When I was a boy, it seemed to me that all the proverbs, fairy tales, Aesop fables, and moral vignettes I encountered growing up served a function opposite to advice. They were passed around as cliches that no-one was expected to take seriously, that indeed people were expected to speak of only in scoffing tones. They were repeated for that very purpose, to prevent anything being learned from them.[1]
Religious observances were the same. One went to church because it was “the done thing”. It would have been thought strange to take any interest in the ideas, still less to put them into practice.
I don’t think this was just me, or my family. It ran through the whole culture I grew up in, Edinburgh in the 1960′s. But America also has the contemptuous term “cracker barrel wisdom”, so maybe it’s more widespread.
I wonder if encountering the words too early is the problem. By the time I was old enough to have experience of the real things that they are about, the words were too familiar.
Interesting! I grew up in New England, in a family that was college educated. The attitude I remember was very different from what you describe. If I had to try to put it in words, I would say that people weren’t cynical about virtue. The churchgoers listened to their sober Protestant sermons, and tried to live as good people. The atheists respected the Christians for caring about the less fortunate. Something like an Aesop fable might be seen as sort of simplistic or aimed at kids, but not actually bad advice, if that makes sense? The rich downplayed their wealth, and often invested some part of it in helping their communities.
But one of the firmest rules was that you never bragged about your virtue. Ever.
And by and large, these people did well in life. They married and generally stayed married. They mostly taught their kids to work hard. The scrimped to pay for their children’s education. They mostly avoided drama, or at least kept it behind closed doors. These are all the actions of people taking the common, obvious advice, including the cliches.
These were people who would have largely understood Chesterton’s remark:
Democracy tells us not to neglect a good man’s opinion, even if he is our groom; tradition asks us not to neglect a good man’s opinion, even if he is our father.
Now, were these folks perfect? Of course not. But there was a culture pushing in this direction.
I have encountered other cultures where reflexive cynicism about virtue is the norm. This is often combined with loud public piety. I find it to be a very alien mindset, honestly.
Huh, my experience was somewhat reversed: I took all such advice literally, often to great success, and only learned later on that people expected me to ignore it and treat it with disdain, but too late for me to integrate that attitude.
For example, I was told to always salute my teachers and call them Mr. and Ms., something which they enjoyed, which no one did, and which participated in giving me positive relationships with my teachers in college. Another example: I was told to care for the poor and give my belongings to them. This resulted in a scolding and severe disillusion for giving away grocery money, which helped me get out of religion, but also matured into attraction towards EA.
I guess it depends on how good you are at taking social cues? Perhaps such advice is good to integrate, but unfashionable to display, such that it is good for society to expose children (unable to understand the advisordoesn’t belief the advice) to it, but detrimental for individuals to be seen taking it seriously.
When I was a boy, it seemed to me that all the proverbs, fairy tales, Aesop fables, and moral vignettes I encountered growing up served a function opposite to advice. They were passed around as cliches that no-one was expected to take seriously, that indeed people were expected to speak of only in scoffing tones. They were repeated for that very purpose, to prevent anything being learned from them. [1]
Religious observances were the same. One went to church because it was “the done thing”. It would have been thought strange to take any interest in the ideas, still less to put them into practice.
I don’t think this was just me, or my family. It ran through the whole culture I grew up in, Edinburgh in the 1960′s. But America also has the contemptuous term “cracker barrel wisdom”, so maybe it’s more widespread.
I wonder if encountering the words too early is the problem. By the time I was old enough to have experience of the real things that they are about, the words were too familiar.
Compare the concept of rahom, a Láadan word meaning “to non-teach, to deliberately fill students’ minds with empty data or false information”.
Interesting! I grew up in New England, in a family that was college educated. The attitude I remember was very different from what you describe. If I had to try to put it in words, I would say that people weren’t cynical about virtue. The churchgoers listened to their sober Protestant sermons, and tried to live as good people. The atheists respected the Christians for caring about the less fortunate. Something like an Aesop fable might be seen as sort of simplistic or aimed at kids, but not actually bad advice, if that makes sense? The rich downplayed their wealth, and often invested some part of it in helping their communities.
But one of the firmest rules was that you never bragged about your virtue. Ever.
And by and large, these people did well in life. They married and generally stayed married. They mostly taught their kids to work hard. The scrimped to pay for their children’s education. They mostly avoided drama, or at least kept it behind closed doors. These are all the actions of people taking the common, obvious advice, including the cliches.
These were people who would have largely understood Chesterton’s remark:
Now, were these folks perfect? Of course not. But there was a culture pushing in this direction.
I have encountered other cultures where reflexive cynicism about virtue is the norm. This is often combined with loud public piety. I find it to be a very alien mindset, honestly.
Huh, my experience was somewhat reversed: I took all such advice literally, often to great success, and only learned later on that people expected me to ignore it and treat it with disdain, but too late for me to integrate that attitude.
For example, I was told to always salute my teachers and call them Mr. and Ms., something which they enjoyed, which no one did, and which participated in giving me positive relationships with my teachers in college.
Another example: I was told to care for the poor and give my belongings to them. This resulted in a scolding and severe disillusion for giving away grocery money, which helped me get out of religion, but also matured into attraction towards EA.
I guess it depends on how good you are at taking social cues? Perhaps such advice is good to integrate, but unfashionable to display, such that it is good for society to expose children (unable to understand the advisordoesn’t belief the advice) to it, but detrimental for individuals to be seen taking it seriously.