There are several variants of a list in circulation with skills our grandparents could do but the majority of us can't, for instance, 7 skills your grandparents had and you don't. Examples include ironing really well, sewing, knitting, crocheting, canning, cooking a meal from scratch, writing in beautiful longhand, basic DIY skills… What have the majority of us lost by not having these skills, which I'll call granparent skills for short, anymore?

As Lizzie Fricker argued today in a workshop held in honor of Charlotte Coursier, trust in other people is common and is a pervasive element of human life. We defer to the knowledge of others (testimonial dependence) and to their expertise (practical dependence): we rely on experts to tell us what the weather will be like, to fix our car, to give us a new haircut. Often, this deference is shallow and dispensable (we could in principle do it ourselves), but it can also be deep and ineluctable, as when we rely on electricians and other specialists. 

This division of cognitive labor provides us with enormous gains, but does an increased reliance on testimony and expertise of others also come with costs? Fricker feels we do not reflect enough on this question, especially as the extent of both testimonial and practical dependence seems have increased dramatically in recent years. People increasingly rely on Google rather than internally stored semantic knowledge, and they increasingly outsource practical skills – navigation with maps, dead reckoning, and compasses is replaced by user-friendly  technologies like GPS devices. 

Both testimonial and practical dependence are unavoidable. It is impossible not to rely on testimony. To take an example Fricker gave, suppose I want to find out for myself what Australia’s like for myself rather than relying on other people’s say-so in books and the like. Even so, the fact that I trust I am in Australia after a long and exhausting flight depends on my trusting transmitted knowledge about the shape of the Earth and its geography. Similarly, we have unavoidable practical dependence. For instance, people who start a self-reliant community where they grow their own food and the like are still going to rely on each other (e.g., one person tends the cows, two others build a shed) to make this work. And they rely on the broader society, e.g., laws that deter people from ransacking their community).

Still, it seems that when we rely on satnav rather than our own sense of orientation or reading a map, we are losing something. But what is the loss? One might think there’s something morally praiseworthy about practical self-reliance. However, it is not obvious why being self-reliant would be morally better than being dependent. For instance, someone who puts all her energy in growing wheat and making bread has less opportunity to devote her energy to things she finds morally more pressing, such as fighting world poverty, than if she just went out and bought her bread. Pure ludditism won’t do either – it’s unclear that darning, knitting and sewing are intrinsically more valuable.

Fricker offers two suggestions why the loss of skills is worrisome: first, risk management: by losing how to navigate using more basic techniques, we are increasingly dependent on technology that could break down and leave us utterly helpless. This is a sense in which some degree of self-reliance comes in handy. 

Second, she suggests that having skillful practices of self-reliance may still be valuable in an Aristotelian sense that they contribute to human flourishing. Grandparent skills may be revealing something about what it is to be human, and might be conducive to human wellbeing and flourishing. However, one may counter that grandparent skills are replaced by other skills which might likewise contribute to flourishing. Younger generations may not be able to quilt or darn socks, but many know basic programming, how to design a website, and how to use a variety of social media.

One way in which grandparent skills differ from this is that they are multisensory: knitting has a wonderful tactile feeling. My grandmother could certainly afford to buy her grandchildren and greatgrandchildren clothes, but she delighted in knitting for them. Making a fruit conserve successfully, cooking a meal from scratch, have gustatory and olfactory elements. I miss writing with a fine fountain pen that smoothly glides over the paper (although, as a left hander, it never quite worked that well). By contrast, most novel skills (programming, web design etc) are very visually oriented, usually involving staring at some screen. It is no coincidence, I think, that my memories as a child with my grandparents are so rich and multisensory – the changing palet of odours of soup as ingredients were added, for instance. One should take care not to romanticize these skills, however. Washing clothes by hand (something my grandmother did when she was recently married) was no pleasure, but an unending stream of diapers, hot water and calloused hands.  

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9 responses to “Practical deference: Does it matter?”

  1. Neil Levy Avatar
    Neil Levy

    I’m extremely unsympathetic to the idea that this kind of deference involves a loss. First, I think it tends to romanticise and simply get wrong what we learn from direct engagement. Take the ‘Australia’ example. Would you really learn more about it from visiting than from reading? Your experience of Australia would be very personal, consisting in the impression you form from the necessarily narrow range of encounters you have. Given that this kind of information is psychologically very salient, if anything I suspect it would lead to you have less well-justified beliefs regarding Australia than if you read a couple of books. I’m not even confident that I, who have lived here on and off for more than 30 years, should be regarded as more expert on Australia than someone else who never visits but embarks on a 12 month course of study from abroad.
    Second, I think that what we regard as self-reliance just hides the division of cognitive labor more effectively. Grandparent skills are transmitted skills: they are genetically dependent on others. They are also dependent for their continuing exercise on other people playing their part in the division. Feminists have long emphasised how Marlboro man autonomy depends on the hidden support of caregivers. Making deference explicit should be seen as a good thing, inasmuch as it might allow those who enable the exercise of skills to emerge from the shadows.

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  2. David Killoren Avatar
    David Killoren

    I like the points you make in the fourth and fifth paragraphs, but I am not sure you go far enough. I doubt that the loss of grandparent skills has meant the loss of any self-reliance at all. Take navigating with a map rather than navigating with a satellite gadget. In what sense of “self-reliant” is the map-navigator more self-reliant than the satellite-navigator? Both rely on information gathered by others. Both use tools they acquired from others and probably can’t make themselves. And, on the positive side, both must have a certain skill in order to use those tools. (If you’re used to GPS navigation, you tend to take these skills for granted, but there are real skills involved: it was surprisingly difficult for my parents to learn how to use their GPS unit.) Of course, using a map might feel more self-reliant than using a satellite gadget, and maybe that feeling is good in itself. But I don’t see that there is any loss of real self-reliance in the shift from maps to satellites and I’d say the same about the other skills that we’ve lost and gained as technology has evolved. It seems to me that self-reliance is an illusion for us and for our grandparents.

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  3. Sara L. Uckelman Avatar

    I can think of a third reason for why having certain practical skills is important, and it’s related to the comment “For instance, someone who puts all her energy in growing wheat and making bread has less opportunity to devote her energy to things she finds morally more pressing, such as fighting world poverty, than if she just went out and bought her bread.”
    My mom taught my sister and I how to sew when we were young, and while I’m not the seamstress she is, I can mend, patch, replace buttons, etc., with the result that the longevity of our clothing is substantially increased. (My husband, for example, will wear his shirts until the patches have patches and the rest is disintegrating…at which point they get repurposed as rags. Or for patching other shirts. It always feels vaguely cannibalistic to cut up one shirt to patch another.) For someone who is worried about the proliferation of material goods and the “disposable” culture that has developed in many first-world countries, this is one way to combat that.
    Another skill which has direct benefits is cooking: It is generally going to be cheaper, healthier, and better for the environment to be making meals from scratch. I needn’t go into the all the arguments for this here!

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  4. Helen De Cruz Avatar

    Hi Neil: Your comment made me think about Sterelny’s Evolved Apprentice, which deals with this semi-informal transmission of practical skills as a way to understand the behavioral innovations in hominids about 100,000 years ago. To Sterelny, the apprentice model, where people learn skills from others in a cognitively scaffolded environment (e.g., a workshop where all the tools are already in the right place) explains why humans can acquire such a diversity of skills.
    The way such skills are dependent on others (e.g., vertical transmission, division of labor along gender lines etc in a community) nevertheless strikes me as a different dependence relation than the sorts of things Fricker decries, such as reliance on GPS. The former require deliberate practice and observation in a context of social interaction, often for extended periods of time, the latter require only a brief reading of an instructions manual, and you are ready to go.

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  5. Chtistian Marks Avatar
    Chtistian Marks

    Learning to drive a vehicle follows the apprentice model.

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  6. Dennis Whitcomb Avatar
    Dennis Whitcomb

    Grandparent skills can help reduce our exploitation of the environment and other people. This happens, for instance, when through mending our clothes we reduce our economic support of sweatshop-type labor (as Sara Uckelman points out above). It also happens when we go fairly far down the line, to what we might call “great-grandparent skills” like growing our own food, including animal-based food such as meat and eggs. These great-grandparent skills put us right into touch with the environmental impact of what we do. If the herbicide toxicity label is right in front of you, and if you are looking at your pigs every day from their birth until you eat them, it is harder to keep your complicity in harm “out of sight and out of mind”. This can help facilitate less exploitative treatment of the animals and land, as well as the human labor, that we rely on.

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  7. Helen De Cruz Avatar

    Dennis and Sara – those are excellent points – thanks. It certainly applies to things like canning, mending etc (saving resources), but it’s difficult to generalize to all the skills such as writing with a fountain pen and navigating by map or compass rather than by GPS.

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  8. BunnyHugger Avatar
    BunnyHugger

    Seconding this. “Deference” is not the only issue in this list; some of the skills (mending, cooking from scratch, probably canning) are ones that suggest less waste and less burden on the environment.

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  9. Alan White Avatar
    Alan White

    Very intriguing post and thread, Helen. Just the other day, driving back from Green Bay, I suddenly was struck by the thought that a 19th century person, transported into the driver’s seat of my Honda, could hardly grasp not just the skills necessary to drive safely at 70 mph, but the whole concept of traversing 40 miles in less than an hour. Our ideas of usable time and space have been transformed by the skills we’ve acquired in ways that our ancestors couldn’t fathom. We have lost some skills over the generations, but gained others that rework the very ways we think about life.
    However, I’m also mindful that what I just said applies very strongly only to privileged first-worlders. There are billions of people who still live essentially as their grandparents did–just to survive.
    But one set of skills–if you wish to call it that, and I would–that first-worlders have lost relates to dealing with death. My mother dealt with it quite directly in the Depression having to care for her own dying mother at home with no professional medical care, including finally preparing her mother’s body to be buried. My father died when I was in my 20s, and because he was poor, received only Veterans Administration care (believe me, I knew about inadequate VA care in 1980), and died at home with only my mom and me to care for him. Such day-in, day-out dealing with the agonies of death are not common for most people in the northern hemisphere West today because of hospitalization and hospice, where strangers bear a good deal of the ugliest brunt of our loved ones’ deaths. And I’m not romanticizing some rustic myth of death either–modern medicine has done a lot to lessen the horror of lingering death. But even that mercy comes at a price: most of us looking at this blog entry will be insulated from the care-taking realities of how we all die, that is, until we do. Ironically–I guess that’s the word–the most direct way many of us experience death is that of our pets, and that is sanitized as well by the availability of merciful euthanasia. We are simply not very aware of what our lives really mean at the end, because in many instances we do not fully know what goes on involving the loss of our closest loved ones.
    Well that was certainly an unwelcome quasi-wise pontificating downer! Fortunately one other skill we often exhibit that our grandparents had as well is the ability to laugh at ourselves and not take ourselves too seriously, and as long as we can do that, we’ll hold on to a significant good part of humanity.

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