The Illusion of Nostalgia

Fresno Bee, June 25, 2023

A new study called “The Illusion of Moral Decline” suggests that we are morally better than our ancestors, even though we think we are worse. The study by psychologists Adam Mastroianni and Dan Gilbert maintains, “On average, modern humans treat each other far better than their forebears ever did.” Their focus is on kindness, honesty and similar personal virtues.

We might add that political and social life is also better. Slavery was abolished. Women were liberated. And science, medicine, and technology have improved.

Despite this, a recent survey from the Pew Center concludes that most Americans think the past was better, with 58% of us saying that life is worse today than 50 years ago. In response, columnist Jonah Goldberg argued that nostalgia is a “terrible guide” for social and political judgment. He reminds us that crime is down, people are generally richer, infant mortality rates are better, and workplace safety has improved.

So why are we so fond of what we see in the rear-view mirror? If things are better, why do we think they are worse? Mastroianni and Gilbert explain that psychological biases cloud our judgment. We have limited information and selective memories.

I suspect religion, politics, and marketing also play a part. Religions emphasize the holiness of their founders. Americans also celebrate the wisdom of the founding fathers. And political parties promise to return us to past greatness. Nostalgia is often used to sell us a product.

Poets and artists also tend to paint yesteryear in sepia tones that reek of longing. Herman Melville wrote, “How lovely was the light of heaven, what angels leaned from out the sky, in years when youth was more than wine, and man and nature felt divine.”

Nostalgia and a sense of decline are common throughout history. The Taoists of ancient China spoke of a prior generation of “true men,” who lived in harmony with heaven. And Plato and the ancient Greeks spoke of a Golden Age, and the lost utopia of Atlantis.

Nostalgia makes sense when the present is chaotic. The Athenians of Plato’s era lived in a time of war, plague, and political turmoil. They imagined the Golden Age as an ideal alternative to a tumultuous present.

Perhaps that explains our present moment. We’re suffering through the aftereffects of the pandemic and the polarization of the Trump years. There is war in Europe. The Earth’s climate is changing. There have been rapid shifts in cultural identity. It is not surprising that folks think it would be nice to go back to a simpler, more stable time.

But no such simpler time has ever existed. Nor will the future be stable. The world is built of crooked timber. It has never been perfect. Nor can we expect it to be.

A Woody Allen film called “Midnight in Paris” is worth watching in this regard. In the film, a modern American is transported back to the 1920s, where he hangs out with the heroes of the Jazz Age. There he meets a woman who fantasizes about the “Belle Epoque” of the 19th century. They jump back in time and discover that in the 19th century, artists were nostalgic for the Renaissance.

We might note that the Renaissance was based on admiration for the ancient Greeks and Romans. Each generation is afflicted by nostalgia.

The truth is that we cannot go back. We cannot recreate what is lost to time. We should learn from history. But we should also learn to let it go. What’s past is past. Life unfolds in the present.

And if you think things are worse today, despite the evidence, that really means there is work to do. Rather than lamenting the lost angels of youth, and the heroes of the Golden Age, we should embrace the challenge of improving ourselves and creating a better future.

Nostalgia is misplaced idealism. In seeing the imperfections of the present, we pine for the past. But the past was never perfect. And if the present is better, it can still be further improved. Once we stop gazing in the mirror, we should get to work to build a future that is a bit less crooked, and a bit closer to the ideal.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article276697551.html#storylink=cpy

How old is too old? The promise and perils of gerontocracy

Fresno Bee, Nov. 27, 2022

Is Joe Biden getting too old to be president? There is wisdom in a gracious exit

How old is too old? After Nancy Pelosi announced she was stepping down, at age 82, as the leader of House Democrats, people wondered whether President Biden should follow her lead. Biden turned 80 this week. He is the oldest president we’ve ever had. If he runs for re-election, he would be 86 at the end of a second term.

Some pundits asked whether Biden’s age would affect his ability to do the job. It is natural to wonder about the vitality of octogenarians. We should also consider the question of fairness and the importance of generational shifts. It is wise for older folks to prepare to pass the torch.

There is some truth to the claim that age is just a number. Some 90-year-olds are healthy, smart and engaged. Aging is a matter of probabilities. The odds stack up against us as the years pass. Good genes and good habits can change those odds. There is no on/off switch that suddenly clicks at 80. But vision, hearing, mobility and memory do tend to decline over time.

And yet, there is also some truth to the idea that we gain wisdom as we age. This is not true of everyone. But we can learn from experience. The passage of time provides a sense of perspective and proportion. What appears as a novel crisis for a 20-year-old is “more of the same” for someone who is 80.

Most traditions imagine that wisdom and old age are connected. Plato suggested that as the burning desires of youth are quenched, the mind is set free to focus on higher things. Confucius said something similar. According to Confucius, it is not until we reach 70 that virtue and desire come together. The sages of the ancient world were old folks with a faraway look in their eyes.

Some cultures also value “gerontocracy,” which is a fancy word for rule by elders. This may work well, if our elders are wise and civic-minded. But gerontocracy may also create a system in which crabby old geezers cling to power, refusing to make way for new ideas.

Aristotle was critical of gerontocracy for that reason. He criticized the idea of lifetime tenure for judges, for example. He said, “there is old age of mind as well as of body.” He suggested that some people may be too old to judge wisely. A

nd what about fairness? If one generation dominates leadership positions, is that fair to those in other generations? When Nancy Pelosi announced she was stepping down, she said, “the hour has come for a new generation to lead.”

This is a nice way of putting it. There comes a time, when elders need to make way for the next generation. There is no alarm clock that tells us when that moment has arrived. But it is wise to keep the succession process in mind and to plan for passing the torch.

One rationale for this generational hand-off has to do with creativity and innovation. Human beings are creatures of habit. We tend to prefer the stability of well-worn ruts. But in politics, business, and art, those ruts can become quagmires. Organizations need fresh ideas and new blood.

And what about the ambitions of those who are waiting in the wings? The understudies need their chance to shine. But when the old guard hogs the limelight, the back-ups never get to learn how to play the lead.

This applies to all fields of human endeavor, including sports. In the NFL, the generation of Aaron Rodgers and Tom Brady is ending. It’s sad to watch former heroes fall into mediocrity. And the second stringers need playing time in order to get good at the game.

Of course, we understand why Brady, Rodgers, Pelosi, and Biden want to stay in the game. It’s fun to play. And they have talents they want to share. There is also a crew of agents and sycophants who have vested interests in keeping the old guard in place.

But as Ecclesiastes puts it, “for everything there is a season.” It is wise to make a graceful early exit than to linger too long at the party, while clinging to fading glory.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article269144787.html#storylink=cpy

Tyranny from Plato to Trump

I’m pleased to announce the publication of my new book, Tyranny from Plato to Trump: Fools, Sycophants, and Citizens.

The book offers insight into the perennial problem of tyranny. Tyrants seek to grab power. They are supported by sycophants. And cheered on by fools. This is a political problem as well as a social and spiritual problem. There are tyrants in our families and in our businesses. There is also a tyrannical tendency in our souls. The same is true of the tendency to suck up to the powerful. And each of us can behave moronically, more interested in amusement than ethics or truth.

The cure is spiritual and political. We benefit from self-examination. And we need social and political guardrails that prevent tyrants from consolidating power.

Love and the Golden Rule: An Ethical Valentine

Fresno Bee, February 13, 2022

Valentine’s Day is a great time to reflect on the beauty of the golden rule. This principle tells us that love is the key to morality. But love and ethics are complicated.

Morality often involves lists of do’s and don’ts. The golden rule seems to tell us how to construct such a list. It says, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” A negative version says, “Don’t do to others what you don’t want them to do to you.”

But ethics is not only about do’s and don’ts. Ethics also involves a transformation of the heart. It includes character and disposition, emotion and relationship.

That’s why the most inspiring version of the golden rule focuses on love. It says, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” This links altruism and egoism. It demands that we transform self-love into love of the other. It also suggests that ethics is not only about complying with a set of rules. Attitude and orientation also matter.

It is possible, for example, to do the right thing, but with a grudge. A person who is angry or resentful about doing good is less praiseworthy than someone who is benevolent, kind, and generous. Someone who tells the truth in order to avoid a penalty for lying is less admirable than someone who is fundamentally honest.

In reality, these things are complicated. Sometimes truth can be cold and biting. And sometimes a white lie can be kind. There is a difference between lying for malicious purposes and lying for the sake of the other person.

Love demands that we consider those complexities. The golden rule orients us toward the well-being of those we love. This goes beyond obedience to a list of commandments.

Rule-following is easier than loving. And strict compliance can betray the spirit of love. Consider fidelity and adultery. A grumpy lover whose faithfulness is stubbornly obedient is less praiseworthy than a lover who is happily faithful. The loyalty of love is not supposed to be a grim duty. There should be joy in fidelity.

Or consider the duties of parenthood. There are long lists of things that parents should do (or not do) for their children. But we wouldn’t really use the word “good” to describe a parent who obeys the rules of parenting without actually loving their children.

Some critics will say that love is too weak and mushy to be a reliable guide for ethics. Erotic love is a mercurial emotion that overwhelms rational thought. Romeo and Juliet were swept away by love. But (spoiler alert!) that story does not end well.

Ethical love is more mature than adolescent infatuation. It is supposed to be steady and enduring.

Christian texts provide us with a clue. The famous account in First Corinthians tells us that love is patient, kind, trusting, and hopeful. Love should not be proud or boastful, angry or resentful.

This account of mature and stable love can be traced back to Plato, who wrote several dialogues about love. Plato thought that love should be oriented toward higher goods. Erotic love focuses on the fleeting pleasures of the body. But platonic love is spiritual. It directs us toward enduring and essential goods.

Consider again, parental love. Loving parents do not love their children because the kids are useful or fun. A parent’s love is not about the parent’s happiness or pleasure. Rather, loving parents should want their children to thrive for their own sake.

The same is true of mature romantic love. It is not merely about pleasure and desire. Nor is it about financial partnership or some other pragmatic concern. Rather, romantic love ought to be focused on the spiritual well-being of the other person.

Of course, it is easy to misunderstand love. And we often love poorly. Poetry and literature are full of tarnished love. But the golden rule encourages us to polish up the way we love.

Love is not merely about feeding the fires of selfishness and sensuous pleasure. Rather, the beauty of love is found in the way it leads us beyond ourselves. True love is for the sake of the other. It ought to make us happy and also better and wiser.

On the Importance of Looking Up

The new Netflix film “Don’t Look Up” has a lot of people talking.  It is a black comedy, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Meryl Streep, and Jennifer Lawrence. It’s about corporate greed, bureaucratic incompetence, and the apocalypse.  Its bleak conclusion gets you thinking about the dangers of power, narcissism, and willful ignorance. 

The movie’s fans see it as a cautionary allegory about climate change, science denial, and clueless amateurs running the government.  Some worry that its gloomy ending may encourage despair.  Others hope it will be a call to action. 

Reviews of the film reflect our polarization.  Conservatives claim it is another example of Hollywood preaching a liberal gospel.  One critic in the National Review suggested it is the worst film of 2021.  He lambasted is as a “better-than-you comedy” that “reveals the nastiness of liberals.”  Another critic in the Washington Examiner said it was a “lazy anti-Trump comedy.” 

More subtle criticism came from New York Magazine, where a sympathetic commentator accused the film of oversimplifying the climate crisis.  He said liberals “need to stop telling themselves self-flattering fairy tales.”

I suppose the point is that we are all in this together.  Narcissism and stupidity cross party lines.  Hollywood is part of the problem.  The film seems to recognize this.  It shows how the cult of celebrity corrupts everyone, even the neurotic scientist played by DiCaprio. 

At any rate, this is an allegory, not a documentary.  Allegories simplify reality. They tell memorable stories that get people talking.  In this regard, the film succeeds.  It provokes conversations about life, death, politics, and American culture. 

This conversation should extend to the very idea of “looking up.”  The film’s title calls to mind Plato’s famous “allegory of the cave.”  In Plato story, we are prisoners chained in a cave.  We are not permitted to turn around and see reality.  Even when we are set free, most of us refuse to turn around. Plato suggests the masses would go so far as to kill truth-tellers and educators, who like Socrates are trying to get us to look up.

Plato’s allegory is about willful ignorance. Plato warns that most people don’t want to know the truth.  We deliberately choose not to look up.  We are happy with our illusions.  We don’t want to confront reality.  We keep our heads down, preferring slavery over enlightenment.

In the film, this idea becomes the slogan of the political party led by Streep’s character, President Orleans.  The party encourages people not to look up at the comet hurtling toward earth.  This is a parody of our culture’s struggle with science denial, “fake news,” and “alternative facts.”  It also implies authoritarianism.  “Don’t look up” also means “mind your own business” and don’t criticize the elites.

The philosophical solution to all of this is the pursuit of wisdom.  We ought to look up.  It won’t be easy or comfortable.  We may discover things that confuse us or make us unhappy.  But it is better to live in the light than in the darkness.

One of the questions raised by the film is whether you would want to know how and when you are going to die.  The scientists in the film know the exact time of the apocalypse.  And there is a supercomputer using big data to predict how people will die. 

What would you do with this knowledge?  Would knowledge of your death cause despair?  Would you prefer to remain in ignorance about your death?

A modest hopeful appears toward the end of the film when DiCaprio’s character responds to knowledge of his death by changing his life.  He refutes the computer’s prediction about his death, thereby reclaiming some modest dignity.

This is the kind of dignity that knowledge provides.  When we look up and confront reality, we can take charge of how we live and how we die.  To live in ignorance is to live as a prisoner.  The truth sets us free. 

Knowing the truth won’t change the indifferent reality of the cosmos.  Knowing the truth won’t stop a comet or cure you of Covid.  But knowledge allows us to live responsibly and, if necessary, to die with dignity.  It is tempting in a crisis to bury our heads in the sand.  But wisdom is only available to those who look up.