If you think the world is a mess now, that just means you weren't around in the 1970s.
In Britain, where I grew up, the low point was known as "the winter of discontent," a line borrowed from Shakespeare's Richard III.
The inflation rate in 1975 was 27 percent.
The trains were always late.
The payphones were always broken.
Worst of all were the recurrent strikes.
Strikes by coal miners.
Strikes by dockers.
Strikes by printers.