Last Friday, I was at a party with all my closest friends in the world: Álmos, Előd, Ond, Kond, Tas, Huba and Töhötöm. We were hanging out, drinking wine and decided to commemorate the moment by uniting our tribes into a single nation. To do so, we decided to take a blood oath: mixing our blood into a chalice, becoming blood brothers. It was an exciting moment, and since then, the Hungarian nation has existed and we are closer than ever!
Before I get into the thick of my argument, I have to make something clear. Blood oaths no doubt have risks and I do not advocate for anyone to endanger themselves in any way. If you have medical aversions to blood oaths, or do not seek to intimate yourself with your inner body that way, that is more than acceptable.
Further, for those seeking to bind themselves to those they love in this way, please make sure to get tested for bloodborne diseases prior to the ceremony! When mixing blood, doing so safely and consensually is the only acceptable way to do so. Otherwise, we could seriously hurt our blood siblings, which would be antithetical to the practice as a whole.
Blood oaths stem from the embodied community-building they represent, and extend to all kinds of ritualistic behavior that unites a group under a common theme.
By all accounts, Gen Z is an untraditional generation. We have broken from countless established norms of previous generations. We have a tendency to embrace the odd! Tarot cards, fortune telling, palm reading, ouija boards are all engaged with by Gen Z sleepover attendees across America. In my eyes, this is evidence that there is a clear desire on the part of Gen Z to seek out the eerie. There exists an inherent socialness in ritualistic collectivity, as sharing blood, chanting and dancing in candlelit circles are all impossible alone.
Blood oaths have been a means of uniting communities, commemorating important moments and emphasizing shared cultural values and creeds for millennia. Contrary to popular belief, blood oaths are not solely a demonic practice. The impact of ritual practices is essential for fostering an association of people, united under a common collective identity.
The problem of disconnection from one another has been a central tenet of Gen Z’s social experience. Our phones are to blame, COVID plays a role too, and maybe we are just more socially anxious and weirder than our parents were. Rotting in bed is seen as the epitome of enjoyable experience, and we see our friends much less than generations past. As I have previously documented, our generation is devoid of sex and cannot even talk to one another. This imperfect storm has earned us designation as the unhappiest generation.
The problem of collective loneliness is well-documented. Americans now attend fewer social gatherings like churchgoing, civic organizations and activities such as bowling, where they can be in community with one another. It has gotten so bad that the surgeon general under President Biden, Vivek Murthy classified this problem as an epidemic, with health consequences as bad as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. The male loneliness epidemic is consistently linked to this past election’s results, demonstrating the way it now permeates public life.
Going outside and touching grass, not flaking on plans with friends, joining clubs based on our interests — all been touted as necessary responses to this urgent crisis. These all have their place, and personally, I am very in favor of the “say yes” mentality as it relates to social interaction. Go out!! Do stuff!!
Still, we can, should and must take it a bit further. If we want to take seriously the prospect of reconnecting as a generation, we need to get physical with it. It’s time to return to our roots and embrace the rituals that have made up human interaction across the globe for much of history
We ought to be willing to embrace our physicality and take comfort in the painful and unknown. Our collective embarrassment and disquiet over our physical bodies is made worse by our retreat from one another into the meta-world. It is a problem plaguing Gen Z that can only be solved by turning to intimacy with your body, and the blood that makes it up, in a collective manner. Blood oaths offer such a venue.
Other, potentially more traditional, means of connecting have failed us, evidenced by the fact that we’ve abandoned them. I invite you instead to turn to the absurd and ostensibly outlandish.
Gen Z should operate in the witchy, should embrace the seemingly bizarre and unorthodox methods of hanging out to forge meaningful connections. Kickbacks are made better with a little shared blood, and if we already are sharing bongs, we can do this too.
So, the next time you and your friends are bored of CMC parties or want to do something other than go to Jay’s Place, try a blood oath ceremony! All one really needs is their body, but some candles could help too. You may find yourself delving into a level of friendship that you didn’t know you could find.
Alex Benach PO ’28 is from Washington D.C. and is looking for 14-26 friends to hang out with him at 2:45 a.m. on Friday, Oct. 31 at the Frary Steps.
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