Alexis de Tocqueville wrote that in democratic nations, each new generation is a new people. The constant change and agitation of a democratic society, he contended, weakens the ties binding one generation to the next, enabling each new generation to refashion the world in its likeness.

On June 8, L.A. voters elected their first two officials from the post-baby-boom generation. Next month, Alex Padilla, 26, and Nick Pacheco, 35, will take the oath of office as the two newest and youngest members of the City Council. Both politicians will bring a new set of generational experiences and attitudes to their jobs, but can they make a youthful mark on a political world overwhelmingly dominated by baby boomers?

While boomers, who came of age in the 1960s, largely defined themselves in opposition to their parents' generation, post-boomers are not expected to be as rebellious. According to most media portrayals, the post-boomers, or Generation X, are apathetic and amoral; they never measure up to their parents, many of whom cut their political teeth on student protests. Surveys also show that Xers are not nearly as ideologically driven as the preceding generation.

Perhaps in an effort to retain the glory of their youth, many left-leaning boomer politicians have incorporated the idea of rebellion into their management of the status quo. Gen-Xers who refuse to go along are routinely dismissed as reactionaries. It is simply anathema for today's young people to rebel against the slogans of a generation that acts as if it has the copyright on rebellion.

This enforced reverence for baby-boomer elders is even more pronounced in Latino politics. Young Latinos entering the political arena are obliged to give due--and sometimes undue--respect to the elders who broke down barriers. But as gracious as this custom may be, it can inhibit the succeeding generation from articulating a vision of its own. Any young person who wants to rise in the hierarchy of Latino politics is expected to buy into the myth that boomer activism actually turned the world from black and white into Technicolor.

Padilla and Pacheco are members of what political satirist Lalo Lopez calls "Generation Mex." While many educated Anglo Xers complain that they must pay for the excesses of their parents and are doomed to live in a world of lower expectations, educated members of Generation Mex, predominantly the children of working-class immigrants, are on an upwardly mobile trajectory. Rather than seeing themselves as dwelling in the shadows of their parents, they often are the repositories of their parents' hopes and dreams. Padilla and Pacheco are prototypically dutiful sons of immigrants. Intelligent, hard-working and propelled by their parents' expectations, the two focus on the opportunities their predecessors have made available to them.

As such, they contrast with the first generation of Latino politicians who are the U.S.-born children of a previous wave of Mexican immigrants. As products of the '60s protest culture, the first generation of Latino leadership adopted a grievance-based political style. After all, they had to fight long and hard to secure their place in the establishment. As political pioneers, they shouldered the burdens of breaking new ground.

The elections of Padilla and Pacheco were not milestones in the struggle for greater Latino representation, because it was a foregone conclusion that Latinos would represent both the 7th and 14th councilmanic districts. Since they did not have to fight the establishment to become part of it, Padilla and Pacheco appear at ease within it. Both share the cultural confidence of their generation of Latinos. Self-assured with their ethnicity, it is not their central preoccupation in life.

In tune with their generation at large, Pacheco and Padilla are moderate and pragmatic. Their campaigns were devoid of any meta-themes, a dramatic departure from first-generation Latino leaders. Their rhetoric rarely goes beyond street lights and safe streets. "I don't think I need to explain my presence like the previous generation had to," says Pacheco. Cautious at every turn, Padilla begs off any attempt to analyze him in a larger context. Both are comfortable being called technocrats.

While the first generation of Latino officials pried open the doors of government and delivered patronage, their Generation Mex successors should seek to discover their own generationally defined agenda if they are to move Latino politics to the next level. Loyally adhering to an agenda set by a generation that grew up under wildly different circumstances can only ensure intellectual stasis. Progress can be made only if the Padillas and Pachecos politically distinguish themselves from their elders. This is not to say that their youth bestows upon them a certain moral correctness. Rather, to grow they must challenge and reexamine the assumptions of their "political parents."

That will require the coming generation of Latino politicians to develop some independence from the very forces that helped catapult them into office. For example, Padilla's labor supporters are publicly discussing their desire to mold the young official along the lines of their issues. Because both the bulk of the Latino political establishment and the County Federation of Labor vigorously opposed his candidacy, Pacheco is in a stronger position to stake out new territory on issues.

Already, there has been some high-level grumbling about the disadvantages of the new councilmen's relative inexperience. They don't have the seasoned political skills of, say, retiring Councilman Richard Alatorre. But nor do they have the baggage. These young politicians bring to their posts what young people have always brought to the world: the possibility of a fresh start.