In Defense of Riots: Part 1

What is a riot?

In the world of public school behavior support programs, we see riots every day. Many of the kids who come into these programs are from extremely unstable homes, and have yet to encounter an adult who hasn’t completely betrayed their trust. They are frustrated, though rarely possess the ability to articulate the exact source of that frustration. From that frustration can flow a myriad of responses, with some choosing to lash out at reality itself. Those are the students that find their way into our program. Of course, not all kids who come from difficult home lives wind up so frustrated that it manifests in maladaptive behaviors, but many do. Far too many.

I know that feeling. The feeling of pure, simmering anger on a primal gut level. I know, because I was one of those kids. I know that feeling of looking at the adults in your life and feeling like there’s no one on my side. No one I can trust. No one to help me navigate life, and sort out my problems. Like many who experience this, it wasn’t until later that I began to understand why I was angry all the time. I was one of the lucky ones. Numerous encounters with the juvenile system, and a nearly year-long stay in a residential treatment facility was enough to get me on the right track. Developing meaningful friendships was also a large factor in overcoming the anger I experienced. But like I said, I’m one of the lucky ones. Others go their entire lives with a perpetual, simmering rage. When it finally boils over, they often end up hurting themselves, others, or both.

Even if they can’t skillfully articulate it, children do sense that the adults around them are supposed to be reliable. They understand on a base level that these adults are there to protect them, to inform them, and to guide them. These adults serve as both mentors, and proxies for society itself. “Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them,” as Jordan Peterson would say. Why? Because if you allow them to persist in behaviors that will elicit a negative response from you, then odds are society will react even more negatively. It might prevent conflict in the present to choose not to correct every time they lie, or don’t clean up after themselves, or blame others for their problems. But sending them out into the world with a propensity to lie, and to blame, and to make messes is setting them up for a life of rude awakenings and failure. Parents, grandparents, teachers, and family friends are there to help guide a child towards successful decision making. These people give kids the tools to navigate the slings and arrows of life, and lenses with which to view the often difficult experience of simply existing. When the adults fail to do this, kids notice it. They can sense, with great clarity, when they are “on their own” when it comes to navigating and understanding the world around them. They also have a remarkably keen sense for the fact that it’s not supposed to be that way.

As we get older, we don’t really lose the need for help with making sense of the world around us. Sure, we develop skills in living our lives day-to-day. We know how to be a good employee, pay our taxes, call when the plumbing is messed up, and book plane tickets. But the world is bigger than that, now more than ever. We hear about things like Syria, Brexit, Hong Kong, North Korea, Kashmir, The West Bank, housing bubbles, fracking, net neutrality, Covid-19, student loan crisis, and police brutality. We also experience many of these things, and so much more. Like our younger selves, we look around for entities to help us understand these things, and to help deal us with these issues. We want someone to tell us it will be ok, and give us perspective on what is happening, even an overly simplified perspective. The alternative is a confused and anxious sense of not knowing which way is up, and no one, young or old, likes that feeling. As our younger selves looked to adults, we also look to individuals to help us. Often those individuals also represent something else- institutions.

Our younger selves are to teachers as our adult selves are to the education system, and so on. By adulthood, we’ve developed a sense that the education system is here to teach us skills, and the media is here to inform us and tell us what’s true, and our government is here to protect us and handle our problems. When planes fly into the World Trade Center, and housing markets crash, and a new virus emerges, these are the institutions we look to in order to make sense of things. “What do I need to know? What’s being done about this? Am I going to be ok?” These are the questions we ask, though often only in our subconscious. We’re not so much looking for a specific answer (though that’s usually part of it), so much as we’re seeking a feeling. The feeling of security, of understanding. We want them to help us to feel that way. No, we need to feel that way. “I do know which way is up. I understand what’s going on. I don’t have to worry about my family’s safety.” We’ desperately seek to arrive at that place of mental and emotional peace, and take a variety of roads (through a variety of institutions) in hopes of arriving there.

We humans possess the remarkable capacity to acclimate and adapt to our environments. The highest permanent settlement on the planet is called La Rinconada, a mining town tucked away in the Andes Mountains. How far above sea level is it? Nothing major, just three miles. Three. Miles. The residents of La Rinconada have adapted to such an extreme elevation, that it’s become totally normal for them. If you or I were suddenly dropped off there, we would undoubtedly experience altitude sickness, and a variety of other potentially life-threatening physiological responses. What would feel wildly unfamiliar to our bodies has little effect on theirs, or their everyday experience. As humans, we just get used to things.

I remember the first cell phone text message I ever received. I think I was a junior in high school, and remember feeling my Nokia brick phone vibrate. When I checked it, I was beyond confused to see the word “hey” underneath my friend Nathan’s name. I immediately called him. “Dude, I just got the weirdest thing,” I told him. “It has your name, but it says ‘hey’. Any idea what this is?” He laughed, and explained to me that it was a “text,” a new way of sending messages without making a phone call. I’ll never forget my response: “That’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of. Why wouldn’t I just call you?”

It took me a while to get used to texting, and now it’s totally normal. But didn’t used to be. Ask any high school junior today if texting is unusual, and they’ll probably look at you like you’re an idiot. Something introduced to my life was already normal when they were born. Just as we acclimate to our environments, we change what will be the normative landscape for future generations. Someone who was 30 years old when the automobile was introduced did not view cars the same way someone who grew up with them.

This is the difference between the novel, and the normal, and many things often move from one to the other, and back again. As such, that which is "normal" inevitably brings expectations. Expectations are themselves, "normal." In fact, properly placed expectations are foundational to a stable society. One must generally know "what to expect" in their day-to-day lives before they ever buy land, start a business, have a family, or build a community. However, improperly placed expectations have the opposite effect. Improperly placed expectations universally erode stability, trust, and often lead relationships (both large and small) to end in a sadly avoidable disaster.

Continued in Part 2:

From Novel to Normal: Three Institutional Shifts