iGen

by Jean M. Twenge

  When UC Irvine law professors Howard Gillman and Erwin Chemerinsky taught a college freshman seminar on freedom of speech, they were shocked by how often the students favored restricting speech protected by the First Amendment. It was a generational shift, they realized: the students had witnessed the harm of hateful speech but not the harm of censorship or punishment of dissent. The professors pointed out that restricting speech you dislike could easily lead to restricting speech you like. When officials have the power to regulate speech, they noted, “that power is inevitably abused. . . . Over the course of U.S. history, officials censored or punished those whose speech they disliked: abolitionists, labor activists, religious minorities, communists and socialists, cultural critics, gays and lesbians,” they wrote in the Los Angeles Times. “. . . Our students came to realize that there was no way to create a ‘safe space’ on campuses where students could be free from one set of offenses without engaging in massive censorship, and perhaps creating another kind of offense.”

  The culture of speech restriction has created another victim: humor. Comedians such as Chris Rock say they no longer perform on college campuses because students are too easily offended. Writing in The Atlantic about campus comedy shows, Caitlin Flanagan concluded that college students preferred “comedy that was 100 percent risk-free, comedy that could not trigger or upset or mildly trouble a single student . . . thoroughly scrubbed of barb and aggression.” At a convention where comics auditioned for campus gigs, campus representatives hesitated to book a gay comic who got huge laughs for his riff about having a “sassy black friend” because he was “perpetuating stereotypes.” “We don’t want to sponsor an event that would offend anyone,” said Courtney Bennett, the president of the student activities board at Western Michigan University. This shows the two sides of campus tolerance: on the positive side, a kind inclusiveness, but on the negative side, a quick and brutal judgment of anyone who makes a comment deemed offensive, even if it’s misinterpreted or meant as a joke.

  Is This Just a Few Activists—or a New Norm?

  I was curious if these views were just those of the extreme few. To find out, my graduate student and I surveyed two hundred introductory psychology students at San Diego State University (SDSU) in April 2016, asking them a wide array of questions on these topics. Although it is of course just one campus, SDSU has a diverse student body more representative of the average college student than the Ivy League universities often featured in stories about safe spaces.

  The results were stunning: a massive three out of four SDSU students supported safe spaces for students who disagreed with controversial speakers, and three out of four also agreed that professors should be required to include trigger warnings if a course reading mentioned sexual assault.

  The students’ views provide a glimpse into why speech has become a hotly debated issue on college campuses recently. Nearly half of the SDSU students (48%) agreed that “A white person saying the ‘n-word’ (the racial epithet) is always offensive, even if it is being used as an example of historical discrimination and not as an insult toward a specific person.” Fifty-two percent agreed that “People who are not black should never say the ‘n-word,’ no matter what.”

  The consequences of saying the wrong thing can be dire. More than one out of four students (28%) agreed that “A faculty member who, on a single occasion, says something racially insensitive in class should be fired.” (We deliberately left the wording of the question vague, which makes this result even more chilling; what is “racially insensitive” could differ from one person to the next.) One out of four is more than enough for a critical mass to band together to report a faculty member to the administration, something that has occurred with increasing frequency. Students were slightly more forgiving toward their fellow students; 16% believed that “A student who, on a single occasion, says something racially insensitive in class should be expelled.”

  Most surprising to me was this: 38% of students believed that “Faculty members should not discuss average racial differences (in, for example, attitudes, traits, and IQ) in class.” This is highly problematic, as classes in psychology, sociology, economics, public policy, political science, social work, and many other disciplines regularly present research on differences by racial group. According to this sizable minority of students, scientific research on race must not be discussed. This is especially shocking because these were students taking Introduction to Psychology, a class that covers both scientific methods and group differences. If that many students question the presentation of any material about racial differences, it is no wonder that many faculty are now afraid to teach any topic connected to race, effectively shutting down any discussion of ethnic and cultural differences—in theory, conversations that might lead to better understanding.

  When I ask 20-year-old Georgia college student Darnell what he thinks about classes presenting material on racial differences, he says, “I can see why students would not like that, so I think it’s best not to do that. Let’s just stay away from that.” Other students disagreed. “Testing of different racial groups, testing those hypotheses, is not necessarily bad,” says James, a student at the same college. “Being easily offended by those types of things keeps you from learning. It keeps you from being able to keep an open mind and get to a truth, get to more knowledge.”

  Microaggressions: A Thousand Small Cuts

  Then there are “microaggressions,” usually defined as unintentionally hurtful things said to people of color. By definition, aggression is intentional, so the label itself is a misnomer. Nevertheless, many statements labeled as microaggressions are painful to hear. Buzzfeed posted a photo project of students at Fordham University in New York holding signs on which they’d written microaggressions directed at them. These included “You’re pretty for a dark-skin girl,” “So, what do you guys speak in Japan? Asian?” “So, like, what are you?” and “No, where are you really from?” (I’m struck by how socially inept these statements are—perhaps the product of a generation that has spent less time interacting with its peers face-to-face.) Clearly, hearing the same insensitive questions over and over is unpleasant and stressful for people of color. LGBT people also have to deal with this. Take this exchange posted on Twitter: “Cashier: So do you have a boyfriend? Me: I’m gay. Cashier: Oh! You don’t look . . . you look good!”

  In a 2014 MTV survey of 14- to 24-year-olds, 45% of people of color said they had personally been hurt by microaggressions, compared to 25% of whites. “What haunts me are the frequent, small actions that remind me I don’t belong, that people look at me and see a black person before they see someone who’s just a person,” wrote Princess Ojiaku, a University of Wisconsin graduate student. “These reminders build into an invisible weight I carry. . . . They are the small and constant confirmations of your fear that people see you as a caricature rather than as an individual.” Research finds that individuals who experience more microaggressions also report more anxiety and depression. (However, people who are higher in anxiety and depression might also be more likely to remember or perceive more microaggressions, or the link could be due to outside factors.)

  Some statements labeled as microaggressions are more ambiguous, and that’s where debates get started. The first statement listed on UCLA’s guide to microaggressions is “Where are you from?” That’s probably the most common question asked on a college campus during the first week of classes. Clearly it’s not usually a microaggression. Other statements labeled as microaggressions include “I believe the most qualified person should get the job,” “Everyone can succeed in this society, if they work hard enough,” and “Where were you born?”

  Are these statements offensive? That is in the eye of the beholder. The difficulty now is that if someone says he was offended, that is proof enough, even if the other person didn’t mean to be offensive. This is one reason why iGen’ers have gained a reputation for oversensitivity, with their strong emphasis on people being offended by words. And there�
�s little agreement on which words are offensive. Some Asian Americans are offended by being asked “Where are you from?” and some are not. One South Asian young man wrote, “I get asked ‘Where are you from?’ ” on a weekly basis. . . . Victimhood culture tells me this is a ‘microaggression’ based on racism that should offend me. But it’s not. We live in a multicultural society, and it’s not always clear what someone’s background is. I don’t assume they’re racist just because they’re curious about my background. But victimhood culture tells me I should.”

  In the SDSU survey, only 18% agreed that “Where are you from?” is a microaggression. The vast majority also did not see “America is a land of opportunity” or “Gender plays no part in who we hire” as microaggressions. But more than 85% of students agreed that certain actions are microaggressions, including crossing the street to avoid a person of color, saying to an Asian person “You must be good in math, can you help me with this problem?” or saying “We are only women.” Only 13% thought that a dorm cafeteria having a “Mexican night” was offensive, though 33% agreed that wearing a sombrero and poncho as a Halloween costume was offensive. With such a wide range of opinions, it’s difficult to tell when a statement will offend most people—or just one person, which is enough to cause problems.

  The Free and Open Discussion

  iGen’ers are coming to adulthood in a confusing time for issues around group identity. In the MTV survey, 84% said their family had taught them that everyone should be treated the same no matter what their race. Yet only 37% said their families talked about race—only 30% among whites. Race is at once something that matters and doesn’t matter, that is talked about and not talked about. iGen is color blind—but since racial bias still exists, that’s not always a realistic position to take.

  Then iGen’ers get to college, where they earnestly strive for equality but are so afraid of offending one another that they still don’t talk about race. In the MTV survey, only 20% said they were comfortable having a conversation about bias. Forty-eight percent believe it’s wrong to draw attention to someone’s race even if you are being positive. But 73% think people should talk more openly about bias, and 69% would love the opportunity to have an open, respectful, and judgment-free conversation about bias. iGen’ers’ bedrock sense of equality is a real opportunity for race relations in this country; the vast majority come to adulthood without the blatant prejudices of the past. But experiences do differ by race, due to prejudice and life experience, and as a result many students of color feel uncomfortable at predominantly white universities. iGen’ers want to talk about these issues—at least they say they do—but they also feel they can’t. That’s no wonder, given the culture of silence and recrimination around these topics. That, more than anything, is the reason the culture of offense needs to reconsider the best path for iGen and for us all.

  iGen’ers’ record levels of anxiety and depression, their slow path to adulthood, and their emphasis on inclusion have fused into the view that people need to be protected at all costs. Striking a balance between protection and free speech will continue to roil iGen and older generations well into the future.

  Chapter 10

  * * *

  Independent: Politics

  “I will be voting for Donald Trump,” 20-year-old Mark tells me only a few minutes into our conversation on a Monday afternoon a few months before the 2016 election. Mark juggles community college, a job at an electronics store, and a steady girlfriend while living with his parents to save money. After graduating from high school, he tried living on his own for a year in his hometown near Fort Worth, Texas, but found that rent ate up most of his paycheck. His parents, a mechanic and a homemaker, told Mark he could live at home as long as he was going to college.

  Mark doesn’t care for all of Trump’s statements, but after reading his and Hillary Clinton’s platforms he decided that “out of the two poisons . . . Donald Trump is the least worse one.” Like Trump, Mark believes that things are bad enough for Americans already without trying to help people from other countries. “With all of the immigrants coming in, not only will there be a shortage of jobs but a shortage of land to live in. The poverty level’s going to skyrocket because there’s not going to be enough resources to go around. I would much rather have a wall and keep our economy going than try to help people we can’t help,” he says, referring to Trump’s campaign promise to build a wall along the US-Mexico border.

  Nine months earlier and halfway across the country, I drove up the California coast to visit 18-year-old Cameron, at home on winter break from his freshman year at a private college. It’s one of those rare days when traffic is relatively light on the 5 north, so I have the pleasure of not having to rush as I maneuver my minivan around the small winding streets of the gated beach community where Cameron’s family lives. His house is just a few blocks from the ocean, in a development with a typical layout for a coastal neighborhood: large, beautiful homes on small lots. Cameron has bright blue eyes and a lean build honed by jogging and a vegan diet. He is majoring in math and strikes me as unusually focused for a college freshman, telling me all about the data analysis he’s been doing for his internship with a tech company—which, despite my own affinity for statistics, I can barely follow.

  Like many iGen’ers in early 2016, Cameron was feeling the Bern for Bernie Sanders, the politically independent socialist who mounted a strong challenge to Hillary Clinton during the 2016 Democratic presidential primaries. To Cameron, supporting Sanders wasn’t about party politics—it was about his authenticity and moral message, especially around government funding for education. Cameron knows he has been given advantages that many other young people don’t have, and he’s not sure that’s fair. “Nobody should be put at a significant disadvantage because of what they were born into,” he says. He also strongly believes in equality and in legalizing certain choices: “Everybody should be afforded equal opportunity to live according to their own whims. For anything that doesn’t affect other people—like drug issues—there shouldn’t be control over that realm of someone’s personal life.”

  Sanders was wildly popular with young voters. In a poll of Democratic voters entering the Iowa caucuses in February 2016, young adults were six times as likely to favor Sanders as Clinton (84% vs. 14%). As late as mid-July 2016, nearly half of Sanders’s young supporters said they would vote for a third-party candidate instead of Clinton or Trump.

  Trump did not begin as a youth favorite, but by November he managed to attract a large number of young voters. Among white voters 18 to 29 years of age, he won over Hillary Clinton 48% to 43%, a stunning result for a young generation often characterized as overwhelmingly liberal. Although Clinton won among young voters as a whole, a substantial 37% overall voted for Trump. That means nearly four out of ten iGen’ers and young Millennials voted for not just a Republican candidate but a candidate affiliated with a white nationalism many thought had died out long before iGen was born. Young Americans’ votes helped sway the election in Trump’s favor: 18- to 29-year-olds are now a larger percentage of voters than those over 65.

  How did this happen? And what does it mean for US elections going forward that such a large percentage of young voters chose the Republican candidate even when he seemed like such a throwback?

  Political Party Problems

  Two months before the election, my colleagues and I published a paper with some glimmers of what was to come. For years, the assumption was that Millennials, and now iGen’ers, were overwhelmingly Democrats and would stay that way. In August 2016, USA Today predicted a “historic trouncing” of Trump among young voters. In 2014, the Washington Post announced that Republicans had a “young-people problem”—the party, it was assumed, just couldn’t attract Millennials. Two years later, that was proven wrong. To figure out why, consider this question: What do Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump have in common?

  The answer: both are political independents. Sanders is the longest-serving independent in the US Congr
ess; his Senate web page mentions nothing about his being a Democrat. Before becoming president, Donald Trump had never held political office, and he battled with the Republican establishment throughout the primaries and general election campaign. In November 2016, the Washington Post called Trump “America’s first independent president.” Both Sanders and Trump were seen as free agents who spoke their minds and refused to bow to the party power brokers.

  That’s why young people liked them, despite the socialist Sanders and the nationalist Trump holding many views outside the political mainstream. In the most recent General Social Survey, an incredible 54% of 18- to 29-year-olds identified as independent, up from just a third in 1989 (see Figure 10.1). That is one reason they flocked to Sanders and eventually to Trump. Just as iGen’ers and Millennials are avoiding institutions such as religion and marriage, more and more of them are refusing to identify with the major political parties.

  Figure 10.1. Political party identification, 18- to 29-year-olds (excludes “don’t know” and “other party”). General Social Survey, 1972–2016.

  Older generations are also now more likely to be political independents. Still, iGen’ers and Millennials are much more likely to be independent than Boomers and Silents in recent years. Thus, the growth of independents is both a time-period and a generational effect—adults of all ages have shifted away from the major parties, but Millennials and iGen’ers were even more likely to be Independent than everyone else in 2016.

  That might be one reason why Hillary Clinton, heavily associated with the political establishment, didn’t gather as many young voters as anticipated. When Clinton secured the Democratic nomination in June 2016 and became the first female US presidential nominee of a major party, Boomers were shocked when young people reacted with a collective yawn. Many just couldn’t get on board with a candidate so identified with the political establishment, even if she did break a centuries-old glass ceiling for women. Eighteen-year-old Josephine Sicking, of Cleveland Heights, Ohio, told Time magazine in July 2016, “If Hillary wins, it’s just the lesser of two evils. I know we could come up with a better system than what we have today.” In contrast, Josephine’s 78-year-old grandmother voted for Clinton in the primaries and was excited about the possibility of electing a female president, and her 49-year-old mother voted for Sanders but was “coming around.” Josephine’s mother told her, “We’re going to talk you into voting.” Josephine just shrugged.