The Problem of Maturity

There’s a tendency, particularly in op-ed writing, to drop phrases like “for the first time in human history” or to make grandiose claims about some allegedly “momentous sociological development.” But I won’t complain, because they do get my attention, and they certainly make for nice Time Magazine covers. Nowhere are these phrases more prevalent than in the steady stream of literature on the so-called 20-somethings, pre-adults, hipsters (whatever those might be), or some other term that hasn’t been coined yet. With minor nuances they are all basically saying the same thing. Our generation, for good or ill (mostly ill), is refusing to grow up. These pieces are redundant and border on stating the obvious. But more importantly, they fail insofar as they are so caught up in the thrill of having discovered that theirs is an unprecedented moment in human history that they miss what is right in front of their faces, that is, the timelessness of it all.

And so they look around in bewilderment, asking questions like, “where did all the good men go?” That’s the title of Kay Hymowitz’s rather belated contribution to this already overwrought sociological fad. And since hers is aimed directly at my own sex, my gut reaction was to mount a manly defense. Hymowitz, for her part, couples the popular “the kids won’t grow up” thesis with the statistics indicating that women are edging ahead of men in education and professional performance. Her first piece of hard, empirical evidence is a female comedian, Julie Klausner, who is “sick of hooking up with guys.” But don’t presume that she is ready to move on to something mature, like marriage, and simply lacks modesty, that antiquated virtue that would save her from serial hookups. No, her problem is that these Star Wars-watching, PlayStation-playing, and Las Vegas-frequenting guys, who she essentially babysits, won’t grow into more sophisticated and selfless hookup partners. I can only hope the irony of this situation isn’t lost on her.

But irony becomes tragedy in Caitlin Flanagan’s recent article in The Atlantic that details the sexual exploits of Karen Owen among Duke’s athletic elite. Besides translating Karen’s now infamous PowerPoint presentation into a more intelligible form, Flanagan presents a fascinating analysis of the girl behind the hookups. On the surface, Karen’s thirteen conquests suggest that she’s the pinnacle of female sexual power, but Flanagan sees through this patina to a girl who is both hurt by and angry with the boys who have used her. However brutishly masculine a “fuck list” might sound, we find that Karen cannot escape the passivity of her situation. Though she may set out with a target in mind, she ultimately, as Flanagan describes, allows herself to be seduced and sometimes abused by the porn-watching, Mario Kart-playing, sports-obsessed athletes of Duke. Reminiscent of our comedian, Karen plays both sex partner and nanny. Flanagan writes, “What rotten luck that the first true daughter of sex-positive feminism would have an erotic proclivity for serving every kind of male need no matter how mundane or humiliating, that she would so eagerly turn herself from sex mate to soccer mom, depending on what was wanted from her.” At the mercy of juvenile but sexually aggressive males, Karen, the seeming pinnacle of female sexual liberation, proves it to be its own undoing.

That feminism is a snake that bites its own tail is a case made by Harvey Mansfield in his book, Manliness. Feminism in its more radical forms relies on nihilism to obliterate the natural differences between men and women, and so establish the gender-neutral society, which leads to unemployed, and more distressingly, uncontrolled manliness. In its simplest form, manliness is confidence in the face of risk, whether from danger or from a situation where a man’s authority is questioned. But it also involves the defense of one’s own and the manly desire to have dominion over simple needs and drives. It implies a willingness to live for things beyond oneself in such a way that it separates the selfless men from the self-absorbed boys. Mansfield quotes the adage, “never send a boy to do a man’s work.” Boys lack the other-directed responsibility necessary for manly tasks.

Nietzsche says that a real man wants danger and play and that therefore “he wants woman as the most dangerous plaything.” And as bad as this line sounds to us, it might shed light on those PlayStation playing Duke Students. But more significantly, he uses the manly love of play to conclude that “the man is more childlike than woman.” Growing up, it seems, is more of a challenge for the man. Indeed, Mansfield says that it is boys, and not girls, who must wrench themselves from boyhood, as the Jewish boy does at his Bar Mitzvah. Transforming his selfish desire for significance into a selfless, protective care for those around him does not come easily. That sort of moral maturity comes through the education and support of a robust community. As James Davidson Hunter explains in his essay, “Whither Adulthood,” these rites of passage have played a crucial societal role in bringing children to maturity, which is best seen as a moral ideal. Furthermore, Hunter argues that maturity and rites of passage have always been gendered. The term “adult,” he tells us, only comes into use in the late 19^th century. Before that maturity was always seen in terms of a boy becoming a man or a girl becoming a woman. Sure, these notions were sexist and wrongly restricted women’s freedom, but at the other extreme we find that the gender-neutral society obscures the categories necessary for achieving maturity, which require that boys and girls be treated differently.

If anything is certain, it is that we have a historical record full of immature men, so it is naïve to believe that the problem of maturity is unique to our moment. Shakespeare takes up the issue in Measure for Measure, which begins with political calamity. The self-absorbed young men of Vienna spend their time in brothels, disease afflicts the city, and war with Hungary looms on the horizon. They are without families and ruled by untamed Eros. Without young men to care for the city, Vienna stands defenseless before her enemies. But in the drama that unfolds, the duke reforms the city by restoring chastity through laws against fornication. With the return of chastity comes the return of marriage and the family. Shakespeare, it seems, is saying that the family is where men become civilized. It is where they learn to sacrifice their own desires for the sake of the common good. The family helps all of us see that our own good is connected to the good of others. Marriage domesticates Eros and channels it for both the good of the individual and the city. The family fosters the selflessness required of patriots for the city’s defense. This dovetails well with the argument made by Hunter and others that increasing ages for marriage are getting in the way of maturity. Whether from continuing education, increased mobility, insecure futures, or the base pursuit of pleasure, the decline of marriage translates to the decline of maturity.

But I think we must go farther than marriage, and for this I would like to turn to Pheidippides from Aristophanes’ Clouds. Instead of PlayStation or lacrosse, Pheidippides is enamored with horseback riding with his friends. And though his vanity doesn’t translate to time bodybuilding at the gym, he is desperately afraid of losing his complexion. And though he has no BMW or big-screen TV, he lives extravagantly outside his means, bringing his father to financial ruin. But rather than encouraging him to self-restraint, responsibility, or maturity, his father sends his son to school to learn the sophistry necessary to be a high-class thief. But Pheidippides isn't the right student for this school, and he is expelled, but not before picking up a proto-nihilism to support his vices. To his father’s horror, he emerges from the school singing passages from the sexually perverse Euripides and shamelessly offers his father a seminar in father-beating. If this doesn’t sound familiar, it should. We send our children to school to learn the skills necessary (moral or not) to get-rich-quick. And so they learn sophistry, sing the songs of a soft-nihilism, and take a perverse delight in shocking their parents with what they have become.

Though I see the allure of blaming the immaturity of men on some unique set of historical circumstances, I think a much simpler explanation might be the better one. Perhaps sex and money have always been idols. Maybe maturity has never come easily. And it might be that the family and education, those essential guides to maturity, have very often been distorted by our misplaced longings. So instead of standing around wondering where all the good men have gone, it might be useful to remember that the past isn’t even past. And if the gods of sex and money are still very much with us, it might be useful to learn from those who have gone before and look for a vision of life that frees us from their grasp.