean for the future of conservatism?

About the Author

Robert Jennings is the co-publisher of InnerSelf.com, a platform dedicated to empowering individuals and fostering a more connected, equitable world. A veteran of the U.S. Marine Corps and the U.S. Army, Robert draws on his diverse life experiences, from working in real estate and construction to building InnerSelf with his wife, Marie T. Russell, to bring a practical, grounded perspective to life’s challenges. Founded in 1996, InnerSelf.com shares insights to help people make informed, meaningful choices for themselves and the planet. More than 30 years later, InnerSelf continues to inspire clarity and empowerment.

 Creative Commons 4.0

This article is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 License. Attribute the author Robert Jennings, InnerSelf.com. Link back to the article This article originally appeared on InnerSelf.com

books_attitude

Article Recap

The Fourth Turning is upon us, and we have a choice—watch from the sidelines or actively shape the future. Trumpism was the spark, but the real crisis is deeper and decades in the making. Reflection is essential, but action is critical. By planting, watering, and fertilizing the seeds of renewal, we can pass through this Fourth Turning with hope rather than despair. The future is not yet written—but what we do now will determine its course.

#FourthTurning #Trumpism #DavidBrooks #Democracy #PoliticalChange #HistoryRepeats