The ‘angry young man’ (AYM) was a character-type first introduced by some British writers in the 1950s. In fact, it was the British media that began to use this term for novelists whose protagonists were disaffected young men, who questioned the ethos of social conformity that had emerged in Western societies after the turmoil of World War II. 

The protagonists were morally ambiguous, individualistic and sardonic towards notions of middle class morality and social norms. They mostly chose to brood and sulk, but carried in them a volatility and anger that, when unleashed, often led to disruptive outcomes. 

The AYM character soon began to appear in films as well. He operated in the grey area between the archetypal hero and the archetypal villain. As a protagonist, he was neither all good nor entirely bad. Yet, he often managed to attract the sympathy of the audiences. The audiences, though, going along with the post-war conformist consensus, secretly admired a character who was challenging the prevailing ethos, but without being a ‘bad person’ as such. 

As the appearance of AYM characters in British and American films increased, they arrived with a bang in Bollywood. In the 1970s, the actor Amitabh Bachchan became the quintessential Bollywood AYM. In films such as Deewar, Zanjeer, Sholay, Trishul and Kala Phatar, he repeatedly played an AYM — a resentful working class man who severely lambasted and mocked social hypocrisies. He moved back and forth from brooding to erupting in fits of rage.

The mid-to-late 20th century archetype of the ‘angry young man’ that dominated popular media has now been replaced by a culture where everyone is in constant outrage

The AYM character manifested the anger simmering underneath the surface of society — a rage that was always threatening to boil over. But the AYM was not an activist or a revolutionary. He was amoral (or had his own moral code). He was cynical, sardonic and, if need be, violent. He was suspicious of all ideologies. 

By the mid-1980s, though, the AYM trope had run its course. One can posit two reasons for this. Firstly, not only did the character start to generate shallow imitators, but it also began to imitate itself, becoming its own caricature. Secondly, as a new consensus of conformity developed in most societies after the tumultuous 1970s, and the AYM began to lose his appeal. 

In fact, in the 1980s, the character started to remind people of the political and social upheavals of the previous decade, which they now wanted to forget. Consequently, the AYM mutated and became a full-on ‘action hero’, but without any meaningful social or political context or subtext. He simply became disposable entertainment. 

The action hero only adopted AYM’s overt masculinity. Eventually, the classic AYM vanished from screens. For over 15 years now, many regions have been witnessing political, social and economic upheavals. So why have there been so few AYMs in films and novels during this period?

In 2019, Stanford University’s Professor Richard T Ford wrote that outrage, once the stance of the cinematic AYM, has now become a universally shared orientation. Once an atypical response to extreme circumstances, outrage is now a default reflex. 

Decades ago, the AYM on screen or in literature, was a character with whom people would develop a cathartic relationship. They saw the AYM express what they themselves were reluctant to, due to the fear of being ostracised. By the early 1980s, however, instead of manifesting social and political pathos, the AYM became an assembly line product and then the archetypal action hero. 

According to Ford, today, due to social media and the “outrage media”, almost every man and woman has become an “angry person.” Outrage is now a tool of the conservative as well as of the radical and the underdog. The world has no use any more of a fictional character who would aid paying audiences to vent their anger. The people themselves have become this character. But the outraged today are largely the outcome of the so-called ‘outrage media’ dishing out what The New York Times cartoonist Tim Kreider called “outrage porn.” 

The outrage media and its consumers are all part of what has come to be known as the “outrage industrial complex” (OIC). It is mostly made up of electronic and social media outlets whose business model is to sensationalise and compound the perceptions of fissures in society. The purpose of the language that they use and the images they circulate is to trigger anger and outrage in people towards particular groups or individuals. 

This is not to suggest that all outrage is the consequence of exaggerated slights. Some outrage is organic, quite unlike the one sparked by the outrage media. AYM films had become big box office draws. The character became an industry, fed on and by the fashion, film and publishing industries. Today, the OIC feeds on and is fed by the outrage media producing ‘outrage porn’ through social media ‘influencers’, vloggers, particular kinds of podcasts and loud TV talk shows. 

All feed off each other. According to the American academic Arthur Brooks, opposing sides outraging against each other are likely to cooperate, because both benefit from the OIC. One cannot benefit without the other. Bait is dangled by an individual or a group that is almost immediately taken by an opposing group and a ‘debate’ ensues. The fact is that this is not really a debate, but an exchange of accusations, judgements and distasteful labels.

As this goes on, more and more people get involved. Eventually, the most active ones go away with ‘likes’, reposts, views and even money, while others feel good about themselves for doing something ‘meaningful’ and for a ‘good cause.’ 

For example, do notice the number of times vloggers on YouTube use phrases such as “shocking revelations”, or “big breaking” in thumbnails, or pose provocative questions such as, ‘Is so and so a thief/corrupt/agent/traitor/etc?’, ‘Is so and so gay/atheist/fundamentalist?’, ‘Why was so and so fired/killed/raped/etc?’

Again, a ‘debate’ ensues in the comments section, with some agreeing with the vlogger, some disagreeing, and most only interested in getting ‘likes’ on their own ‘profound’ comments. 

The vloggers want this. More views, likes, ‘subscribes’ and comments mean more money. Sometimes vloggers even take positions which they may not be fully committed to, but know that these positions attract more views.

According to Ford, current forms of outrage keep us intoxicated by a false sense of urgency and efficacy. He then adds that we are all locked in an arms race of outrage, in which stalemate is the only possible outcome. And stalemate favours the status quo. Therefore, outrage is no more a form of effective protest, as such. According to Ford, it has become an aesthetically debased form of entertainment.

Quite like what the AYM became. 

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 1st, 2024