Here.
A note on the following post: Here are the first two parts of a three-part essay. I have yet to finish part three... Let me know what you think so far. I'm thinking about shopping this someplace.
MY GENERATION
Recommended Reading:
Benjamin Schwarz “Intolerant Chic”, The Atlantic, October, 2008.
just because we get around (talkin’ ‘bout my generation).
things they do look awful cold (talkin’ ‘bout my generation).
I hope I die before I get old (talkin’ ‘bout my generation).
“This is my generation,
my generation, baby.
“Why don’t you all fade away (talkin’ ‘bout my generation),
and don’t try to dig what we all say (talkin’ ‘bout my generation).
I’m not trying to cause a big sensation (talkin’ ‘bout my generation).
I’m just talkin’ ‘bout my generation (talkin’ ‘bout my generation).”
-“My Generation”, The Who
“I hope I don’t die before I get old” (talkin’ bout my generation).
-Hillary Duff, glossing on The Who
My generation has too many names; which is to say, we really have no name at all. Our nameless state is not for lack of trying, though. We have been called The Echo Boomers, The Millennials, Generation Y (Y, or its mostly-unfunny and mostly-untrue derivative, Generation Why?). These names are all problematic at best: Echo Boomers says nothing about the unique cultural orientation of my generation. The Millennials sounds a bit too much like a television show—one that was probably canceled. Generation Y, once again, says nothing about this generation’s cultural identity, and it has an unfortunate relationship with Generation X; this generation is not really the next step in a logical progression from Gen X, except in the most literal sense.
So, the search for the perfect name continues. Benjamin Schwarz, The Atlantic’s literary editor, might have—serendipitously (in more ways than one)—stumbled across a better name. He pens an illuminating, if exasperatingly inadequate, review of the blog turned book Stuff White People Like in the October, 2008 issue of The Atlantic. Schwarz’s review is illuminating because it uses—quite transparently—a pervasive and perverse cultural-political narrative, that of the regular/elite divide. The problem with Schwarz’s review is that he couples a “darn kids get off my lawn” mentality with, yes, a pervasive and perverse cultural-political narrative.
Schwarz’s thesis is as easy to understand, as it is difficult to swallow. Simply put, there exists a certain cultural group called cultural elites (incidentally, Schwarz is using David Broder’s language here. This is, of course, something that generally signals intellectual bankruptcy). These elites are bigoted against, well, everyone else, or, more accurately, some non-elite group of Americans. Schwarz, you see, doesn’t tell us much about them. And everything he does say about this mythical non-elite other is in the negative. They are Christian. They live in the suburbs. Some of them are bankers. Most of them aren’t liberal. They don’t like: “Sedaris, Eggers, The Daily Show, the right indie music, Obama bumper stickers, [and,] uh, The New Yorker.” That’s about it.
This is, I think, a prime example of one of the many problems facing proponents of the elite/regular narrative. Proponents—like Schwarz—can easily name the villains in their little morality plays—those cultural elites, the embodiment of bigotry and elitism—but they can rarely, if ever, give a non-problematic description of the protagonists. The narrative of elitism—and, by extension, Schwarz’s criticism—is wrapped up in a muddled and singularly useless definition of what it means to be a “regular American.” I suppose, Schwarz might claim that it is the cultural elites versus everyone else, but, somehow, you don’t see "cultural elites versus the urban poor" narratives. It’s always the "cultural elites versus 'regular folks.'"
What’s more, Schwarz has conflated, perhaps unknowingly, cultural elites with my generation (and now, the introductory paragraph might begin to make sense...) Schwarz can’t help himself. He moves from describing cultural elites as “youngish” to just “young”, and then he takes a jab at “the right indie bands”—hardly the purview of those too far outside their twenties. By the end of the piece, he’s blasting the elite’s (read, our generation’s) culture of “snowboarding,” “iPod playlists,” and “college dining hall” logic.
While the clearest examples of his mistaken conflation come toward the end of his broadside, some of his earlier attacks, too, seem a little poorly aimed. He writes:
[Stuff White People Like]—which catalogs the tastes, prejudices, and consumption habits of well-off, well-educated, youngish, self-described progressives—was refreshing because it’s everything a blog, almost by definition, is not. Rather than serving up unedited, impromptu, self-important ruminations on random events and topics, the tightly focused, stylishly written, precisely observed entries eschew the genre’s characteristic I[.]
It seems that Schwarz doesn’t like blogs very much. Some of this can be chalked up to journalists’ seemingly innate dislike of blogs. Some of this might, too, be chalked up to the knee-jerk, dare I say it, elitist reaction of those who have privileged writing positions (like, say, literary editors) to the unwashed masses being able to publish quickly and easily. And, I suppose, one could argue that blogging, like anything (relatively) new, is likely to cause some consternation (I might note, for example, that neither “blog”, “blogs”, nor “blogging” is recognized by my 2008 Microsoft Word software). However, Schwarz doesn’t really have a problem with blogging as a medium; he can’t be that thickheaded. No, he has a problem, not with the medium, but with a “genre”. Note the characteristic dig at adolescent, “self-important ruminations on random events and topics”. It’s not blogs he has a problem with; it’s the way some youths—or, at least stereotypical youths—use blogs.
Poor Schwarz; I think I may have been too hard on the man. He is correct, after all, that our generation believes that “donning a colored plastic bracelet or a kaffiyeh is an act of personal and political self-definition”—or, more accurately, that, for this generation more than any other, the most minimal of signs (signals?)—be it sneaker choice or music preference—has become synonymous for our cultural, political, and personal identities. Of course, the idea that by changing one’s perception changes one identity is nothing new. But, now, with the ever-accelerating proliferation of disparate sub-cultures, these small acts of labeling take on more significance then ever.
Gone are the days of a “mainstream” culture. Even today’s TRL-obsessed teens and tweens are confined to their wholly separate cultural fiefdoms. After all, the crossover between the skinny tie-wearing Avril Lavigne fans and the glitter lip-gloss of the Hannah Montana fandom is minuscule—practically nonexistent; even within “pop” culture, the diversity of subculture is overwhelming. Hand-in-hand with this subcultural supernova is the rise of an economy dedicated to supplying tools flexible enough fit any niche. It’s no mistake that Schwarz chose the “iPod playlist” as the emblem of this generation. The ever-ubiquitous iPod symbolizes perfectly this generation’s cultural niching. Pick what music—what culture—you want. Find the “celebrity playlist,” download it, and, just like that you can hear what Pam from The Office or Jay-Z is listening to. Pick your favorite song on iTunes and turn it into your ringtone. The possibilities for cultural signifiers are endless.
I would argue that two things define this generation: (1) an obsession with seemingly insignificant cultural signifiers and, (2) a shift away from a single “mainstream” culture to an ever-growing group of subcultures, all running parallel, never—or, at least, rarely—intersecting.
Keeping this in mind, I would like to throw my own name for our generation into the mix: Generation Postmodern, Gen Pomo for short. This name fits both those weaned on the toxic milk of Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys, and those of raised on a steady diet of McSweeney’s, college radio, and, uh, The New Yorker. It succeeds in describing both the time in which we were raised, and our unique cultural orientation—an orientation made difficult to describe by our generations fractured state. Of course, Gen Pomo encompasses cultural balkanization quite perfectly (if I do say so myself), and, thus, turns a problem of our culture’s nomenclature—the rise of sub-cultures—into a strength.
Then, too, Gen Pomo comes with a certain ironic distance. Try saying it earnestly; I’m not sure it’s possible. It is that ironic distance that—with disastrous results—Schwarz neglected in his description of the so-called cultural elites. It is that ironic quality that marks them—and, I’d venture to say, us—more than anything else. Consider Schwarz’s list of attributes: Sedaris, Eggers, and The Daily Show. They are all obsessed with irony. They are what they are because of their cultural distance.
And Schwarz ignores this generation’s self-aware distance at his own peril. It is this trait that would have saved Schwarz some considerable self-satire. I will argue that (1) our media and politics has embraced a repugnant and unfailingly stupid narrative—that of the elite/regular divide, and (2) this generation’s self-awareness—the trait Schwarz sadly lacks—holds the key ridding us of the idiocy of the narrative of elitism.
Recommended Reading:
Peter Boyer, “The Appalachian Problem”, The New Yorker, October 6, 2008;
Steven Kurutz, “Alaskan Tropic”, The New Yorker, October 6, 2008;
Steve Coll “The Get”, The New Yorker, September 22, 2008;
George Saunders, “My Gal”, The New Yorker, September 22, 2008;
Philip Gourevitch, “The State of Sarah Palin”, The New Yorker, September 22, 2008;
John West, “The Watchmen”, Wilder Voice, Spring, 2008.
“You know, I think a good barometer here, as we try to figure out has this been a good time or a bad time in America's economy, is go to a kid's soccer game on Saturday, and turn to any parent there on the sideline and ask them, "How are you feeling about the economy?"
“[L]et's commit ourselves, just every day American people, Joe Six Pack, hockey moms across the nation”
-Governor Palin at the vice-presidential debate, October 2, 2008
As I prepared to write this essay—reading and re-reading that ever-growing stack of magazines—I was struck by (1) how idiotic and insipid so much of today’s “journalism” is, and (2) how few words I have left to convey the contempt I feel for today’s media. It wasn’t that long ago that I sat in this very room, hell, at this very computer, and pored over an ever-growing stack of papers and printouts, wondering how I was going to turn my anger at the media into words. Fortunately, my task was made easier this time around: this time, I have Governor Sarah Palin.
With the help of the media, Governor Palin is just the most recent in a long line of politicians who have benefited from the narrative of the elite/regular divide. The problem is, this narrative is desperately inadequate. The best evidence of this inadequacy is the paradox that almost always results—a paradox that goes unnoticed by its creator, the media. Now, Palin is by no means the first example of this paradox, but she might be one of the best: few politicians in recent memory have so transparently and enthusiastically embraced the elite/regular narrative. So, in honor of the Governor’s significant contribution to our ailing media and culture-at-large, I have named this paradox after her.
The Palin Paradox can be described as follows:
(1) A politician is, at least according to the media, a “regular American”—or some variation on that theme (i.e. folksy, home-spun, etc.), and,
(2) As such, that politician is placed in contrast with other politicians, who are, in comparison, labeled elite or elitist;
(3) That politician is running for an office that requires experience and a great deal of knowledge, and,
(4) That politician espouses policies that show little to no resemblance to their “regular” image and rhetoric; therefore
(5) That politician is “a regular American” and not an elitist, yet that politician is in—or will soon be in—an elite and distinctly un-regular position, and, furthermore,
(6) That politician is “a regular American” and not an elitist, yet, that politician is—or will soon be—enacting policies that are pro-elitist and anti-regular American (behaving in an elite, un-regular way).
Senator John McCain no doubt picked Govornor Palin because she so embodied this paradox, because her entire identity is wrapped up in the narrative of elitism. She speaks in the rhetoric of “hockey moms” and “Joe six-pack”, couples it with a few biographical details, and, presto, the media hails her as the embodiment of normalcy. Stacked next to Joe Biden, whose been a senator for over 400 years and Barack Obama, who can’t bowl, drinks orange juice in diners, and said that thing once that included the word “bitter”, Palin emerges as the anti-elite, the average Joe, the American everyman.
Ta-da!
Then, despite the fact that she charged women for rape kits, wants to give tax breaks to Exxon Mobil, and just makes shit up about her reform credentials (that maverick!), the media never questions the fact that she is at once—according to them—both regular and elite. The media never puts it together that something is wrong when one can be both “regular” and “vice-president of the United States”.
One might argue that I’m guilty of false equivalence. That is to say, the media is using elite and regular one way, and I’m twisting it to mean something else. Then, with my new definition, I accuse them of making a logical fallacy they never really made. They would be right, if they—themselves—hadn’t opened the door to it. Elite and regular are defined so broadly by the media that it’s practically impossible to use them in a way the media already haven’t. It’s the same problem Schwarz came across in his blathering review of Stuff White People Like: it isn’t so easy to describe the two sides of a mostly-mythical cultural divide. One minute, it’s elitist to say you’re a citizen of the world (Obama); the next, it’s not (Reagan). One minute regular is an Appalachian mill worker; the next, it’s a small business owner in small-town Alaska. It’s truly hard to keep track of what’s what.
I do know one surefire way to keep track of who’s who in this never-ending game of make-believe: look for the Republican with some kind of accent being fellated by the cable bloviators. That’s your man. This brings me to a sort of corollary to the Palin Paradox:
(7) That politician is—in general—a Republican.
Of course, it is possible for that politician to be a Democrat. There was that brief, shining moment, when Senator Hillary Clinton—a resident of New York City, the former First Lady, and an unrepentant policy wonk—drank a shot of hard liquor in Pennsylvania and was transformed into some kind of Palin-esque everyman. But it seems that it is much more difficult to achieve—or maintain—an image as a regular guy if you’re a Democrat.
The best example of this is David “Mudcat” Saunders, a “bubba” Democrat, and one of the most influential Democratic consultants in the South. Peter Boyer, in his article “The Appalachian Problem” from this week’s New Yorker, describes Saunders:
Saunders, who is fifty-nine, is an exaggerated version of an élitist [sic. The New Yorker’s style guide is beyond ridiculous] liberal’s caricature of a Southern redneck. His face fixed in a wicked grin, he happily proclaims his love for Jesus and guns, college football and bluegrass music, and the Democratic Party. He smokes Camels, and is prolifically profane. Saunders is a member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, and can provide details of his great-grandfather’s wounding at the Battle of Seven Pines, in Henrico County, while serving in General James L. Kemper’s brigade. He sleeps under a Rebel-flag quilt, and when challenged on such matters he has invited his inquisitors to “kiss my Rebel ass”—his way of making the point that when Democrats are drawn into culture battles by prissy liberal sensitivities they usually lose the larger war.
I’m not sure I understand how an obsession with a treasonous group that declared war on The United States qualifies one for status as a real American, but there you have it. Short of become a “Mudcat”, most of the beneficiaries of the elite/regular narrative are Republicans.
It has been, after all, the Republicans who have actively pushed this narrative, and it has been the Republicans who have engaged with it. Since their policies can only be described as elitist—shoveling money into the mouths of the new gilded class—they have taken advantage of the media’s myopic fixation with the most base and liminal signs (at the expense of actual substance) and made an electoral (and, often literal) killing donning the cloak of normalcy while instituting some of the most elitist policies in recent history.
So, what’s to be done? How can we resolve the Palin Paradox, and, more importantly, how can I resolve this essay?
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