Post by johnbc on Oct 23, 2020 19:58:59 GMT
I believed in many lies, but there is one to which I have always been immune: one that celebrates youth as a time of rebellion, independence, love of freedom. I do not give credit to this nonsense even now, despite flattering me. Quite the contrary, from an early age I am very deeply impressed by the conduct of my generation mates, the spirit of the herd, the fear of isolation, the subservience to the running voice, the eagerness to feel equal and accepted by the cynical and authoritarian majority, the willingness to give in, to prostitute oneself in exchange for a neophyte spot in the group of cool guys.
The young man, in true, often rebels against parents and teachers, but it is because he knows that deep down they are on his side and will never fight back with full force. The fight against parents is a theatrical card game in which one contender fights to win and the other to help him win.
The situation coming from the lad’s generation is very different, since they do not have for him the complacency of paternalism. Far from protecting him, this noisy, cynical mass greets the novice with contempt and hostility that, from the outset, shows him the need to obey in order to not succumb. It is from his generation mates that he gets the first experience of a confrontation with power, without the mediation of that age difference that gives rise to discounts and mitigations. It is the kingdom of the strongest, the most brazen, that asserts itself in all its cruelty over the newcomer’s fragility, imposing trials and demands upon him before accepting him as a member of the horde.
To how many rites, protocols and humiliations the postulant undergoes desperately, to escape the terrible prospect of rejection, isolation?
In order not to be returned, helpless and humiliated, into his mother’s arms, he must pass an examination that requires less courage than flexibility, an ability to conform to the whims of the majority — the suppression, in short, of personality. True, he submits to it with pleasure, with a passionate longing that he will do in return for a condescending smile. The mass of generation mates represents, after all, the big world into which the teenager, emerging from the small domestic world, seeks admission. And the ticket is expensive. From the outset, the candidate must learn a whole vocabulary of words, gestures, looks, code of passwords and symbols: the slightest flaw exposes him to ridicule, and the rule of the game is generally implied and must be guessed before known, animalized before guessing. The mode of learning is always imitation — literal, servile and without question.
Entering the youthful world sets off the engine of all human madness at full speed: the mimetic desire of which René Girard speaks, where the object is not attracted by its intrinsic qualities but by being simultaneously desired by another, which Girard calls the mediator. No wonder the rite of joining the group, costing such a high psychological investment, ends up driving the young man into complete exasperation while simultaneously prevents him from pouring his resentment back upon the group itself, the object of love that is evaded, and that is why he has the gift of transfiguring every impulse of grudge into a new loving investment. Where, then, will grudge turn, if not in the least dangerous direction? The family emerges as the providential scapegoat for all the young man’s failures in his rite of passage. If he does not succeed in being accepted into the group, the last thing that will occur to him is to blame his situation on the fact and cynicism of those who reject him. In a cruel inversion, the blame for his humiliations will not be attributed to those who refuse to accept him as a man, but to those who accept him as a child. The family who gave him everything will pay for the evil of the horde that demands him entirely.
This is what comes from the adolescent’s famous rebellion: love for the strongest who despises him, contempt for the weaker who loves him
All mutations occur in the dim light, in the indistinct zone between being and non-being: the young person, in transit between what is no longer and what is not yet, is, by fatality, unconscious of himself, of his situation, the authorships and the faults of how much goes on in and around him. His judgments are almost always the complete reversal of reality. This is why youth, ever since adult cowardice has given it the authority to rule and dismantle, has always been at the forefront of all the errors and wickedness of the century: Nazism, fascism, communism, pseudo-religious sects, drug use. It is always young people who are one step ahead toward the worst.
A world that entrusts its future to the discernment of the young is an old and tired world that has no future at all.
The young man, in true, often rebels against parents and teachers, but it is because he knows that deep down they are on his side and will never fight back with full force. The fight against parents is a theatrical card game in which one contender fights to win and the other to help him win.
The situation coming from the lad’s generation is very different, since they do not have for him the complacency of paternalism. Far from protecting him, this noisy, cynical mass greets the novice with contempt and hostility that, from the outset, shows him the need to obey in order to not succumb. It is from his generation mates that he gets the first experience of a confrontation with power, without the mediation of that age difference that gives rise to discounts and mitigations. It is the kingdom of the strongest, the most brazen, that asserts itself in all its cruelty over the newcomer’s fragility, imposing trials and demands upon him before accepting him as a member of the horde.
To how many rites, protocols and humiliations the postulant undergoes desperately, to escape the terrible prospect of rejection, isolation?
In order not to be returned, helpless and humiliated, into his mother’s arms, he must pass an examination that requires less courage than flexibility, an ability to conform to the whims of the majority — the suppression, in short, of personality. True, he submits to it with pleasure, with a passionate longing that he will do in return for a condescending smile. The mass of generation mates represents, after all, the big world into which the teenager, emerging from the small domestic world, seeks admission. And the ticket is expensive. From the outset, the candidate must learn a whole vocabulary of words, gestures, looks, code of passwords and symbols: the slightest flaw exposes him to ridicule, and the rule of the game is generally implied and must be guessed before known, animalized before guessing. The mode of learning is always imitation — literal, servile and without question.
Entering the youthful world sets off the engine of all human madness at full speed: the mimetic desire of which René Girard speaks, where the object is not attracted by its intrinsic qualities but by being simultaneously desired by another, which Girard calls the mediator. No wonder the rite of joining the group, costing such a high psychological investment, ends up driving the young man into complete exasperation while simultaneously prevents him from pouring his resentment back upon the group itself, the object of love that is evaded, and that is why he has the gift of transfiguring every impulse of grudge into a new loving investment. Where, then, will grudge turn, if not in the least dangerous direction? The family emerges as the providential scapegoat for all the young man’s failures in his rite of passage. If he does not succeed in being accepted into the group, the last thing that will occur to him is to blame his situation on the fact and cynicism of those who reject him. In a cruel inversion, the blame for his humiliations will not be attributed to those who refuse to accept him as a man, but to those who accept him as a child. The family who gave him everything will pay for the evil of the horde that demands him entirely.
This is what comes from the adolescent’s famous rebellion: love for the strongest who despises him, contempt for the weaker who loves him
All mutations occur in the dim light, in the indistinct zone between being and non-being: the young person, in transit between what is no longer and what is not yet, is, by fatality, unconscious of himself, of his situation, the authorships and the faults of how much goes on in and around him. His judgments are almost always the complete reversal of reality. This is why youth, ever since adult cowardice has given it the authority to rule and dismantle, has always been at the forefront of all the errors and wickedness of the century: Nazism, fascism, communism, pseudo-religious sects, drug use. It is always young people who are one step ahead toward the worst.
A world that entrusts its future to the discernment of the young is an old and tired world that has no future at all.