Just like the ‘Swinging 60s’, our social order on verge of collapse

Back in the 1960s, most of Western Europe and America underwent a socio-political upheaval that has forever coloured that decade as one of the most eventful in world history.

It was a decade when young people revolted from what they regarded as stultifying conservatism of their parents.

And the revolt ranged from stiff opposition to war and politics, to the way they dressed, the music they listened to, dancing styles to what they consumed.

The decade was characterised by excesses of every kind, ranging from irresponsible (free) sex to the consumption of illegal substances, especially hard drugs.

In short, they insisted on the relaxation of almost all social taboos, and considering that most Western societies are still hypocritically puritanical, such hedonistic behaviour was absolutely shocking.

MORAL COMPASS
Of course these counter-cultural tendencies would not last long; the forces of conservatism fought back and today it is no longer possible to see hippies roaming the streets of Western capitals.

Thankfully for the adults, it was a passing fad. In other words, the “squares” (modern-day analogues) had the final laugh.

Nevertheless, the “revolt” was to give birth to many of the human rights we hold dear today, even in the Third World.

They include the right of association, assembly, worship, privacy and so on. Therefore, in that sense, the 1960s was not exactly a lost decade.

The social order did not unravel. Instead, a strident wake-up call was sounded.

But what does that have to do with us in Kenya?

Is the social order in a ferment and about to be upended? It does appear, from media reports coming in almost daily, that the “Swinging Sixties” of the West are here with us, and we don’t have a clue what to do about the changes occurring among youth.

They have strayed from the moral compass we long ago, unilaterally, installed to guide them, and we are flailing about, blaming everyone else but ourselves for what is happening.

REVOLTING BEHAVIOR
How is it possible that 500 youths, most of them school-children, some of them juveniles, can congregate in a club, proceed to drink alcohol, smoke bhang and fornicate right in the middle of a major town that is supposed to be well-run by the vaunted forces of law and order?

And since this outrageous orgy could not have been spontaneous, for how long have such things been going on?

In which other urban areas do clubs host under-age “jam sessions” where all moral and legal inhibitions are thrown out of the window? Even more important, why are these things happening?

Only the other day, there was a report about a bunch of school boys and girls hiring a minibus to take them home for holidays, in which alcohol, condoms and cannabis featured prominently.

The scandalised parents were advised to take greater care of their children, and pretty soon we went back to our own high-decibel political “jam sessions”, confident that someone, especially in government, must have taken note.

Recently, a number of school-girls from a Kiambu day secondary school went missing.

When they reappeared and were re-united with their parents, the first thing their mothers did was to hug them.

Well, you cannot quarrel with the maternal instinct at play in such a situation, but considering there was no intimation that the girls had been kidnapped in the first place — they claimed to have been sleeping in the streets — one can only wonder whether that was the most appropriate reaction.

DERELICTION OF DUTY
It appears that the biggest problem is the modern-day parent.

Many parents have failed in their duties and abandoned their wards to school-teachers.

They have no idea where their children are most of the time or what they are doing and if anything goes wrong, they blame the poor teachers who cannot even discipline the truants for fear of litigation.

In other words, we parents have lost it and are always seeking scapegoats to explain away our failures.

I remember an episode when I was a student in Thika High School, which then used to be a centre of excellence, both academically and in discipline.

One day, we went on strike and were all sent home. That evening I was so thoroughly chastised by my old man that since that day, I have never chanted haki yetu, ever again.

It was unfair, I know, but maybe the old man knew something that many modern parents don’t.