Orientation: Do they really “choose badly”? But is it even a choice if it is imposed, timed, and validated by others?
It is as if schools, adults, institutions, and even ordinary social discourses expected children or adolescents to take full responsibility for decisions they were never able to build, formulate, or even understand. They are told they choose badly. They are suspected of not being motivated enough, mature enough, curious enough. And most often, they are offered “help to choose better.” Yet at no point are the very conditions of what we call a choice ever questioned. This slippage is so deeply ingrained that it becomes invisible. And yet, this is the crux of the matter: we impose a symbolic gesture—choosing—within a framework that makes that gesture impossible.
In L’orientation professionnelle désassignée (Vivier, 2025), I analyze how adolescents are compelled to decide within a framework that allows for neither suspension, nor trial, nor error without cost. It is therefore a non-choice presented as a choice. This double bind mechanically generates misplaced guilt. If the young person fails or regrets, they are accused of having “chosen badly,” of not having informed themselves enough, of having rushed. And all of this occurs without ever interrogating what choosing actually entails.
Choosing is not simply designating an option. It is projecting an engagement into a future that one can relate to oneself. It is recognizing a possibility as meaningful within one’s own horizon. For a choice to exist, a space of meaning must therefore be available. And above all, the actor of the choice must be authorized to take a place within that space. Otherwise, one assigns a gesture without acknowledging its conditions.
It is philosophically absurd to speak of choice when the options have not been constructed, tested, or understood. It is like asking someone to sign a contract whose consequences they cannot grasp, in a language they do not master, under the implicit threat of social downgrade. We then call “freedom” what is, in fact, an empty injunction: “choose quickly, choose well, and above all, take sole responsibility if it goes wrong.”
This mechanism is perfectly integrated into educational and parental structures, often without malice. It is a collective blind spot: everything happens as if the mere existence of visible options were enough to legitimize the idea of freedom. We assume that because pathways exist, students can choose. But this amounts to confusing the presence of a form with the existence of agency. A list of academic tracks does not make a livable world. And here lies the major misunderstanding: we confuse the visibility of pathways with the capacity to project oneself into them. Yet no projection is possible without mediation, without narrative, without symbolic accompaniment. The subject does not adhere to an abstract future; they must be able to recognize themselves in what is proposed. Otherwise, they are merely filling boxes.
It is this confusion between logistical selection and the elaboration of choice that fuels guilt. The student believes that if they are “late,” “undecided,” or “poorly oriented,” it is because something is missing in them. But the fault is not theirs. It is the system that wrongly presupposed that the conditions for choice were present. This erroneous projection of responsibility produces a double effect: it depoliticizes orientation by reducing it to an individual skill, and it renders invisible the structural violences induced by precocity, social assignment, or the absence of narrative.
This guilt is not simply a collateral effect. It is functional to the system. It allows the institution to absolve itself. Instead of questioning the organization of pathways, we strengthen decision-support mechanisms. Instead of questioning the hierarchy of tracks, we teach young people to make “strategic choices.” And when the student collapses under the weight of conformity or failure, we reinforce personal coaching—never structural analysis. The burden is internalized.
This inversion of responsibility has been well described by authors like Bourdieu, but also by philosophers like Michel Foucault, who have shown how modernity never ceases to produce subjects responsible for everything, yet autonomous in nothing. In L’orientation professionnelle désassignée, I argue that true autonomy does not consist in bearing alone the responsibility for a prefabricated choice, but in being able to elaborate meaning within an open, conflictual, and supported space. In other words: choice is never neutral, nor purely individual; it is always situated within a system of constraints, narratives, and permissions.
This is why, as long as orientation is framed as a personal choice to be optimized, guilt will continue to grow. And as long as this guilt is presented as a lever for “maturation” or “responsibility,” the paradoxical effect will be reinforced: impostor feelings among the most lucid, social reproduction among the most strategic, and abandonment disguised as autonomy for all the others.
The challenge today is therefore not to better “prepare” young people to choose. It is to change the very nature of what we call a choice in orientation. This requires questioning the current school framework, recognizing that the elaboration of a project is not a straight line but a tentative path, made of trials, errors, suspensions, and inner conflicts. It also requires ceasing to consider the young person as an isolated rational actor, and instead placing them back into an ecology of choice: a structured, mediated, supported space in which uncertainty would no longer be seen as a flaw, but as a normal step in development.
And above all, it requires finally politicizing the question of orientation. Because as long as we continue to reproach children and adolescents for not choosing well, without interrogating what is truly being offered to them, we will perpetuate a dangerous fiction: that of an empty freedom, an impossible choice, and a fault they can only repeat.
Vivier, P. (2025). L’orientation professionnelle désassignée (1st ed.). Zenodo. https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.15607008
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