When William Strauss and Neil Howe first coined the term "Homelanders" for the generation born from 2005 to the present, it was a riff on the George W. Bush administration's new Department of Homeland Security. Though this Artist generation archetype is defined by an overly sheltered childhood, who could have guessed how appropriate the "Homelander" moniker would be in the "safer at home" Coronavirus crisis?
It's been interesting to watch how a virus that primarily targeted those over 65 still made children's activities a bone of contention. First, Midwest grocery/home improvement chain Menards completely banned children from its store. Next, parks and playgrounds-- the beloved oasis of fun for all out-of-school children, were roped off, fenced in, and locked. And finally, speaking of school, classes were canceled in favor of digital "distance learning"-- for many, through the remainder of the school year. Presumably, it was just too risky for children, and the adults who accompanied them, to be out in society. They were, again, "safer at home".
The instinct to shelter our children often comes from a good place: children are vulnerable creatures, and it's the duty of adults to protect them. But for Generation X parents, the instinct to protect is often heightened by their own memories of childhood neglect. Generation X's Nomad archetype is a direct contrast to that of the Artist; from being sold into indentured servitude or slavery in the 1640s to life as a latchkey kid in the 1980s, Nomads are well-acquainted with the risks and dangers that can so easily steal innocence from childhood.
And so, the generation who rode bicycles bareheaded in the open street now mandates helmets for their kids. Those who watched endless hours of television while waiting for mom to get home from work now religiously monitor screen time. And those who regularly went from school to an empty house day after day now fork out their cash to after-care programs and monitor their childrens' path home via GPS tracking on a child-sized smart watch.
Again, none of these things are bad, in and of themselves. The problem arises with the idolization of safety. Values such as freedom, independence, and self-autonomy, experienced in abundance by Generation X, will inevitably be relegated to second fiddle if the mantra becomes "Safety First, Safety Always, Safety or Nothing".
Because the trouble is this: "safety" is a relative term. What is safe? Is it a general perceived lack of threats? Is it the elimination of all risks, or just most of them? Is it the promise of a secure future in an uncertain world?
During the COVID-19 unfolding, I kept reflecting on scenes from the Howard Hughes biopic The Aviator, which I saw 15 years ago. In the initial scene, the child Howard Hughes is taking a bath while his mother teaches him to spell "quarantine" during the Houston cholera outbreak of 1912. Decades later, when a reclusive Hughes must prepare for a very public Senate hearing, old flame Ava Gardner comes to help dress and groom him for the event. Being urged wash his face in the sink, a fearful Hughes asks her, "Does that look clean to you?" "Nothing's clean, Howard," Gardner says. "But we do our best, right?"
And so, we must do our best and be satisfied. Nothing is perfectly clean or perfectly safe; and it shouldn't be. Risk heightens our awareness of value, sharpens our powers of discernment. The sheltered Silent Generation was taught to trade risk for security, and reaped the consequences: a quiet youth, and a turbulent midlife full of divorce, societal revolution, and profound existential crisis. Maybe we can't avoid repeating all the same mistakes with the Homelander generation, but we can attempt to mix in a healthy reminder of the values that are worth the risk-- in word, deed, and personal example.