Are We Living in a Pre-War Era?
Cognitive resilience in an age of converging crises
May 4 is Remembrance Day in the Netherlands. Flags fly at half-mast, and at 8 p.m., the country falls silent for two minutes. Before that solemn pause, speeches are held. This year, my wife and I attended the ceremony in a park in our hometown.
One speaker said something that has stayed with me:
“We are living in a pre-war era.”
It was a chilling thought—made all the more poignant by the presence of many young children. I was struck by how quiet they were during the two minutes of silence, but I couldn’t help wondering: Should they already be burdened with that idea?
As we stood there, the only sounds came from birds chirping in the towering chestnut trees—oblivious to our worries. Their indifference made the stillness all the more palpable.
That phrase—pre-war era—resonates with me. It gives cognitive shape to a feeling I’ve carried for some time, one that has grown stronger in recent years, especially since the early days of the Trump administration. And I doubt I’m alone in sensing this low-grade, persistent unease.
By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.
Of course, I write from a Western European perspective. In many parts of the world, war isn’t looming—it is already present. But still, the term pre-war strikes a chord. It suggests not just uncertainty, but inevitability. Something is coming—we just don’t know what, or when.
This is not a prophecy, and I’m certainly not becoming a doomsday prepper. But there’s no denying the ambient disquiet that has crept into everyday life—even into the lives of children.
Consider three major forces—among many others—that are currently converging:
Climate change. In the Netherlands, we’ve had weeks of unbroken sunshine and temperatures more suited to the French Riviera. The café terraces are full. It’s wonderful and at the same time a bit unsettling. It feels like the world is subtly shifting off its axis.
Artificial Intelligence. The rise of AI brings both promise and peril. For every utopian forecast, there is a matching dystopian one. Will AI help us address urgent problems—or intensify them?
Geopolitical instability. Trump’s foreign policy maneuvers—often impulsive and erratic—continue to destabilize the world. His embrace of isolationism and spheres of influence has weakened traditional alliances and introduced deep uncertainty into global cooperation.
These forces do not operate in isolation. AI may worsen the climate crisis—or help mitigate it. It can be used for peace or it can be weaponized. Climate change, in turn, can inflame geopolitical tensions. The systems are interconnected, and their complexity can be overwhelming.
This interconnection suggests that beyond emotional discomfort, we are also experiencing a deeper cognitive strain. These developments require us to repeatedly revise how we understand the world. They demand that we update our mental models—again and again.
A situation model is a particular kind of mental model, one that represents events and their components in a spatiotemporal framework. The time is our current—and possibly pre-war—era. The locations are all the places in the world we attend to, or are prompted to attend to by media coverage.
Situation models help us track when and where specific events occur—like the clash between Pakistan and India in Kashmir. They also incorporate the protagonists involved, their goals, and the causal relationships between actions and outcomes.
As events unfold, our models must be revised. Where the “Pope slot” was until recently occupied by Pope Francis, it is now filled by Pope Leo XIV. Keeping this information up to date helps us interpret current discourse and maintain a grasp on context.
But the issue is not that updating is unusual—it is, in fact, normal cognitive behavior. What stands out now is the pace and scale of these updates. We are being asked to revise our understanding more frequently, and more fundamentally, than before. At least, it feels that way to me.
The shift from protagonist to antagonist in these models is one particularly difficult transition. A former ally may now act in destabilizing or hostile ways. But this isn't simply a matter of swapping labels—it requires interpretation. We are forced to ask: What motivates these actions? Are they the result of incompetence, ideology, or deliberate malice?
It’s not only individuals who shift, but entire regions. Places once considered geopolitically quiet—like Canada or Greenland—are suddenly of strategic interest. This forces us to expand the spatial framework of our situation models and adjust our focus accordingly.
The constant need to update and adjust generates not only uncertainty but also cognitive fatigue. But I don’t believe disengagement is an option—not for us, and certainly not for those children standing silently in the park, absorbing more than they can yet articulate. If they are to grow into a world this complex, then it is on us to at least try to understand it.
That effort begins with resisting the urge to jump to conclusions. In our search for coherence, we share something fundamental with conspiracy thinkers. But unlike them, we must strive to ground our models in evidence, not impulse—in reality, not speculation.
Understanding the seismic shifts in our world requires more than vigilance. It calls for flexible, deliberate, and sustained thought. Updating our situation models is not a matter of keeping up with the news—it is how we orient ourselves within an increasingly disorienting world.
If we have a better sense of the processes by which we comprehend unfolding events, we can improve our ability to anticipate consequences, resist panic, and act with greater clarity and resolve—rather than retreat into fear or paralysis.
At least, that’s what I tell myself—so I don’t have to think: We are living in a pre-war era.
If this resonated with you, feel free to share or subscribe. I’d love to hear how you’re thinking about the times we’re living in.