The Fourth Turning: What the Cycles of History Tell Us About America's Next Rendezvous with Destiny

by William Strauss

We foresaw, in other words, that the irenic self-satisfaction of late-1990s America would experience a rather drastic reset. What Fukuyama called “big history” was not coming to an end. Rather, it was about to restart with a vengeance. The remarkable popularity of our book over the last twenty-seven years suggests that a great many readers come to believe that our thesis has thus far been borne out by events. They recognized that the generation-long era we foresaw did indeed begin about when we expected: in the middle of the 2000s decade. The new era was foreshadowed by the 9/11 attacks, began in earnest with the global financial crisis of 2008, and has thus far progressed along the bone-jarring crescendo all-too-familiar to Americans who have been following the headlines: the shrinking of the middle class, the “MAGA” rise of Donald Trump, the collapse of public trust in governing institutions, the harrowing pandemic emergency, the rise of scorched-earth political partisanship, the rise of authoritarian populists both at home and abroad, and the new fears of a great-power war.

This cyclical pattern has shaped more than five centuries in Anglo-American history and, more recently, has been shaping the history of many other societies around the world as well. Each cycle (or saeculum) lasts roughly eighty to one hundred years, the length of a long human life. And each saeculum is composed of four eras that we call “turnings” and that can be regarded either as seasons of history or as phases of a person’s life. A turning lasts about twenty years or so, and each turning (spring, summer, fall, winter) always arrives in the same order.

Guided by this seasonal clock, Bill and I understood that in 1997 America was roughly a decade away from the end of its Third Turning or fall season. Third Turnings are always eras of robust individualism, raucous commercialism, social fragmentation, truculent moralism, weakening community, and pervasive civic drift. In this respect, the 1990s had much in common with the mood that prevailed in America during earlier Third Turnings—for example, in the 1920s, 1850s, or the 1760s. They, too, were decades of cynicism, bad manners, and personal risk-taking. During every one of those earlier Third Turning decades, Americans felt as if they were drifting toward a waterfall. And, as it turned out, they were.

Generations of the Hero archetype, for example, always grow up as protected children, come of age as team-working young achievers during a Crisis, demonstrate hubris as confident midlifers, and age into the engaged, powerful elders who preside over the next Awakening. This archetype fits the G.I. Generation, sometimes called the “greatest generation,” as G.I.s moved from their mid-twenties in 1940, to their mid-forties in 1960, to their mid-sixties in 1980.

Generations of the Prophet archetype, by contrast, grow up as increasingly indulged post-Crisis children, come of age as defiant young crusaders during an Awakening, cultivate principle as moralistic midlifers, and age into the detached, visionary elders who preside over the next Crisis. This archetype clearly fits Boomers as they have moved from their mid-twenties in 1980, to their mid-forties in 2000, to their mid-sixties in 2020.

To explain the pop-culture focus on hardscrabble survival during the 1990s, in everything from start-ups to hookups, we could point to an under-socialized youth generation who were coming of age after a throwaway Awakening-era childhood. These were Gen-Xers (of the Nomad archetype), and they were now replacing Boomers as rising young adults. Their favorite new mottoes (“Just don’t care,” “Works for me”) celebrated an ethic of help-yourself pragmatism, and their favorite generational nonlabel (the evasive X itself) was meant to deflect the hypocritical moralism of former hippies hitting midlife.

Meanwhile, adults of all ages were doing their best to extend a welcoming sense of protection, mission, and collective purpose to America’s newest generation of children (Millennials) and thereby set them on a different course than the older Xer kids they were replacing. These early-1980s “babies on board” were now aging into grade-schoolers who traveled to carefully supervised “safe zones” in the morning and became Power Rangers and friends of Barney in the afternoon.

The First Turning is a High, an upbeat era of strengthening institutions and weakening individualism, when a new civic order implants and the old values regime decays. ■ The Second Turning is an Awakening, a passionate era of spiritual upheaval, when the civic order comes under attack from a new values regime. ■ The Third Turning is an Unraveling, a downcast era of strengthening individualism and weakening institutions, when the old civic order decays and the new values regime implants. ■ The Fourth Turning is a Crisis, a decisive era of secular upheaval, when the values regime propels the replacement of the old civic order with a new one. Each turning comes with its own identifiable mood. Always, these mood shifts catch people by surprise.

The 1760s were followed by the American Revolution, the 1850s by Civil War, the 1920s by the Great Depression and World War II. All these Unraveling eras were followed by bone-jarring Crises so monumental that, by their end, American society emerged in a wholly new form.

we’re in the crisis now.

Sometime before the year 2025, America will pass through a great gate in history, commensurate with the American Revolution, Civil War, and twin emergencies of the Great Depression and World War II.

Covid?

The risk of catastrophe will be very high. The nation could erupt into insurrection or civil violence, crack up geographically, or succumb to authoritarian rule. If there is a war, it is likely to be one of maximum risk and effort—in other words, a total war. Every Fourth Turning has registered an upward ratchet in the technology of destruction, and in mankind’s willingness to use it. In the Civil War, the two capital cities would surely have incinerated each other had the means been at hand. In World War II, America invented a new technology of annihilation, which the nation swiftly put to use. This time, America will enter a Fourth Turning with the means to inflict unimaginable horrors and, perhaps, will confront adversaries who possess the same.

In today’s world, the making of childhood memories remains a visceral practice. Grand state ceremonies box the ears with the thunder of cannons, roar of jets, and blast of fireworks. Teenagers’ boom boxes similarly etch young aural canals with future memories of a shared adolescent community. Like medieval French villagers, modern Americans carry deeply felt associations with what has happened at various points in their lives. We memorialize public events (Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy and King assassinations, the Challenger explosion) by remembering exactly what we were doing at the time. As we grow older, we realize that the sum total of such events has in many ways shaped who we are. Exactly how these major events shaped us had much to do with how old we were when they happened. When you recall your personal markers of life and time, the events you remember most are suffused with the emotional complexion of your phase of life at the time. Your early markers, colored by the dreams and innocence of childhood, reveal how events (and older people) shaped you. Your later markers, colored by the cares of maturity, tell how you shaped events (and younger people).

Consider what happened, from the late 1950s to the late 1970s, as one generation replaced another at each phase of life: ■ In elderhood, the cautionary individualists of the Lost Generation (born 1883–1900) were replaced by the hubristic G.I. Generation (born 1901–1924), who launched America into an expansive era of material affluence, global power, and civic planning. ■ In midlife, the upbeat G.I.s were replaced by the helpmate Silent Generation (born 1925–1942), who applied their expertise and sensitivity to fine-tune the institutional order while mentoring the passions of youth. ■ In young adulthood, the conformist Silent were replaced by the narcissistic Boom Generation (born 1943–1960), who asserted the primacy of self and challenged the alleged moral vacuity of the institutional order. ■ In childhood, the indulged Boomers were replaced by the neglected 13th Generation (born 1961–1981), who were left unprotected at a time of cultural convulsion and adult self-discovery. Known in pop culture as Generation X, its name here reflects the fact that it is literally the thirteenth generation to call itself American.

Viewed through the prism of generational aging, the mood change between the late 1950s and the late 1970s becomes not just comprehensible, but (in hindsight) predictable: America was moving from a First Turning constellation and into a Second. Replace the aging Truman and Ike with LBJ and Nixon. Replace the middle-aged Ed Sullivan and Ann Landers with Norman Lear and Gloria Steinem. Replace the young Organization Man with the Woodstock hippie. Replace Jerry Mathers with Tatum O’Neal. This top-to-bottom alteration of the American life cycle tells much about why and how America shifted from a mood of consensus, complacency, and optimism to one of turbulence, argument, and passion.

A Prophet generation is born during a High. ■ A Nomad generation is born during an Awakening. ■ A Hero generation is born during an Unraveling. ■ An Artist generation is born during a Crisis.

This explains why a new turning occurs every twenty years or so and why history rolls to so many related pendular rhythms. One turning will underprotect children, for example, while another will overprotect them. The same is true with attitudes toward politics, affluence, war, religion, family, gender roles, pluralism, and a host of other trends.

As 13ers have filled the “twentysomething” bracket, the pop culture has become less about soul, free love, and feeling at one with the world and a lot more about cash, sexual disease, and going it alone in an unforgiving world. Why? The young-adult Nomad is replacing the young-adult Prophet. As Millennials have surged into America’s elementary and junior high schools, family behavior has reverted toward greater protection. Why? We are now raising the child Hero, no longer the child Nomad.

Since I was born in 83 and a Xinniel, does that make me a Nomadic Hero? Because I definitely wasn’t overprotected.

Just as floods replenish soils and fires rejuvenate forests, a Fourth Turning clears out society’s exhausted elements and creates an opportunity for fresh growth.

Finally, unlearn the linear view that positive change always comes willingly, incrementally, and by human design. Many Americans instinctively sense that many elements of today’s Unraveling-era America—from Wall Street to Congress, from rock lyrics to pro sports—must undergo a wrenching upheaval before they can fundamentally improve. That instinct is correct. A Fourth Turning lends people of all ages what is literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to heal (or destroy) the very heart of the republic.