Ode to a F*cked Generation

No one wants to admit it. But the fact is: this generation’s effed. So what do we do now?

Hi!! Smile!!

This generation is fucked.

Not just minor-league mini-fucked. Not a little bit cutesy aww Pikachu feels sad levels of fucked. This generation is full on holy bazoly did that really just happen ZOMG WTF kthxbye degrees of fucked.

Here’s what you already know. If you’re under the age of 35ish, you, many of your friends, and most of your acquaintances are probably living at home (or supported by the parentals); underemployed; overeducated; working for peanuts; obeying the orders of sociopathic, high-fiving Neanderthals in handmade suits (who, in case you thought it couldn’t get any worse, by next year will be…robots); at “jobs” that resemble modern-day servitude more than gainful employment, if by “gainful employment” you mean work by which you actually gain something lasting and which makes the most of you.

Like many, they probably wonder: “What the fuck! When will my life…actually begin?”

They feel stuck. Waiting for their first “real” job, home, break, gig, deal, family, career, chance. As if they’ve been marooned. By their elders. By “opportunity” (whatever the fuck that word means, anyways. The chance to clean the toilets of a super-rich asshole with the soul of a serial killer? Wow, thanks for knocking, “opportunity”!!). By the lives they were supposed to have.

They are stuck. They’re probably going to keep waiting. Forever. For most, their lives will never “begin”; in the sense of meeting one’s expectations. This is their life.

Hey you!!! Smile!! Stay positive!!!!!

This is the first generation in the rich world that’s going to be worse off than its parents.

Not just temporarily. Permanently. Barring some kind of minor miracle, like free clean energy; or secret downloads of bitcash from Mars.

By worse off, I simply mean poorer. And by poorer, I simply mean: it will earn less.

But that’s the tip of a very dark iceberg. Because it will earn less, it will save less. Because it will save less, it will invest less.

Because it will have less to invest, this generation will be less able to afford, as a society, the basics of civilization. Healthcare, education, transport, insurance against disaster, unemployment, misfortune; public goods like libraries, parks, schools.

Because it will not be able to afford public goods, this generation will not enjoy the rich, sophisticated, equitable, generous social contracts its parents did. Pensions, benefits, overtime, protections, care, minimum wages high enough to create a middle class, leisure time, vacations, leave, arbitration, equality—all these are fast becoming reflections in a rear view mirror.

Hey!! You!! Yeah, you. Smile!! Follow your dreams, champ!!!!!

Our human possibility has already been stunted. This generation is fucked. It’s Generation F.

Wait, you cry. That’s just your opinion, dude!!! Na na na na!!! Wrong. None of this is merely my “opinion”; as if I’ve merely thought the above.

Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. This generation is not….hypothetically fucked in the abstract…perhaps kind of theoretically fucked…forecast with a slight degree of certainty at some point in the distant future to be fucked…possibly maybe speculatively fucked…putatively estimated likely to be fucked…supposing conditions Q, R, and S should hold. It is fucked. As in has been fucked. Already got fucked. Was fucked. Fucked. Not fuckable.

We are going to have lives that are shorter, dumber, bleaker, and nastier than our parents did.

Man!! Umair, why are you being such a dick? No negativity allowed!!!! No no no no!!!! Stop! Smile!! Stay positive!!!

Maybe I’m a dick. Or maybe it’s the people who tell you everything’s going to be OK who are the real dicks. So you never stop to wonder. What if?

What if it’s true that we’re fucked—but that’s not all we are? What if what can still do is live lives that resonate with meaning? What if we must? So that even if our days are short, precarious, uneasy…at least each one searingly counts.

Let me give it to you straight.

It’s probably too late for us to enjoy the stuff that our parents took for granted: security, stability, material prosperity, an upward arc of income, comfort, safety, ease, small luxury, facility, small indulgences.

But it isn’t too late for us to live lives that burn with meaning, purpose, and passion. That may be not just our looming challenge—but our great obligation. Because if you’re going to get fucked, you might as well get fucked for a reason that counts.

Duuude. Dude!!!! Goddamit!! Umair, what’s your problem? Why don’t you tell us how to fix it?

OK. But it won’t be easy.

To be fucked isn’t merely to be wronged. It is be wounded.

We know we’re wounded. And so we seek to dull the pain. We gloss our words in eye-rolling irony; cloak ourselves with detachment; speak the language of cynicism; we titter at the lowest common denominator; we amuse ourselves with tiny cruelties; we escape into make-believe lives in make-believe worlds.

And so the wounds just keep bleeding. The scars never heal.

How is wounded human possibility healed?

We’re die-hard rebels. Until someone offers us a “leadership position” on the cubefarm. We’re true believers in democracy. Until it comes time to vote, lobby, or canvas. We’re seekers of deep truth and meaning. Unless there’s a Kardashian or a LOLcat around. We hate commercialism and inauthenticity. So we buy designer lattes to express our unique, special individuality…from Starbucks. We don’t like capitalists. Until we see a tycoon that’s making a totally awesome super duper flying laser robot car. Then we swoon.

That’s not good enough; not great enough; not worthy enough.

Try: climate change, a broken financial system, spiralling inequality, out-of-control debt, aging populations, “news” that isn’t, infrastructure that barely works, neofeudalists extracting all the value in society; culture that’s dumber than a rock; science that’s been commoditized; democracies that have been captured. Those are what are stopping our lives from beginning; and if we wish our lives to begin, then it is those we must end.

Our challenge is this. Not merely to dull the pain; while the wounds keep bleeding.

But to live lives that matter; even if we know will not live lives that are easy. For that is how we make the most of ourselves; not just even if, but especially when, we are diminished.

Here is a great secret.

There is an obligation each of us owe to life. To accept one’s heartbreak with open arms. And live to the fullest despite it.

Human possibility is not generated by cynics and consumers. Human possibility is generated by renegades. Who rebel against the tyranny of the way it has to be. Even while—especially because—-the world around them is crumbling.

What if?

What if we cherished our wounds, instead of trying to numb the pain…so we could heal the aching their scars instead? What if we forswore taking an empty vengeance on the past…and created the future instead?

When we are ready to do all that; then the lives we are so desperately waiting for to begin…just might.

Thank you and goodnight.