Rebels Aren’t Cool
I call them jackasses
Rules, rules, everywhere a rule
In another life, I enlisted in the Air Force. There is nowhere in the world with more rules than the military. It never gets rid of them, but just keeps stacking new ones on top of old ones like a kid with a new kit of Legos. And nowhere are they more harshly enforced than upon the peons at the bottom of the pile.
Nevertheless, I had no trouble completing my four-year enlistment with an honorable discharge and not a lick of official trouble. Because I am a rule-follower — not a tight-ass carrying around a ruler and looking for the slightest misstep, but an observer of the environment and respecter of danger.
At our level, the rules were not hard to follow, at least not the big ones. These were the commandments that were continually shoved down our throats and pulled out the other end. Among the biggest — illegal drugs. This was a one-strike-and-you’re-out flaming howler, enforced by the “golden flow” (urinalysis).
And yet…they still did it. Everywhere I went a cadre of my cohorts was caught on a golden flow and unceremoniously tossed out, with “general” or “bad conduct” on their discharge records. One even went to prison for distribution, after holding reefer parties at his home.
What are they thinking?
Throwing the finger at the rules is not just a phase of growing up. It’s not just something a bunch of teenagers and 20-somethings do on their first real job. It’s like mold in an old house. It’s everywhere. It’s crawling out of the walls. Not even the near-certainty of getting caught and having your life flushed into the sewer is strong enough to stop it.
Store clerks take bills out of the till with security cameras pointing right at them. Because no one’s around to see it, right? People who clock into work exaggerate their hours on their attendance sheets for payroll. Because there’s no way they’ll know, right? And office workers watch porn on their company computers, because the IT department only checks other people’s activity, right?
Yeah, some people are that dumb. But not everybody is, not even everybody who flunks a military golden flow. There’s something more going on here.
Cult of the jackass
My fellow airmen with the funky discharges reminded me of other people I had known — the cool kids in high school. They had a whiff of superiority about them like they were a cut above us timid sheep who always did our homework and were too afraid to skip school or sneak beer and reefer into a party.
Of course, rebellion is a natural phase of growing up. We’re supposed to resent adults’ control over us and try to strike out on our own. I did that too, just more quietly. But afterwards we’re supposed to grow up and learn to navigate the world.
Or not.
Because our culture worships the rebel. It calls us to prolong those adolescent years where we just said screw this, screw everybody — I’m going to do what I want to do.
Rebels are only out for themselves.
It’s in our stories, our commercials, and branded into our subconscious. Rebels are cool romantic heroes. Women like dangerous, rebel men. A real man doesn’t let anyone tell him what to do. Women who go out on the town together for a night of booze, robbery, and vandalism — that’s feminism. See ladies, you can be rebels too. Don’t let men get all the glory.
And obedient, respectful people like me? Sheep. Cowards. Pathetic. Boring. We are said to be missing out on life. We need to take a walk on the wild side. We are to be mocked and pitied.
Dirty Little Secret
Contrary to their reputation, rebels are not cool. They’re not brave outliers who grab life by the tail and put the rest of us to shame. Neither are they revolutionaries. Revolutionaries break unjust rules and laws to stand up for the abused and oppressed. Revolutionaries are prepared to sacrifice themselves for others.
Rebels are only out for themselves.
Rebels are perpetual adolescents. They shun responsibility. They want the rest of us to keep the world running so they can use it as their personal playground, all the while giving us the finger. Any authority is the enemy. Other people’s needs don’t matter, because other people don’t matter.
The ethos of the rebel is to show no consideration for anyone else. Make a mess and leave it for someone else to clean up. Park where you want, lines, rules, and fire hydrants be damned. Be loud on purpose to let others know you own the space. Any obedience, consideration, or submission is a sign of weakness.
There are other words for rebel. Jackass, bully, and nihilist come to mind.
Few people, if any, seem to attain a perfect score in Rebel Life. But the world is littered with those who jump into the sewer trying to get a special achievement award.
A different game
I would like to see a different kind of person take the throne from the rebel. What would our world be like if we instead admired people who take care to park within the lines, return their trays in cafeterias, and empty their soda bottles before throwing them into the office trash can? Because they care, just a little, about the people parking next to them, the diners coming after them, and the maids who have to carry those heavy trash bags.
What if we gave special achievement awards to people who were willing to take on a little inconvenience if it would save someone else a big headache, even if the rule involved was stupid?
Not all rules are created equal. Some deserve the finger. Others are unnecessary or just petty. But the bulk of them are designed for the benefit of the community. No, you can’t drive without a license. Yes, you have to make your employees get a tuberculosis test and wash their hands before they can handle food.
And the people who make and follow these rules are not losers.
Better rules
- Selfishness is not admirable
- Authority is not automatically the enemy
- Rules are not a personal challenge to defy
- Safe does not always equal cowardly
- Obedience does not always equal loser
- Rebels are jackasses
If anything deserves the finger it’s Hollywood and advertisers for pushing this toxic mythos upon us. I don’t patronize stories about heroic rebels. I am not persuaded by ads that promise their product will give me the rebel lifestyle. “Breaking the rules” and “no boundaries” fails to move my wallet from my purse. I don’t feel like a sheep for my instinct to comply, respect, and be considerate. I don’t consider my life less for living it within reasonable boundaries.
The idea that we have to stunt ourselves in adolescence in order be happy and respected is a cynical marketing ploy and a malicious lie. Growing up, taking on responsibility, and giving back to others is an achievement, not a cop-out. Adventure, excitement, and a fulfilling life are all perfectly possible while safely avoiding handicapped parking places, being honest on our tax returns, and observing Amtrak’s quiet hours.
The real cop-outs are the rebels.
