Time Goes On and Nothing Changes

A reflection on youthful activism

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

I recall listening to NPR in 2022 as they discussed recent college commencement speeches. One was by Gloria Steinem. The segment excerpted her saying at Weselyan: “You are already the generation of Black Lives Matter.” And it reminded me how much political struggle had been reduced to generational milestones. “You are the generation of Black lives matter” and of course, in the summer of 2013, I became the generation of “Justice for Trayvon.” Or, perhaps, in 2015, I became the generation of “I can’t breathe” after Pantaleo wasn’t charged with the murder of Eric Garner. Surely, at the age of 31, I was too old to be the generation of “Justice for George Floyd.” If I’d been born in 1961 or 1971 instead of 1991 I might’ve been the generation of “Free Mandela” who knows?

There is a vast gulf between youthful rebellion and actual rebellion. Youthful rebellion, by its nature, is rebellion against that which must inevitably give way. Parents grow old and die, jobs and positions become vacant to be filled by those on the make, wealth passes down through inheritance. The young grow strong as the old grow weak, the old slip into oblivion as the young grow strong and the old grow weak, the old slip into oblivion, and so it is, forever and ever; or as long as our species can last. 

Systems of oppression, on the other hand, grow not old, but are instead endlessly regenerated through a steady diet of human beings and human lives. They are a cancer of human sociality run amok, and only in death can we escape them, if we haven’t managed to kill them. Youthful rebellion, the inevitable, eternal, endlessly repeated as if it were the first time spectacle of preparing to become your parents, for better or worse; then, can afford to be optimistic, because it was born to win. Youthful rebellion is cyclical, unlike actual rebellion which breaks cycles. Youthful rebellion is natural. The rebellion which breaks systems is by its nature and intention an unnatural defiance of social inertia.

Which is not to say youths cannot engage in actual rebellion. There never was a rebellion that did not seize the imaginations of those who were new to the old ways. But then, contrary to mythology, the young are always on both sides. They are the revolutionaries as well as those who repress the revolutionaries. Watch the sight, or site, of struggle unfold on television or in person, and see uniformed 25 year olds sticking guns in the faces of malcontented 35 year olds. The old and rich don’t defend themselves, nor do they butcher on their own behalf: They hire out the work to more able hands. The youth are, therefore, inevitably, on both sides. 

At a certain point, when one is not quite old enough to be looking toward the exit, nor quite young enough to still have the majority of one’s naivete, one realizes one has been playing a part. That with all thy strength, all thy soul and all thy might, if not always all thy mind; but frequently enough that too, you had simply been flailing about like people your age do. And all the endless debates, the solemn counsels, the courageous risk taking in the streets the principled haranguing, had all simply been you acting your assigned part in an endless theatrical production called society. 

On some level, we knew we were doing what young people do, but somehow, we also thought we were changing the world. But that world hasn’t changed, and we’re tired now, and we’ve student loans to repay, so we’ll leave revolution, or rebellion,—to be more precise— in the hands of the young; always in the hands of the young. 

But some don’t, can’t, won’t, leave revolution to the young. They hang around learned metropolises and idyllic college towns, professional organizers of the young, cynically burning through the ideals of generation after generation, and maybe all the while they do some good and yet: nothing changes. The more industrious, or shall I say, more profitably shameless of these go on to found non-profits, or join university administrations where, in loco parentis, they’ll explain to today’s radicals that the august administrator who stands before them robed magnificently in authority once stood on the other side of it, where the young radicals are. The university official does this to assure the radicals they have a friend, an understanding ear, in power. Which is odd, because a wooden stake through the official’s heart would be among the more rational responses to such a lecture. If we’re to believe old folklore.

 Others keep the ardor, the resolution and the fire of youth burning through either superhuman commitment or a mania for justice, but lack the cynicism to curate pseudo-revolutionary spectacles to fill the stage of youthful rebellion. Their dutiful plodding goes on down in the trenches, where the wretched suffering lie hidden from sight. And still, nothing changes. However much of their life force these noble martyrs give out working so that it would.

The escape route from this weary sketch is to steal revolution from the young, to realize that revolution is as much the business of the octogenarian and newborn as of the idealistic, politically aggressive college sophomore. In fact, in a failing world, it is the only business worth attending to. Revolution against the established order must cease to be considered a phase. There are those who simply become reactionaries with age and have no problem saying their young idealistic self was a complete fool. The best thing one can do about such people generally is to put enough work into developing one’s early political positions so as to avoid becoming one, as I strongly suspect the half-informed mindless follower is more likely than the committed ideologue to end up in such a position. The more dangerous population is those who still nominally hold to their old ideals, and still feel entitled to being seen as virtuous based on the fact of their still holding to those ideals, but who, nevertheless, think they have no longer any role or obligation in actually making society more equal, just and free. These are people who have often reached the zenith of their economic security and social power, but are at the nadir of their sense of practical social responsibility while, to reiterate, they claim to still feel that social responsibility and a sincere desire for a better world. To speak of social justice as a source of generational milestones is to condemn any hope of achieving social justice to the purgatory of self-righteous hypocrisy.