How to Think Like an Ancestor
Created | Updated Aug 23, 2020
How to Think Like an Ancestor
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day.
William Shakespeare, Henry V, Act IV Scene iii
Shakespeare was good at noticing what people do. Henry V is telling his soldiers that they find themselves in a great contingency moment: a lot depends on the battle they're about to fight. If they win, they'll be famous. People will talk about this event for a long time to come. He also points out that he knows that, when they get older, they'll probably exaggerate their role in the proceedings. Fair enough. But this is an important day, darn it.
Do you know anybody who was present at a big historical moment? Martin Luther King's 'I Have a Dream' speech? Woodstock? The first moon landing? September 11th?
Mr Smith was part of the Normandy landings on 6 June 1944. He would tell you about it, but he was more interested in talking about God. He said D-Day showed him what hate could do: he was more interested in what love could do. I miss him now that he's passed on. I only knew him for a short time, but it was a privilege to make his acquaintance.
Whether we have children of our own or not (I don't), we're somebody's ancestors. We're shaping the world the future will live in. Don't think about Plan Nine from Outer Space at this point…no, I said don't…too late…
We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember, my friend, future events such as these will affect you in the future.
Fair enough. We are interested in the future, because not only are we going to spend the rest of our lives there, but so will the grandkids. 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge,' is an old, old saying that got quoted in the Bible. (I love these tweets from 3000 years ago, don't you?) It had whiskers on it when that writer heard it, as my late mother would have said. Generations yet unborn will have to live with our mess. We need to be thinking about this.
What will you do when the grandchildren ask, 'Where were you when this happened? What did you do?' Will you be proud of the answer? 'I was busy editing the h2g2 Post' might not sound very impressive. It still might be better than 'I was lobbying the government to take away the rights of some group or other that I didn't personally like.'
Do you care that the future might not have coral reefs and polar bears? That your great-grandchildren might have to live with food and water rationing? That, because those same great-grandchildren belong to a minority you now despise – it can happen – they have fewer civil rights than you do now?
There's a story in the Old Testament about a king who showed foreign visitors all the treasures in his kingdom. The resident prophet got mad at him. He told the king that the day would come when everything in the kingdom would be stolen by the descendants of those foreigners, and that his own descendants would become captives in their country. The king said, well, that's okay: there will be peace and security in my time, won't there? It wasn't affecting his standing in the polls.
For the last half-century or so, I've seen people shrug off climate issues. They're not a real problem, it's all the alarmists and tree-huggers. We need economic prosperity, and we can't afford the 'luxury' of taking care of the planet. You're just being naïve: 'the world' doesn't work that way. Besides, it will be all right.
The naïvité of saying at the same time that dog-eat-dog is the 'way of the world' and still believing that somehow, it will all work out for the best, is a breathtaking piece of idiocy that will, quite possibly, doom this species. The more pollution, greed, and injustice are 'the way of the world', the more important it is to guard against the consequences of this 'natural' behaviour. And if you think Jesus is coming back soon, what do you think he's going to say when he sees all this trash lying about?
What does it mean to 'be a good ancestor'? Among other things, it means that we need to separate what is of long-term importance from what is ephemeral. Ask yourself: will it matter, in a hundred years' time, if…
- …somebody pulled down/put up a statue I do/don't like?
- …a celebrity I admire/hate becomes more famous/gets 'cancelled'?
- …the planet's mean temperature goes up by 5 degrees?
- …certain food plants become extinct because we planted too many avocados? Global warming was exacerbated by cow farts?
- …there are no more democracies?
- …we can't get off this planet because we have no space capability, or it has been militarised?
Plan your outrage accordingly.
I realise what the hard part of being a good ancestor is: not thinking about yourself first. It's hard not to think, 'I know it might be bad for the future, but I really, really want this.' I really, really want to vote for that loudmouth politician because it does my heart good to hear him insult people I don't like but can't get to, and besides, the yard signs annoy the life out of my snotty neighbour. I really, really want to sell the mineral rights to that old, useless farmland, because I could use the money right now. The kids can buy their own land, if there's any left after the fracking. I really, really want to sound off about education and let everybody know how much I know – never mind what the kids need to learn to survive in the world we're making.
To put the future's needs before our own requires self-denial. It also requires imagination. The kind of imagination that stands on a rise in Agincourt and says, 'And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, from this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered…'
So maybe they won't remember our names. Do we care? The main thing will be that the planet's still there, and our children's children's children (or our great-great-grandnieces and -nephews) are free to live in it. And, we hope, leave something lasting and joyful to their children.
