A reflection on the loss of values

Here I go again, delving into the issues that trouble my society. This time, however, I write with a heavy heart and tears welling in my eyes. There are topics that cannot be written about solely with reason; they must also be written about with the soul. And this, for me, is one of them.

(Un)fortunately, we live in a society that has experienced great progress. Since the Industrial Revolution, which began in England in the second half of the 18th century, profound social, economic, and technological transformations have altered the way we live. We have gained conveniences, shortened distances, developed technologies, and created better conditions to meet our needs.

But amidst all this progress, one question troubles me: have we evolved at the same rate as human beings?

Entire generations have passed through this land, leaving behind fruitful family trees, many of which we would like to be a part of. Those were times when respect and consideration for elders were part of everyday life; when empathy for others wasn't something you could buy for pennies or exchange for treasure. These were values ​​learned at home, practiced in the community, and passed down from generation to generation.

Until development arrived, and with it, many things changed.

Without a doubt, modernity has brought us benefits. We no longer need to travel long distances on foot to satisfy basic needs, we are no longer exclusively dependent on hunting, and we have developed more efficient ways of producing our own food. We have hospitals, schools, technologies, and a multitude of resources that our ancestors could hardly have imagined.

However, it seems that, while we have learned to build increasingly intelligent machines, we have left behind some of the values ​​that made us more human.

The most painful part is realizing that, daily, we are confronted with reports of elderly people accused of witchcraft. Children accuse their own parents. Grandchildren accuse their grandparents. Neighbors point the finger at that elderly person who no longer has the legs to run, nor the strength to defend themselves.

Today, we point the finger at those who gave us life; at those who carried us in their womb for nine months; at those who often sacrificed the best years of their lives to see us grow. We accuse them of wanting to destroy our lives, of preventing our prosperity, of being responsible for our failures.

But ultimately, whose fault is it?

When a young person fails, when they can't achieve the expected success, when they fall into the world of drugs, when they face difficulties in starting a family, or when they can't have children, we look for easy answers. And, often, we look for the weakest link.

We point the finger. We accuse. We humiliate. We assault. And, in extreme cases, we expel these people from their own homes.

Thus, we witness the sad reality of elderly women, often simply called "old women," being demonized, publicly exposed, assaulted, and accused of witchcraft. Sometimes, the only "crime" committed was being found in a place unknown to them.

We forget that old age also brings limitations. Mobility can become difficult, hearing can weaken, vision can become blurred, and cognitive abilities can decline. Illnesses appear, memory fails, and in some cases, dementia knocks at the door.

All of this should be a reason for us to redouble our care, patience, and affection. Never a reason for condemnation.

Fortunately, all is not lost. There are still those who view old age not as a burden, but as a true library. People who understand that each wrinkle carries a story, each silence holds an experience, and each gray hair represents a life that has traversed paths we are still traveling.

We need to relearn how to listen to our elders.