Reporter Columnist
The Millennials made me mad. So mad, in fact, that I cannot bring myself to admit I am one of them and will rather refer to them in the third person.
Why am I upset? Thanks for asking. I am upset because State Representatives Ethan Manning, Jake Teshka, Zach Payne and Blake Johnson, four of the 16 Millennials serving in the Indiana General Assembly, wouldn’t tell me what I wanted to hear.
America is evenly split, right down the middle, between political ideologies and urban and rural divides. We are grappling with racial and civil unrest in our cities. Children are leaving schools with less knowledge and skills than generations before. A virus has claimed the lives of nearly two million around the world and over a quarter of a million here at home. And all they wanted to talk about was working together to solve our problems.
But what about me? I wanted these three Republicans and one Democrat to help me further fan the flames of generational division and agree that we are fighting a war between us (Millennials) and them (Baby Boomers). I wanted to hear the rallying cry of Millennials everywhere: “They may take our lives, but they will never take our avocado toast!” It all would have made for much better copy. But I got nothing.
How do we win Revolution de TikTok unless we are sequenced in spastic solidarity?
Instead of focusing on my wants, these elected officials to whom I still appropriately genuflect the way former President Barack Obama would bow to foreign leaders, were unbearably thoughtful, boring and normal in our virtual discussions last month. They were so boring that I questioned their Millennial-ness.
None of them have piercings (that I know of). They don’t use their hair as a contemporary version of mood rings (we conducted all interviews on Zoom so I could be sure). Manning did drop off our call briefly to “walk through security at the airport” after attending a coronavirus briefing with Vice President Mike Pence. Having found no match for the phrase on UrbanDictionary.com I am left to assume he actually did walk through security. See? Boring.
But while none of them placated my leading questions by admitting to seeing themselves as representing their generation, they clearly felt a weight of responsibility to meet the demands of this moment, and an urgency to act that comes from the constant reality that political dynamics outside their control can bring their time in office to an unceremonious end every two years.
It was that dual-current of responsibility and urgency that pulsated through our conversations. They spoke of seeking office because the stakes are too high to binge more Netflix. They spoke of finding consensus on criminal justice reform and how we can better define the role of government in society. After all, as Johnson reminded me, Millennials spent hours working on group projects in school, so we know a thing or two about working together (unless you were like me and ended up having to do the whole thing yourself).
And they all agreed – breaking news: Republicans and Democrats agreed! – that there’s no time like the present to prove we are up to the task.
That’s why not a single one of them planned to heed the bad advice Payne heard from a current member to sit back and wait his turn. “No, I wouldn’t listen to that,” Manning immediately interjected. He would know. The guy had five of his bills signed into law in his first session.
These Millennials, and the ones I didn’t take the time to meet with, earned their seats. And despite their age, they aren’t the fish out of water that Will Smith was in Bel Air. All four served in local office before grabbing a cubicle in the Statehouse. Better yet, they aren’t so jaded by life’s experiences that they remain eager to maintain Indiana’s stellar reputation for fiscal integrity all while improving our state in areas in which it needs improved.
“I’m just young and inexperienced enough to think I can make a difference,” Payne would half-jokingly tell voters on the campaign trail.
It all leaves me with the nagging feeling that maybe I was wrong to be upset. I guess for the veterans of the legislature, the only thing to fear from this group of 30-somethings is that they plan to, you know, legislate. Well, then there’s Johnson being a Democrat. But that’s a grievance for another time.
Pete Seat is a former White House spokesman for President George W. Bush and campaign spokesman for former Director of National Intelligence and U.S. Senator Dan Coats. Currently he is a vice president with Bose Public Affairs Group in Indianapolis. He is also an Atlantic Council Millennium Fellow, Council on Foreign Relations Term Member and author of The War on Millennials.