Grandchildren, forgive us for not having looked after you properly
Several days ago, while driving my grandson to his hockey practice, the matter of climate change came up in our conversation.
“Do you and your brother and your friends talk about climate change?” I asked.
“My brother does. I don’t talk much about it. My friends don’t either. But we think a lot about it.”
“Why don’t you talk about it if it’s on your minds?”
“Because we don’t think anyone would listen. A lot of people just ignore it. Most governments ignore it.”
“Some governments pay attention. Some people care.”
“Not enough. Not enough is being done. We have maybe eleven years to act and not a lot of people do anything.”
“Do you think when you grow up that there will be a war about it?”
“I don’t know. I know that there might not be a planet that we can live on and a lot of people don’t act as if they care.”
I thought about that conversation many times recently.
It occurred to me that the generation growing up is being confronted with two matters that are different than, say, my generation.
First, they have little trust in the wisdom of their elders.
They believe the planet is at stake and the generations in power are not willing to do anything about it. Hence, all the moral talk about helping the poor, being a responsible citizen, working for peace, and having a fair society, is for them just talk. To put it crudely, bullshit. On the most important topic that will affect the lives of teenagers today, my generation has failed.
Moreover, I have often noticed that young people are not fooled by high-minded ideals. You can tell them to do good, but if you act in a way that ignores the good, they will know that you really don’t give a damn. They don’t need high philosophy and terms like existential reality or the categorical imperative to figure out that most adults they meet or read about are hypocritical.
We are, to many thoughtful young people, phoneys. We talk big and act little. We claim morality and act selfishly.
When I was the age of my grandson, I still had the (admittedly naive) belief that my parents and relatives and their friends had some wisdom to offer. In fact, I thought that perhaps when I matured I would understand why they acted and behaved with certainty. It wasn’t until several years later, in my late teens, that I realized that their certainty was an act, that my belief in their automatic wisdom was silly.
Second, for all of the issues surrounding the Cold War, including the idea of mutually assured destruction and the reality of the bomb, I believed there was a future. These young people are, in their reflections, facing the possibility of extinction, if not in their lifetime, then in the lifetime of their grandchildren. They are enormously pessimistic about the quality of their adult lives.
What this means is difficult to say. But it means something.
It could be they have a different view about what it means to have children. It could mean they don’t believe that acting in the present as if you have a future is worthwhile. It could mean an enormous pessimism about human nature and our moral authority. We won’t know all that it means until it can be studied, but it may not be studied if the planet turns out to be inhospitable to human beings.
I was born just before the Second World War. I listened on the radio to news about the war. I learned that about 40 of my relatives in Europe were incarcerated and killed because they were born as Jews.
After the war was over, I was taken to the basement of my elementary school, told to sit in a certain position, and informed that the Russians might bomb us, so be prepared. I could go on. Still, I believed in the future. What happens when we raise a generation that regards us as failures and believes they might not have a future?
In 2070, when you think about that conversation, my dear grandson, please forgive all of us for not having looked after you properly.