Uncertainty, anxiety, and the next 92 days
As I think about the months ahead, it’s easy to be filled with anxiety and a fair amount of dread. Some psychologists have given this anxiety a name, election stress disorder. This may not be an actual clinical syndrome, but it’s a real experience, and it’s been gaining significance since the 2016 election. A Pew poll from earlier this year found that 65% of adults in the US always or often feel exhausted by politics, while 55% always or often feel angry. Across three separate surveys, 1 in 20 people reported being so distressed about politics that they had suicidal thoughts.
Studies suggest that anxiety from politics generally, and elections specifically, is distinct from other forms of anxiety. “There’s something distinctive about the way politics is stressing us out,” said Jayme Renfro, PhD, an associate professor of political science at the University of Northern Iowa who has conducted research on election stress. People who report feeling anxious about politics aren’t only people who otherwise experience high levels of generalized anxiety.
Political conflict triggers a wide range of emotions, from worry, sadness, and despair to outrage, disgust, anger, and frustration. Elections also expose conflict between groups, even within families, that can have tangible social ramifications. In one study, people who said their state was becoming more politically polarized were also more likely to develop anxiety or depression. And when people felt politically dissimilar from the average voter in their state, they also reported experiencing worse physical health.
As much as we enjoy suspense in fiction and the movies, living with uncertainty in real life is difficult. And we’ve had more than our fair share of it over the past several years, beginning with the upheaval of the 2016 presidential election. Added to the stress of life’s other daily challenges, like health, money, and family issues, the cumulative psychological impact can be almost unbearable for many.
Human beings crave information about the future and perceive ambiguity as a threat. Our brains are hard-wired to redirect all of our energy toward creating certainty. The problem is, certainty often isn’t possible. Our efforts are better spent learning to live with ambiguity, finding ways to move forward with imperfect information. In fact, when we think we know everything, we probably don’t — acknowledging this fact is perhaps the most empowering thing we can do.
“Uncertainty is the only certainty there is,” wrote mathematician John Allen Paulos. “Knowing how to live with insecurity is the only security.”
The Uncertainty Principle, articulated (1927) by the German physicist Werner Heisenberg, is a fundamental concept in quantum mechanics. The principle states that there is a limit to the precision with which the position and the velocity can be simultaneously known. In other words, the more accurately we can measure one, the less accurately the other can be discerned.
Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle is mathematically stated this way: Δq x Δv > ħ/m. Here, Δq is the uncertainty in the position of the particle (in meters), Δv is the uncertainty in its speed (in meters per second), m is its mass in kg, and ħ is a constant (Planck’s constant divided by 2*pi). Because the two uncertainties are multiplied together, and the result must be greater than some number, this means that only for the exceedingly small masses of atoms and subatomic particles does the product of the uncertainties become significant.
As a result, Heisenberg’s principle actually has little technical bearing on our daily lives. You may have heard the story of the driver who is stopped by a trooper who says: “I just measured your speed as 42 miles per hour when you were in a 25-mile per hour school zone.” The driver responds, “Are you familiar with the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle? If you are so sure about my speed, you can’t possibly know where my car was.”
The story is amusing, but because the necessary uncertainty regarding the position of the car is much, much smaller than the size of an atom, it’s obviously irrelevant when it comes to the question of whether the car was in the school zone or not.
All that being said, the Uncertainty Principle has important philosophical implications for us. Inherently, it sets boundaries on scientific inquiry, prompting us to ask, are there limits to what science can explain, not just currently, but ever? And how does acknowledging these limits impact the pursuit of knowledge? At the very least, does it engender a certain amount of humility in our quest — and in our debate?
More broadly, Heisenberg’s principle suggests to us that, the more we think we know about one dimension of something, the less we may actually know about another dimension of the same thing. Perhaps, for instance, the more we know with certainty about the war in Gaza from the perspective of the Jewish people, the less we understand about the perspective of the Palestinian people. Or the more we understand with certainty about the fascist and authoritarian aims of Donald Trump, the less we can truly understand about the populist appeal of his message. Analogies are never perfect, but this one prompts useful questions for me as we manage unavoidable uncertainty, particularly political uncertainty.
At the crux of most stress and anxiety is the feeling of being out of control. In the face of ongoing uncertainty, our bodies naturally respond by maintaining a high level of physiological arousal, which is both exhausting and unhealthy. Research published in Nature demonstrated that people who have a 50% chance of receiving an electric shock feel more stress than people who have a 100% chance of receiving a shock. In other words, the anticipation of pain feels worse than the pain itself. Similarly, people who report persistent concern about losing their jobs experience worse health and higher rates of depression than people who get fired. In fact, some research has shown that chronic job insecurity is a stronger predictor of poor health than smoking or high blood pressure.
Too often, in the face of uncertainty, we don’t know what to do. Chronic uncertainty inhibits our ability to consider appropriate responses, while we await more information. And the waiting can leave us, as well as those who depend on us, feeling unmoored and helpless. Fundamentally, the key to managing uncertainty is identifying what we can actually control and acting upon that.
There are, in fact, several strategies to improve our ability to navigate uncertainty. The first is to embrace the discomfort of not knowing. Given that this is in opposition to our natural human tendency, it can be difficult, but resisting uncertainty can inhibit learning, growth, and achievement. According to Satya Nadella, CEO of Microsoft, successful leaders reject a “know it all” in favor of a “learn it all” mindset. You don’t need to have all the answers immediately. Acknowledging the truth about any challenging situation, as well as our own feelings about it, puts us in a better position to move forward.
“What you resist not only persists but will grow in size.”
— Carl Jung
Other strategies for managing uncertainty include a range of tactics from being present and paying attention to stepping back and finding meaning. All of these strategies come down to reframing anxiety around uncertainty in healthier, more productive ways. Avoid negative thoughts. Resist catastrophizing. Reject the certainty of a negative outcome where it doesn’t exist. Feed yourself positive thoughts to counter negative bias. Fundamentally, all of this requires adopting an outlook of determined optimism.
According to Chris Anderson, CEO of TED, determined optimism is a mindset that recognizes the power of human agency in shaping the future, a belief that positive change is possible through intentional actions and collective effort. This attitude acknowledges the challenges and uncertainties of the future but refuses to succumb to negativity or despair by embracing resilience, kindness, decency, and commitment to public service. Anderson’s own optimism was tested upon the tragic death of his oldest daughter. He was challenged to find meaning in his own loss. “My view of the world is that everyone’s life has ripple effects — even a life that was far too short.”
In the context of an election year — and election stress — determined optimism may not only help us manage election stress but it may also empower us to impact the outcome of the election. It recognizes that change is possible and requires a sense of purpose, determination, and unwavering optimism.
Young people are likely to be decisive in the upcoming election, yet we also know that young people have the lowest rates of voting. Clearly, turnout among young people impacted the 2020 election. While turnout among young people in 2020 outpaced 2016 more than any other group, it was still significantly below average. Voter turnout among people aged 18–34 in 2020 was 57% compared to 49% in 2016, while for those aged 35–64, it was 69% versus 65%, and for those aged over 65, it was 74% versus 71%.
We also know that young people are the least optimistic among us. The paradox of aging theory explains why, despite physical and cognitive decline, older people generally report higher levels of happiness and wellbeing. These feelings aren’t universal, and happiness varies depending upon a variety of circumstances, from psychological disposition to physical and financial health, but broadly controlling for these factors, learned resilience from a lifetime of experience increases our wellbeing over time. Not surprisingly, this is correlated with optimism. Faced with the uncertainty of the future, it can be helpful to know that the optimism of older generations is indicative of our ability as humans to adapt and thrive. But not always.
Among my own children, I often see a discouraging amount of pessimism. I sometimes see a deep disappointment even when something positive happens, a feeling that even though the worst didn’t happen, the ideal still feels out of reach. The irony, of course, is that despite having so much more of the future ahead of them, young people are the most impatient of all of us. The other irony, I believe, is that young people aren’t pessimistic or impatient because of their destabilizing uncertainty, but rather because of their absolute certainty.
Some of the voter apathy we see among young people is just that, apathy. But my feeling is, if they’re paying attention, their apathy is actually the result of the greatest optimism slayer there is, cynicism. Their moral center is so strong that they refuse to accept excuses. Their understanding of the gap between what should be versus what is so clear that they can’t abide compromise. They have no stomach for hypocrisy.
I get it — and I admire their clarity. I really do. Too often they shine a light on injustice or inequity that I’ve simply accepted or just become too numb to see. I take that — and I appreciate it. I know I don’t have all the answers to homelessness or border security or Middle East conflict. And I know that the more I learn, the less certain I am about what’s right — and I blame Heisenberg for that. I do, however, see what’s wrong, and I do believe we have the capacity to improve our lives.
To manage uncertainty, I have accepted what I don’t know and chosen instead to focus on what I do know, which is that positive change is possible through our actions, our efforts, and our votes. And I definitely know that a better, brighter future is ours if we want it.
