Nothing sets me off in the classroom like discovering the students’ textbooks have referred to the “decline of the Ottoman Empire” or “the decline of the Islamic societies.” I’m sure I can blame taking an entire class in graduate school called “The Decline of the Spanish Empire” whose purpose was to deconstruct what decline means and demonstrate that there are few ways of measuring it with any precision.
Decline implies fault. Hidden within the discussion is the idea that if different decisions or policies had been made, decline would not have had to happen. It smacks a bit of theories around the “rules” of history or the idea that political powers or cultural groups have either a “natural” life or could create different futures for themselves if they just did things differently. It also implies we all know what the benchmark is and agree on the standards.
All of this can be dissected. The Spanish Empire did eventually end. At some point it was smaller than it had been before. Is this what is meant by “decline”? Or does it refer to the amount of money that the empire brought in from taxation? Should that money be adjusted for inflation? What if we use the standards of the Empire itself, where each generation believed it was poorer and less powerful than the great folks of the past, creating the mythology of the Golden Age?
It appears to be a better policy to suggest that we be specific about what we mean when we say “decline.” Sometimes what is being described is just change—things are different than they were in the past. Instead of referring to the nebulous idea of decline, point out that this was the time where the Ottomans governed the most land. Or it might be helpful use the language of greater or lesser ability to collect taxes or enforce laws. One might notice that after such and such a battle, the Ottomans were unable to win wars against their Eastern European neighbors or that this was the last naval battle they won against Spain. Being specific allows us to communicate clearly about what changed over time and to indicate what we or the people at the time valued and used as their measurement for success.
Change over time happens whether we want it to or not. No society or context stays the same. Having flexibility to deal with new developments might be a sign of resilience and flourishing. Using the term decline indicates that perhaps something should have been done so that there was no change and everything stayed the static. It implies fault, when perhaps what has happened is just a relative difference between one society and another.
When people talk about decline in the contemporary world, when they discuss the United States, for instance, as being in decline, it is equally useful to find out what measurements are being used. Is there any data, or is it just a feeling that things used to be better, that our ancestors did things with more skill or moral character? When we speak of decline we reveal what our values are.
Decline narratives aren’t just collective or political. They are also personal. Now that I’m at midlife I understand a bit more why my elders were so nostalgic about their youth and childhood. The more time we are alive, the more experience we have, especially when we’ve had a vibrant and full life, change sometimes feels like loss. The church I invested in planting can feel less rich and meaningful as time goes by, less exciting or maybe even less mission focused. I can create decline narratives about my job that are based on things that may or may not be measureable, maybe it just all feels different. And sometimes we aren’t the best judge of what has actually changed. How things were in our youth feels like the “norm,” though it wasn’t for the adults we lived with. They were experiencing the challenges of change and the difficulties associated with making a living and organizing society that their adulthood had brought them.
Historians are used to decline narratives. We read them in the writings of the children and grandchildren of the Puritans who settled New England. They believed each generation had lost the purity and fervor of the one that had gone before. And maybe that was true. Or maybe our mentors and spiritual forebears always seem to have had it together, to have been more hard working or virtuous, even as our children and students often think that we are fully formed and heroic in what we are doing at midlife.
So, is there such a thing as decline? If there is, how do we measure it? Fewer numbers? Is it just about size? Simply that bigger is better? Is it about rich relationships or a sense of meaning? Maybe it’s about financial wealth or how easy our lives are compared to the past. If we ourselves aren’t feeling good, do we think this is the story for everyone in our community?
I think we can say that some things have changed in our communities or churches or jobs or life for the worse, at least from our own perspective. But whether they have “declined” is less clear. Because also, some things will have gotten better in some ways, too. We get to choose what we focus on and what the definitions and terms are for our sense off . And sometimes, it is just that we feel more tired or we miss elements of the past. When we are young, we don’t have as much of the past to miss. We are wired in our youth to be excited about new experiences and be open to risks. As we age, we have learned the cost of those risks, and we have seen the beginnings and the endings of dreams we had.
This is not the same as actual decline. Historical thinking allows us to see beyond the span of our own lifetime and our own personal context. We can see that perhaps what we saw as a “norm” was actually an aberration, or a blip on the screen of history. We may have enjoyed that blip, but when it is put into perspective, we can see that there will be other ways of flourishing in the world, perhaps not for us, but for others. As parents and mentors, we may see our own increasing physical frailty as something to be regretted, but enjoy the exuberance and strength of our children, students, and mentees.
Change, even in the negative direction, may not be anyone’s fault. It may just be the new normal. Let’s learn to be specific and own what it is we are missing, what loss we feel. And then lean on our skills of historical thinking to contextualize it. This allows us to be more truthful, and perhaps even more optimistic.
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