Experience, in a broad sense, can signify a person’s capability and competence, acting as a proxy indicator for one’s ability to perform. When writing a resume, explaining your interest in a field, or simply pursuing a new hobby, the question of experience is immediately raised. The reason behind this is evident: one who has experienced more of a given field—its fortunes and dangers—is better equipped to perform in it. The Romans, during the development of the Roman Republic in 509 BC, employed such reasoning in the construction of their political and societal structures, instituting an age floor of 42 years for the position of consul. A similar ideology is utilized within the United States democratic republic: a member of the House of Representatives must be 25 years old, a Senator must be 30 years old, and the President and Vice President must be 35 years old—as the responsibilities placed in a position grow, the level of experience follows suit.

Why is experience revered?

The primordial inclination toward people of great experience appears to be a biologically-rooted phenomenon. As hunter-gatherers, early humans were required to seek potentially dangerous wild animals and plants. Throughout these ordeals, it can be inferred that those who displayed bravery and generosity, despite the horrors of nature, would gain the respect of tribe members. Symbolically, the revered were exposing themselves to that which appeared difficult or terrifying. Employing this display of experience, they were able to increase their status and, consequently, their mating options. Thus, given that a demonstration of experience would facilitate survival and class progression, exposure to the inexperienced, the unknown, would be an avenue to consider. However, the innate biological respect humans retain towards the experienced contrasts greatly with their inclination towards comfort, or the known.

Why does the inexperienced spark fear?

The known, in an evolutionary sense, is representative of security and that which has been experienced. It provides us with reassurance, insofar as its nature has been revealed, harboring no undisclosed misfortunes or hazards. It is, emblematically, an entity that doesn’t pose a threat to our survival. Considering this, our aversion towards the unknown is attributable to our determination to survive—a necessary disposition for the continuance of the species. However, as mentioned earlier, overcoming this mechanism is a marker of courage and daring, creating a seemingly paradoxical relationship.

How does experience influence progression?

The association between experience and progress is direct: the more experienced one can become, the more progress one can sustain. Progress is the advancement toward an ideal; without progress, the ideal cannot be realized. The ideal contains in it a biological desire to surpass restrictions—which can only be done by confronting them. In confronting these restrictions, one can grow more experienced. However, the possibility for progress, for learning, that presents itself upon an experience must be accepted willingly; otherwise, regression or stagnation is likely. Therefore, individuals who refuse progress by rejecting or misinterpreting the applicable knowledge that can come through an experience are inclined to make similar mistakes frequently.

Employing experience to drive progression is necessary to become competent and respected, but it should be executed in a calculated manner. For example, if you fear heights, you would not force yourself onto the highest building you can find. Instead, you would gradually expose yourself to altitudes that increase incrementally: you would work up to your ideal by raising the intensity of the experience. Once higher heights have been experienced long enough, the fear surrounding them will dissipate—given that you’ve transformed heights from unknown to known.

Throughout our lives, whether we’ve been conscious of it or not, experience has been the mechanism that drives our progression. Childhood fears—the monster in the closet, the dark, ghosts, monsters, etc.—propagate through a conception of the unknown, the inexperienced. Only by routinely checking our closets and under our beds did we eventually shed away our fears. In essence, our progression materialized once voluntary exposure to the inexperienced had been accepted. In doing this, we became better, more useful versions of ourselves.