Talkin' bout my generation

It may not be fair to use one case study as a sociological argument. But sociological generalizations are more convincing when they are grounded in everyday reality. Steinhorn argues that the boomers took action, and that their deeds in fighting racism, sexism, etc., stand up to the Greatest Generation's actions at, say, Omaha Beach. But with a few exceptions like James Meredith, on the face of it the comparison is absurd, and Steinhorn presents no arguments -- and more important, no fine-grained personal stories -- to support it.

What the boomers undeniably did, and what probably remains their signal, if ambiguous and sea-changed legacy, was to expand their minds -- whether through drugs, rebellion, music, a surfeit of leisure, hedonism and higher education, or who knows what historical alchemy. Expanding one's mind may be heroic in its own way, especially if you were in the group over by the outhouse that took the brown acid. And several million expanded minds perhaps can change a society. But such changes are more subterranean and unreadable than Steinhorn acknowledges.

To question exactly what the boomers did isn't to single them out for criticism. As Steinhorn notes, if the boomers had been pinned down on Omaha Beach, there is no reason to think they wouldn't have done exactly what their elders did. Boomers did it in Vietnam, and boomers and their children are doing it in Iraq. A generation doesn't get to choose its war: Every soldier who has ever faced death is as heroic as any other soldier. The point is not to question the boomers' character, but to acknowledge that the concept of a "heroic generation" conceals deeply problematic assumptions about the nature of history, individual action and societal changes.

Yes, it is true that America changed, and in many ways for the better, between 1945 and the present. And yes, my generation had something to do with it. But Steinhorn's account makes it seem as if we boomers (who in 1964 ranged in age from about 1 to 19) all realized one day that America was racist, misogynist, authoritarian, etc., and decided to stage a gigantic sit-down strike. But with the exception of the civil rights movement and the antiwar movement, this heroic model simply doesn't apply -- not even in "daily life."

Moreover, even the iconic civil rights and antiwar movements cannot be entirely claimed by boomers. It was a member of the Greatest Generation who was responsible for the publication of the Pentagon Papers. And most of the leaders of the civil rights movement were also born well before 1945. It is true, as Steinhorn argues (and as the sociologist Karl Mannheim pointed out long ago), that a generation should be defined thematically, not chronologically. Nonetheless, the fact that so much of the boomer legacy was forged by men and women who not only did not belong to the boomer generation, but had a completely different worldview, is inconvenient for Steinhorn's neat division.

More important, the social movements Steinhorn celebrates did not appear ex nihilo in the '60s: They reflected underlying forces and trends in American society -- in particular radical changes in capitalism, mass media and higher education -- that started earlier. Steinhorn briefly acknowledges the role of higher education and the mass media, but he is so intent on making the boomers the authors of social change that he pays insufficient attention to these structural factors. Take perhaps the single most monumental change Steinhorn cites: the female transformation of the workforce. He wants to give boomers the entire credit for this. But this is facile, a kind of generational version of the "Great Man" -- or, in this case, "Great Woman" -- school of history. Feminism and feminist ideology played a role in that transformation, but not nearly as large a role as economic factors and the exploding number of women entering college.

As for the boomers' accomplishments, Steinhorn exaggerates them, and downplays or ignores developments that present them in a less flattering light. As noted above, the generally conservative trend of American politics over the past 28 years is a serious problem for his thesis. If boomers are so liberal, why did they, in combination with their elders, elect Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, Ronald Reagan and the two Bushes? Steinhorn argues that deep cultural shifts and politics don't necessarily track, and that most Americans don't pay that much attention to politics. But the fact that they don't itself raises serious questions about how much boomers actually care about their supposedly hard-won ideals, and whether they are willing to sacrifice anything to realize them.

Take "diversity," which Steinhorn rapturously celebrates as one of the boomers' great victories. It is undeniable that America is a far less racist nation now than it was in the '50s. One of the most valuable aspects of Steinhorn's book is its reminder of the crude racism, sexism, homophobia and anti-Semitism that plagued America a mere half-century ago. And it is also undeniable that many Americans have put their money where their mouth is: As Steinhorn proudly points out, marriages between members of different races and ethnic groups have exploded. But America continues to be profoundly segregated, and people of color are still the poorest and least educated members of society. There is no easy solution to this problem, of course. But the fact that Nixon's resentment-based "Southern strategy" and its various permutations have proved to be so politically effective suggests that America's racial landscape is not as rosy as Steinhorn thinks. Steinhorn makes much of diversity training, multicultural college curriculums, and political correctness (which he seems to regard as a positive term). But these phenomena, while they may demonstrate the racial goodwill of the boomers -- or perhaps simply their dutifulness -- are mostly meaningless gestures. America has better racial manners now, but the largest problems remain unsolved.

Steinhorn's domesticated, Ben & Jerry's vision of boomers cannot be separated from his dismissive view of the '60s. "As we peer through the media looking glass today, most images of Baby Boomers seem stuck in the Sixties, when youthful Boomers quite brazenly confronted status quo values and norms," he writes. While acknowledging that "the Sixties experience is a central helix of the baby Boom DNA," he argues that "to focus only on the Sixties is to miss the more significant story of how this generation, ever since the Sixties, has transformed our institutions and changed our norms."

But the '60s (which really started in 1964 or perhaps 1966 and lasted until the end of the Vietnam War) played a far more central, and uncanny, role in the formation of the boomer ethos than Steinhorn acknowledges. That wild, anomic decade cannot be easily tamed; it doesn't fit into his genial, well-behaved vision of nice boomers practicing diversity. Perhaps he stays away from it because it has provided endless cannon fodder for conservative boomer-bashing wags, Steinhorn's bête noirs. But the fact remains that the '60s were the heart and soul of the boomer era, its climax -- and in some ways its grave.

Next page: David Brooks and Steinhorn actually agree about the boomers