As an Iraq war opponent and a geographer, I've already got two things against Thomas Friedman, whose errors include his support for the war and continual suggestion of giving it "six more months," along with his rather deranged book on economic geography, The World Is Flat. His latest op-ed in the New York Times, entitled "Generation Q," isn't on the same level of the previous ones, but it's pretty maddening in its own right.
Friedman's argument is effectively that the current generation of 20-somethings (and I have to say that while I'm a border case in regard to the big official generation definitions, I tend to identify with the younger set than the "Gen X" crowd I'm on the tail end of) do not lack for idealism, activism, or altruism, but that we're way too quiet about it. The radix of Friedman's article lies here:
America needs a jolt of the idealism, activism and outrage (it must be
in there) of Generation Q. That's what twentysomethings are for -- to
light a fire under the country. But they can't e-mail it in, and an
online petition or a mouse click for carbon neutrality won't cut it.
They have to get organized in a way that will force politicians to pay
attention rather than just patronize them.
Honestly, while someone had brought the op-ed to my attention, I basically blew it off. There's nothing in Friedman's piece that's particularly new, although he hits a vaguely more interesting rhetorical tone than the standard, "these kids today don't care about anything! (with their hair and their clothes...)" My least charitable response would be that there are elements of the boomer generation who honestly thought they were going to change the world and bring about the Age of Aquarius and all that, and they're both bitter that it didn't happen, and indignant that the current generation isn't following their lead. (And in Friedman's case, he might also be avoiding the fact that he was a vocal cheerleader for what my generation is most outraged about, the Iraq war.)
A much better response (hat tip to AS) comes from American Prospect columnist Courtney Martin:
We are not apathetic. What we are, and perhaps this is what Friedman
was picking up on, is totally and completely overwhelmed. One of the
most critical questions of our time is one of attention. In a 24-7 news
climate, it is all but impossible to emotionally engage all of the
stories and issues you are taking in, and then act on them in some
pragmatic way. So instead, young people become paralyzed. (It seems
that all of us are a bit paralyzed. After all, what are Friedman's
peers really doing? And aren't his peers the ones with the most
straightforward kind of power?)
My generation tries to create lives that seem to match our values,
but beyond that it's hard to locate a place to put our outrage. We
aren't satisfied with point-and-click activism, as Friedman suggests,
but we don't see other options. Many of us have protested, but we -- by
and large -- felt like we were imitating an earlier generation, playing
dress-up in our parents' old hippie clothes. I marched against the war
and my president called it a focus group. The worst part was that I did
feel inert while doing it. In the 21st century, a bunch of people
marching down the street, complimenting one another on their original
slogans and pretty protest signs, feels like self-flagellation, not
real and true social change.
When Friedman was young and people were taking to the streets, there
were a handful of issues to focus on and a few solid sources of news to
pay attention to. Now there is a staggering amount of both. If I read
the news today with my heart wide open and my mind engaged, I will be
crushed. Do I address the injustices in Sudan, Iraq, Burma, Pakistan,
the Bronx? Do I call an official, write a letter, respond to a
MoveOn.org request? None of it promises to be effective, and it
certainly won't pacify my outrage.
Few of the responses I've seen to this sort of charge have ever hit the nail on the head as squarely as this column. Interestingly, this touches on a topic that came up over dinner with my mother at Thai Cafe the other night. At one point I brought up a particularly irritating bumper sticker, which Friedman, perhaps unintentionally, paraphrases in his piece:
. . . if they are not spitting mad, well, then they're just not paying attention.
Righteous outrage is, to be honest, quite a lot of fun. There's an emotional rush to it that can be rather intoxicating. But, in the end, it tends to turn itself into something more about narcissism and less about
actually doing something about the source of the outrage, which is why most modern protests, demonstrations, and marches seem to be more about a glorified self-expression and experientialism than any manner of pragmatic change.
However much the current state of the world might call for it, one simply cannot live ones life in a state of perpetual outrage. (Or rather, those that do seem to end up ineffective and self-absorbed.) And while it is true that in my lifetime I will face challenges and events beyond the imagination of my grandparents, to somehow believe that these problems require a greater challenge than those before is nothing but either unhinged hyperventilation or a cynical attempt to abuse fear and outrage towards some specific end. The current administration may be the most recent and most egregious violators of this, but the left is not without fault here. I recall from childhood growing up and reading the endless direct mailings from hard working, well-meaning groups like the Sierra Club and Handgun Control telling how some recent bill or executive order could cause untold gloom and doom. After a while, however true those mailings were, one gets numb. This sort of perpetual outrage doesn't lead to change -- it leads to an overwhelming desire to lose oneself in a video game, where repeated mashing of buttons will eventually solve the problem. Or worse, it leads to the election of a president who says he can cut taxes and raise spending, and that everything will be alright, because it's "morning in America."
As Martin's piece points out, Friedman shouldn't look at the quiet activism of his "Generation Q" as some sort of failing; rather he should be encouraged that they have rejected the self-centered politics of the past thirty years, and started focusing on what they might be able to do. My way of coping has been to turn almost all of my focus as an activist towards the very local, and after nearly a decade of casting about, it seems that yes, one of the best ways I can contribute is by writing and blogging.
Solving the mess in Iraq and dealing with global warming will not be easy. But then again, as Leslie Marmon Silko noted (and I'm so fond of quoting), it has never been easy.
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