Is the End Near? Why 1 in 3 Americans Expect the Apocalypse

In bountiful Chelan County, apple orchards spread out beneath the Methow Ridge, and Javier Morales paused at the edge of his family's land. It was early March 2026. Buds were just starting to swell on the trees, and the air still felt cold from winter. Javier, now forty-eight, had been pruning these rows since he was a boy, but lately the work felt different. There was a new urgency, a sense of something looming.

A new study shows that nearly one in three Americans believes the world will end during their lifetime. Not in some distant future, but while they were still alive. The research, which surveyed over 1,400 people across the U.S. and Canada, was conducted by psychologists, including Dr. Matthew Billet. It showed that apocalyptic thinking had become common. It was no longer just about religious beliefs. Now, it influences how people think about climate change, the effects of the pandemic, nuclear threats, and the fast growth of AI. Some people who believed humans were causing the problems tried harder to make changes. Others who believed a higher power was in control often waited and watched.

Javier felt the tug of both. Summers now scorched hotter, irrigation ditches ran lower, and last year's late frost had claimed half the crop. He thought of his daughter Sofia, twenty-three, who studied environmental science in Ellensburg and texted him articles about tipping points. She believed action could still matter. His wife, Maria, attended Bible study at the little church in Manson, where talk turned to prophecy and signs in the weather. She found comfort in surrender.

At the co-op, neighbors talked quietly about it over coffee. Some older ranchers were stockpiling feed, young families were planting native pollinators, and others just dismissed it as media hype. Javier listened, then went back to his orchard. He checked the drip lines, added more mulch to help with drought, and thought about planting more resilient varieties. He did these things not because he was afraid, but because the land always needed care, no matter what the future held.

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the Cascades, Javier stood among the trees. The study said these beliefs weren't fringe—they drove real choices, fractured consensus, yet also sparked resolve. He thought of the generations who'd tended this valley through floods, freezes, and fires. The world might end tomorrow, or in a hundred years. Either way, the buds would need water and soil to tend to.

He picked up his shears. Tomorrow, he would call Sofia to ask about rootstock. He did not know if the end was coming, but knowing that one in three people believed it made him think. Maybe that shared worry could help something strong take root in North Central Washington's tough soil. It was a quiet act of defiance: keep pruning, keep planting, and keep hoping for a harvest.