Family, Capitalism and the Age of Consent
Why Adulthood Should Begin at 25 and Families Must Stay Together?
Families are powerful. People gather beneath a roof and form a unit as old as our species. Ancestral memory carries evidence. Ancient tribes roamed in packs. They shared fire, hunted in groups, raised children together. They stuck together through storms and sickness. They protected each other’s young. Through centuries, that instinct molded us. Yes, we live in a modern world. Yes, we have Wi-Fi and social media. Yes, we have apartments, offices, and that little contraption in our pockets. Yet we long for that tribal closeness. We yearn for unity. Many believe we lost it. That might be an overstatement. Fragments of family remain, but the puzzle is scattered.
Observe the standard timeline. Individuals turn 18. Society heralds them as adults. They receive a handshake, maybe a flimsy cardboard hat at graduation. Then they get ejected. “Go forth,” society proclaims. “Secure your fortune, find a job, find an apartment. Buy furniture. Grab a roommate if necessary.” Under capitalism’s watchful eye, they become fresh labor, ready to be harnessed. They face responsibilities and credit scores. They juggle grocery bills, taxes, phone contracts. They amass debt for education. They scramble for second-hand couches. Then, at 21, they can drink. Meanwhile, they can vote at 18. Many scratch their heads. Is 18 the grand threshold of maturity?
Imagine an alternate approach: shift adulthood to 25. The brain completes its development closer to that age, according to neuroscience. That means emotional regulation, risk assessment, and decision-making capacities are more stable than at 18. Imagine if we accepted that. Wait a few extra years. That might reshape society’s norms. That might alter education paths, financial habits, and the pursuit of stable careers. That would require us to see 18 as a transitional phase, a step short of full adulthood. Perhaps a partial membership to grown-up club. Andrew Tate might grin at the idea of extended hustle periods, though others might shrug. Yet the notion has appeal. Marcus Aurelius might say, “A man’s greatness is measured by his calm in the face of adversity,” or something that urges patience. Extending the runway might help.
Capitalism puts a price on everything, including people’s time. By 18, society expects a wave of fresh workers. That age aligns with the end of high school. The conveyor belt leads them to the workforce or the military or further education. Meanwhile, the commercial machine churns. The concept of age of consent springs from a legal desire to set boundaries. Capitalism might have shaped it too, tying labor to certain biological or social milestones. If we truly saw 25 as the real beginning of adulthood, that would shift the entire momentum of labor. The idea is contrarian. Many might label it idealistic or naive. That is precisely why it sparks curiosity.
Consider families. Some cultures still embrace multi-generational households. In these homes, grandparents share space with children and grandchildren. Responsibilities are spread out. So is financial stress. Over time, the Western style of nuclear family overshadowed that communal approach. In many places, the father, mother, and maybe two kids moved into a suburban nest. Capitalism applauded this fragmentation. Each new household needed a separate mortgage. Each needed furnishings, washers, dryers, streaming services. Market forces multiplied. Families separated. Young adults left at 18, often with meager resources. The market thrived, as new consumers stepped forward. People called that independence. Maybe it is. Maybe it is also a cunning plan to boost demand.
Picture an alternative, reminiscent of that old tribal mindset: families merging. One big compound. Grandparents, parents, children, uncles, aunts, cousins, all in proximity. Shared chores, shared meals, shared finances. People speak about religion encouraging family unity, or finances making multi-generational living practical, or safety being simpler to guarantee in larger groups. Yet the deeper reason is family itself. A bond that transcends faith or currency or security. Blood ties, shared history, shared future. That is powerful. With a big compound, the living arrangement shifts from lonely apartment dwellers into a vibrant community under one roof or in a cluster of close buildings. An uncle might barge in at 7 a.m. to roast you over breakfast. You might have grandma reminding you to floss. You might have a cousin who hogs the couch. Yet the positives overshadow the annoyances.
Wealth-building is simpler as a collective. Each adult might contribute a slice of income to a shared fund. That money invests in real estate, or farmland, or a family enterprise. People pool resources and share the harvest. The old approach of kicking kids out at 18 robs that synergy. The youth scramble. They face rent, tuition, entry-level wages. By the time they find stability, they might be in their late 20s or 30s. Meanwhile, the parents might be nearing retirement. The chance to unite finances can slip away. The extended runway approach—staying until 25 or beyond—fosters a foundation. The younger ones can cultivate skills without facing full-blown rent. The older ones can mentor. The entire family grows wealth together, forging a robust structure. That structure can weather economic downturns. That structure can pass knowledge forward.
Some folks frown. “Living with your parents as an adult seems lazy,” they might say. The label of “lazy millennial in the basement” emerged from comedic bits. Yet there is an argument that these people might be working or studying, simply under the same roof. They contribute in ways beyond money. They help with cooking, housekeeping, technology troubles. This synergy offers intangible benefits. Genuine closeness arises, shaped by shared daily tasks. Communication skills sharpen. Conflict resolution improves because there is nowhere to run. People learn to exist with folks of varying ages and temperaments. In essence, they refine social intelligence. They experience the richness of extended kinship.
Critics might warn about privacy or space. That is valid. A massive household can feel chaotic. The remedy: designated spaces. A separate wing for the grandparents. A shared living area for large gatherings. Rooms for younger folks to retreat. If the property is big enough, maybe small studios or cottages cluster around a central house. In historical times, entire clans occupied villages. The big house system is ancient. The difference: modern technology can support comfort in ways our ancestors never imagined. Electricity. Climate control. Reliable plumbing. High-speed internet for each unit. The best of communal living with the best of personal space. The comedic potential is off the charts. Surreal scenes would unfold: a nephew streaming some cosmic space game while grandma in the next room bakes cookies shaped like smiling suns. An uncle who hunts game teaching younger ones how to clean fish. Love is king, indeed.
Why focus on love as king? Because love in the family context might be the one force that transcends each fleeting trend. Empires rise and fall. Economic systems shift. One day the conversation might revolve around cryptocurrency, the next day around universal basic income. Through each shift, love endures. People gather because they care. Siblings argue, cousins tease, parents lecture, yet love remains. That bond, more than finances or safety, cements families. Buddha spoke about compassion, and that extends beyond strangers. It flourishes first at home. Then it radiates outward. Family unity can become a cradle for empathy. You learn compassion by living with multiple generations who each carry their scars, joys, and quirks.
Critics of the big compound approach might argue that it fosters codependence, that it stifles individuality. They might suggest it halts the personal growth that comes from solitude. Indeed, living alone can teach you harsh lessons. It can force you to budget, cook, face loneliness, or handle midnight panic. Still, do we overvalue that kind of independence? In many places, solitude leads to depression, financial stress, and perpetual anxiety about sustaining rent or mortgage payments. That stress ripples into health concerns. People chase the dream of autonomy, only to find themselves swamped by bills. Meanwhile, multi-generational living can share those burdens. Freed from relentless financial pressure, individuals might explore creative projects or entrepreneurial ventures. That can lead to more economic growth, ironically. That can yield happiness. The big family compound might serve as a launchpad rather than a trap.
Set aside finances. The simpler question: do you trust and respect these kin enough to share space? That is the litmus test. If the answer is yes, you might build something extraordinary. If the answer is no, a compound would become a feud-laden warzone. Family unity thrives on mutual respect. In a perfect comedic scenario, you figure out which relative snores the loudest, which one swipes your phone charger, which one always cooks enough pasta to feed an army. Those quirks can amuse or enrage. The difference is how the family handles tension. Communication is paramount. Channels for feedback, boundaries, and compromise become essential. Many families can manage that. Many have the seeds for it.
Enter the question of whether capitalism shaped the age of consent. The argument suggests that in societies with deeply communal frameworks, those legal ages might have been different. The modern environment merged labor and property laws with moral considerations, forging a patchwork that landed on 18 as a milestone. Shifting that milestone might require legal changes, cultural acceptance, and an overhaul of the meaning of adulthood. It challenges the status quo. In the same breath, the argument to raise official adulthood to 25 would revolve around neuroscience, mental health, and the recognition that a 22-year-old might face a steep learning curve. People might propose a transitional phase: partial legal rights at 18, but with full adult privileges at 25.
Add an unusual recommendation: incorporate a family council. Once or twice a month, gather everyone for a formal meeting. Prepare an agenda: finances, chores, shared goals, personal updates. Let each member speak. Encourage contrarian viewpoints. If grandpa wants to invest in farmland, and the teenage cousin wants a new gaming studio, weigh both. Evaluate risk and reward. That fosters democracy within the family. It also encourages younger members to articulate their ideas and defend them. That skill is crucial. People who can debate respectfully within the family will carry that discipline into the public sphere.
Another recommendation: create a cultural or knowledge archive. Each adult or elder writes or records personal stories, lessons, regrets, wisdom. That archive preserves intangible heritage. Younger ones can learn about family history, forging identity and continuity. In big families, we sense a place in time, a lineage bridging the past and the future. Children anchor themselves in that continuum. They see how each generation shaped the next. That can reduce existential anxiety. It can inspire them. Your great-uncle’s archived tape might reveal family secrets or awkward details. Yet each story enriches the tapestry.
The big compound might morph into a micro-economy. Suppose the family invests in farmland or crafts or technology. Each person contributes a unique skill. They create products or services, generating revenue that flows into the group. That fosters entrepreneurship at home. Over time, the compound might evolve into a small village. This recalls older societies. People might open a workshop in the barn, a craft shop in the shed, a greenhouse for herbs. The synergy of shared resources cuts overhead. Gains go back to the entire family. That is a bulwark against economic storms. If one sector slumps, another might thrive. Families can plan interdependent roles. Your cousin dabbling in candle-making, your aunt forging wrought-iron sculptures, your father coding mobile apps in a corner office. Everyone meets for a communal lunch, proud of building an internal marketplace.
Education thrives in that environment. Children learn from grandparents about old traditions, from parents about modern practices, from younger adults about new technologies, from siblings about fresh perspectives. That cross-generational contact fosters well-rounded growth. The younger generation does not witness age groups as distant planets. They see them daily. They see the wrinkles of experience, the slow shuffle of older bones, the quick sparkle of youth. That might reduce ageism. That might build empathy. Sun Tzu said, “If you know your enemy and know yourself, victory will never be in doubt.” In a family setting, there is no enemy, but the principle might shift to: if you know your kin across generations, unity will blossom. A child might casually explain a meme to a baffled grandparent, bridging centuries in a single conversation.
Of course, illusions of utopia are easy to conjure. Real families quarrel. They harbor resentments, grudges, hidden agendas. The big compound might magnify those. Thanksgiving dinner tension, 365 days a year. That leads to meltdown. That is why boundaries matter. People need personal space and an opportunity to retreat. The mission is synergy without suffocation. A carefully structured environment. Maybe each nuclear family unit has a separate suite. The entire clan shares communal areas but does not fuse into a single swirling crowd. That meets the psychological need for solitude. Uncle Joe wants to watch sports in peace, away from Aunt Sarah’s soap operas. They can slip away to their corners, then reconvene for dinner.
Consider legal and financial frameworks. Some families might craft a trust or a limited liability company to handle assets. They define shares, voting rights, inheritance clauses. That can avoid chaos when an elder passes away. Each family member becomes a stakeholder. That clarifies decision-making. This approach goes beyond vague tradition into a structured plan. That plan can include conflict resolution procedures, akin to how companies handle disputes. It might feel cold or corporate to incorporate legal machinery into a family, but it can save heartbreak later. A family meeting with parliamentary rules, where grandma acts as speaker, banging a ladle on the table. Yet it might be wise. People learn to separate personal squabbles from strategic goals.
Adulthood at 25 ties into all this. If society recognized that timeline, families might expect their children to remain within the fold longer. Education or vocational training would continue in parallel. A 20-year-old would have time to explore passions, guided by the older generation. The new adult would earn partial independence, maybe through part-time work or remote gigs, but remain anchored. A 20-year-old in pajamas strolling from the living room to a laptop to design websites, while grandma clucks about the old days of typewriters. Over time, that younger adult emerges at 25 with a stable skill set, ready to function without the frantic scramble that often accompanies the early 20s. That is less capitalism-driven, more family-driven.
Love is king. That statement anchors everything. If profit was king, the entire plan might tilt. If religion was king, the compound might revolve around dogma. If safety was king, that might breed paranoia and fortress-style living. Yet love fosters acceptance. It allows each member to breathe. People help each other because they care. They remain together because they choose. That is an elevated reason to share space. Family for family’s sake. One might see it as a spiritual practice, though separate from religion, a communion with the essence of human connection.
This approach counters hyper-individualism. Western societies often celebrate self-reliance, sometimes at the expense of communal harmony. That perspective views living with family as a step backward. Meanwhile, some Eastern societies treat multi-generational living as normal. The Western approach might shift in the coming decades due to housing costs, climate events, shifting job markets, or cultural changes. We see more families reconvening under one roof out of necessity. Then they discover unexpected benefits. Necessity leads to surprise solutions.
The big compound might generate social capital. Neighbors might benefit from the family’s orchard or community events. The compound might host gatherings, teach workshops, or sponsor local causes. That fosters goodwill and deeper ties in the wider community. Over generations, that might create a lasting legacy. Each holiday, the family compound organizes a quirky festival. Everyone attends. A homemade carnival with bizarre games and loads of laughter. Then the community sees unity in action. That unity can be infectious.
Ideas from Jordan Peterson might slip into this narrative. He often suggests that individuals carry responsibility, stand up straight, adopt discipline. In a multi-generational setting, discipline extends to collective well-being. Each person cleans their space, tends their tasks, balances personal desires against the group’s needs. The more disciplined each member is, the fewer arguments swirl. The better the structure, the greater the chance for success. The family chore list might read like a comedic menu of tasks: “Scoop leaves out of gutter, bury old grudges, feed the chickens if you woke up earliest.” Yet behind that comedic veneer sits a serious method of harnessing order.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, with his essays on self-reliance, might quiver at this group-living plan. Or maybe he would appreciate the synergy of multiple self-reliant individuals coexisting in a single ecosystem. Each independent mind threads into a strong rope of collective identity. Family members learn trades. They share skills. A family library brimming with classic works, where each member devours philosophical texts, then debates them at dinner. Intellectual life flourishes. People refine contrarian ideas. They spark deeper conversations. They experiment with new solutions.
One might ask, “Why avoid religion or finances or safety as the primary reason for this family bond?” Because those reasons are ephemeral. Finances can shift. Religious beliefs can differ across generations. Safety might push people together in a crisis but fade when the crisis passes. Family is deeper. Family means these people share a lineage, a name, a story, or at least a social bond that passes through blood or adoption. The bedrock is unconditional love and acceptance. Or at least the pursuit of acceptance. That is sturdier than any external incentive.
Families building wealth together requires strategy. The big compound approach is more than just merging living spaces. It might mean each generation invests. Maybe the older ones place capital. The younger ones bring labor. They create a small orchard or a ranch or a local enterprise. Over time, that enterprise grows. Profits return. Bungled attempts at cheese production, or a fiasco with honeybees, or a pop-up roadside attraction. Through trial and error, the group refines. Mistakes happen, but so do breakthroughs. That is how many family businesses form. A clan invests in each other. The synergy of trust can yield stable success.
Henry Ford valued efficiency. In a family compound, you can have micro-industries. Instead of each adult commuting, draining money on separate apartments, people pool resources. Commutes might shrink if some work from home or if the compound’s location is near job hubs. Some might call it feudal or archaic. Others see it as futuristic. Driving a single minivan to the store with a battalion of siblings, cousins, and maybe a grandparent who needs bread. The minivan might require an extra row. Laughter abounds. The cost of gas per person is minimal.
The age of consent question is thorny. Historically, that age has jumped up and down across cultures. One might argue it emerged from labor laws, religious norms, moral frameworks, or paternalistic guidelines. Tying it to capitalism suggests that a system aiming for maximum labor force participation sets ages that align with workforce integration. That might be speculation. Yet the notion draws attention to how finances intersect with moral or social rules. Shifting the definition of adulthood to 25 might cause ripples. People might point out that 18-year-olds can serve in the army or sign contracts, yet their brains remain mid-development. An 18-year-old can vote, but might rely on mom’s laundry skills. Society is riddled with contradictions.
Even George Carlin might poke holes in this arrangement. He might skewer the irony of families squabbling over leftover pizza in a giant compound while proclaiming unity. Yet that comedic eye captures the beauty of real humanity. The perfect family does not exist. Imperfection is guaranteed. The difference is commitment. If each member commits to face friction, to adapt, to stay at the table, the system grows robust. That is how a large family can survive the test of time. They become a continuum, bridging generations. David Foster Wallace might highlight the subtle heartbreaks and joys in the daily routines. Hemingway might reduce it to straightforward truths: “They stayed. They argued. They lived. That was enough.” Orwell might see a microcosm of society, with its own politics and hierarchies.
To realize this vision, families must plan. They must secure land or property. They must design spaces that accommodate each generation. They must form a governance model. They must hold each other accountable. That might sound complicated. Yet simpler times had these large clan systems by default. We can replicate them with modern twists. Includes potential naming disputes, property lines, or chore charts that read like comedic scripts. But in essence, it is a chance to revive a primal truth: humans function best in extended, supportive groups.
Children raised in such an environment might gain exposure to a wide net of experiences. They might develop deeper emotional intelligence. They see birth and old age under one roof. They help grandparents with daily tasks. They learn patience. They witness life’s full spectrum early. A child might stammer about why Grandpa curses at the TV news, while Aunt Rita meditates in the living room, while their older cousin blasts heavy metal in the garage. The child sees different ways of coping, living, expressing. That variety fosters acceptance. They glean how complicated adulthood can be. It demystifies it. By 25, that person might be truly ready for independence if they choose it. Or they remain, forging a new wing for the next generation.
Love stands tall. That is the core. Adulthood at 25 might refine personal growth, but the family compound shelters the path. Children remain with parents longer because the structure encourages it, not because it is forced. They see a vibrant environment full of mentors. Imagine the daily dinners. Multiple conversations swirl. Opinions clash. Contrarian ideas emerge. People debate whether aliens visited us, or whether essential oils cure anything, or whether the local sports team deserves loyalty. Laughter echoes. The big compound might host birthdays, holidays, random Tuesday gatherings. The bond cements daily.
This arrangement stands at odds with the mainstream. Capitalism thrives on more units, more consumption, more separation. When multiple generations share one property, they purchase fewer total houses. They share one or two sets of large appliances. That might reduce the total profits for certain corporations. Some might see that as beneficial for the environment. Others might see it as a threat to consumer-driven models. Society might resist the shift. Yet pockets of families choose it. They harness the synergy. They reap the intangible rewards. Love is king, indeed.
Adulthood might begin at 25. That would reflect biological and psychological realities. People benefit from extended family support, forging resilience before stepping into full independence. The family unit reemerges, shedding shame about living together. They cultivate wealth together, share burdens, and anchor themselves in a communal identity. They do it because they are family, joined by love, shared memory, and a sense of belonging. They create big compounds that hum with life. Grandparents telling stories, parents guiding day-to-day chores, children absorbing lessons, uncles and aunts weaving a tapestry of banter and advice. A messy, beautiful carnival. A defiant stance against pure individualism. A chance to rediscover that ancient tribal unity. A step forward by looking back. Life whirls on, but with a strong net beneath each member. The big clan celebrates life in every corner. Through laughter, feuds, triumphs, heartbreaks, they remain together. That is real wealth. That is real love. That is real family.
Citations:
1. Arain, M., et al. “Maturation of the adolescent brain.” Neuropsychiatric Disease and Treatment (2013).
2. Pew Research Center. “The Return of the Multi-Generational Family Household.” (2010).
3. Settersten, R., and Ray, B. What’s Going on with Young People Today? The Long and Twisting Path to Adulthood. Transition to Adulthood. (2010).
4. U.S. Census Bureau. “Living Arrangements of Adults.” (2021).
5. Arnett, J. J. “Emerging Adulthood: A Theory of Development From the Late Teens Through the Twenties.” American Psychologist (2000).
Further Reading:
https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2010/03/18/the-return-of-the-multi-generational-family-household/
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S187628591300053X
https://www.census.gov/content/dam/Census/library/publications/2021/demo/p70-173.pdf
By Noel | Fowklaw
