“Shocking numbers,” said the principle researcher, professor of psychology Jean Twenge from San Diego State University.
I shared a public transport experience with a smallish sample size of local adolescents recently. Forget about twenty year olds in US universities. Narcissism amongst the locals is flourishing. By the time they hit uni, our know-it-all kids will be cosy in their teenage bubbles, their sense of entitlement blossoming, their attention-seeking behaviour rampant.
I was waiting for a bus. The rain was spitting on that early autumn morning and five school girls lugging various electrical devices as well as backpacks, folders and carry bags were squashed together on a bench in the bus shelter. Other school kids sauntered up, rolled their eyes and squatted uncomfortably on their haunches in the rain rather than beg for space beside them. I stood under an umbrella to the side.
I felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. An unmistakable wet-dog pong wafted from jumpers just like the one I once wore, back when I caught buses every day. But there would be no comfy chat circles like the ones I still miss for those girls. Sitting cross-legged, sharing confidences on a bitumen playground in those skin tight, hitched up skirts would be impossible.
There would be no hunching together, heads down, giggling and whispering either. What’s whispering? This was not a breakfast meeting of the Secret Seven. This was a pack of teenage drama queens, screeching like parrots. Andrew, whoever you are; you are a lousy, cheating, rat bag loser. How dare you! She thought you loved her! Just when she was choosing the perfect Valentine’s Day present for you, you cheated on her with that slut from another school.
What ever happened to the thrill of secrecy?
“Life sucks,” she wailed, and her devoted fan club nodded too enthusiastically.
What really sucks is that privacy is an obsolete concept for sixteen year olds. High octane conversations occur in public spaces without hint of embarrassment. Lurid details, emotional outbursts, “it’s all about me” tales of woe are played out on life's centre stage and strangers are the audience, whether they like it or not.
Mature souls might ask "What's new?" Teenage life has always been a forum for selfishness. But the current crop of noisy teenagers embraces “I’m the centre of my universe and yours too” like no other generation. This is fuelled by many factors.
Firstly, let’s look at overindulgent parenting. How many times a day do our children need to hear how fabulous they are? My parents were too busy putting food on the table to stand on the sidelines at Saturday sport, let alone hover over us constantly, asserting our worth. We took ourselves to school. We walked or caught the bus. We have grown up now and become parents ourselves. Watch us make up for past neglect. Watch us poison our progeny with inflated ego trips, all because we felt ignored as kids.
Apparently you can never love kids too much. But it depends on how your love manifests.
As well as toxic parenting, a deluge of reality TV and the culture of celebrity threatens to drown us all. Why not rage and vent, just like the Kardashians? Headline the banal and keep it coming, even when there is absolutely nothing left to say.
Consider Charlie Sheen. Substance abuse or bipolar disorder aside, his narcissism is truly headline stealing stuff: "It’s a drug. It's called Charlie Sheen. It's not available because if you try it once, you will die. Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body." He has 5 million followers on Twitter, hanging off his every utterance.
According to Dr Gad Saad in his online article 'The Narcissism and Grandiosity of Celebrities', Sheen and Paris Hilton, among others, exist in ‘narcissistic oblivion’, otherwise known as ego-driven thoughtlessness. They thrive because we idolize them. We watch their shows, read the gossip magazines, follow them on Twitter and chat about them during boring bus trips. Well, we may not, but our children certainly do.
In my teens, hilariously naughty TV sitcoms used innuendo to say it all. Back then, there was an appreciation of verbal consolidation. The TV our kids adore is a moronic babble fest devoid of subtlety or grace. If you doubt me, tune into ‘Jersey Shore’, a beloved destination for couch-surfing teenagers. Feel your ears jangle and your head explode as you dive for the remote amid indignant protests. The scarifying pitch makes the junk food advertisements seem soporific; as whimsy as the silent movies of a long gone era. Five minutes should do it. You’ll exit the room and slam the lounge room door, convinced. The TV world our teenagers love is in bold type, accompanied by big, noisy exclamation marks.
But back to the commute. It was hot inside that bus, despite the cool change outside. Most seats were taken by commuters who stared into blankly into space, plugged in and mindless or hunched over gadgets, thumbs on overdrive. If I was alien visiting this strange place, I might wonder why those people with mouths sit beside each other with chords in their ears and never speak.
“Excuse me, would you like a seat?” might be a great start.
The selfishness of commuters is form of grown up narcissism. The lucky ones hog all the seats while the others wrap themselves around metal poles, hanging on for their lives. Why didn’t I scream “Put that bloody toddler on your lap and give me a seat?” I started to envy those effervescent school girls who’d pushed their way down to claim the back row, scarcely pausing for breath, never missing a beat.
If you think this is nothing more than an “in my day” rant, consider the concerns of Professor Twenge and others. Teenage narcissists have poorer college results on average and are more likely to drop out of university. They don’t study because they think they are already smart enough! Sounds worryingly like delusional thinking to me.
Not a moment too soon, it was time to escape that bus and trudge down the street to the next bus stop. I was only half way home, but thankfully, narcissism took hold. I jumped out in front of the traffic.
“Taxi!”
It stopped and I climbed in. Because I’m worth it.
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