It seems to me that the most-common shared human belief is the belief in the "golden age." People seem to believe their lives, towns, states, nations, ethnic groups, . . . . humanity in general, were better in the past. "Life was great back when -- " I was single, the city-folk hadn't bought Johnson's farm, no foreigners lived here, this land was still ours, we still lived in the green and noble Eden of hunting & gathering, etc., etc. Further examples are left as exercise for the reader.
My question is, "why?" Why do (almost?) all humans believe this? My answer is personal entropy. We reason that our own experience must be universal. Life, for an American kid, anyway, is amazingly good. Their bodies are flexible, resilient, well-fed, attended by parent, physician, and daycare provider. Their minds are nourished, their time spent in the most luxurious of human activities -- learning. Who wouldn't want to return to that? Who, raised that way, having played that hard, having received that much focused attention, wouldn't feel that something had been taken from them? After all, it's reasonable to assume that one's earliest experiences are "normal." From that assumption, life after childhood is certainly a set-back.
I made this point to a friend, the other day. He agrees on the universality of the myth of the golden age. But he disagrees with my explanation of it. He holds that the myth originates in the evolution of social values. It's not, in his view, the personal changes so much as the social ones. One grows to maturity in a society. At the outset, one has no society and so, one has no social values. As one matures, one comes into contact with a society. The values of that society, even though they are changing, appear constant to a person growing into them. The radical change of introduction masks the subtle change of evolution. The shocking new music that became dominant 6 months ago isn't a shock if you only started listening to the radio in the last 3 months. Eventually, a person is no longer a new member of the society. (Or one emigrates, as my friend did.) The slow drift of culture is no longer obscured, and one is shocked to discover that one's society has changed. Clearly, it's not what it was. But it's not supposed to change -- after all, it's been constant one's entire life (so far, and only in one's perception).
In either case, I note that the myth is about deterioration. There is no universal discussion of how things were worse, or just the same, or merely different. Except in the aftermath of catastrophe or war, I suppose. I wonder how this relates. Do we simply ignore positive aspects of change? Are positive things taken as evidence that not everything has deteriorated? i.e., Because we know that things were better in the past, anything that is good must be a relic of that better time. Nonsensical on the face of it. Polio vaccination, for example, is not a relic of a better time.
I think it was Spider Robinson who observed that "Everything that happened before my birth is bedrock, fundamental, unchanging Things-as-They-Should-Be; things that happen in the first 20 years of my life are new, cool, and potentially a way to earn a living; everything after that is lamentable deterioration."
My question is, "why?" Why do (almost?) all humans believe this? My answer is personal entropy. We reason that our own experience must be universal. Life, for an American kid, anyway, is amazingly good. Their bodies are flexible, resilient, well-fed, attended by parent, physician, and daycare provider. Their minds are nourished, their time spent in the most luxurious of human activities -- learning. Who wouldn't want to return to that? Who, raised that way, having played that hard, having received that much focused attention, wouldn't feel that something had been taken from them? After all, it's reasonable to assume that one's earliest experiences are "normal." From that assumption, life after childhood is certainly a set-back.
I made this point to a friend, the other day. He agrees on the universality of the myth of the golden age. But he disagrees with my explanation of it. He holds that the myth originates in the evolution of social values. It's not, in his view, the personal changes so much as the social ones. One grows to maturity in a society. At the outset, one has no society and so, one has no social values. As one matures, one comes into contact with a society. The values of that society, even though they are changing, appear constant to a person growing into them. The radical change of introduction masks the subtle change of evolution. The shocking new music that became dominant 6 months ago isn't a shock if you only started listening to the radio in the last 3 months. Eventually, a person is no longer a new member of the society. (Or one emigrates, as my friend did.) The slow drift of culture is no longer obscured, and one is shocked to discover that one's society has changed. Clearly, it's not what it was. But it's not supposed to change -- after all, it's been constant one's entire life (so far, and only in one's perception).
In either case, I note that the myth is about deterioration. There is no universal discussion of how things were worse, or just the same, or merely different. Except in the aftermath of catastrophe or war, I suppose. I wonder how this relates. Do we simply ignore positive aspects of change? Are positive things taken as evidence that not everything has deteriorated? i.e., Because we know that things were better in the past, anything that is good must be a relic of that better time. Nonsensical on the face of it. Polio vaccination, for example, is not a relic of a better time.
I think it was Spider Robinson who observed that "Everything that happened before my birth is bedrock, fundamental, unchanging Things-as-They-Should-Be; things that happen in the first 20 years of my life are new, cool, and potentially a way to earn a living; everything after that is lamentable deterioration."
I think that it's partly a gauge of how much people resent or resist their own sense of responsibility for themselves. You don't really hear people who are deeply engaged in realizing their lives saying this sort of thing. You could imagine Susan K. or the Dalai Lama looking back on some part of their earlier lives and enjoying a sweetness that it brings, or perhaps missing someone whom they loved and who is now gone, but not complaining about how it was a golden age and now everything sucks. They are too busy being alive now.
So, not everyone believes this. Some encourage this sort of thinking, usually there is a political or religious-political nuance to it. It's a way to reinforce low expectations for your life, or to manipulate you through guilt by making it YOUR fault that the golden age is over (original sin?), or to inspire vendetta, with the story of the other guy who stole the golden age FROM you. It's a way for the man to keep you down, and it's also a way to let yourself off the hook when you aren't making your life what you want it to be.
It's also really easy to do and I know I do it myself sometimes.
On the idea of childhood, as I was there for most of your childhood, I think I can offer evidence that it was not a time of unadulterated ease and beauty. Although you being there sure made my childhood better.
: )
I like to think that there are golden ages, but they are many and overlapping. Sadly, the golden age of Jim Henson is over, but the golden age of Neil Gaiman is right on. And golden ages undreamt-of await in the future.