The Age of the Brazen

There are expressions that seem harmless but, when examined closely, reveal far more than a mere way of speaking. They sometimes describe an era, a collective psychology, or even a quiet transformation of values. In Algeria, “tiri bark” — roughly, “just shoot,” “go for it and see what happens” — belongs to this category. The expression evokes a way of acting without too much preparation, without too much thought, and without too much concern for consequences or conventions. It carries an element of defiance, even provocation: why bother with all these precautions when, in the end, you might as well try and see what happens?

But this attitude is not unique to Algeria. The Russian language has the famous “авось” — avos’, a nearly untranslatable faith that things will somehow work out in the end. In Turkey, “Kervan yolda düzülür,” literally “the caravan gets organized along the way,” conveys the idea that there is no need to prepare everything before starting: you begin, and you fix problems as they arise. In Egypt, “seebha ‘ala Allah,” “leave it to God,” expresses a form of trust in fate which, depending on the context, can slide into fatalism. In English, “wing it” means improvising without preparation; in French, au petit bonheur la chance refers to leaving much to chance; in Italian, “fare le cose alla carlona” means doing things roughly, carelessly, and without much concern for quality. The words and histories are different, but together they form a constellation of ideas: improvisation, chance, fatalism, resourcefulness, and, at times, a refusal to be burdened by rules considered useless or ineffective.

What becomes particularly interesting is when these expressions cease to describe merely a technique and become a social philosophy. Improvising because circumstances require it is a quality; improvising because one never considered preparation necessary is something else. Relying on luck after doing everything reasonably possible is optimism; relying on luck because one no longer believes that work, competence, or prudence will be rewarded reflects a different logic. It is in this second dimension that the phenomenon becomes a revealing sign of an era.

Because we have to ask what happens to a society when the values it has long taught stop producing the results they promised. For generations, people may have been taught that hard work pays off, that honesty will eventually be recognized, that competence opens doors, that patience is a virtue, and that respecting the rules allows everyone to find their place. But when everyday experience seems to show that connections, rent-seeking, proximity to power, money, resourcefulness, or the ability to circumvent rules are more effective than merit, a conclusion eventually imposes itself: being serious may no longer be the best way to succeed.

This is when a new, much more cynical rationality emerges. Why spend years acquiring skills if a connection is enough to get the job? Why carefully prepare a project if you can launch it half-finished and fix the damage later? Why scrupulously follow a rule when those who bypass it are neither punished nor marginalized? Why wait your turn when the person who pushes ahead gets served first? Why be the only one playing fair in a game you have realized is not fair? At that point, “tiri bark” stops being merely an invitation to take a chance: it becomes a strategy for adapting to a world perceived as unjust or irrational.

This is where the experiences of very different societies can converge. The Russian avos’ can be understood as a way of coping with uncertainty and institutions whose workings cannot always be controlled; the Turkish kervan yolda düzülür can express a pragmatism that prefers moving forward rather than waiting for ideal conditions; the Egyptian seebha ‘ala Allah belongs to a tradition of trust and fatalism that can sometimes serve to accept what lies beyond one's control. Elsewhere, the Anglo-Saxon wing it often celebrates the ability to improvise, while the French au petit bonheur la chance acknowledges the role of chance. These expressions are therefore not interchangeable, and it would be artificial to claim that they describe exactly the same phenomenon. But their coexistence reveals something universal: human beings develop cultural strategies for living in environments where they cannot predict or control everything.

The phenomenon becomes more troubling when improvisation turns into brazen behavior. The brazen person no longer simply says, “We’ll see what happens.” They act as though constraints do not apply to them. They take a place they were not given, circumvent the rule that inconveniences them, impose their will, disregard consequences for others, and often regard scruples as a weakness. What would once have caused embarrassment or shame can then be presented as intelligence, boldness, or resourcefulness. The brazen person is no longer someone who transgresses despite the norm: they become someone who has understood that they can transgress without paying the social price of doing so.

Perhaps this is where the real turning point lies. A society can tolerate dishonest, reckless, or arrogant individuals; it becomes much more fragile when such behavior begins to be rewarded. When the serious young graduate watches someone with the right connections advance, when the honest shopkeeper watches someone who bends the rules prosper, when the patient citizen sees the pushy person obtain what they want more quickly, the collective message becomes disastrous: virtue is no longer merely difficult; it is becoming counterproductive. Why respect the rules if respecting them puts you at a disadvantage?

This is how a vicious circle can begin. The person who follows the rules starts to feel foolish; the person who circumvents them feels clever. The former then makes one small exception, and then another—not necessarily because their values have changed, but because they refuse to be the only one bearing the cost of playing by the rules. Trust declines, suspicion increases, everyone learns to protect themselves individually, and society gradually becomes a collection of personal survival strategies. “Why not?” replaces “Is it right?”; possibility takes precedence over legitimacy.

That is why this phenomenon goes far beyond questions of politeness or good manners. It concerns the social contract. Respect for rules is never merely a matter of individual discipline: it depends on the belief that rules are sufficiently fair, sufficiently predictable, and sufficiently well enforced for everyone to accept them. When that belief disappears, the temptation toward brazen behavior inevitably increases. The individual begins to think it would be foolish to make sacrifices that others do not make, and that the best way to survive is to be faster, cleverer, more insistent, or more opportunistic than everyone else.

The Age of the Brazen, then, could be defined as the moment when brazen behavior stops being an anomaly and becomes a social skill. The person who knows how to circumvent the rules is admired for being resourceful; the person who imposes themselves is considered strong; the person who ignores social conventions is sometimes seen as someone who “knows how to get things done.” The boundary between courage and nerve, between resourcefulness and dishonesty, between pragmatism and irresponsibility gradually becomes blurred. And when that boundary disappears, values do not necessarily vanish from public discourse: they vanish from behavior.

It would nevertheless be too easy to condemn this evolution as mere moral decline. Brazen behavior can be a response to powerlessness. Improvisation can be a response to uncertainty. Resourcefulness can be a response to scarcity or bureaucratic rigidity. Fatalism can be a way of coping with what cannot be changed. In many societies, these behaviors have even enabled individuals to survive inefficient systems. The problem arises when a survival strategy becomes a collective norm, and that norm eventually comes to define what it means to be “smart” or “effective.”

This is why popular expressions are so valuable: they sometimes record transformations that statistics do not immediately reveal. “Tiri bark,” “avos’,” “kervan yolda düzülür,” “seebha ‘ala Allah,” “wing it”—behind these words lie different relationships to chance, authority, risk, and responsibility. They do not tell the same story, but they remind us that every society develops ways of describing that moment when people stop believing that they truly control the course of events.

Perhaps, then, the fundamental question is not why people become brazen. It is what a society teaches them when it consistently rewards brazen behavior. One cannot indefinitely ask people to be honest in an environment where honesty penalizes them, to be patient in a system where impatience gets rewarded, to prepare their work when those who cut corners are rewarded, or to respect rules when those who circumvent them appear to enjoy permanent impunity. Individual morality needs an environment in which it can survive.

Restoring seriousness, therefore, does not mean demanding a rigid, bureaucratic society incapable of improvisation. It simply means that boldness must have a limit: respect for others. A healthy society can admire those who dare, those who build, those who know how to improvise, and those who take risks. It should not have to admire those who succeed by crushing everyone around them. It can value resourcefulness without glorifying dishonesty, accept uncertainty without abandoning preparation, and encourage initiative without abandoning responsibility.

Because ultimately, the problem with “tiri bark” is not the shooting. It is shooting without asking where the bullet will land.

And perhaps that is what the Age of the Brazen really is: an era in which we no longer first ask whether something is right, reasonable, or respectful, but simply whether it can get through. An era in which the question is no longer “Am I allowed to do this?”, but “Who is going to stop me?”

And if no one stops you, why think any further?

Tiri bark.