Why Fatalism is Going Out of Fashion

If you could pick just one quality to pass down to your children, what would it be? Most people might guess brilliant intellect, deep wells of empathy, or perhaps the willpower to resist instant gratification.

Deborah Cobb-Clark, an economist at the University of Sydney, suggests something entirely different: an internal locus of control.

Psychologist Julian Rotter coined the term "locus of control" in the 1960s. It boils down to your sense of agency. People with an internal locus believe they shape the world around them. Those with an external locus think luck, destiny, or other people pull the strings.

What happens when you grab the wheel instead of Jesus?

As it turns out, taking credit for your own destiny is incredibly useful. An internal locus of control drives effort. When Cobb-Clark and her team studied a group of newly unemployed people in Germany, they found that "internals" hunted for jobs far more intensely than "externals." After all, why bother sending out CVs if you think the universe has already decided your fate? Externals even had a lower minimum wage they're willing to accept.

This sense of agency also spills over into self-control. Households that feel in charge of their lives save more of their money. People who dream of starting a business are much more likely to actually take the leap and become founders if they lean internal.

It even makes you a better parent. A study led by Warn Lekfuangfu at the Universidad Carlos III de Madrid looked at expectant mothers. The researchers found that pregnant women with an internal locus of control put much more effort into active parenting. They believe that reading to their kids and developing their skills actually pays off. Externals, meanwhile, are far more likely to think, "Kid's just a helpless plaything of the gods."

Why do we underestimate our own power?

The locus of control is not a strict binary; it sits on a spectrum. While very few people completely lack a sense of agency, a massive chunk of the population routinely underestimates just how much power they have to change their circumstances.

In her book You Can Just Do Things, Cate Hall points to a fascinating study by Francis Flynn and Vanessa Lake. The researchers asked people to estimate how many strangers they would have to approach to get someone to do them a favour, like filling out a questionnaire or lending them a mobile phone. Participants guessed they would face endless rejection. In reality, the actual number of strangers they had to ask was pretty low. People aren't necessarily angels, but looking someone in the eye and rejecting a direct request for help is deeply awkward. We hold more sway over strangers than we think.

We also need surprisingly little encouragement to take charge of our own happiness. Steven Levitt, an economist at the University of Chicago, ran an experiment where people agonising over a big life decisions were told to flip a virtual coin. If the coin told them to make a major change, they were far more likely to actually break with the status quo. Later, those who took the leap reported being much happier than those who stayed put. It suggests that millions of people are desperate for change but lack the internal agency to just do it without a nudge.

Can this mindset fix the modern workplace?

If waiting on destiny holds individuals back, it chokes entire organisations.

A recent paper by Feng Xu at the Harbin Institute of Technology looked at how manufacturing firms in Shenzhen were adopting AI. The split was telling. Employees with an internal locus viewed AI as just another skill to master, and they happily shared their knowledge with colleagues. Externals viewed the technology as a looming threat to their jobs and actively hid information to protect themselves.

So, how do managers fix this? They can start by testing for a locus of control during interviews. As the AI researcher Andrej Karpathy notes, agency is a trait that is both more powerful and much scarcer than raw intelligence.

Companies should explicitly reward action and achievement. They can also shift company culture to encourage boldness. The old startup mantra, "Ask forgiveness, not permission," can certainly cause chaos if you have highly proactive people and zero guardrails. But at its core, the idea of pushing people to take action rather than wait for orders is completely sound.

How do you repair a "damaged" culture?

If an internal locus of control can change a person or a company, can it change an entire country?

In 1987, the American journalist James Fallows wrote a brutal essay for The Atlantic titled "A Damaged Culture." He argued that the systemic failures in the Philippines were cultural as well as political. For decades, many Filipinos guiltily agreed. They blamed the padrino system for endless nepotism. They pointed to toxic pakikisama (a pressure to yield to a group at all costs) and a crippling sense of shame that kept the country stuck in a cycle of corruption.

Most of all, the culture seemed defined by an external locus of control. The colonial disruption by Spain and America had fractured national unity, leaving behind passive fatalism. This was best captured by the phrase bahala na, which roughly translates to "leave it up to God."

For 80 years after American rule ended, the Philippines felt trapped in this mindset. Older generations treated these traits as hardcoded cultural DNA. But today, the country's youth are proving that culture is a choice.

Filipino Gen Z and Alpha are actively dismantling these old norms. Armed with AI, digital literacy, and a heavy dose of hacktivism, they're replacing apathy with action. Grassroots youth organisations are refusing to look away from exploitation, using digital tools to demand transparency from public officials. They're taking a hammer to the ultimate external locus of bahala na and demanding control of their own future.

What does radical responsibility look like?

These young digital natives are editing, instead of abandoning, their heritage. They're redefining deep-rooted cultural values through critical thinking and mental health.

Take utang na loob, the traditional debt of gratitude. Historically, this pressured children into carrying massive financial obligations for their extended families, often sabotaging their own futures. Today's young breadwinners are setting boundaries. They're having blunt conversations about financial literacy and drawing a firm line between helping family and destroying themselves.

Instead of romanticising "Filipino resilience" when the government fails during a typhoon, Gen Z is stepping up as local climate justice champions. They're taking community welfare into their own hands.

This shift is visible on the global stage. Alex Eala, the Filipina tennis star named to the 2026 TIME100 Next list, is a prime example of this new agency. She thrives under immense pressure by leaning on pakikipagkapwa (a shared sense of community identity). Whether she's speaking Tagalog to a global audience or wearing custom gear inspired by Philippine symbolism, she treats her culture as a source of power.

But pakikipagkapwa used to mean staying quiet to keep the peace. Now, the youth have detached connection from submissiveness. Protecting the collective means calling out toxic bosses, systemic corruption, and generational trauma.

This generation is calling for pananagutan, or radical responsibility. They expect reciprocity in business. They separate being a "good Filipino" from blind obedience. They embrace kusang loob, or self-directed execution, demanding remote work, autonomy, and bosses who lead by consultation rather than ego.

Ultimately, finding your internal locus of control is about realising you hold the pen to write your story. Whether it's a German job seeker refusing to settle, a pregnant mother investing in her child's future, or a massive generation of young Filipinos shaking off decades of colonial fatalism, the lesson is the same. The future belongs to those who refuse to leave it up to the gods. ⬣