Politics At The Generational Divide

What we call the ‘generational divide’ in politics is nothing new — in fact, it may be becoming, as a phenomena, something of a cliché. 

Beyond a point, there is only so much we can speculate about the past, particularly when it comes to understanding this divide between previous generations. I’m certain that this is not the first time our world has undergone technological shifts comparable to the onslaught of widely accessible AI — and it’s certainly not the first instance of the growth of conservative politics as a response to the perceived failures of liberalism. Although there is a certain universality associated with these wider political shifts, the different and developing contexts in which they occur make it hard to dismiss these issues as simply a function of the ‘generational divide’.

Such varied life contexts lead to varied experiences, and life experience is the biggest fueler of belief —  the kind which manifests in political leaning. This is certainly a generalised, well-established concept which exists on a macro level. As a generation, we find ourselves watching politicians push conservative agendas and outdated policies, and we grapple with the complete disregard of what our future is becoming. Take climate change politics as an example, an issue which is effectively more pertinent to us then the geriatric political leaders of today who still somehow act with a sense of entitlement in their approach to such issues. 

However, this is something that we also experience on a micro level, and it is something I argue to be a core experience which constitutes adolescence. In my experience, this transitional period becomes measurable by examining my increasing discomfiture returning home from university for the summer. I have felt a steady increase in the way that home feels less and less like me. Having grown up seeing the world through our parents, the environment they create is what forms much of our identity. Leaving home, inevitably, disrupts those traits and habits that weld us to it. 

Experiencing life independently, particularly in a university context, is notorious for fueling a distinctly youthful kind of idealism which makes the rude awakening of returning home so particularly jarring. Even if politics don’t figure in the root of family tension, I can’t help but find myself shocked at the way family members of older generations converse. I have pinpointed this to be a sort of obsession with others — particularly the ways in which people present themselves —  that seems to perturb our parents and move them to make comments that, honestly, would never occur to us to use as a basis of conversation. 

On a deeper level, the manifestation that is most difficult to accept is their, well, indifference — an acceptance of ‘the way things are’ which, to me, are the pinnacles of injustice. Whether it’s the diminution of vast humanitarian crises, to a matter of ‘collateral damage’, or an acceptance that ‘boys will be boys’, these feel so fundamental that one is left baffled by the existence of such an argument — baffled by this kind of apathy which I suppose comes with age.  

On a more day-to-day level, this may manifest in little habits, such as the parental need to preface the body proportions and ethnicity of the character in whatever anecdote they’re narrating, something of absolutely no consequence to the story or point being made. Likewise, they may denounce the way people dress, as if a man with painted nails is a hate crime. For them, we’re the chronically offended generation, except we react the same way to actual hate crimes. 

This is not my unequivocal support of our generation; I think any presentation of social views which is inherently performative and provocative tends to distract from real issues — something which affects our generation too. 

From the perspective of older generations, I understand the bewilderment they may feel towards us; a generation chronically online and largely incapable of forming real, functional relationships. We were body positive until Ozempic became a trend and consume more media and synthetic protein than books and literature about the social issues we claim so vehemently to champion. My parents dread the degree of self-censorship they feel the need to impose on me when I come home as much as I dread what I perceive to be justified frustration dismissed as ‘hypersensitivity’, another mum-favourite. 

What I’ve ultimately come to understand about the generational divide is that, like any other kind of identity conflict, this divide is often born from projection on micro-levels. The same way we envy the perceived simplicity of the lives of older generations and a time long gone, my mother tells me that the opportunity and autonomy I’ve enjoyed would’ve been inconceivable to her at my age. I also understand that her upbringing simply didn’t allow her to think the way that I do. 

It’s all just a question of what becomes normalised in the present day, and our generation has certainly worked hard to denormalise what is inconceivable to us and what we see is wrong. 

One day, brainrot will be vintage and everything we say will annoy and offend our children — that’s just the way it is. No one can win, not in a world made of radical binaries and perpetual ego struggles. The human experience never changes; the same thoughts, feelings, and problems just morph themselves to wider generational contexts.

Illustration from Wikimedia Commons