In what ways has society changed since the Stone Age, and in what ways is it exactly the same?

The protagonist of the novel Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata confronts this question upon meeting a dissatisfied young man. The young man believes that society is—and always has been—deeply flawed:

“Nothing’s changed since the Stone Age. It’s just that nobody realizes that. . . . If you ask me, this is a dysfunctional society. And since it’s defective, I’m treated unfairly.”

In this little rant, the young man argues against the common belief that it’s better to be living in modern times than prehistoric times. Nineteenth-century scholars divided human history into three ages. The Stone Age was followed by the Bronze Age, which was followed by the Iron Age. These ages roughly correspond to groups of humans using stone, bronze, and iron tools—but they also refer to a transformation from hunter-gatherer bands and tribes to the formation of city-states practicing agriculture, animal husbandry, and various trades, with accompanying changes in cultural and religious practices and beliefs. These ages occurred in different world localities at different historical times, and in different ways. Popularly, the idea of the three ages is associated with progress—and this implication is what the young man argues against.

An alternate view, one that the young man does not mention, is that the world has not progressed over the ages, but deteriorated. Many cultures and religions have a tradition of believing that the creation of the earth was ideal, and that a Golden Age lasted for a time thereafter, whereupon things got worse and worse, culminating in the banal depravity of today. The ancient Greek poet Hesiod wrote that the Golden Age regressed into the Silver Age, which progressively regressed into the Bronze Age, the Heroic Age, and the Iron Age. The metals in this worldview—which correspond not to tools but, metaphorically, to the quality of people’s lives—become less and less valuable as time passes. (Though, oddly, the name of one of these ages is not a metal at all!)

The young man’s view is negative and self-defeating; but in one way at least, I agree with him: I do not believe that the passage of time has resulted in a society that is better in every way. I also do not believe that it has resulted in a society that is worse in every way. Society has many facets, and that’s why it’s fun to ask (so I’ll ask it again!)—in what ways has it changed, and in what ways has it stayed the same, since the Stone Age?

Yep, it’s hard to avoid getting caught up in the cultural biases of one’s own time. However, there is a way out of this trap—as Albert Einstein knew.

Adam Becker, in his book What Is Real?, explores how historical events and philosophical ideas affected theories of quantum physics over the decades. He reveals that just because nearly everyone believes in a theory does not mean it is true. Some theories stick around because of historical accidents, charismatic leaders, or philosophical trends.

Becker shows how physicists of the twentieth century tended to jump on the bandwagon instead of learning about and engaging with a variety of ideas; and he notes that this issue is still relevant today. He ends the book by endorsing Einstein’s antidote to the bandwagon trap. In 1944, Einstein wrote:

“So many people today—and even professional scientists—seem to me like somebody who has seen thousands of trees but has never seen a forest. A knowledge of the historic and philosophical background gives that kind of independence from prejudices of his generation from which most scientists are suffering. This independence created by philosophical insight is—in my opinion—the mark of distinction between a mere artisan or specialist and a real seeker after truth.”

Amen, Albert.

Scientists do not work in a vacuum, even—I can’t help punning—physicists who experiment in a vacuum regularly.

It’s easy to imagine hard science as being unmarred by the messiness of the humanities, but scientists are only human. In his book about quantum physics in the twentieth century, What Is Real?, Adam Becker tells a historical saga about how politics, war, personalities, and philosophy has affected the ways in which prominent scientists lived, worked, and thought.

Thus the charismatic Danish physicist Niels Bohr influenced what physicists believed about the quantum world for decades, just by dint of personality and institutional position.

Thus Albert Einstein and many other physicists fled from Europe to the United States in the 1930s and 1940s due to the rise of the Nazis. As a result of World War II and its aftermath, the center of quantum physics shifted from Europe to the U.S. This change in location, culture, and political milieu affected physicists’ work in terms of available jobs, funding opportunities, politics and the blacklisting of communists, and in-vogue philosophies.

Thus a young physicist named Hugh Everett III came up with an extremely original idea—the “many-worlds interpretation” of quantum physics—but devoted most of his life not to theory, but to worldly pursuits more fitting to the times.

Most of all, Becker illuminates how the “Copenhagen interpretation” went virtually unchallenged for decades (though Einstein was a notable dissenter) due to accidents of history and culture. He notes,

“All of science is vulnerable to human biases and to influences from all the other spheres of human endeavor—politics, history, culture, economics, art—that some of those biases spring from.”

It makes one wonder: what are today’s unseen biases, and how are they skewing our modern worldview?

I humbly propose bringing back the word endeavor.

I cannot speak knowledgeably about the worldwide use of the word endeavor (or endeavour), but here in the U.S., it carries a stilted, dated vibe that causes it to be avoided.

In fact the word is dated, in that famous dates are attached to it: (1) between 1768 and 1771, James Cook sailed HMS Endeavour, a ship in the British Royal Navy, on a voyage of discovery to Australia and New Zealand; (2) between 1992 and 2011, U.S. astronauts flew the space shuttle Endeavour—named after HMS Endeavour—on space missions.

While these are very cool attributions, they do carry an aura of the historical past—even the space shuttle instance, though it is quite recent.

Nevertheless, we must push forward unto the great, unknown reinvigoration of the word. It is grammatically versatile, having functions as both verb and noun: They endeavored to bring it back. (v.), It was a successful endeavor. (n.).

But the better argument in its favor is that all of its modern-sounding synonyms carry unwanted baggage:

• strive (v.), striving (n.)—connotation of strenuous effort
• work (v.), work (n.)—connotation of effort and employment
• try (v.), try (n.)—connotation of repeated failures
• aim (v.), aim (n.)—connotation of shooting
• attempt (v.), attempt (n.)—connotation of failure and murder
• undertake (v.), undertaking (n.)—connotation of a dead body

Endeavor’s baggage is mild in comparison! Plus, with increasing use, the dated feel of the word will fade.

I especially love the neutrality of endeavor. It implies neither success nor failure, neither effort nor ease. It merely states that someone has an impulse to do something and is following through—no matter how easy or difficult, or likely to succeed or fail, it may turn out to be.

Will you join me in my endeavor to bring the word back? (See the first sentence of my recent post Blocked!)