In the early hours of Wednesday morning, the United States elected a racist, bigoted, misogynistic climate change denier to its highest office. Running on a platform of ignorance, lies and prejudice, Trump’s victory represents the triumph of an abusive, mean-spirited politics. It’s a hard reality to stomach. His unstoppable egomania and bullying disposition stand in direct contention with the human values we develop and nurture during our time here at university: hope, compassion and empathy.

The result reinforced what people have felt since the general election of 2015 – a realisation gut-wrenchingly repeated by the Brexit vote in June – that newspapers, television stations and social networks aren’t just poor indicators of how a vote will go, they are often actively and acutely wrong. As The New York Times’ outcome predictor – no doubt carefully balanced for a tight race – swung ludicrously from an 80 per cent chance of a Clinton victory to a terrifying 95 per cent for Trump in a matter of minutes, the unthinkable materialised into reality. From January, the most powerful man in the world will be a shameless man, whose stained business career and vile rhetoric bring shame upon a country which has always defined itself so much in terms of its progressive values.

Our concern should equally be targeted closer to home. Nationalism is on the rise in Europe, as shown by the success of right-wing parties such as the AfD in Germany. Though it has removed their raison d’être, the political climate following Brexit has legitimised the worst facets of Britain’s right wing, who now pursue their own political agenda without a mandate. It is hard to remain positive after a series of political defeats that seem to go directly against the wishes of younger people. That our generation should be forced to live with the consequences of Brexit – the loss of our European citizenship – seems cruelly unfair. For all the distrust of political institutions, voter turnout among younger people is disappointingly low. The most optimistic estimates suggest that just 64 per cent of 18–24-year-olds voted in the EU referendum, outnumbered by the 90 per cent of those aged 65 and over. Belligerent Facebook statuses are not a reasonable substitute for turning up at the ballot box.

Perhaps the single most defining characteristic of ‘millennials’, or whatever label you choose, is an instinct for deferral. Presented with conflict, we choose avoidance; with hatred, we default to humour. Where our parents’ generations marched and protested, we are all too happy to sit and tag each other on memes, and declare that the challenges which face us are insurmountable. Our generation was promised that we were born after the ‘end of history’. We were told that the great battles for fairness, equality and justice had already been fought, that ours was to simply carry the torch forward to an ever-more egalitarian society. Instead, we have been thrown once again into times of darkness.

Trump has landed a blow to the land of opportunity

Facing fascism, irrationality and hatred, we must resist. Our generation cannot afford to be apathetic, and if we want to maintain the values which so much blood was spilled defending over the course of the last century, we must be prepared to fight. Young people must never resign themselves to hopelessness. To do so undermines the central tenet of progressive, optimistic values – that each generation should live in a world better than the one before. We need to be prepared to challenge those who would denigrate and disempower us, to challenge perceived authority and always push to make sure our voices are heard. Since World War Two, political progression in the West has always been driven by the young. That mantle now falls upon us, and we must not cast it off in our apathy and frustration. Refuse to be patronised, never bow to those who would see our views sidelined, and always maintain a belief that we can still shape the world to be a better place. Refuse to be another lost generation. There is no time to waste