The pervasive sense of having been mugged by reality is a defining feature of Generation Y. As the last generation with personal memories of the pre-9/11 world, Ys have entered middle age with deep existential confusion over their role in society. Was “gorge on snack food, Nintendo, and Saturday morning cartoons; wander alone into the wilderness, and die” their whole life story?
As I’ve argued before, fading out confused, alone, and forgotten need not be Gen Y’s final fate.
To be sure, the Strauss-Howe cycle has been irreparably broken. Generation X was supposed to supply the heroes we needed. Dereliction of parental duty on the part of the Boomers thwarted Gen X’s calling.
Yet we’re seeing glimmers of some Ys struggling toward their role as artists and mentors to younger generations. Rising into positions of leadership just isn’t in the cards. But Gen Y appears to be figuring out its societal calling: Preserving and handing down knowledge of what the world was like before the Internet.
Gen Y remembers the early promise of the net. It would decentralize commerce and politics to bring the world together. Having a gorillion Libraries of Congress at our fingertips would revolutionize education and make people smarter, more self-actualized, and more free.
The reality was that the Internet mostly let nerds argue the minutiae of Big Brand X ad nauseam, gave kids the chance to learn new and exotic swear words, and made pornography nigh on inescapable.
And that was before the government colluded with Big Tech to kill the whole experiment and turn it into an omnipresent spying device.
At the dawn of a new, brutal age when participation in public life will be ruthlessly controlled by a Death Cult that knows everything about everyone, Gen Y’s living record of the Pre-Internet Age will become a precious resource.
No time like the present to get started. Here are just a few reminiscences about how the world of Gen Y’s youth differed from today.
Entertainment was more limited, but richer
Today, any number of megacorp-owned streaming services offer instant access to pretty much any movie or TV show you could want.
While we’re spoiled–often paralyzed–with choice, increased quantity has come with a steep decline in quality. If a film maker in the 1980s hated his audience, he at least had to be subtle about it. Now, big tentpole pictures actively and gleefully attack their viewers.
Movies’ content and messaging weren’t the only contrasts with the current cinema experience. The ways in which people consumed movies differed substantially, with entire distribution and exhibition channels wiped out of existence.
In an age when Covid has crippled cinema exhibition, it’s hard to imagine a time when seeing movies in the theater was still the dominant film experience. Big cineplexes were still rare in many places as late as the 90s. If you wanted to see the latest Bond installment or the new slasher flick your friends were buzzing about, you went to the local theater. That theater was probably locally owned and had one screen–two to four at most. There, you enjoyed the movie with people who, for the most part, shared your cultural understandings.
Going to the theater was also the main method of rewatching movies. With the rental market still new and streaming not even a glint in anyone’s eye, movies stayed in theaters longer. Even middle tier flicks might run for a month or more. And popular films would be re-released for new theatrical runs.
Waiting to see your favorite movie in theaters again relied on the studios, distributors, and exhibitors agreeing, so the home video market emerged as a solution. The Friday night trip to the video store became a recurring ritual in most families’ weekend routines. Not even a video rental membership guaranteed you’d get the exact movie you wanted. Each physical store could only stock so many tapes. Limited supply meant you’d better come prepared with a second, or even third, choice in mind. The hunt for that hot new release meant keeping your ear to the ground for which store had the exclusive and arranging your schedule to beat the crowds. It added thrill to the chase and the savor of victory to bagging that coveted tape.
Gaming was a social activity
This section’s heading may puzzle some readers. If so, those readers are probably Millennials or younger and extremely online.
Before the Internet ushered in online FPS and MMOs, video gaming usually meant playing with your friends in person. Whether hanging out at the arcade or gathering in front of your buddy’s folks’ console TV, vidya had a physical, social dimension that online gaming has all but destroyed.
If you remember holding the NES controller to move the duck while your brother wielded the Zapper, slapping a quarter on the Street Fighter II cabinet to reserve the next game, or dungeon crawling in Phantasy Star II while your buddy navigated from the Game Pro map, you know what I’m talking about.
Communication was less convenient, and it was great
Thanks to advances in telecom tech, just about everyone is reachable at just about any time. Not only does everyone carry a mobile phone, most of those are smartphones with social media apps that multiply the communications channels between people. If someone’s not calling you, he’s texting you, or messaging you on FB/Twitter/Telegram/etc.
In the olden days, if you wanted to get in touch with someone, you had to know his phone number and dial it by hand–speed dial notwithstanding. Actually reaching your party meant calling while he was at home or the office. If you missed him, you had to leave a message on an answering machine–or with his secretary or mom–and wait for him to get it and call back.
Alternately, you could just stop by your friend’s house or workplace and ask if he was in. The hit-or-miss aspect of telecommunications preserved the utility of friend groups having regular hangouts, like the aforementioned arcade, where they’d congregate to share the good word and make plans.
These dynamics all came together in ways that instant, foolproof communication has nearly erased from daily life.
If on a given Saturday in the 80s you wanted to see a new movie with your buddy Tim, you’d dial his house’s sole land line and ask his mom if he was there. If not, she might not know where he was or when he’d be back. Your next move would be to hit up the local arcade, since chances were good that Tim would make his way there at some point. After a few rounds of TMNT with a couple of your other friends, Tim would show up, and the four of you would grab lunch at A&W before heading to the movies.
Nobody could track you. Nor was anyone constantly looking over your shoulder. Big Brother lacked the spy tech he has today, and helicopter moms were a generation off. We trusted our kids a little and gave them a modicum of responsibility.
What other cultural touchstones do you recall from the Pre-Internet Age?