How Boomers Can Save What’s Left Of America For Younger Generations
The Baby Boomers grew up in a completely different world than their children and grandchildren live in today. They need to know that and respond.“Teen takeovers” have gone from a social-media spectacle to a serious public-safety issue. While the name conjures images of high schoolers innocently hanging around a drive-in à la "American Graffiti," at its core, this phenomenon is about sowing violence and chaos — and leaving communities to deal with the consequences.
The 2026 Wisconsin State Fair concluded its final evening with a massive brawl, during which violent “teens” swarmed the park and beat unassuming fair guests. One man was kicked and beaten as he lay in the fetal position. Earlier this summer, a teen takeover at a Chipotle in Washington, D.C., forced frightened patrons to scramble as youths began throwing chairs and screaming.
This is a natural consequence of an America that has glamorized injustice.
In cities across the nation, the same pattern of brutality has emerged: Swarms of young, primarily black teenagers will suddenly invade a public space to fight, threaten police, destroy private property, and occasionally get involved in shootings.
This is happening because over the past decade, our public institutions have encouraged black Americans to see themselves as perpetual victims of so-called systemic discrimination. As Spencer Klavan points out in his analysis of the fast-evolving political climate, “Wokeness in all its form is grievance politics.” Activists expanded DEI programs, decried America’s alleged systemic racism, and pushed for prison-abolition movements and reparations.
The behavior at teen takeovers is an outgrowth of the so-called peaceful demonstrations Black Lives Matter encouraged during the height of the George Floyd protests. Though the BLM movement has gradually lost traction — its corruption is widespread, and policies like abolishing the police are unpopular — its cultural influence endures.
Constant exposure to BLM has shown young people that if they commit wanton acts of violence en masse, they can get what they want. They can hop fences, smash windows, blast music, and brawl in the streets — and Democratic politicians will then attack peaceful citizens, demanding that they give away their livelihood and communities to correct “systemic injustices.”
The messaging BLM has promoted is irresponsible. Photos of cars, businesses, and school buses burning became regular fixtures online starting in the summer of 2020. Young people became convinced that, regardless of their lawless actions, they were morally superior to police officers and authority figures. They were taught that violence is a virtue because racism infects all public institutions. Teen takeovers are the result of a generation of children who believe that trashing public spaces is the righteous response of the unheard.
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BLM activists and “ICE Out” advocates have collectively turned protesting into an activity that’s considered as acceptable as going on a picnic. Young people are joining teen takeovers because they think they are owed the space to be violent, a lesson that Woke 1.0 normalized. For too many Americans, senseless rampaging is seen as a legitimate pastime for bored, testy teens.
This is a natural consequence of an America that has glamorized injustice. A recent study linked transgender ideology with increased support for political violence. Gen Z is more likely to attend protests, especially among those who support LGBTQ and climate-change movements. A similar study from the U.K. revealed that young people are more supportive of civil disobedience than members of previous generations.
The adulation of grievance politics culminates in a deeply nihilistic culture. The teen takeovers aren’t pursuing a righteous social cause — they’re aggressive reactions against civil society itself.
When previous generations protested, they mostly maintained a level of respect for their communities and even obeyed the law in some cases. But thanks to the radicalism of Woke 1.0 — pushed by BLM — young people don’t feel as though they owe anything to the people and places where they grew up.
They aren’t concerned with building a future or honoring their forefathers. The past decade of politics gave young Americans a permission structure in which anarchy comes with little to no consequences.
Americans have become accustomed to seeing entire city blocks burning, looting, and street fighting. The danger is that younger generations see disorder not as a public menace, but as the essence of freedom.
Editor’s note: This article was originally published in the American Mind.
Born in 1979, the year Julian Assange called “Year Zero,” I am an Xennial, a member of that most exclusive of microgenerations.
These days, it's fashionable to see yourself — or your troubles — as too unique or complex for anyone else to really understand, perhaps in reaction to how digital life seems to reduce everyone to the same kind of matter: interchangeable and insignificant.
‘Some people confess guilt to claim credit for the sin.’
But for an Xennial, it is surely a fair reaction to actual circumstances. Pure Gen Xers are trapped in the late ’80s and early ’90s. Pure Millennials are stuck in the ’00s and early ’10s. Xennials came of age in the late ’90s, a dark, captivating, dangerous, mysterious, seductive, shimmering, incalculable, and irreducible moment that quietly began sometime in 1996 and ended, with a bang, on September 11, 2001.
Xennials slammed into this moment as teens who had already gotten a front-row seat to the cosmic unfolding of a shadow world with no clear name, a world that transformed rubes, naifs, thrift-store hippies, emo suburbanites, grunge enthusiasts, and bumbling nerds into dark elves, goth gfs, enfants terribles, rock stars, cyberpunks, supermodels, posthumans, celebrities, millionaires, assassins, spies, sex objects, and, yes, even terrorists.
In the blink of an eye, the world of Rusted Root, Pearl Jam, Barenaked Ladies, “Dazed and Confused,” corduroy pants, “Legends of the Fall,” hacky sacks, kegs, and road trips became the world of Aphex Twin, Massive Attack, “The X-Files,” Smashing Pumpkins’ “Adore,” “Fight Club,” “The Matrix,” black leather everything, “Glamorama,” martinis, “The Anarchist’s Cookbook,” “Faces of Death,” chilled vodka shots, VIP booths, and jet-setting.
For many, all too many years, I have written here and there about all this. Regular readers will know I actually wrote a whole book about it — “I Know This Sounds Crazy.” I bring it up again only to establish, for the uninitiated, some proof that the Xennial perspective on the 25th anniversary of 9/11 is uniquely important in what and how it perceives.
So it gives me a real out-of-body, quintessentially Xennial feeling to observe — and, it seems, to be the first to observe — that this week, the 9/11 generation is the one that might just 9/11 the world.
Hyperbole?
Not according to the AI insiders now warning that the systems they are building could become uncontrollable.
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Anthropic researcher Jacob Coxon resigned this week after working at both OpenAI and Anthropic, accusing the companies of “gambling with our lives” in a race toward self-improving superintelligence. Coxon said people building these systems sincerely believe they could kill everyone by the end of the decade. Another Anthropic researcher, Evan Hubinger, publicly said his team “earnestly believe AI could kill all humans” and put the probability above 10% within the next decade.
The people atop the two most prominent closed frontier labs are overwhelmingly members of the 9/11 generation: Dario Amodei, born in 1983; Daniela Amodei, 1987; Sam Altman, 1985; and Greg Brockman, 1987.
And Millennials are unusually enthusiastic about the technology. McKinsey found that workers ages 35-44 reported the highest levels of AI expertise and comfort of any age group it surveyed: 62% described themselves as highly familiar with generative AI, compared with 50% of workers ages 18-24.
Millennials are also the largest generation since the Boomers, a record that seems increasingly difficult to beat as birth rates around the world crater.
But something more than quantity is at work in the eerie double bind consciously imposed on the world by Millennials: incredibly overclocked anxiety and incredibly overclocked idealism.
It is a shame that so few saw it coming, but as a whole it can now be said without a shadow of doubt that Millennials are ... Millenarians.
As Wikipedia — the Millennial Encyclopedia — explains, millenarianism is the belief in a coming fundamental transformation of society after which “all things will be changed.” Millenarian movements expect radical transformation, often through or after catastrophe.
I haven’t asked around, but I'm pretty sure not many Xennials, in either absolute or relative numbers, are millenarians — certainly not of the Millennial variety. As far as I can tell, and as far as I would describe myself, Xennials simply don’t move, think, feel, dream, or overwhelm themselves like that.
The stunning tendency of millenarian Millennials to crash out through excessively recursive self-reflection is particular. And for Xennials — ahem — with an interest in the intersection of technology and theology, that tendency is strikingly analogous to the breakdown of the cybernetic control systems Millennials are driving and fearing as they lead on AI.
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It is sobering indeed to stare into this abyss of their own creation — one utterly bereft of the glamour, seductiveness, mystique, and dark authority of the abyss the Xennials bore secret witness to as it conspicuously consumed their cultural, artistic, and spiritual worlds.
The difference may be that this abyss actually works.
Anthropic itself has warned that AI may soon be capable of accelerating its own development with declining human involvement. Coxon’s resignation came amid growing concern about recursive self-improvement — systems helping to create more capable systems, which then accelerate the next generation in turn.
And so these curious, unfortunate creatures go on cursing and praising themselves in equal measure, with their over-the-top comparisons of themselves to Robert Oppenheimer.
That brings to the Xennial mind nothing so much as the clapback Oppenheimer supposedly received from his brilliant Manhattan Project colleague John von Neumann: “Some people confess guilt to claim credit for the sin.”
For a generation relentlessly taught to celebrate itself and be part of something bigger, the prize for sharing in the blame for blowing up the world may be irresistible: The ultimate — and final — participation trophy.
For years, Dr. Debra Soh viewed pornography as little more than harmless entertainment for consenting adults. Today, the neuroscientist and sex researcher sees it very differently.
“I used to write for a very well-known men’s magazine that features nude women. I was a regular columnist for that magazine,” Soh tells BlazeTV host Allie Beth Stuckey, noting that her views have changed “a lot” since then.
“Millennials, we grew up with internet porn. I don’t think we were as negatively affected as Gen Z, say, but I do think there are some effects there,” she says.
Soh explains that literature shows that “early exposure to pornography” can lead to “negative outcomes like hypersexuality [and] greater propensity for risky sex.”
“So that means having sex with many people, having unprotected sex, being under the influence of drugs and alcohol when having sex,” she says, noting that it also changes the way men and women view the opposite sex.
“Even if it’s not in a sexual interaction, just how men potentially view women more generally. And that sounds like such a cliche, but at the same time, I don’t see how that would not be the case because what we consume is going to affect the way we view ourselves and the way we view other people,” she continues.
And viewing porn, Soh points out, “tends to be associated with boredom, lack of meaning in life, anxiety. So these are issues that need to be addressed, as opposed to society telling people, ‘Oh, you can watch as much porn as you want and it’s not unhealthy.’”
And pairing society's obsession with technology, increased amount of doomscrolling, and neutral attitude toward pornography, more and more kids are being exposed to pornography at younger ages.
“I’m concerned that their exposure to this at such a young age is actually going to increase the likelihood that they’re going to find these bizarre things sexually arousing or these acts enjoyable because they’re pairing it with early sexual development,” Soh says.
“The average age that kids see porn now is 12. And that age is getting younger and younger,” she adds.
To enjoy more of Allie’s upbeat and in-depth coverage of culture, news, and theology from a Christian, conservative perspective, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.
Twenty-two years ago, something extraordinary happened in American movie theaters.
Across the country, audiences sat in near silence as the final hours of the Lord’s life unfolded before them. There were no superheroes, no elaborate special effects, and no English dialogue. Instead, we watched a brutally realistic depiction of a scourged and bleeding man carrying a cross through the streets of Jerusalem toward His execution.
Every person watching the film also carries a reality we prefer not to contemplate: With every passing day, we move closer to our own death and our own face-to-face encounter with the living God.
I saw "The Passion of the Christ" four times on the big screen — and I was hardly alone in going back more than once. Each viewing was emotionally overwhelming. I shed plenty of tears, but none more than during this scene, as Jesus is beaten nearly beyond recognition.
Mel Gibson’s 2004 film became a cultural phenomenon. It ultimately earned more than $610 million worldwide and, for 20 years, remained the highest-grossing R-rated movie in domestic box-office history. More importantly, it became something increasingly rare in American culture: a shared encounter with the story at the heart of Christianity.
Now, "The Passion" is back.
From September 10 through 17, the film returns to theaters nationwide, newly remastered in 4K with Dolby Atmos sound. Audiences will also see an exclusive behind-the-scenes preview of Gibson’s long-awaited sequel, "The Resurrection of the Christ: Part One," scheduled for release in May.
For those of us who saw "The Passion" in 2004, its return offers an opportunity to revisit a remarkable cinematic experience. But nostalgia isn’t the most important reason to go.
An entire generation has never experienced this film in a theater.
The oldest members of Gen Z were only grade-schoolers when Gibson's epic debuted. Many were toddlers or not yet born. They’ve grown up in a radically different culture from the one that encountered "The Passion of the Christ" 22 years ago.
They should see it.
Not simply because Mel Gibson made a powerful movie, but because of whom the movie is about: Jesus Christ. The Word incarnate. The man who walked willingly toward Calvary, stretched out His arms on a cross, and gave His life for humanity.
That is exactly what makes this rerelease different from the return of some beloved Hollywood classic. We aren’t simply being invited to revisit a movie. We are being invited to contemplate an event that changed human history.
And just maybe we need that invitation now more than ever.
Look around.
Wars rage. Natural disasters bring scenes of devastation into our homes. Human life is discarded through abortion and euthanasia. Families are fractured. Loneliness, addiction, and despair afflict millions. Technology connects us instantly, yet people seem increasingly incapable of understanding one another.
The world is shaking. What will awaken us?
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Christianity offers a startling answer. A crucified man.
The central image of the Christian faith is not a throne, a sword, or a display of worldly power. It is God giving Himself away.
“For God so loved the world,” Scripture tells us, “that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16).
"The Passion of the Christ" forces us to confront what those familiar words mean.
The scourging is difficult to watch. The road to Calvary is exhausting. The Crucifixion is horrifying, and that is precisely the point.
Sin is not trivial. Love is not mere sentiment. Our redemption came at a price.
Every person watching the film also carries a reality we prefer not to contemplate: With every passing day, we move closer to our own death and our own face-to-face encounter with the living God.
Seen in that light, "The Passion of the Christ" is not entertainment. Instead, it’s a question: Who do you say Jesus Christ really is?
It’s a question every human being should struggle with. It’s precisely the question that has drawn Christian leaders like Cardinals Raymond Burke and Gerhard Müller, Rev. Franklin Graham, and Pastor Samuel Rodriguez to tout the film’s rerelease — and to encourage Christians to prepare spiritually for what comes next.
The original film also changed what Hollywood believed was possible. Its enormous success opened new opportunities for religious filmmaking and raised expectations for how biblical stories could be portrayed on screen. The renaissance that followed eventually gave us productions such as "The Chosen," which has introduced the gospel to millions worldwide.
But "The Passion" remains unique; perhaps because it refuses to make Christianity comfortable.
It reminds us of Christianity’s astonishing claim: The Creator entered His creation. God became man. He suffered. He bled. He died.
For you.
And then comes the most important part. The story does not end at the cross. That’s why the forthcoming sequel matters.
Christ dies on Good Friday. But Sunday comes.
More than two decades after "The Passion of the Christ" first stunned audiences, its return offers our troubled culture another opportunity to stand at the foot of the cross.
Democrats have never run out of ways to cast themselves as victims — and according to BlazeTV host Sara Gonzales, it's only getting worse.
“Democrats and liberals, they’re just always victims. They are just always the victims in life. Nothing is ever good enough. They always have to complain that they’re oppressed. Someone is oppressing them,” she says.
“And I’d like to introduce you at this point to Representative Maxwell Frost, a Democrat from Florida,” she adds, playing a clip of Frost from a Jubilee debate.
“I don’t have a ton of money in a bank account when I decided to run for office, so I had to hustle and make ends meet, which is the thing that you are all telling Gen Z,” Frost said, arguing that the American dream is out of reach.
“That’s the American dream,” his opponent, wearing a patriotic headband, interjected.
“You lived it,” he added, before clapping along with the rest of the Jubilee debaters.
Frost then denied that it was the “American dream.”
“The American dream isn’t driving Uber to barely make ends meet. The American dream is upward mobility and being able to have success,” he argued.
“You went from driving an Uber to being a politician,” his opponent said, dumbfounded. “Is that upward?”
“That sounds pretty upward to me. A lot of upward mobility in the change from driving Uber to a representative in Congress. But then again, I’m not a Democrat,” Gonzales comments.
But it gets worse, as the next clip Gonzales plays features MS NOW’s Eugene Daniels, who used a new leftist term to describe the racism and sexism Jasmine Crockett supposedly faced in her run, and loss, for the Texas Senate.
“I think what was really interesting about this primary in particular in Texas was that the nastiness online bled into the nastiness on the ground,” he began.
“Usually it’s like, you know, the internet is not real life, which I believe typically when it comes to politics, like a lot of people yelling about everything, but somehow in Texas it became a part of the actual campaign on the ground,” he continued.
“And so there was some racism online, a lot of racism, a lot of sexism, a lot of misogynoir, which is a connection of both of those things against her,” he added.
“What? ‘Misogynoir'? What are you? You just made that up, sir. That is not a term,” Gonzales says.
“That’s how bad it’s gotten. That is how bad the Democrat Party has gotten. There is no floor,” she adds.
To enjoy more of Sara's no-holds-barred takes on news and culture, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.
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