Introduction

Like many others, I have spent recent days since the tragic and violent incidents across the northeast trying to make sense of what has happened; what may have caused it, and what might still be done to prevent further harm. I previously shared some thoughts here and here, but the weight of these recent events demands more than a passing comment. I know that some of my reflections may be mocked, misread, or dismissed without reason, but silence feels like the easier failure. To stand at a distance, watch communities suffer, and merely shout that our society is broken no longer feels acceptable to me. Not that was ever my reality.

Disagreeing Without Division

Surely humanity would be better served if more of us learned how to disagree without dehumanising one another. Disagreement should test ideas, not licence hostility; yet too often public discourse now rewards the loudest attack rather than the strongest argument.

We see it whenever an argument about housing, immigration, poverty, policing, or protest stops being about policy and becomes a demand to decide who deserves contempt. This is not abstract: the Runnymede Trust’s 2025 analysis of 62.7 million words across 52,990 news articles and 317 House of Commons debates found that terms such as “illegal”, “flood”, and “influx” were persistently associated with migrants, presenting them as threats or outsiders.

Too many forums have become arenas for performative outrage, where people circle like rabid dogs, baying for the first sign of blood from anyone cast as an adversary. But it does not have to be this way. If we are serious about rebuilding social cohesion, we must first recover the discipline of disagreeing with honesty, restraint, and respect.

Questioning the Family Assumption

A familiar rhetorical phrase, often softened by nostalgia, suggests that “families who stay together grow together and flourish.” I am not convinced this has ever been wholly true—at least not in such simple terms, and not without important context.

However, it is worth examining the assumption more carefully, including the evidence that might support or challenge or possibly negate this assumption.

Why the Family Unit Still Matters

It is clear to me that the importance of “the family unit” is not merely sentimental. It is reflected upon and continually appears within evidence about poverty, resilience, and social participation.

The Joseph Rowntree Foundation’s UK Poverty 2026 report notes that around one in five people in the UK were living in poverty in 2023/24. It also highlights how prolonged poverty can weaken family life through fatigue, hunger, stress, and reduced social connection. For many, leaving the family unit or community is not simply a personal choice, but a necessary search for relief. As meaningful local work declines, social mobility can become less an ambition to pursue new opportunities and more a means of survival.

However, when families have the means to support themselves through work, and feel supported, valued, and able to function, they usually provide stable foundations for more peaceful and cohesive communities. This is reflected in the Centre for Social Justice’s 2026 discussion paper The Stability Advantage, which identifies family breakdown, worklessness, economic dependency, addiction, and severe debt among the key pathways into poverty. When those foundations are weakened, ignored, or dismissed, the consequences rarely remain private; they shape the strength, cohesion, and long-term health of the wider community and society itself.

The Social Value of Family

A substantial body of academic research supports the view that the family unit has inherent social value and remains important to social cohesion. The Local Government Association’s Family Relationships Toolkit, for example, states that stable, supportive, and emotionally responsive family relationships are central to children’s health, development, resilience, and longer-term social and educational outcomes. Yet many now argue that family and personal values are in “terminal decline”, particularly—though not exclusively—among young people in the Western world.

I prefer to believe that little in life is truly terminal until that final reality confronts us all.

What is known about Social Cohesion?

Social cohesion has been studied for centuries through theoretical, empirical, and ethnographic approaches. Many academics have examined why it breaks down and have repeatedly explored the causes behind what we see today: a concept that may now feel more like an aspiration than a stable social framework. But what does “social cohesion” actually mean?

The United Nations Economic Commission for Europe (UNECE) has described social cohesion as, broadly speaking, the “glue” that holds society together. It argues that understanding social cohesion can help explain the effects of globalisation, ethnic and group fragmentation, inequality, and barriers to social mobility. Yet UNECE also notes that defining social cohesion precisely is difficult because, scientifically, it cannot be directly observed or measured. The concept covers many dimensions and can become too broad unless clearly defined through relevant levels of analysis. So, if academia and science cannot provide all the answers to my—or our—questions, then hope for change may be the strongest tool I have left.

Why is Cohesion Fractured?

I would argue, in simple terms, that social cohesion has been weakened by a culture of growing individualism and overt commercial value, where “success” is measured by financial wealth and personal power over others.

This concern is not merely rhetorical: recent behavioural-economics research in Frontiers in Behavioural Economics frames many contemporary social challenges as cooperation problems in which individual interests conflict with the collective good, while scholarship on interpersonal trust has also linked materialism with reduced trust between people. These attitudes seem rooted in—and reinforced by—aspirations linked to the so-called American Dream: the belief that individual freedom is inherently virtuous and that anyone can pursue whatever they want, provided it generates enough money. In recent decades, social media has amplified and normalised this mindset, making it increasingly widespread.

This way of thinking now runs through the lives of more and more people, including many living far beyond America itself. Yet few societies are beyond the reach of algorithm-driven American marketing machines. Academic reviews support this concern: research in Trends in Cognitive Sciences identifies platform design and algorithms as processes through which social media can shape polarisation, while a systematic review in the Annals of the International Communication Association found that pro-attitudinal media often exacerbates polarisation.

Regardless of the above I am not condemning personal ambition, nor dismissing anyone’s wish to build a better life for themselves or their family. That is something which is both a noble, natural and inherent desire. However, the late George Carlin, a renowned American author, comedian and satirist had some extremely valid – if coarse and irreverent – observation about the so-called American Dream (see YouTube). His observations might help you to think differently about the “dream”, which was once such a powerful driver, and for so for many.

Irrational Aspirations

Here lies a deeper social problem: what do we genuinely hope for our friends, neighbours, families, communities, and society itself? Too often, very little—until we have secured our own version of “it”. And “it” must usually be bigger, better, and more expensive than everyone else’s: the house, the car, the holiday, the title, the promotion, the salary, or the early retirement. Even when bought on credit, these symbols are still mistaken for achievement, success, and self-worth.

Academic evidence supports this concern: a 2014 meta-analysis published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, covering 753 effect sizes from 259 independent samples, found that materialism is consistently associated with lower personal wellbeing, particularly through negative self-appraisals. A further review in the Annual Review of Psychology found that people who give high priority to wealth, possessions, image, and status tend to report lower wellbeing, weaker interpersonal relationships, higher debt, and less prosocial behaviour. Additional related research in the Journal of Consumer Research suggested that materialistic values often tend to conflict with collective-oriented values, including family and community commitments, creating psychological tension and reducing wellbeing. To my thinking, this is all a sad indictment of where we are with social disintegration.

Societal Priorities

This week—the last in August 2026—we were told, with some excitement, by Sky News and others that NASA’s $4bn Roman Space Telescope had launched from Florida to “uncover the universe’s biggest mysteries.” According to NASA scientists, the Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will help answer key questions about dark energy, exoplanets—whatever they are—and astrophysics. This hugely expensive piece of space technology, apparently packed with technical wizardry, is named after NASA’s first chief astronomer, often called the “mother of the Hubble Space Telescope.” During its lifetime, with a field of view at least 100 times larger than Hubble’s, it may measure light from a billion galaxies. That is no doubt thrilling for astrophysics enthusiasts and “final frontier” Star Trek fans, but not, I should add, for me. As if we don’t already have a significant number of urgent mysteries closer to home that still require fixing.

I am not dismissing or belittling the value of scientific curiosity or research—far from it. What I struggle to understand is the humanitarian value for money in such ventures, even while accepting that some benefits may exist. My concern is that, while we—mainly Americans—roam through space in search of distant galaxies, possible new life forms, and perhaps more realistically, fresh sources of valuable resources, too many people continue to overlook the struggling inhabitants of planet Earth.

The world’s population is projected to continue growing for the next 50 to 60 years, peaking at approximately 10.3 billion by the mid-2080. (www.un.org)

Our planet and its resources are under increasing pressure from a growing human population, while animal species are disappearing and the ecosystems that sustain them are deteriorating. This is especially troubling because many of those who celebrate expensive scientific ventures may also have contributed significantly to the damage now affecting the world. A 2019 UN report warned that we are destroying ecosystems faster than they can recover.

…around 1 million animal and plant species are now threatened with extinction, many within decades, more than ever before. (www.un.org)

When the Americans, Russians, or Chinese push further into space, their efforts are often driven as much by imperial ambition and commercial gain as by scientific discovery. The noble language of exploration may provide a reassuring cover, but many now see the renewed space race differently. Its momentum appears to come partly from billionaire vanity projects associated with figures such as Musk and Bezos, and equally from the geopolitical rivalries of leaders such as Trump, Xi Jinping, and a weakened but still dangerous Vladimir Putin, who is currently consumed by his war in Ukraine. It is troubling to think that so much global disorder is being shaped by a small group of insecure older men determined to leave their mark on history. Many people suffer from involuntary flatulence; far fewer seem to enjoy the mess that can be left behind. I suspect the men mentioned above may be among the increasingly numerous exceptions.

We are often informed – possibly sometimes out of jealousy by some – that the few most financially wealthy people in our world actually have more money than the combined total of those deemed to be the poorest in our world.

Wealth of five richest men doubles since 2020 as five billion people made poorer in “decade of division” (Oxfam)

For me—and I suspect it’s the same for many others—the most frustrating part of all this is that it does not have to be this way. The recent sad passing of American musical icon Dolly Parton should have reminded us of an important truth: those with great wealth often have far more power to improve other people’s lives than they choose to use. Their financial security could support meaningful action and help ease the hardship of others. Yet, as with so many social problems, we cannot always remedy the failings—or the greed—of the few.

Dolly didn’t spend $800m on a fucking yacht, she used her wealth to buy books for disadvantaged kids. Let that sink in for a moment. (unknown)

Before we begin to look elsewhere for answers to problems we barely understand right now, perhaps governments and the scientific community should devote more time, expertise, energy, and money to addressing the crises we have already created here on Earth. Many stem from systems and ideas we mostly understand, yet those systems have failed to deliver the outcomes once promised or expected. Perhaps we are simply too absorbed in our own small worlds to see—or hope for—the bigger picture. But, for now, back to the matter at hand.

The UK’s inequality is damaging all parts of our economy and society, while creating enormous profit for the richest few. We can only solve our struggling economy and hurt communities by making our society more equal. (The Equality Trust)

Multi-faceted Causal Factors

Societal breakdown is never born from a single cause. It is the result of many pressures—some visible, some buried deep—and its consequences ripple through families, communities, institutions, and generations. The weakening of family structures and the rise of individualism are only part of that wider story.

This point is reinforced by a 2025 UK Millennium Cohort Study analysis in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health which found that persistent poverty and family adversity were associated with more than double the risk of weapon involvement and police contact by age 17, while estimating that 32% of weapon involvement and 23% of police contact were attributable to such adversity.

A 2026 systematic review in Trauma, Violence, & Abuse also found that early interventions for vulnerable children can improve prosocial behaviour, resilience, academic outcomes, and violence-related outcomes. But reopening old wounds will not heal them. If society carries scars, then our task is not to rehearse blame, but to repair the conditions that inflicted the damage. Early social and community risks can still be reduced through timely, supportive intervention. Yet too often, modern risk assessment has become little more than emergency triage inside overstretched, underfunded systems, when what is needed is the courage, patience, and investment to rebuild the foundations themselves.

Societal Sticking Plasters

Is it any wonder we keep undermining ourselves with so-called community initiatives—community support, development, schools, hospitals, GP surgeries, and hubs? These services matter, especially in poorer regions, but they need real investment, not the word “community” pasted onto inadequate provision or promised services that still do not exist. This is what short-term thinking, political soundbites, and weak policymaking produce. As a society, we can—and must—do better.

However, support systems and agency-led interventions can only go so far, especially when they are designed for people rather than with them. Evidence supports this distinction: research on agency-based empowerment interventions in the Journal of Behavioural Health Services & Research emphasised the role of personal agency in improving health and development outcomes, while the Handbook of Behaviour Change notes that self-efficacy is a key predictor of successful behaviour change across health, work, and educational settings.

Where support is genuinely needed, it should empower people to act, not train them to wait for others to solve every problem. This raises a difficult but necessary question: are people still encouraged to speak up for themselves, make realistic choices, and accept the consequences—good or bad—of those choices? Many are capable of doing so, even if society increasingly assumes, and the media often suggests, otherwise. In recent decades, too many people have been encouraged to see almost any difficulty as someone else’s fault and therefore someone else’s responsibility to fix. This expectation is often reinforced by the arguable overreach of the so-called nanny state. Yet it is now painfully clear that “nanny” cannot, and should not, be expected to solve everything. Resources are finite, from household budgets to national spending, so priorities must be set—and they will not always align with our own, even though government supposedly works for us. That, in itself, should give us pause for thought yet fix things we  must.

Cost-of-living Crisis

How do you expect me to survive, let alone function, in this cost-of-living crisis? It is a question we hear frequently, but not always from those with real experience of deep family financial hardship. Before the predictable reply comes— “easy for you to say from your privileged position”—I accept the point. Still, that does not mean I lack understanding or empathy for people genuinely struggling.

The thing I find wearying and disingenuous is the constant stream of complaints from those who, because they have a platform, assume they understand hardship. Many do not. Meanwhile, people without a voice—or without anyone willing to speak for them—move from one financial crisis to the next, unable to feed their families, buy clothes, or keep a roof over their heads, while asking the urgent question: “How will my family and I survive?” Research supports the gravity of that question: a 2025 Social Science & Medicine study of 7,027 adults in Great Britain found that financial hardship during the cost-of-living crisis was strongly associated with moderate and severe psychological distress.

Of course, life should amount to more than simply surviving. Yet what we call a “crisis”—and what it means to “survive” one—depends greatly on our lived experience. Those words mean something vastly different for people who have no choice but to face hardship directly. A 2025 participatory study in the Journal of Poverty and Social Justice, involving more than 100 low-income parents and caregivers across the UK, found that many families experienced the cost-of-living crisis not as a temporary shock, but as a continuation of an already normalised struggle to meet their already essential costs. Whether their resilience was shaped by choice, necessity, or circumstances far beyond their control, they learned to cope because they had no alternative. That once-common individual and communal skill is probably something that has also been in steady decline for decades.

Unhelpful Narratives

If you listen to the media today, you could be forgiven for thinking that we are always doomed to endure the latest ecological, political, or financial catastrophe. The Apocalypse is apparently imminent, with Armageddon close behind. We can’t afford our car payments, we haven’t had a holiday this year, we cannot water the lawn, our food is killing us, and we are all “destined to fry in Heatwave Number 9” [hums Mambo #5].

Some academic research has given this concern weight: a 2025 JMIR Mental Health narrative review found that repeated exposure to negative media can amplify uncertainty, distress, and anxiety, while extensive media use may perpetuate stress and symptoms of psychopathology. Yet if we have become so accustomed to living in a near-permanent state of crisis—often created by others and, just as often, not really a crisis at all—why do we still struggle so much at home? One simple answer is possibly that, often, though not always, we choose to. Cue the angry keyboard warriors and their counterarguments.

One fundamental driver in that “choice” is that we have allowed others to define our happiness and our success on our behalf. Governments, academic institutions, and countless agencies have created the standards by which personal and family happiness—and even our individual social worth—are supposedly defined and judged. Anything that falls short is too often treated as inadequate, undervalued, or even worthy of ridicule. Academic evidence on relative deprivation supports this point. Some recent longitudinal research in Affective Science, based in America found that feeling economically disadvantaged compared with others predicted lower gratitude, meaning in life, and belonging; earlier work in Policy Insights from the Behavioural and Brain Sciences similarly shows that upward comparisons can damage emotions, behaviour, health, and social trust. Despite repeated political promises to narrow the gap between the financially rich and the socially poor, the divide continues to widen.

Mismatched Expectations

I am not trying to dismiss or minimise anyone’s social struggles; many people face them every day. What I question is how those struggles are judged—especially by those who keep their distance yet still sit in judgement. This may sound odd, perhaps even raise an eyebrow over the tea break, but I can honestly say, hand on heart, that unlike so many today, I have never deeply wanted to be rich, at least not financially. Perhaps our lack of contentment—or acceptance—is one of the quieter social ills that may be eating away at us. Some research in the Journal of Happiness Studies supports this concern, distinguishing contentment from more fleeting forms of happiness and linking it to self-acceptance and wellbeing.

That said, especially when I was younger, there were certainly times when I wished for a little more money. It would usually have helped because I had seen something shiny, tempting, and entirely unnecessary that I could not quite afford but still wanted. But wanting something is not the same as needing it, however convincing that inner child becomes when it spots a new toy.

As a society, we too often treat wants as needs. They are not the same. Before our shopping baskets make choices our wallets cannot sustain, we should ask: how many of these desires are genuine necessities? The answer may surprise us. Research helps to explain why this distinction matters: studies in the British Journal of Social Psychology found that social comparison and personal relative deprivation can increase materialistic values, while a 2024 study in Frontiers in Psychology found that gratitude-based interventions can reduce the belief that material wealth brings happiness and signifies success. Yet these points also have limits.

As the poverty gap widens, more people are struggling not with luxuries but with basic needs. A new television may equal a month’s food for one family; a replacement car may be another’s mortgage deposit; and a family holiday could clothe someone’s children for a year. This was reflected by the LSE-led review of UK “material deprivation” measures for the Department for Work and Pensions (DWP). Where “deprivation” was defined as; lacking goods and activities considered necessary for an acceptable standard of living. Whilst the National Centre for Social Research 2023 analysis found that 18% of UK children—around 2.6 million—were living in material deprivation in 2021/22. Which is also a figure that has increased since then. However, everything is relative, shaped by choice, circumstance, and the expectations of others. Life is  dire without financial security.

Economic Insecurity

The economic insecurity trap: Financial insecurity is self-reinforcing. Setbacks mean reduced planning and saving, and increasing unemployment, income loss and housing costs. Financial vulnerability is persistent and widespread and not limited to people in poverty. Policy-makers need to tackle it. (jrf.org.uk)

The Joseph Rowntree Foundation (jrf.org.uk), often regarded as one of the UK’s leading voices on poverty, continues to argue that “a better future is possible.” Through its statistically grounded reports, it helps inform and support social change towards a future free from poverty, where people can flourish in a sustainable society—for everyone’s benefit, not just for the privileged few.

Debunking Unhelpful Narratives

Yet however informative and valuable JRF’s many reports have been over the years, evidence alone will not change society unless it also changes the stories we tell about poverty, hardship, and one another. The Foundation rightly recognises—as I do—that there is an urgent need to challenge prevailing narratives (see here); especially those that blame, shame, or divide people instead of addressing the conditions they face. JRF’s commitment to “amplifying the voices of a more diverse pool of storytellers” helps champion social, political, environmental, and economic justice, as well as wider equality. These are the narratives we should promote and listen to: stories that build understanding, inspire action, and move us towards a more compassionate, equitable society, rather than the self-serving noise from parts of the media, politics, and wider society that only drives us further apart.

Calls for Action

The recent tragic events on the A66 near Middlesbrough—an area with one of the highest poverty rates in England—together with the unfolding criminality and sociopolitical fallout that followed, which I have previously commented on here and here, should act as a galvanising call to action for many people, not just politicians. They may appear to be listening now, but the pressing question is how long that attention will last. More importantly, what will actually change—and how soon?

Pragmatism will be an essential trait to keep hold of. There is no quick fix, and meaningful change will not arrive within the timeframe of short-term political soundbites. We all need to “buckle-in” and be prepared for the long haul; because sustained investment—financial, practical, and moral—will be essential, as will innovation. We cannot create something new by relying on the same methods that helped create the problems we now need to address. A nostalgic view of the past, shaped by conditions very different from those we face today, simply will not be enough.

Yes, I know some will question the value of my perspective and ask, quite reasonably, “If all this is so obvious, where are your solutions?” The honest answer is that I do not have them—not all of them, and certainly not in any definitive form. But perhaps that is the point. If people far wiser, better resourced, and supposedly more intelligent than me have repeatedly failed to solve these problems, then admitting uncertainty is not weakness; it is realism.

What matters is not pretending to possess every answer, which goes the same for all of us, but refusing to ignore the questions; once you hear / know what those questions are. And that’s not me being condescending; we need to keep bloody trying to find ways to fix the problem(s). Because if we don’t, the finality of our apocalypse which we’re continually being warned about might actually come to fruition, and rather sooner than we would like expected.

Advocates’ Wellbeing

As for the temptation to carry every crisis personally, that is something I have long resisted, and where possible, have always refused to do. “Not my circus, not my monkey” may sound flippant, but it is also an important and useful guardrail: it prevents personal meltdowns, protects my mental health, and keeps my wholly understandable frustrations from becoming bouts of unproductive anger. If you care about these issues – and you should – I suggest you do similar.

Aspirations and Hidden Costs

I have already recognised the value of personal aspiration and the hope that it may one day be realised. Yet I still wonder whether even worthwhile ambitions can carry hidden costs for individual and social wellbeing, especially now.

We continue to prepare younger generations for goals that are becoming harder to achieve, if they remain meaningful or attainable at all. Our systems of education, vocational training, and personal development were largely designed for a different era.

Academic evidence supports this concern. A review by The World Bank Research Observer in 2025 argued that aspirations can improve educational and labour-market outcomes, but can also backfire and cause frustration or discouragement when they are not matched by any real opportunities. In England, research in the Oxford Review of Education has similarly questioned policy assumptions that low aspiration is the main barrier to social mobility, noting that structural factors such as family poverty and school quality remain central to those aspirations. More recent analysis in Oxford Open Economics also showed that education continues to shape work, pay, health, wealth, and happiness, while still reproducing inequalities linked to social background and geography.

Inherited Expectations

Where parents are able to offer guidance, it is often shaped by expectations formed in very different social and economic conditions. In some communities, poor outcomes have persisted for generations, leaving once-realistic aspirations delayed, blocked, or lost altogether. Academic evidence supports this concern: research in the European Sociological Review shows that parents’ and children’s educational aspirations influence one another over time, while UK longitudinal research summarised by the University of Bristol found that parental aspirations, home learning environments, material resources, and children’s belief in their own ability all help explain why poorer children often do worse at school.

Is it any wonder, then, that some parents—particularly those denied wider educational opportunities themselves—find it difficult to nurture a strong sense of purpose in their children?

Digital Narratives of Success

The pressures above are intensified by digital narratives that prescribe what success and wealth should look like. Younger generations are surrounded by polished, artificial versions of reality, where effortless fame, instant money, and expensive possessions appear not as rare exceptions, but as normal expectations.

Academic evidence supports this concern. A 2024 study in Affective Science found that adolescents who made upward comparisons on social media reported lower momentary self-esteem. A 2020 scoping review in Frontiers in Psychology also found frequent links between adolescent social media use and mental health concerns, particularly depression and distress.

Children are therefore encouraged to measure ordinary life against curated digital images, while success is increasingly framed as instant, effortless, and material. A 2023 Nature Human Behaviour study found that daily social media use among older children and young adolescents was associated with lower self-worth, partly because young people believed others were better off. In that environment, both individuals and powerful technology companies can and do profit from young people’s hopes and insecurities.

We need to be more alert to this corrosive digital influence. Encouragingly, there are signs that awareness is growing, not least in the recent lawsuits brought by parents against major American technology companies.

Poverty, Mobility, and Social Cohesion

When generation after generation has grown up under the weight of poverty, particularly in places like the northeast of England where social investment has too often arrived late, thinly, or not at all, should we really be surprised when family structures strain, trust erodes, and social cohesion begins to fracture?

Academic evidence supports this concern. A Nature Communications study on the geography of intergenerational social mobility in Britain found clear and enduring regional divides, showing that relative deprivation and historically unequal opportunities continue to shape outcomes across family groups. Similarly, the Institute for Fiscal Studies has found that parents’ income and wealth remain strongly linked to children’s later position in the lifetime income distribution, with substantial differences in mobility across neighbourhoods.

Those pressures are made heavier by the need—and sometimes the desperate hope—for social and economic mobility. Yet leaving one place in search of a better life does not always mean escaping hardship; sometimes the grass is only greener because someone else has had the chance to water it. Still, with the right support, mobility can become more than flight from decline. It can become a genuine field of growth.

Conclusion: Repair Don’t Blame!

Social cohesion will not be restored by waiting for government alone, replaying old arguments, or shouting louder across divides we have helped create. It can be rebuilt, but only through deliberate choices made in homes, schools, workplaces, communities, media platforms, councils, charities, and Parliament: choices to listen before condemning, challenge without contempt, invest where neglect has taken root, and by treating hardship not as a character flaw but as a shared responsibility.

My call to action is simple but demanding: we must stop describing all these fractures as though naming is enough. We need to speak differently, support locally, challenge lazy narratives and perhaps even vote differently; despite past failings sitting in the lap of multiple politicians from differing sides of political debate. We must ask harder questions of those in power—and of ourselves. If we want safer, fairer, more hopeful communities, we must become participants in that repair, not spectators of their decline.

Enjoy your day!