Last night, Rona and I happened to be recalling three songs from our youth, all of which in some way touched on the topic of long hair. That probably wouldn't have happened if we had married someone from a different generation instead of someone born the same month and year. If I die and Rona gets involved with someone ten years younger, they probably won't know the same songs, movies, and television shows, and they won't remember some of the same events in the news. For them, that might matter. But what difference does it make to history?
I've long been of the opinion that "talking 'bout my generation" is a useless way to describe social trends. Yes, long hair was an issue for The Cowsills, the Charlie Daniels Band, and the musical Hair, and it wasn't for Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, or the Ink Spots. But hair is just one element of how we present ourselves, and self-presentation is an issue in every era, for a wide variety of people. Jeans were working-class clothes until they became trendy, and then there were designer jeans. Underwear used to be considered obscene. Then, not wearing underwear was obscene. Not wearing a hat made JFK different from Presidents before him, but covering your head indoors or not marked whether you were Jewish or Christian for the longest period of time. Even with hair, the Roundheads during the English Civil War used their hairstyle to distinguish themselves against the flowing locks worn by the aristocratic Cavaliers.
Maybe self-presentation is a constant issue across generations, you say, but isn't it trivial? (No.) Aren't the events that a generation experiences formative of their outlook? Yes and no. In my lifetime, you could trace changes in (white people's) attitudes toward government to integration, the Vietnam War, and Watergate. But in previous generations, going back a hundred years, you could find similar attitudes among some more or less well-organized groups, from socialists to America Firsters. Speaking of socialism, there's a resurgent interest in it among people born in the last thirty years, but so was there in the 1960's, the 1930's, the 1890's.
It's a truism that every generation thinks they're the first to discover sex. The same applies to many "generational" phenomena: in specifics they are new, but if you back up only slightly and take a broader view, you can see how they continue from the past.
I am thinking about what the right questions are to ask about generational change. I am pretty sure "How is this generation different from that one?" is a useless question. Instead, I think we should ask:
- How is this generation framing the ongoing questions about how we should live?
- Out of the perennial issues, what are the issues that are coming to the fore, and how?
- Which questions seem less important to this cohort than that, at the present moment? (And will that change as they age?)
- What are the different terms in which old questions are being posed anew?
- When in history did we actually experience seismic shifts in what mattered and how we discussed it?
For instance, you could argue that the invention of the atomic bomb launched a whole new discussion about our ability to destroy the earth. Or you could trace it back to the Industrial Revolution and the "dark satanic mills" that Blake wrote about. Or you could say the big change happened when climate change began to occur at a rapid rate.
I would ultimately say that which of these arguments is "right" depends on what we are actually trying to find out, and to do. But they would all be more useful arguments than "OK, Boomer" or "Get off my lawn!"
