Why are we so unserious?

An exploration of the increasing lack of empathy online and the importance of seriousness in today’s society

“You’re so unserious.” Chances are, if you’re the average chronically online young adult, you’ve heard this term before. Just as it sounds, unserious refers to the opposite of seriousness — laughing, joking, being lighthearted in the darkest of moments. Gen Z has adopted this word as a badge of honor almost — I’ve lost track of the number of tiktoks I’ve seen referring to us as such an unserious generation, often added in laughter at a funny joke or comment on a serious topic. And unserious we definitely are. In a world filled with such vitriol and hatred, with increasingly divisive politics and economic strife and atrocities of unimaginable scale, is it not admirable to be able to smile regardless, to emerge unscathed, laughing even?

I’ve read many an article recently on society’s increasing lack of empathy. We’re desensitized, carrying on in the face of mass shootings and genocides and suffering as if it was just an average Tuesday. And in many ways, it has become an average Tuesday, when every week brings with it fresh horrors. But what are the consequences of such apathy?

We refuse to process what’s happening around us, to discuss the true hurt and pain that lies in each situation. It’s easier to joke about how hot Luigi is than it is to explore the horrific greed of the American healthcare system. To put in true effort, to dig deep and explore the most vulnerable parts of ourselves and lay them bare before society takes so much strength and courage. Is it not easier then to guard our hearts, reaching for the low hanging topic instead, one that doesn’t make us so uncomfortable? “Have you seen his abs?” My uncle’s surgery request got denied. Again. “Look at his jawline!” I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and it costs too much to find out.

Somehow, our collective unseriousness has morphed into a frightening lack of empathy and emotional intelligence — every situation, every conversation is supplied with a joke, with apathy, with unseriousness. And it’s so easy to get stuck in that mindset. Without meaning to, I’ve noticed the unseriousness creeping into so many different areas of my life. I pride myself on my goodreads and letterboxd, and my ability to distill any form of media into a single quippy little joke or line. This works well for some things — some movies I’ve seen are just begging to be joked about (just look at the reviews for Hot Frosty). But what about those books that touch your soul, the movies that leave you sobbing, your heart throbbing in sync with the characters? I watched It’s a Wonderful Life recently, and I could’ve said that I saw so much of myself in George Bailey, that when he stared down at the choppy waters under the bridge, debating whether or not to jump, I saw the same emotions in his eyes that I’d felt in mine. Instead? I went for a simple joke on how reasonable his crash out was. After all, there was no need to insert myself into the situation and tell my letterboxd friends how close I’ve come to being George Bailey myself when I could just be a little unserious instead, comfortable in my role as a mere watcher. A quick glance at the top reviews on letterboxd across thousands of movies will find similar results, no matter the genre: jokes about haircuts and lines and holding space for lyrics, anything and everything but how it really made us feel.

James Stewart as George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life (1946)

It’s eerily dystopian, in a way. Orwell’s 1984 comes to mind — our vocabulary is diminishing, with words like kindness, compassion, and sympathy fading away into obscurity¹. In their place lie seriousness and unseriousness. Seriousness is bad — there’s already so much seriousness in the world, do you really have to add more? Unseriousness is good, funny, entertaining. Seriousness makes us feel bad about ourselves, forces us to reckon with what’s happening around us. Unseriousness makes us feel better, plops us into the role of the observer and provides a brief moment of joy and happiness, and if it doesn’t really solve anything, so what? It’s not that deep. It’s just a joke. It’s unserious, after all.

“It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other words? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take 'good,' for instance. If you have a word like 'good,' what need is there for a word like 'bad'? 'Ungood' will do just as well--better, because it's an exact opposite, which the other is not.”

- George Orwell, 1984

Reprogramming your brain is a hard task to accomplish. I’ve always coped with humor, and my first thought or response is still a joke, something to lighten the mood and take away the pain. But my second, more intentional thought is devoid of humor now. I make myself sit in the situation, no matter how desolate or uncomfortable, and let myself feel all it is I’m feeling, and even voice some of that pain.

“You used to be so funny. What happened? You’re so much more serious now.” a friend told me recently. I’d been hurt at first, indignant at the idea that I had lost the one trait of mine that society always valued the most. But I embrace it now. I hope I’m a little more serious. More than that, I hope I’m a little less unserious. Maybe you should be too.

1. I could go into a whole separate rant about the rise of words like unserious and unaliving —but that’s a conversation for another day