It is the malady of our age that the young are so busy teaching

Hear the sharp yet sorrowful words of Eric Hoffer, the longshoreman-philosopher who studied the tides of human behavior: “It is the malady of our age that the young are so busy teaching us that they have no time left to learn.” In this cry, he does not scorn youth, but warns of a sickness of spirit—a rushing pride, an eagerness to speak before the ears have truly listened. For the one who is too eager to instruct before being instructed risks losing the treasures of wisdom, which are gathered only through patience and humility.

The meaning is this: the young, full of fire and zeal, often mistake boldness for wisdom. They long to assert themselves, to proclaim their views, to correct their elders, forgetting that true strength is built upon a foundation of learning. The malady Hoffer names is not passion itself—for passion is good—but the blindness that comes when passion is not tempered by listening. A society where the young do not learn, but only instruct, may shine brightly for a moment, but it burns without oil and soon grows dim.

History gives us the cautionary tale of the French Revolution. The youthful fervor of that age swept aside traditions, eager to build a new world upon reason and liberty. Yet in their zeal, many of the young leaders rejected the wisdom of restraint and patience. Their fiery speeches became guillotines, and their revolution devoured itself. Had they paused not only to teach but also to learn, perhaps their dream might have endured with less blood. The lesson is clear: zeal without listening leads to ruin.

Yet there are also stories of youth who embraced humility and became great. The young Alexander of Macedon, though born heir to empire, sat at the feet of Aristotle. He was restless, filled with fire, yet he drank deeply of philosophy, science, and wisdom before he set out to conquer. Because he first learned, he later taught the world. His empire stretched not only by the sword but by the mind. His story reveals the antidote to Hoffer’s malady—that learning must precede leading.

Hoffer’s words also warn the elders: if the young are busy teaching, it is often because the old have ceased to guide. When elders no longer embody wisdom, when they fail to mentor, the young feel compelled to fill the void. Thus the cure is not to silence youth, but to remind both generations of their sacred duties: the young to listen, and the old to teach with humility and care. Only then does wisdom flow from age to youth, and vitality flow from youth to age.

O children of tomorrow, hear this teaching: do not hurry to instruct before you have listened. Learn first, not only from books, but from life, from experience, from those who have walked before you. For every voice has something to give, and the humble ear gathers riches the proud tongue never knows. In listening you build a foundation strong enough to bear the weight of your own teaching when your time comes.

Therefore, let your practice be this: when young, be hungry to learn; when older, be generous to teach. Resist the malady of rushing ahead without wisdom. Seek mentors, honor experience, and know that humility is the door to greatness. Teach when you must, but never cease to be a student of life.

Thus Eric Hoffer’s words endure as both warning and guidance: “It is the malady of our age that the young are so busy teaching us that they have no time left to learn.” Let them remind you that true wisdom is not in speaking first, but in listening deeply. For only the one who has learned fully is worthy to teach truly.