This is a very good story. And I think—in spite of the clear-cut attempts to elicit intuitions about the value of childhood and the rights of parents—that there may be some validity to the perspective character’s society’s view. Consider, for instance, the opposite case: dementia in old age. The years of dementia replace years of potentially productive and enjoyable thought with confused, near-valueless, dependent, and often suffering-laden resource-sucking; the demented aged receive no respect or autonomy. Eliminating senility as part of the human condition would be met with unequivocal celebration: no one would be holding protests begging for their deluded grandma back. For some reason, putting the stage of incompetence at the other end of the lifespan and making the sufferers adorable completely reverses this impression.
Growth and improvement is exciting and fulfilling, degradation and decay is terrifying and painful. The direction of change is what creates the distinction between youth and old age.
Not if it’s so rapid you don’t have time to properly enjoy it, or put another way if it’s so rapid it clips the top of your progress-detector and all progress above that is simply wasted in terms of your hedonic enjoyment.
I am skeptical of the idea that the smallest of children have the conceptual sophistication to notice and enjoy their growth and improvement. Older children may, but then—adults can improve and grow too, while being competent and productive (and, at least potentially, self-conscious of the growth) all the while. However, my individual perspective is probably uncommon here: I didn’t like anything about being a child that has turned out to be unique to childhood.
Your perspective might be uncommon, but I share it completely.
School: sit still and don’t speak unless prompted. Wanna go to the toilet, ask for permission. Ten years of this crap. Also, interactions with fellow inmates are fun: “If you leave a bunch of eleven-year-olds to their own devices, what you get is Lord of the Flies” (Paul Graham)
Home: you’re dependent and can’t help it. Fights with parents over pocket money and computer time. Go to bed and get up on schedule. No personal space. You can have some jam after you finish your porridge.
External world: think it’s hard to face stereotypes being a woman? Try being a kid.
Agreed that children don’t have a lot of good reasons to be happy, but not sure that’s very relevant here. My observations of children suggest that when they’re raised well they have a really high happiness set point, or are just plain better at being happy than adults for developmental reasons unrelated to their circumstances. I don’t really trust my own memories of childhood, but the children I hang around always look like they’re having more fun than adults nearby, unless they’re specifically being prevented from doing so.
This is a very good story. And I think—in spite of the clear-cut attempts to elicit intuitions about the value of childhood and the rights of parents—that there may be some validity to the perspective character’s society’s view. Consider, for instance, the opposite case: dementia in old age. The years of dementia replace years of potentially productive and enjoyable thought with confused, near-valueless, dependent, and often suffering-laden resource-sucking; the demented aged receive no respect or autonomy. Eliminating senility as part of the human condition would be met with unequivocal celebration: no one would be holding protests begging for their deluded grandma back. For some reason, putting the stage of incompetence at the other end of the lifespan and making the sufferers adorable completely reverses this impression.
Growth and improvement is exciting and fulfilling, degradation and decay is terrifying and painful. The direction of change is what creates the distinction between youth and old age.
But isn’t rapid growth and improvement better?
Not if it’s so rapid you don’t have time to properly enjoy it, or put another way if it’s so rapid it clips the top of your progress-detector and all progress above that is simply wasted in terms of your hedonic enjoyment.
I am skeptical of the idea that the smallest of children have the conceptual sophistication to notice and enjoy their growth and improvement. Older children may, but then—adults can improve and grow too, while being competent and productive (and, at least potentially, self-conscious of the growth) all the while. However, my individual perspective is probably uncommon here: I didn’t like anything about being a child that has turned out to be unique to childhood.
Your perspective might be uncommon, but I share it completely.
School: sit still and don’t speak unless prompted. Wanna go to the toilet, ask for permission. Ten years of this crap. Also, interactions with fellow inmates are fun: “If you leave a bunch of eleven-year-olds to their own devices, what you get is Lord of the Flies” (Paul Graham)
Home: you’re dependent and can’t help it. Fights with parents over pocket money and computer time. Go to bed and get up on schedule. No personal space. You can have some jam after you finish your porridge.
External world: think it’s hard to face stereotypes being a woman? Try being a kid.
You are so far below having civil rights, that people use you as an excuse to put restrictions on adults.
Agreed that children don’t have a lot of good reasons to be happy, but not sure that’s very relevant here. My observations of children suggest that when they’re raised well they have a really high happiness set point, or are just plain better at being happy than adults for developmental reasons unrelated to their circumstances. I don’t really trust my own memories of childhood, but the children I hang around always look like they’re having more fun than adults nearby, unless they’re specifically being prevented from doing so.
The Final Prejudice, by David Deutsch
Hedonism is so beastial.
Not always.