"Talkin' 'bout My Generation"

What follows is a short opinion piece I wrote recently on generational labeling in contemporary culture, a trend that’s been bothering me. I apologize if it sounds too much like whining; I did try to keep it from turning into a rant. In any case, I’m wondering if others agree with my concern. Thanks as always for reading!

Students making intergenerational friends in Urbino, Italy—Photo by Craig Clifford

“Talkin’ ‘bout My Generation”

I’ve been reading quite a lot of commentary recently—cultural, political, literary—in “alternative” publications I consider legitimate, intelligent, and even-handed. Most of the “legacy press” no longer fits that description in my view; nor does the plethora of extremist options. I’ve been pleased to escape the reductionism, misinformation, and name-calling on both sides. I’ve especially appreciated the lack of a constant tendency to separate people by race, ethnicity, political affiliation, what have you. (I’ve also been grateful not to be hit constantly with the prejudicial and divisive idea that states have colors, leading to overall value judgments and condemnations of entire swaths of the country.) But I have, somewhat to my consternation, noted that one type of grouping seems to be acceptable even to these generally unbiased commentators: that is the dividing and stereotyping of people by generation. Even many of those who justifiably and consistently call out bad actors on all points of the political and cultural spectrum fall into this habit.

Could I be the only one disturbed by this trend? I’ve discovered that I’m not. A little Google research revealed that some individuals, even quite authoritative ones, have opposed the practice, specifically in the social sciences and finance. Generational labeling, they’ve argued, creates problems in both of those areas. It looks like the word is out. But judging by my reading, it really hasn’t gotten around, at least not in media and popular culture, two areas of particular interest to me.

In fact, even when the writers I usually admire complain about the inappropriate lumping together of, say, Millennials or Gen Xers, they often turn around and accuse Zoomers or Boomers. I’ve just indicated indirectly what I suspect to be a huge part of the problem—the trendy monikers now given to each generation. Let me be clear: I hate those names. They make my skin crawl and my teeth hurt. I understand that in our fast-changing lives, we should pay attention to the varying influences each new wave of the world’s occupants is subjected to—particularly when it comes to internet technology. If we grew up with or without desktop computers, the Web, iPhones, AI—yes, that does in one way identify, define, and divide us. But only in one way—one that has very little bearing on a lot of other more significant factors and that always serves to obscure the unique characteristics of individuals.

Aside from the fact that using them sounds childish, those cutesy names also seem to make it acceptable to condemn whole groups of the population. I’m sure every generation is more sensitive to the attacks made on its own members than to others, and I admit I’m not immune to that. As a so-called “Boomer” (can you hear my teeth grinding?), I do notice every time that term is used to discredit those my age—and every time that term is used, that’s exactly what’s happening. In fact, though we sometimes use the original “baby boomers” ourselves, I’ve yet to see writers from my generation make use of that relatively recent bit of nomenclature—and not because we’re too old to be cognizant of trendy language, thank you. Somehow it seems that as long as writers, even reputable ones, are referring to the members of our entire generation as Boomers, it’s okay to dismiss, undercut, and mock us—while lumping us all together. Boomers cost society too much (I don’t), Boomers can’t use technology (I can), Boomers shouldn’t be running the country (I shouldn’t—but not because of my age). Just for one quick case: as I read through a recent hard-copy issue of The Atlantic (okay, yes, many in my generation still read print—but I know that some members of other generations prefer it too), I found the term used, negatively, in both of the otherwise even-handed and intelligent articles addressing topics in current culture. Neither discussion called for snarkiness—but that’s where use of the term led them. Maybe it’s an overall attitude and not just the label; but I think the dismissive tone might be a lot less likely to appear acceptable—even to the writers themselves—if they referred instead to “people over 65” or “people of retirement age” or “our grandparents’ generation.” After all, though they might feel superior knowing they’ll never be “Boomers,” they will most likely end up in much the same place, and sooner than they expect.

This isn’t, however, about ageism: I’m not saying the same kind of bias isn’t directed at each generation. It is. What I’m saying is that it shouldn’t be. The same kind of thing happens when people my age are doing the commenting. Do we really need to keep insisting that Zoomers are anxious, Millennials won’t marry or leave home, Gen Xers are invisible? To test my theory, I tried a little thought experiment on myself. I noted what came immediately to mind when I thought about “Zoomers.” Right away, the standard stereotypes presented themselves: they’re anxiety-ridden, uninformed, glued to their phones, lacking in curiosity. (I could almost hear Bill Maher’s voice.) Then I tried it a different way: I focused on “people currently in their late teens and early twenties.” The image that phrase conjured was entirely different. For one thing, as some proponents of ideologically-based language modification have pointed out in other cases, the subjects of my thinking were now people first. And then they suddenly became people I have something in common with: I was once in my late teens and early twenties. Added to that, every generation of students I’ve come to know during my 40+ years of university teaching was largely composed of people that age. Those students weren’t all like each other. Neither, I can wager, are these. At the same time, having been born within the last 20 or so years doesn’t make them entirely different from people born earlier. As with other distinctive identity groupings, paying attention to the fact that your own way of seeing the world isn’t the same as everyone else’s, is laudable. Crossing from that awareness to stereotyping isn’t.

I suspect one of the defenses of those indulging in it would be that this kind of generational generalizing is amusing. Okay, I admit I’m fine with Bill Maher’s brand of humor—I’m not suggesting anyone censor it. We are and should be allowed to make fun of each other along with ourselves; that kind of comedy is recognized as satire. But what works in a stand-up routine isn’t necessarily appropriate for serious discourse and commentary. I think what’s needed in those venues is the adoption of a concept of generationism. I suggest that serious writers drop all of those annoying popular generation names from their lexicon. I’ll even go so far as to recommend that my favored publications’ style sheets banish them outright. I think that might help us reach over at least one of the many fences dividing us. And surely it would help us all do a little growing up—whatever our generation.