Janine Jackson interviewed Mother Jones‘ Ari Berman, about right-wing plans for minority rule, for the July 26, 2024, episode of CounterSpin. This is a lightly edited transcript.
Janine Jackson: With
so much attention on individual politicians’ temperaments, and on the
country’s political temperature generally, it’s easy to forget that US
governance is based around structures. These structures are being
undermined, but they also have design flaws, if you will, that have been
present from the start, as explored in a new book by our guest.
Ari Berman is national voting rights correspondent for Mother Jones, and author of a number of books, most recently Minority Rule: The Right-Wing Attack on the Will of the People—and the Fight to Resist It, out now from Farrar, Straus and Giroux. He joins us now by phone. Welcome back to CounterSpin, Ari Berman.
Ari Berman: Hey, Janine. Great to talk to you again. Thank you.
JJ: My
ninth grade government teacher said that he didn’t think we’d remember
much from his class, but there was one thing we needed to know, and
periodically, he would just holler, “What’s the law of the land?” And we
would shout out, “The Constitution!”
There’s a belief that we
have these bedrocks of democracy—and they might be ignored, or even
breached—but in themselves, they have some kind of purity. Where do you
start in explaining why we would be helped by disabusing ourselves of
that kind of understanding?
AB: That’s
right. Our understanding of the Constitution is basically these godlike
figures in their powdered wigs decreeing the law of the land in 1787,
and having the people’s best interests at heart. And in many ways, the
Constitution was a remarkable document for its time, but the founders
had their own self-interests at heart in many cases. And remember, these
were white male property holders, many of them slave holders, and they designed the Constitution, in many ways, not to expand democracy, but to check democracy, and make sure that their own interests were protected.
And
they realized that they were a distinct minority in the country,
because they, as I said, were a white property-holding elite, and the
country was not. There were a lot of white men without property, and
then you think about women, and African Americans and Native Americans,
and other people who weren’t part at all of the drafting of the
Constitution.
And so the Constitution, in many ways, favors these elite minorities
over the majority of people. It favors small states over large states
in the construction of the US Senate. It favors slave states over free
states in the construction of the US House. It prevents the direct
election of the president. It creates a Supreme Court that’s a product
of an undemocratic Senate and an undemocratic presidency.
The world’s richest person, Elon Musk, just announced
that he’s a “big believer in the principles of Christianity” and “a
cultural Christian”. Musk’s reasons are moral and political – he
believes Christianity can boost both happiness and birthrates.
Musk joins many western conservative thinkers troubled by a rapidly changing world. Some of these thinkers have embraced Christianity
to combat these changes. Yet they often struggle to accept
Christianity’s central supernatural claims, like Christ’s resurrection.
Adopting Christianity at least partly as a way to achieve political
ends could backfire. However, such thinkers may have another option. If
we can have coffee without caffeine and beer without alcohol, why not
Christianity without miracles? Could conservative thinkers embrace
“Christianity-lite” and still achieve their aims? As an academic who has
examined the meeting point between religion and psychology, I find this
an intriguing question.
In conservative intellectual circles, the receding tide of
Christianity is turning. For some, the appeal is aesthetic. The
prominent atheist, Richard Dawkins, calls Christianity’s core claims
“obvious nonsense”, but he still identifies as a “cultural Christian” because he enjoys hymns and cathedrals.
Others see moral value in Christianity. The British conservative
commentator Douglas Murray calls himself a “Christian atheist”,
rejecting key Christian beliefs, but valuing its moral ideas like the “sanctity of the individual”. US psychologist and media personality Jordan Peterson acts “as if” God exists because for him, it provides meaning, purpose and order.
When writer Ayaan Hirsi Ali converted to Christianity, she cited political reasons, claiming Christianity was the only way the west could combat “wokeness”, Islam and authoritarian regimes. She later clarified: “I choose to believe that Jesus rose from the dead”, yet added, “what is even more real for me is the wisdom in that story, the morality”.
The evidence for the benefits these thinkers perceive in Christianity is complicated. Researchers argue religion does not create morality, but orientates it towards issues.
Religious people are more likely to hold
moral values that maintain social order. These include loyalty,
conformity and respect for tradition and authority. They are also more
likely to have moral values that promote self-control.
So, conservative thinkers might be right in believing Christianity
can support the social order they feel is threatened. But this is not a
new idea. Egyptian pharaohs used religion to aid social stability. Today, in China, President Xi Jinping uses Confucianism for such purposes.
Yet, many conservative intellectuals struggle to believe
Christianity’s core supernatural elements. Re-enchanting the world is
difficult. So, can the benefits of Christianity be retained without
believing such claims?
The shadow of a corpse
Some conservative intellectuals think the west has already adopted
Christianity-lite. Many point to the book Dominion: The Making of the
Western Mind (2019), by historian Tom Holland.
Holland argues that despite declining religious belief, Christian
ideas remain central to western civilisation. He views liberalism – our
dominant political philosophy – as secularised Christianity. For him, core western ideas, like universal human rights, equality and dignity, stem from Christianity.
In this view, our moral values are the vapour trails of a vanishing Christianity or, as Holland puts it, “the shadow of a corpse”. This causes some to worry that these values may lack vigorous defenders and be unable to bind society together.
There may be some truth here. Research into “sacred values” shows
some people have values they’ll defend, regardless of cost. When people
violate our sacred values, parts of our brain that weigh up costs and
benefits of our actions shut down.
A godless morality
may lack the sacredness needed to promote the actions conservatives
hope for. This might lead intellectuals to feign belief in Christianity
or to find a way to believe.
Christian disinformation
Public intellectuals might promote Christianity for perceived
benefits while feigning belief. For them, Christianity would become a
“noble lie” – a falsehood knowingly professed by elites to ensure social
stability. Today, we call such falsehoods disinformation.
Those playing with holy fire also risk being biblically burned.
Adopting Christianity as a noble lie would support those who want to
abandon the separation between church and state. This includes US Catholic integralists who want their government to promote Catholic values. Using Christianity to fight authoritarian regimes abroad could create religious authoritarianism at home.
What would it take for sceptical conservative thinkers to believe in
Christianity? The philosopher Giambattista Vico (1668–1744) suggested
that our age of reason and self-interest might need society to collapse into “primitive simplicity” for faith to arise again.
An anonymous donor known only as RPCI-11 would prove central to the Human Genome Project. Frozen copies of the RPCI-11 library are seen here at the home of one of the project’s lead scientists. IMAGE/Meron Menghistab for Undark
One person’s DNA became the centerpiece of a genetic sequence used by biologists the world over. Did he agree to that?
They numbered 20 in all — 10 men and 10 women who came to a sprawling medical campus in downtown Buffalo, New York, to volunteer for what a news report had billed as “the world’s biggest science project.”
It was the spring of 1997, and the Human Genome Project, an ambitious
attempt to read and map a human genetic code in its entirety, was
building momentum. The project’s scientists had refined techniques to
read out the chemical sequences — the series of As, Cs, Ts, and Gs —
that encode the building blocks of life.
Now, the researchers just needed suitable human DNA to work with. More
exactly, they needed DNA from ordinary people willing to have their
genetic information published for the world to see. The volunteers who
showed up at Buffalo’s Roswell Park Cancer Institute had come to answer
the call.
To take part in the study was to assume risks that were hard to
calculate or predict. If the volunteers were publicly outed, project
scientists told them, they might be contacted by the media or by critics
of genetic research — of whom there were many. If the published
sequences revealed a worrisome genetic condition that could be tied back
to the volunteers, they might face discrimination from potential
employers or insurers. And it was impossible to know how future
scientists might use or abuse genetic information. No one’s genome had
ever been sequenced before.
But the volunteers were also informed that measures had been put in
place to protect them: They would remain anonymous, and to minimize the
chances that any one of them could be identified based on their unique
genetic sequence, the published genome would be a patchwork, derived not
from one person but stitched together from the DNA of a large number of
volunteers. “If we use the blood you donate” to prepare DNA samples,
the consent form read, “we expect that no more than 10% of the eventual
DNA sequence will have been obtained from your DNA.”
DIY psychology? At El Ateneo, once a theatre, self-help books are what sells best after fiction, Buenos Aires, 7 April 2019. IMAGE/Mariano Gabriel Sanchez/Anadolu/Getty
Political upheavals, economic crises and military juntas have all taken their toll on Argentinians’ mental health. No wonder, then, that the country has the world’s highest concentration of therapists.
‘In Buenos Aires, you’re weird if you don’t get analysed’
There’s one on every corner. In her office on a small Buenos Aires square, María Bondoni, 33, sees patients on a plain grey couch; only the yellow and red cushions add a touch of colour. Five minutes away, Nora Silvestri, in her 60s, offers Lacanian therapy on the first floor of an elegant, Haussmann-style building shaded by jacaranda. Close by, on Avenida Santa Fe, are the consulting rooms of Lucila Aranda (a feminist and Peronist according to her Instagram profile) who specialises in treating anxiety.
The number of shrinks in ‘Villa Freud’, an upscale neighbourhood of
Buenos Aires, reflects the national passion for psychotherapy: there are
more psychologists per capita in Argentina than anywhere else in the
world – 222 for every 100,000 residents according to 2016 WHO
statistics.
Here, there’s nothing taboo about taking care of one’s mental health.
Even Pope Francis saw a psychoanalyst for six months in 1978 when he
was provincial superior for the country’s Jesuits, who were facing
pressure from the military dictatorship of Jorge Rafael Videla
(1976-81). ‘You’re weird if you don’t get analysed,’ said Ezequiel
Berretta from Villa Freud’s iconic Letra Viva bookstore. He handed me a
recent book, ‘What’s this thing called psychoanalysis?’ (¿Qué es esa cosa llamada psicoanálisis?)
by Argentinian psychoanalyst Hernán José Molina, who explains the
discipline’s basic concepts. According to Berretta, grasping the lingo
is key to fitting into Buenos Aires life. ‘Spend a couple of hours
around here and you’ll notice that everyone brings up their therapy.’
Freud is part of the capital’s culture. On Avenida Corrientes, a wide thoroughfare where most of the city’s theatres are concentrated, one production, Freud’s last session, has been running since 2012 and fills the Teatro Picadero every performance.
Abstract: This article investigates the
popular social media channels of former Happiness Realization Party
official Yukihisa Oikawa, who has built himself a profile as a media
personality within the Japanese language conspiracy narrative realm. In
our analysis, we put a particular focus on his statements concerning the
Russo-Ukrainian war and examine them within the context of his larger
ideological and political views. Using mixed quantitative and
qualitative discourse analysis methods, we are able to trace
radicalization and semantic shifts within his terminology, as well as
investigate the connection between metapolitical communication
strategies and the monetization of anti-media and conspiracist
disinformation – a connection that is common for the political strategy
of the global far-right.
Introduction
Following the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, public
discourse in Japan has mostly promoted an anti-war stance and portrayed
the invasion as an act of aggression and a clear break of international
law.1
Debates on social media largely mirrored this attitude, but statements
opposing this view began to emerge and spread, especially on the
far-right spectrum of the online sphere. One place in which this
occurred was the social media accounts associated with Happy Science
(?????, k?fuku no kagaku, abbreviated HS), a new religious
movement with ambitions to restructure the political, economic, and
social order by means of a wide and diverse field of activities and
institutions, including the establishment of its own schools, a
university, publishing and entertainment media houses, and a political
party (Baffelli 2017, 139–141). While estimates of its membership range
between a self-proclaimed 11 million to a more critical assessment of
13,000 (Winn 2022), its transdisciplinary and missionary style of
participating in politics, publishing, and education has given it
considerable visibility in the public sphere, making it the “leading new
religion in late twentieth-century Japan” (Baffelli 2017, 139).
Among the associated YouTube channels, the one with the most
followers was ‘the Wisdom Channel,’ a political commentary channel
featuring Yukihisa Oikawa (?? ??, Oikawa Yukihisa), a former high-ranking official of Happy Science and its political arm, the Happiness Realization Party (?????, K?fuku Jitsugen-t?,
abbreviated HRP). To our surprise, Oikawa retired from his 20-year
career with Happy Science in the middle of our research. Therefore, what
had started as an analysis of the anti-media and pro-Russia claims of
an official of a political fringe party and new religious movement
needed to be reconsidered, and instead became an analysis of what is
usually called a ‘conspiracy entrepreneur’ in existing research (cf.
Birchall 2021). With our dataset covering the very time of his
transition from one to the other, we were able to observe this process
in situ. With Oikawa, we thus analyze the articulations of a spiritual
writer and fringe party politician turning into a social media
personality, increasingly establishing himself in a social media
counter-public sphere. We argue that he is a representative example of
the strategic connection between the monetization of anti-media and
conspiracist disinformation, and metapolitical communication
strategies,contributing to the internationalization of the far-right in
Japan by disseminating pro-Putin and Trumpian worldviews.
Happy Science and Yukihisa Oikawa
Happy Science is a religious and spiritual movement founded in 1986
by Ryuh? ?kawa (?? ??, ?kawa Ry?h?), promoting a blend of religious
teachings, self-help principles, and political ideologies. The
organization’s doctrine is based on the belief that its recently
deceased founder and central figure ?kawa was connected to, or a
reincarnation of, various religious figures, including Buddha and Jesus
Christ, and that he possessed special divine knowledge (Grillmayer 2013,
HAPPY SCIENCE Official Website n.d.). The organization’s political
party, the Happiness Realization Party, runs on a conservative and
nationalistic platform, including the revision of the constitutional
“peace” article 9 and boosting military spending to attack North Korea,
as well as to radically increase the birth rate in order to make Japan a
globally leading country (for more information on HS and HRP cf.
Baffelli 2010, Baffelli 2017, Demetriou 2009, Gilbert 2021, Hall 2023,
Klein 2011).
Ethiopia’s Chinese built Addis Ababa–Djibouti trainline VIDEO/Youtube
China’s growing presence in Africa has captured global attention. As its trade deals and investments have eclipsed those of the West, politicians from the US and EU have raised the alarm: Beijing, they say, is exploiting the continent’s resources, threatening its jobs and buttressing its dictators, while casting political or environmental considerations to the side. African civil society organizations level many of the same criticisms, while also pointing out that Western countries have long engaged in similar practices. In the Anglophone media, most assessments of China’s outlook are clouded by the rhetoric of the New Cold War, which frames Xi Jinping as bent on world domination and calls on the forces of civilization to stop him. What would a more sober analysis look like? How should we understand Africa’s role in this hostile geopolitical matrix?
Chinese interests in Africa – and Western concerns about Beijing’s influence – are nothing new. Understanding the current standoff requires us to trace its history. In April 1955, representatives of 29 Asian and African nations and territories gathered for a landmark conference in Bandung, Indonesia. They resolved to wrest autonomy from the capitalist core by promoting economic and cultural cooperation, as well as decolonization and national liberation, throughout the Global South. Thereafter, Chinese engagement with Africa was guided by this spirit of solidarity. From the early 1960s to the mid-70s, China offered grants and low interest loans for development projects in Algeria, Egypt, Ghana, Guinea, Mali, Tanzania and Zambia. It also sent tens of thousands of ‘barefoot doctors’, agricultural technicians and workers’ solidarity brigades to African countries that had rejected neocolonialism and been rebuffed by the West.
In Southern Africa, where white minority rule persisted in settler
colonies and Portugal resisted demands for independence, Beijing
provided the liberation movements in Mozambique and Rhodesia with
military training, advisers and weapons. When Western countries ignored
Zambian pleas to effectively isolate the renegade regimes, China
established the Tanzania Zambia Railway Authority, which built a
railroad that permitted Zambia to export its copper through Tanzania
rather than white-ruled Rhodesia and South Africa. Throughout this
period, Chinese policies were determined primarily by political
imperatives, as the country sought allies in a global conjuncture shaped
by the Cold War.
After the collapse of the USSR, though, its priorities changed. China
responded to the advent of American unipolarity by embarking on a
massive programme of industrialization and liberalization, hoping to
avoid the fate of other Communist state projects. With this shift,
Africa was no longer viewed as an ideological proving ground but as a
source of raw materials and a market for Chinese goods, ranging from
clothing to electronics. Political sympathy gave way to economic
utility. African nations were valued according to their material and
strategic significance for the CCP’s development plans.
By the first decade of the twenty-first century, China had surpassed
the US as Africa’s largest trading partner, and it has recently become
the continent’s fourth largest source of foreign direct investment. In
exchange for guaranteed access to energy resources, agricultural land
and materials for electronic devices and electric vehicles, China has
spent billions of dollars on African infrastructure: building and
renovating roads, railroads, dams, bridges, ports, oil pipelines and
refineries, power plants, water systems and telecommunications networks.
Chinese enterprises have also constructed hospitals and schools, and
invested in clothing and food processing industries, along with
agriculture, fisheries, commercial real estate, retail and tourism. The
latest investments have focused on communications technology and
renewable energy.
Unlike Western powers and the international financial institutions
they dominate, Beijing has not made political and economic restructuring
a condition for its loans, investments, aid or trade. Nor are they
conditional upon labour and environmental protections. While these
policies are popular with African rulers, they are often challenged by
civil society organizations, which note that Chinese firms have driven
African-owned enterprises out of business and employed Chinese workers
rather than local ones. When they do hire African labour, Chinese
companies often force them to work in dangerous conditions for poverty
wages. China’s infrastructure projects have also resulted in massive
debts that have deepened African dependency, although African countries
still owe far more to the West. Most damagingly, Beijing has secured its
unfettered access to markets and resources by backing corrupt elites,
strengthening regimes that have pilfered their countries’ wealth,
repressed political dissent and waged wars against neighbouring states.
African rulers have, in turn, given China much-needed diplomatic support
in the United Nations and other international organizations.
For decades, China opposed political and military interference in the
internal affairs of other nations. Yet as Beijing’s economic interests
in Africa have grown, it has adopted a more interventionist approach,
involving disaster relief, anti-piracy and counterterrorism operations.
In the early 2000s, China joined UN peacekeeping programmes in countries
and regions where it had economic interests. In 2006 China pressured
Sudan, an important oil partner, to accept an African Union–UN presence
in Darfur; in 2013 it joined the UN peacekeeping mission in Mali,
motivated by its interests in the oil and uranium of neighbouring
countries; and in 2015 it worked with Western powers and East African
subregional organizations to mediate peace talks in South Sudan.
During this period, China initially refrained from military
involvement in strife-ridden areas, preferring to contribute medical
workers and engineers. But this did not last long. There was a notable
Chinese military presence in the UN peacekeeping missions to Burundi and
the Central African Republic. The UN Mali mission marked the first time
Chinese combat forces had joined such an operation, alongside some 400
engineers, medical personnel and police. Beijing also sent an infantry
battalion composed of 700 armed peacekeepers to South Sudan in 2015. By
the following year, it was contributing more military personnel to UN
peacekeeping operations than any other permanent member of the Security
Council.
The trend toward heightened political and military engagement in
Africa culminated in 2017, when China joined France, the US, Italy and
Japan in establishing a military facility in Djibouti: the first
permanent Chinese military base outside the country’s borders.
Strategically located on the Gulf of Aden near the mouth of the Red Sea,
the facility overlooks one of the world’s most lucrative shipping
lanes. It has allowed Beijing to resupply Chinese vessels involved in UN
anti-piracy operations and protect Chinese nationals living in the
region. It has also enabled the monitoring of commercial traffic along
China’s 21st Century Maritime Silk Road, which links countries from
Oceania to the Mediterranean in a vast production and trading network.
This will help China safeguard its supply of oil, half of which
originates in the Middle East and transits through the Red Sea and Bab
el-Mandeb Strait to the Gulf of Aden. Most of China’s exports to Europe
follow the same route.
Franz Fanon getting on a boat. IMAGE/Leo Zeilig / I B Tauris / HSRC Press – South Africa
What would Fanon say about the ongoing genocide in Palestine?
For Europe, for ourselves, and for humanity … we must work out new concepts and try to set afoot a new man.
— Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth
Frantz
Fanon’s dynamic and revolutionary thinking, always centered on
creation, movement and becoming, remains utterly prophetic, vivid,
inspiring, analytically sharp and morally committed to disalienation and
emancipation from all forms of oppression. Fanon strongly and
compellingly argued for a path to a future where humanity “advances a
step further” and breaks away from the world of colonialism and the mold
of European “universalism”. He represented the maturing of the
anti-colonial consciousness and was a decolonial thinker par excellence.
As a true embodiment of l’intellectuel engagé,
he transformed the debates on race, colonialism, imperialism,
otherness, and what it means for one human being to oppress another.
Despite his short life (he died from
leukemia at the age of 36), Fanon’s thought is very rich and his work
prolific, ranging from books and scientific papers to journalism and
speeches. He wrote his first book, Black Skin, White Masks, two years before the battle of Dien Bien Phu in Vietnam (1954), and his last book, the famous The Wretched of the Earth,
a canonical work about the anti-colonialist and Third Worldist
struggle, one year before Algerian independence (1962), during the
period of African decolonization. In his trajectory and across his work we can see interactions between
Black America and Africa, between the intellectual and the militant,
between thought/theory and action/practice, between idealism and
pragmatism, between individual analysis and collective movements,
between the psychological life (he trained as a psychiatrist) and the
physical struggle, between nationalism and Pan-Africanism, and finally
between questions of colonialism and questions of neocolonialism.
It is neither a surprise nor a
coincidence that we are witnessing a renewed interest in Fanon and his
ideas since the October 7 Hamas attacks on the Zionist entity and
occupying settler colony of Israel and the ensuing genocide against the
Palestinians. Without any doubt, his analysis and thinking remain highly
relevant and enlightening, due to the endurance of coloniality (which
he analyzed) in its myriad forms, from settler colonialism in Palestine
to neocolonialism in various parts of the global South. However, some of
this renewed interest—particularly in relation to the situation in
Palestine—succumbs to simplistic critiques and erroneous and insidious
readings of his work that tend to distort it and to disconnect it from
his anti-colonial and revolutionary praxis, as well as from his
unwavering commitment to the liberation of the “wretched of the earth.”
These supposedly “critical” endeavors cannot be dissociated from the
broader attacks on Palestinians’ right to resist colonialism using any
means necessary and the disdainful attitude toward people who show
uncompromising solidarity with their resistance and liberation struggle.
In some cases, the whole enterprise amounts to racism masquerading as
intellectual discourse.
This is not new: there exist many
reductive interpretations of Fanon, interpretations that eliminate
either the historical/political dimension or the
philosophical/psychological dimension of his work, depending on the
social imperatives of the moment. Fanon was a political thinker, a
revolutionary militant, and a psychiatrist, and all of these aspects of
his life formed a coherent unity: dialectical, complementary, and
enriching each other. After all, his was a project of combating
alienation in all its forms: social, cultural, political and
psychological. Fanon lived the life of a revolutionary, an ambassador,
and a journalist, but it is impossible to separate these many lives from
his scientific and clinical practice. Similarly, his expressions and
articulations were not only those of a psychiatric doctor, but also
those of a philosopher, a psychologist and a sociologist. Fanon was a
pioneer precisely because he combined a commitment to social
transformation with a commitment to the psychological liberation of
individuals. His essential aim was to think about, and construct freedom
as disalienation, taking place within a necessarily historical and
political process.
Fanon, the revolutionary psychiatrist
Science depoliticized, science in the service of man, is often non-existent in the colonies.
— Frantz Fanon, A Dying Colonialism
Arriving at Blida-Joinville
Psychiatric Hospital in Algeria in 1953, Fanon realized quickly that
colonization, in its essence, was a major producer of madness, hence the
need for psychiatric hospitals in colonized countries. He
enthusiastically undertook to revolutionize mainstream psychiatric
practice, in accordance with the “desalienist” teaching of the
Saint-Alban asylum and Professor Tosquelles. He saw how colonial
psychiatry naturalized mental disorders that were determined by social
and cultural factors. Scientific reductionism flourished in the
colonies, in particular under the authority of Antoine Porot and his
influential “Algiers school.” Fanon presented an incisive critique of
colonial ethno-psychiatry by exposing its crude racism and justification
of colonial oppression. He argued that colonialist psychiatry as a
whole had to be desalienated.
Zoomers are walking a tightrope, navigating between ambition and anxiety, the weight of expectations, the fear of failure, and the uncertainty of the future casting a shadow on the well-being of a generation in pursuit of economic stability.
Today is the last day of exams, after which preparations for the day
of graduation will begin, and we will finally be done with college. I
have been asking my classmates what they intend to do with their lives.
Do they plan to go back home for a while or immediately find a job? I
have noticed something common among the majority of the friends that I
have been talking to. They seem a bit lost, speaking of passions and the
fear of losing themselves in workplaces. Job security is not really
their pursuit; they seek something authentic, a venture to fill them
with life, give them fulfilment, a sense of belonging, and meaning. They
seek freedom.
After all, they have grown up in a world where smartphones are
extensions of their hands and social interactions transcend physical
boundaries. This generation of mine experiences a hyperreality where
online and offline worlds converge. Social media platforms become spaces
for constructing individual and collective identities, blurring the
line between reality and the digital realm. With a few taps, they are
able to access a wealth of information and connect with global
perspectives. In coffee shops, you’re likely to find them engrossed in
virtual conversations, effortlessly navigating the digital world.
This era of influencers and content creators has given rise to a
generation unafraid to embrace their unique identities and broadcast
them to the world. YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram are not just
platforms; they are canvases for self-expression. Postmodernism’s
rejection of fixed categories also aligns with my generation’s fluid
approach to identity. Beyond challenging traditional gender and cultural
norms, they embrace individualism and explore the diverse facets of
their personalities. My generation questions established norms and
institutions and seeks alternative sources of information, challenging
the narratives woven by traditional structures. Every dynamic of reality
is subject to scrutiny as they seek transparency and authenticity. My
generation is what many call free?–?Gen Z.
So, let’s look at this freedom for a minute. We are not just entering
the workforce; we are reshaping it. Or are we? If you are seeking to
retain us, then you have to let go of the traditional work model and
offer a hybrid or fully remote work option. What does a career track
even mean anyway? We are the generation that desires to attain a life
balance that is deeply intertwined with work, and appreciate employers
who understand the importance of flexibility in achieving this
equilibrium. Our fluency in technology isn’t just a proficiency; it’s a
way of life, a revolution. We are not just streamlining work; we’re very
aware of the need to transform it. As a matter of fact, gig owners
looking to attract our talent must embrace and invest in advanced
technologies that align with our preference for efficiency and
connectivity.
Unlike the many who came before us, we are not content with merely
fitting into the corporate structure (Does the structure still exist?)
We value environments that nurture creativity, encourage independent
thinking, and provide avenues for innovative projects. If you are a boss
that embraces the spirit of experimentation and values employees’
creative endeavours, then you are likely to unleash our full potential.
We like a culture of frequent, constructive feedback and expect
recognition for our contributions. Know our value before you approach
us; work is not just a job for us, it’s an avenue for making a
difference in the world. If you do not offer us the possibility to
thrive, we’ll find other means of surviving.
Let’s look at the numbers
A 2023 Bankrate survey
of 2,417 adults found that Gen Z was more likely than other generations
to switch jobs. Additionally, for 55 per cent of Gen Z workers there
was a strong likelihood that they would be seeking new employment in the
next 12 months, compared to millennials (43 per cent), Gen Xers (28 per
cent), and baby boomers (13 per cent). The high rate of job turnover
within this generation is not a symptom of restlessness but a reflection
of a collective insistence that work align with personal values and
passions. It is a declaration of independence, a refusal to conform to
outdated models of professional success.
