I found it pretty disconcerting to watch the jubilation over Osama bin Laden’s death last week. In the first place, it just seemed all wrong—more like the reaction you’d expect to a football victory than a serious world event, especially one that began in horror and whose human and financial costs have since reached yet more unfathomable heights. One does not dance on graves, certainly not in a majority Christian country, in which “Love your enemy” is common enough a line that even a liberal and godless Jew like myself know it.

In the second place, I was uncomfortable because once again I felt like a complete alien, missing what was so obvious to everyone else, unable to give even a small yelp in a culture that often expresses itself in wahoos! and babys! What a relief, then, to see, over the course of the week that followed, that for once I wasn’t the only one. Numerous commentators, from across the spectrum, were disappointed as well. Not only those who question the legality of assassination found the tone all wrong. Many of those who had lost loved ones on 9/11 and in the wars since found little joy, even as they might have some “closure.” I was particularly moved by this one by Kristen Breitweiser, whose husband died in the towers.

Most interesting, though, is recognition that one of the major axes dividing celebrants from more sober observers is that of generation. To be sure, who else besides college students—and college students a few blocks from the White House—would assemble for a party at midnight on a Sunday (particularly given the desire for diversion during exam week!)? We also know from extensive research, particularly that of Howard Schuman and colleagues, that the age at which an event is experienced is a major determinant of collective memory. For Schuman, following in the tradition of Karl Mannheim, however, the critical age for definitive experiences is early adulthood. Mature enough to understand events, but not yet set in identities to withstand their disturbing effects as much as older people, young adulthood is the time when shared experiences . . .

Read more: Osama Wasn’t Voldemort