Sometimes I wonder whether the older generation consciously hid their failures,
or whether they genuinely believed those failures were wisdom.
Because there is a difference between malice and blindness (and both can be equally destructive when passed down without reflection).
And then there is a more uncomfortable question:
Do they even realize how stupid we are today?
Not stupid in the sense of lacking intelligence,
but stupid in the sense of inheriting systems we barely understand, defending decisions we never made, and normalizing outcomes we quietly resent.
We like to tell ourselves that every generation gets better.
More educated.
More advanced.
More rational.
But progress is not automatic.
Sometimes what is passed down is not wisdom, but unfinished mistakes wrapped in authority.
We are taught to respect elders, history, and stability.
But rarely are we taught to ask:
- What exactly are we inheriting?
- Which failures were acknowledged, and which were buried?
- Which “
successes” were achieved by silencing feedback?
Here is the uncomfortable truth:
Many systems that look stable are not wise.
They are simply unchallenged.
Silence is often mistaken for harmony.
Adaptation is mistaken for agreement.
Survival is mistaken for success.
And over time, this silence hardens into something worse:
a belief that criticism must wait for perfection.
As if only flawless people have the right to speak.
As if moral responsibility requires sainthood.
As if we must wait until history resolves itself
or until Imam Mahdi descends from the sky
before we are allowed to say: this is wrong.
But if criticism must wait for perfection,
then criticism will never come.
And if criticism never comes,
mistakes do not become lessons.
They become inheritance.
This is why I reject the idea that questioning the past is disrespectful.
What is truly disrespectful is forcing the next generation to live with errors they were never allowed to examine.
We learned from the mistakes of our predecessors—often painfully.
From economic collapses.
From rigid systems.
From policies that worked until they didn’t.
From decisions protected too long by fear and hierarchy.
But learning after the damage is done is not wisdom.
It is damage control.
So I ask myself and all of my fellas generation an even harder question:
Are we going to do the same thing?
Are we going to pass down our own blind spots as tradition?
Our compromises as realism?
Our fear of conflict as maturity?
Are we going to hide our failures behind excuses like:
- “It was complicated”
- “We had no choice”
- “That’s just how the system works”
Or are we finally brave enough to do something different?
I do not ask for a perfect generation.
That has never existed.
What I ask for is this:
Do not pass down stupidity that refuses to reflect.
Give us space to try, to fail, and to learn
so that the next generation does not have to relearn the same lessons at a higher cost.
Let our failures be visible.
Let our debates be uncomfortable.
Let our systems absorb criticism instead of suppressing it.
Because failure that is acknowledged becomes knowledge.
Failure that is hidden becomes legacy.
I speak from limitation, not superiority.
From participation, not distance.
I do what I can, from the space I have.And I refuse to believe that silence is the price of being “adaptable”.
Adaptation without critique is not maturity.
It is surrender.
If this discomforts you, good.
Discomfort is often the first sign that something long unquestioned has finally been touched.
Do not inherit silence.
Do not worship stability without reflection.
And do not confuse authority with wisdom.
If we must inherit something,
let it be the courage to admit we were wrong
so those who come after us do not have to pretend we were right.
Even talk is not that cheap – Lezat Tersadji