IThis might come off as unusual, but discussing the weather was common for us. If not that, we tend to contemplate the trivial exchanges with strangers we encounter daily, like musing over the train delays or commenting on a baby’s cuteness. However, the nature of our public conversations appears to be shifting.

Recently, while at Aldi, I engaged in the typical small talk at the checkout. When the cashier mentioned her fatigue from extra shifts to save for Christmas, a man behind me chimed in, suggesting that things would worsen if “she took all our money” (in case you’re curious, Rachel Reeves is definitely pushing her budget agenda). It seemed ordinary, until he proceeded to speak about how she and the government should go out, hinting at ex-military men who supposedly knew what to do, before escalating into graphic commentary until the line quieted down. What struck me was how calmly he articulated these thoughts, as if political violence had become just another acceptable topic for casual chats, akin to football or construction updates. It dawned on me later that this was a conversation drawn straight from Facebook, transposed into reality, where he voiced what’s often casually expressed online, seemingly unaware that such remarks can still shock in public—at least for now.

I recalled this encounter when Health Secretary Wes Streeting noted that NHS staff from ethnic minorities are facing a resurgence of openly expressed racism, a reflection of broader societal trends. Streeting’s remarks highlighted not only blatant racism but a general loss of decorum that transcends hospital waiting rooms. This atmosphere is palpable even at a bus stop, where a simple query about Route 44’s new schedule can pivot to wild theories about chemtrails and surveillance. Similarly, innocent conversations at school gates can reveal surprising and bizarre beliefs among seemingly normal parents regarding vaccines.

One of my friends dubs this phenomenon “sauna politics,” drawing from the bizarre and conspiratorial discussions he overheard at a local sauna. But whatever the name, it feels as though individuals are now externalizing their inner dialogues—thoughts they previously hesitated to voice publicly, sometimes even hiding them from themselves. After all, people can state such ideas online without a second glance. What, I wonder, is the equivalent of a young man attempting something he saw in online adult content with his girlfriend, only to be baffled when it fails? This time, however, the culprits are more likely confused teenagers than parents, grappling with the rapid dissolution of online social norms and a resurgence of slurs they haven’t heard aloud since their youth.

Midlife radicalization, which might seem paradoxical, counters stereotypes of stagnation. In our minds, if not others’, Gen Xers have been seen as the cultural peacekeepers. Too old to be labeled reactionary yet too young to be in the thick of it, we’ve inhabited this Goldilocks zone of moderation. Nevertheless, something appears to have transpired among those encountering midlife crises. Gen Xers now fear the world is evolving beyond their grasp. We worry about job security, marital stability post-children, whether our ideas are antiquated, and if we’re the subject of ridicule behind closed doors. While many navigate this phase without succumbing to political upheaval, some do seek release for their frustrations and disenchantment with unmet life expectations.

Populist insurrections now seem fueled by Generation X, rather than embittered retirees or teenagers swayed by right-wing propaganda. Only 19% of those in their 50s in the UK voted for British Reform. Surprisingly, one-third of those aged 50 to 64 would likely do the same now, marking a swift shift for the “Cool Britannia” generation that once propelled Tony Blair into office, according to YouGov—pivotal for propelling the party from fringe to mainstream. In the US, Generation X is known for being the demographic most inclined to identify as Republicans.

Still, with few exceptions such as the smidge project – a three-year international study on the dissemination of conspiracy theories and misinformation reveals an alarming lack of focus on understanding how 45 to 65-year-olds can be deradicalized, or how midlife minds react to the experiment of unregulated free speech.

My generation often believes we are immune to the influences of the online world, that we possess greater tech savvy than our parents, that we’re less fixated on TikTok than the youth, and that we can separate online discourse from reality. Yet, evidence suggests we struggle to compartmentalize more than we realize. Perhaps the only surprise is that it took this long for these boundaries to blur, given the thin fourth wall separating online and offline dialogues.