The development of the United States (and, possibly, Australia) was different from that of Europe.
Ambiguity and vagueness infused our culture.
When we secured the Louisiana Purchase, no one really, truly, knew how far west or north it extended (perhaps due to the primitive cartography). It was a huge flowing mass of land; and this affected how we communicated and thought.
“There’s gold in them thar’ hills,” “Something’s happenin’ down that-a-way,” “I hear there’s a job in the next valley,” “Go west, young man.”
Such uncertainty–that of the wanderer–enriched our culture.
One could argue (although this has now changed), that the old world advanced arguments like battalions of tanks, lined up in rows: discussions of defensiveness. In many (not all) cases, nothing was asserted unless it was known with certainty and could be argued in academia, before any experience.
Americans established a temporary truth, like a scaffold. We climbed it, took in the view, fixed what was beneath us, built it higher, and reached the moon.
It is this ambiguity, this acceptance of uncertainty, which gave rise to America’s triumph in science.
This time is now passing.
We have transitioned to a world where “yes must mean yes” and “no must mean no;” and which treats us like children.
Our respect for ambiguity and uncertainty is gone with the wind.
Seduction (sexual or in the pursuit of knowledge through disobedience) is disavowed. People are considered cripples who do not know how to deal with the uncertainty and shadows of the masculine energy. Society now demands exactitude before any advance. We don’t take risks anymore, we don’t let boys play; we take exams and surveys and instruction from the realms of social justice.