Rebellion is a rite of passage. As the human being ages, he discovers and accustoms with his environment, and this inevitably leads to disillusionment. The dreams of an ideal world so carefully nurtured in childhood through his education are brought to an arid standstill. Gone are the happy endings of the much-loved Disney movies, the easy solutions which always reward the worthy and punish the evil, the puzzle-perfect denouements. We realize that our lives lack the steady narrative of fiction, and are rather a series of disconnected and confused actions, emotions and encounters. There are no happy endings because, simply put, our sole ending is death. We discover what Mr. Walt Disney had failed to account for: the morning after happily ever after.
The reactions stemming from these rips in our naivety express themselves in diverse ways, but follow a similar progression. We begin to question authorities which once seemed invincible- first attacking the closest at heart, our parents, our teachers, perhaps even our religion. By witnessing the fall of perfection, we come to see that the figures which we had once seen are authorities are just as questionable as we find ourselves. Error is not solely a symptom of youth, but rather, a characteristic of human nature.
The ageing process pursues its course, and as most of our predecessors, we emerge from this phase-but not unscathed. University students move away from this first stage of bewildered anger, yet the root of idealism still remains. We simply have moved our frustrations towards bigger, greater aims. End world hunger, freedom of speech, bringing about peace- or simply make a stand to improve our adored abstract concept of “the world”. This is where the volunteering, the protests, pledges, petitions, angry manifestos, and lyrical prose all comes to play a part in our drive to change things.
That is what is particularly interesting. The young are usually the most open to change—but this too often disproved by their love of protest. A small example of this are the chronic lock-downs which have been taking place over the past few years in France’s secondary education institutions. Whether about creating more flexibility in the labour market (introduction of a new contract called ‘C.P.E.’ ) or giving universities more independence from the government, students have taken to the streets, paralysing the course of their studies. One cannot help but feel that this is more out of an impulse to protest-against anything, anyone, just as long as it represents ‘the system’. Any opportunity to express common anger is seized with fervour, with little consideration towards the effectiveness of the actions taken themselves.
There is definitely something noble, however, in this will to pit all of one’s energy to one cause. And history has proven that many of these student movements- Sophie Scholl’s White Rose, May 1968, Tiananmen 1989, or the current situation in Iran, for instance – were far from futile, in their symbolic value at the very least.
Why is it that idealism- and this desperate urge to make a stand- is so often lost in the mature adult population? Why for instance, were there not virulent manifests of anger after the financial crisis? It would be of course unfair- and widely inaccurate- to say that the collapse of the markets stimulated no reaction whatsoever. However, they pale in comparison to our potential for movement, as our antecedent crises show.
Hence, perhaps for most, realism and resignation hits home, and the hope of a majestic change for the better are dispelled with the gain of experience. Others find that fending for themselves requires all of their energies. Naturally, the idealism doesn’t die away in all of us- and if it does, it fades in varying degrees.
Recently, it has been said that even many of us have lost the will to pick up the fight in the name of ideas. A satiation with our lifestyle, some suggest. After all, it makes sense to say that burning issues, such as basic freedoms and needs will inevitably result in more dramatic responses. And after all, most of these historical demands are now guaranteed to us from birth. On the other hand, although they are perhaps not as geographically tangible, many of these problems remain. That surely should be no excuse for apathy. Flicking through the Socialist Worker Student Society (SWSS)’s guide to occupation (an either frightening or amusing experience), one can find the Independent quoted as such: “They are the iPod generation of students: politically apathetic, absorbed by selfish consumerism, dedicated to a few years of hedonism before they land a lucrative job in the City.” Although the statement is clearly exaggerated by political bias, it is worth asking ourselves the question- have we become our parents, the ‘system’ before our own age?
The SWSS, with its own particular brand of idealism, seems to think not. “A seismic change is taking place in British universities”, the quote follows. In their description of their own student movement, they attribute the ease of mobilizing students with their relatively free schedules. This would allow for a greater friction of ideas. However, the argument also (unwillingly) suggests that the art of the rebellion is a luxury which only those who do not have a full-time job can afford to spend time on.
In the end, the essence of rebellion may to provide a means to escape the way in which we envisage our future. In our desire for an exit away from the routine life to which we seem destined, it is easy to slip into the belief that after our fight for (whichever) cause, we will not have to trail down a similar path. The novel Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates charts an example of such a revolt. The film V for Vendetta fascinates because of the passionate willingness of its protagonists to put everything on the line for a wish of a better, richer life. A symptom of psychological youth, rebellion is an expression of frustration with reality characterized by an irremediable lack of compromise- and that is what makes it beautiful.
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