"When old people speak it is not because of the sweetness of words in our mouths; it is because we see something which you do not see"
About this Quote
Achebe tilts the spotlight off eloquence and onto authority: the elder is not performing wisdom, he is testifying to it. The line quietly demotes “sweetness” (pretty speech, rhetorical flair, the charm that wins rooms) and replaces it with a harsher claim to legitimacy: experience is a kind of vision, and youth is structurally half-blind. It’s a sentence that understands how easily language can be mistaken for truth in postcolonial societies where official talk - from colonial administrators to new national elites - often arrived coated in honey and backed by force.
The intent isn’t to sanctify age as automatically right; it’s to defend a mode of knowledge that modernity, schooling, and imported institutions routinely belittle. Achebe wrote from within cultures where elders function as living archives, carrying histories that were not written down and cosmologies that don’t translate cleanly into bureaucratic English. “We see something which you do not see” is a warning about loss: when the chain of listening breaks, you don’t just lose manners, you lose memory, and with it the ability to anticipate consequences.
The subtext has teeth. It challenges younger readers - especially those taught to equate progress with rejecting the old - to consider what their confidence is built on. Achebe’s elder doesn’t ask to be admired; he asks to be taken seriously. In a world addicted to novelty and speed, he’s arguing that insight is often slow, and sometimes inconveniently ancestral.
The intent isn’t to sanctify age as automatically right; it’s to defend a mode of knowledge that modernity, schooling, and imported institutions routinely belittle. Achebe wrote from within cultures where elders function as living archives, carrying histories that were not written down and cosmologies that don’t translate cleanly into bureaucratic English. “We see something which you do not see” is a warning about loss: when the chain of listening breaks, you don’t just lose manners, you lose memory, and with it the ability to anticipate consequences.
The subtext has teeth. It challenges younger readers - especially those taught to equate progress with rejecting the old - to consider what their confidence is built on. Achebe’s elder doesn’t ask to be admired; he asks to be taken seriously. In a world addicted to novelty and speed, he’s arguing that insight is often slow, and sometimes inconveniently ancestral.
Quote Details
| Topic | Wisdom |
|---|
More Quotes by Chinua
Add to List

