A few years ago, on a dreary Oxford afternoon, a group of scholars and philosophers convened in a seminar room to discuss a topic that would have seemed ridiculous a century ago: Are we living at the end of the world?
Will MacAskill coined the phrase, which implies that the decades that are currently passing could influence not only the upcoming election cycle or the next century, but also possibly millions of years of human—or post-human—existence. It’s a bold assertion. Even so, it’s difficult to avoid feeling a little uneasy while hearing the arguments. Because, for the first time, neither mysticism nor prophecy are used in this case. It depends on machine learning curves, nuclear stockpiles, and engineering schedules.
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Key Thinker | Will MacAskill |
| Field | Moral Philosophy, Effective Altruism |
| Affiliation | University of Oxford |
| Related Concept | “Hinge of History” Hypothesis |
| Notable Work | What We Owe the Future |
| Related Book | The Precipice by Toby Ord |
| Academic Center | Centre for the Study of Existential Risk |
| Reference | https://www.cold-takes.com/most-important-century/ |
Through essays and discussions emphasized by the BBC and scholarly forums, the concept of the “hinge of history” initially attracted broader attention. It is based on a straightforward observation: human wisdom, governance, and restraint appear to be advancing more slowly than technological power, which is accelerating. Growing capability combined with a lack of certainty over control creates an imbalance that makes this time feel volatile in a way that has never happened before.
Think about artificial intelligence. In the SoMa neighborhood of San Francisco, you can see office windows that glow late into the night as engineers work to improve large-scale models that can create images, write code, and even design proteins. Artificial general intelligence, according to some researchers, might appear in a few decades. Whoever gains control of these systems first may be able to permanently alter political and economic systems, thereby “locking in” particular values.
That isn’t the boldness of science fiction. According to Toby Ord in The Precipice, there is a one in six chance that humans will go extinct this century. That is referred to as alarmist. Others privately acknowledge that they worry it might be conservative. Whether these probabilities are accurate predictions or well-informed guesses disguised in numerical form is still unknown. However, the tone of the discussion shifts when serious academics give extinction non-trivial odds.
Furthermore, AI is just one source of pressure.
Climate scientists caution that whether global temperatures stabilize or spiral will be decided this century. A period of exceptionally stable weather conditions allowed for the evolution of human civilization. According to some researchers at the Centre for the Study of Existential Risk, stepping outside of that small range is more akin to carrying out a planetary experiment without a control group than it is to adjusting a thermostat. The evidence is more visible outside of conference rooms: farmers in southern Europe witnessing soil cracking under unrelenting heat, smoke-choked skies in California, and streets flooded in Jakarta.
Additionally, there is the unsettling math of engineered pathogens and nuclear weapons. Tools capable of destroying civilization were introduced in the 20th century. They are now more affordable and, in some ways, easier to get thanks to the 21st century. University buildings can now accommodate synthetic biology labs, which previously needed state support. It is both inspiring and slightly unnerving to walk past one in Kendall Square, Boston, with its glass walls and badge-controlled doors. Here, risk and innovation coexist.
Skeptics resist, and for good reason. The last two centuries have seen a significant increase in life expectancy. War-related violent deaths have decreased. Vaccines, which are now available at local pharmacies, are used to treat diseases that once emptied cities. From that perspective, referring to this decade as “the most important in history” sounds like generational conceit, with each era imagining itself to be particularly dramatic.
Both stories seem to have the potential to be true simultaneously. Although we are more exposed on a systemic level, we are safer in many daily aspects. Infection-related deaths are much less common now than they were in 1900. It’s possible that humanity as a whole is more capable than ever of destroying itself.
According to some philosophers, if humanity makes it through the next century while juggling geopolitical tensions, AI alignment, and climate stabilization, the future may be unthinkably long. A species could persist for millions of years if it spreads beyond Earth and diversifies across planets. These decades would, in fact, be given disproportionate weight in that case. Early decisions would compound and reverberate.
However, there is another interpretation that lurks in the shadows. Maybe the only reason it feels so important is that we are experiencing it. World wars, pandemics, and revolutions must have felt apocalyptic to earlier generations. Humanity continued, however. If there are historians in the future, they might view our fears in the same light as we do Y2K: grave but manageable.
Nevertheless, it’s difficult to ignore the compression of change when one observes the annual ratcheting of global temperatures, the silent modernization of nuclear arsenals, and the quick scaling of AI models. What used to take centuries now takes decades. In a year, what used to take decades now happens. History appears to be accelerating, and this acceleration alone could make this era unique.
It’s still unclear if this decade is actually the most significant in history. However, uncertainty is reciprocal. Complacency becomes a dangerous gamble if there is even a remote possibility that these years will shape humanity’s long arc.
It feels more like balancing on a threshold than it does to be standing at the end of history right now, surrounded by tools and choices never seen before. A hinge doesn’t make an announcement. It just swings.





