A Letter to My Generation

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DEAR YOUNG AMERICANS:

I won’t tell you how special you are because you’ve heard it before. For the past nine months, the mainstream media have showered you with praise. Before the Iowa caucuses, Barack Obama’s campaign said you’d be his secret weapon, showing up for him like you’d never shown up for a presidential candidate before. Reporters didn’t believe it; they’d seen that MTV special before heard about the hidden youth vote and knew it never panned out

But you proved them wrong; you did pan out. You surprised the media, and the media likes nothing more than a surprise. Since then its been a nonstop lovefest- your reputations is secure as the most idealistic and engaged group of young people since the 60’s, an optimistic lot who believe Obama really is different from all the rest. You’ve made his rallies into cultural events, his candidacy into a movement. You’ve done what no one thought was possible: you’ve made politics seem cool again.

So I don’t have to tell you how special you are- which is good, because I don’t think you’re particularly special. Then again, I'm one of you, so I wouldn’t. Born in 1986, I am part of a generation that is accustomed to being coddled and cheered and championed, even when we haven’t done much at all. It started in the cradle when our baby-boomer parents gazed into our innocent faces and saw perfect, wondrous reflections of their perfect, wondrous selves. It continued as soccer coaches and ballet instructors turned into SAT tutors and career counselors- people whose job was to make sure the world understood just how wonderful we were. The internet sealed our fate. Our parents and grandparents, enthralled and a little terrified by the transformative power of technology, watched as we neatly picked up our lives and moved them into a digital format. We learned to expect applause for simple showing up.

And really, if we’re being honest, that’s all you’ve done this year- show up. You voted (good, you’re supposed to). You didn’t get hung up on a candidate’s race (again, you’re not supposed to care about race). Your one lasting gift to political posterity this year: the text message. Greatest Generation, watch your backs.

All this would be fine with me- who doesn’t like praise? - if it weren’t for the sneaking suspicion that for all your earnestness and self-congratulating, you haven’t done enough. True, Obama may well win the White House about a month from now. IF he does, after African Americans, people our age will deserve the largest share of credit for putting him there. But despite all the enthusiasm, his young supporters have done little to insure he’ll be the kind of transformative leader you long for. Your biggest failure: you’ve hardly asked Obama for a thing.

Get selfish before it’s too late. The financial crisis is horrifying news for anyone and everyone- rich and poor, young and old. But the fact that it coincided with the presidential debates- the last gasp of substance in the campaign- provides a unique opportunity for you to ask Obama to choose you out of his list of priorities, and self-interest groups. Neither Obama nor McCain can promise everyone what they want, considering the budgetary reality, and they’ll be pressed to explain their priorities. Seize this opportunity. To get the best of Obama, young people, cut out the fucking blind devotion. Get off the Drudge Report. Stop the Facebook blasts. If you really want the change you’ve been waiting for, start holding Obama to some of his promises to our generation. In these waning days of the campaign, it’s not greedy to be realistic, and it’s not selfish to ask for what you paid for.

In fact, ask not what you can do for Barack Obama, but what Barack Obama can do for you.