It's time for an intergenerational war

There is no shortage of wars nowadays. Yet here I am, after having a strong coffee first thing in the morning, calling people to participate in the only war I believe is fair and needed. I am rallying people for an intergenerational war. Unlike many warmongers, this is a war I am ready to fight personally. I contemplated writing this in Italian or English because this seems like a largely Southern European issue. However, lately, my relationships have expanded to include Scandinavian people, encouraging me to explore their cliches and truths. That’s my personal hobby.

I love children and the elderly; my issues lie with everyone in between. If I can tolerate you for more than two hours, it’s a good sign. The more I examine it, the more I find that my friends’ personalities unite in authenticity, similar to that of children and the elderly. Children don’t care what others think; they’re not yet conditioned to do so. The elderly, having recognised that time is all we’ve got, share this authenticity. If only we could let this guide us more often.

Recently, I’ve noticed something strange. A commonly accepted belief is that each generation slightly dislikes and fails to comprehend the next. I see this as a marker of progress. However, conversations amongst my friends about our younger siblings are increasingly filled with admiration for their courage and freedom. I adore the friends of my younger brothers; I find them less racist, more open-minded, communicative, less self-centred and less insecure. They also seem to prioritize and vehemently defend their well-being. A friend’s sister forsaking her degree to try something else sparked our envy for their freedom to change their minds; we didn’t have that luxury in our time. This strange blend of envy and admiration makes me wonder if the authenticity so evident in younger generations emerges from freedom or desperation – a significant distinction.

Youth seem detached from anything or anyone specific. However, our responsibilities determine our freedoms. What do new generations prioritize? They always strike me as alarmingly unbothered — but not effortlessly cool. This makes a hell of a difference. This apathy contrasts starkly with how many young people approach environmentalism, which often feels akin to a religion – or worse, a cult. I suspect this connection is born from a subconscious (or conscious) awareness that they’ve been cheated by previous generations. Environmentalism is a response to this angst. I am convinced. Would they be as concerned with global destruction without the uncertainties they face? They spend an inhuman amount of time on their phones, so I find it odd that they’re particularly interested in preserving a society they don’t seem overly fond of. Perhaps they harbour resentment for a stolen natural carefreeness. After writing this paragraph, I feel an inexplicable need for Botox, but I hope my point is clear.

When I think of Italy I get angry, which might explain why I compulsively eat there, even when I’m not hungry. Most Italians react to any provocation with a resigned “Sure, we’re on the Titanic, but pass me the mozzarella, please.” We use food to sidestep our issues. We cover our issues with our bulimia. And I believe that one of the biggest problems in Italy is this clash between generations that nobody dares face. It is a country where family plays an important role. Is it casual that the places that gave birth to the strongest mafias are also the ones with the strongest family ties? I don’t think so. I am lucky enough to have been welcomed into a Dutch family. I remember that in the first years, it shocked me that opa would be like “Sorry can’t meet you this weekend, I am doing this and that”. It shocked me even more when J., his son, would be like “Yeah opa now has hired a new caregiver” when they lived a couple of km away. I think I was not mentally prepared for older generations to put themselves first in all honesty, nor for kids to be so chill about not taking care of their parents.

In Italy we have the expression “bastone della mia vecchiaia”, literally “you are the cane of my old age”. It portrays well family dynamics in Italy, and perhaps Southern Europe too. You make kids to be served in old age. Kids expect you to leave them what you’ve built along the way. Transactional and covered in a lot of what I consider now forced closeness and a lot of hyper caloric meals (that I do not regret one bit). I used to feel morally superior and judgmental. Again, I could not accept what I considered an awful display of lack of care. Now, when I see some of the pictures of our politicians in the 80s, dressed to impress, having parties and living lavishly I wish we’d get the courage to use the cane to beat our elderly people. I said it. And the politicians we had reflected the citizens, as a ridiculous amount of people got their pension at 40 and some of them have the courage to give lectures to younger people on how to live with the little young people have. Lack of shame makes you daring.

But my question is, is it possible to build a relationship among parents, grandparents children and grandchildren if the relationship is so unbalanced materially speaking? If you live in a country where you are considered “young” until you turn 40 and then you are considered “old” as soon as you turn 45, can you build a sense of self and ownership over your life in five years? Is that enough? An eternal infantilization that is covered in clientelism. I strongly believe there cannot be true love of any sort when dependency is at the core of it. And Italians, the lucky ones at least, shut up when their parents are being unbearable because they will likely inherit something. But when we live in the family sphere, how does it feel to be eternally infantilized and patronized by people who at our age were sipping cocktails in Ibiza and who were sure that a few years of idiocy would not hurt their future in any case? What kind of countries are we building if younger generations depend so much on older generations for basic survival? In that case, I welcome the giving up of the new generations. I wish only that the giving up would turn into protest. At least to attain the peace one gets when you cut the bullshit.?

A party of Italian politicians in the 80s

I left Italy because I do not like to be robbed. And the pension system in Italy is a Ponzi scheme. But also because I have terrible digestion, and didn’t want to put it in danger with all the lectures I would have been given at Sunday lunchtime. I can take two servings of pasta, but I cannot stand even one serving of paternalism.?

Vilma Djala

p.s. if you are Italian and muster the courage to look at the void in the face, join PreviApe , an event my friend Federico organizes, for free, to let people know about how to escape the scam of the Italian pension system.

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