In these notes I reflect on five verses of the Tao Te Ching, as
translated by Ursula K. Le Guin in 19971. Although I had previously
skimmed the Tao Te Ching, I never truly connected. My earlier
readings were superficial: the Tao Te Ching is not a novel to be
read quickly and linearly; it is more like mathematics, demanding
engagement and hard work. And, like mathematics, it reveals its
depth gradually, with each new reading offering deeper insights
and richer meaning.
While writing notes helps focus my thinking, I wasn't ready to
commit to annotating all 81 verses of the Tao Te Ching. As an
initial commitment, I selected five verses for reflection. What
did I not understand? Could I make sense of it? How did I
disagree? What new thoughts did the verse inspire? I repeatedly
revisited both the verses and my notes, as well as other
contextualizing material. Because the Tao Te Ching addresses
profound themes, I restricted myself to a few hundred words per
verse; it would be easy to write far more. Thus, although these
notes have given me a foothold in understanding the text, they
remain early steps, not likely of interest to anyone versed in
Daoism. But perhaps they are of methodological interest to other
people aiming to deeply process similar texts.
Verse 49: Trust and Power
The wise have no mind of their own,
finding it in the minds
of ordinary people.
They're good to good people
and they're good to bad people.
Power is goodness.
They trust people of good faith
and they trust people of bad faith.
Power is trust.
They mingle their life with the world,
they mix their mind up with the world.
Ordinary people look after them.
Wise souls are children.
"The wise have no mind of their own, finding it in the
minds of ordinary people": this can't literally be true. But
perhaps it means a wise person understands they are not that
special? Most wisdom is found in the world, often in surprising
places, not in our own minds, no matter how brilliant we (or
others) may think we are. So the wise listen well and deeply to
many people, not just listening to others they judge wise.
Certainly, they don't wallow in self-absorption. Or perhaps the
line represents a deference to everyday will. Which might seem
silly, but as a governance mechanism (democracy) it has worked
surprisingly well2.
"They're good to good people and they're good to bad
people." An idea that appears in many traditions: that being
good is worthwhile in itself, independent of the beneficiary. The
justification may be selfish (you benefit by being good), or
broadly altruistic (the world benefits). I wonder where this idea
first appeared? It's in superficial contradiction to the
tit-for-tat strategy in the iterated prisoner's dilemma. I'm
sympathetic: tit-for-tat presumes the game continues. When
possible, the better response is usually to stop playing and
instead find good people to play games with. That said: I admire
people who deliberately work to help people who have done bad
things. The degree of hope is tremendously moving. An
acquaintance used to work as a therapist for men who had abused
their wives. That's a marvellous act, both her choice – it could
not have been easy work, and she had many other options – and also
speaks well of the society that supports it. It may illustrate the
intent of the line: she was being good to people who had done
bad3, but that didn't mean she
would put up with bad treatment from them. It's interesting that
achieving safety required considerable institutional support.
"Power is goodness": Empirically this is often false!
What could they mean by this? Hammurabi famously (and somewhat
reasonably) used the defense of the powerless as the justification
for his own power. You can also read Hammurabi's (and similar,
right up to the modern day) declarations as cynical propaganda. In
practice I believe there's much variation in true underlying
intent. The idea is admirable as an aspiration: what
would such a world be like? How can we design institutions that
align power with good? You can view ideas like democracy and
markets and the invisible hand and separation of powers as
(partially successful) attempts in this direction. In practice,
power often insulates people from the consequences of their
actions, and leads to their corruption. How to ensure power is
goodness?
"They trust people of good faith and they trust people of
bad faith. Power is trust." The powerful, being in a position
to retaliate, may receive preferential treatment. Though they may
also have a larger number of untrustworthy individuals attempt to
exploit them. Another perspective is the enormous benefit in a
position of default trust. Many of the people I know with the best
lives are extremely trusting, and sometimes have been taken
advantage of. And yet they benefit overall from their position of
default trust. The level of reward depends on the ambient level of
goodness in their environment: if it's high, default trust is
rewarding; if it's low, default trust may lead to horrors. Perhaps
one of the most interesting things about religions is that they
often aspire to (and sometimes succeed?4) change that ambient
level.
"They mingle their life with the world, they mix their
mind up with the world": This is consonant, again, with
humility about their understanding, realizing that no matter how
much they know, there is far more wisdom elsewhere in the world.
I'm reminded of Emerson's famous comment: "It is easy in the world
to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live
after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the
crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude."
Though Emerson isn't paying sufficient deference to the wisdom in
others. But he understands the tension, and appreciates that it is
worth learning to navigate. Something I could learn to do better
myself!
"Ordinary people look after them." I don't understand
the intent. Does it mean a wise person is dependent, relying on
others to look after them? Or is this a reminder that we all look
after each other? One remarkable consequence of the division of
labour is that it both alienates us from overall purpose
and produces much abundance and capacity to care for one
another.
"Wise souls are children." This is the line most
obviously close to conventional wisdom, indeed, to a platitude5. One problem with platitudes
is that they're usually not taken seriously: people will nod and
then behave contrary to the idea. One helpful thing about this
verse is that some of the earlier lines describe child-like
behaviour, and challenge you to consider whether it is right to
behave in that way. So it creates tension that forces you to
engage much more seriously with the final line. This is a good
context to have created.
Wrong ideas mainly: Most of this seemed wrong
to me. And yet it was interesting and stimulating to read in some
depth. Closely related: I didn't really understand any of
this, upon a superficial read. Even when I thought I did,
as soon as I began asking questions I realized I hadn't
understood. I was reading in a glazed state, ingesting words but
not doing any deep processing. It took writing these notes to get
anywhere.
Verse 37: Over all
The Way never does anything,
and everything gets done.
If those in power could hold to the Way,
the ten thousand things
would look after themselves.
If even so they tried to act,
I'd quiet them with the nameless,
the natural.
In the unnamed, in the unshapen,
is not wanting.
In not wanting is stillness.
In stillness all under heaven rests.
"The Way never does anything, and everything gets
done": I don't know what this means. It is perhaps an attempt
to create confusion in the mind of the reader, creating more
mystery around the recurring entity referred to as the Way.
"If those in power could hold to the Way, the ten thousand
things would look after themselves": There's a lot of advice
to the powerful in the Tao Te Ching. It's often deferential or
even sycophantic to power. Power is presumed to be static
in the sense that it's something some people have and others do
not. Still, the very viewpoint – offering advice to power – is
subversive. I wonder how surprised the author (or authors and
editors) of the Tao Te Ching would be at the impact on world
affairs? They've had far more impact than any of the "powerful" at
the time of composition6.
"In the unnamed, in the unshapen, is not wanting. In not
wanting is stillness." This is, ironically, describing a
genuine state of mind that one can cultivate. It's not the same as
Iris Murdoch's idea of unselfing, but in my experience unselfing –
connecting more deeply to the universe around us, and losing
something of our sense of self – is often a good preparation for
not wanting. And perhaps the reverse as well: when you cease
wanting it can help you better commune with your
surroundings.
"In stillness all under heaven rests": This seems
like a throwaway line, mostly re-expressing the earlier points.
It's a lovely image, though – maybe that is the point!
Wu Wei: This verse is concerned with wu
wei, a repeated idea in the Tao Te Ching, meaning non-action
or effortless action. This could easily be the subject of a long
essay (or lifetime). I will make just a few observations.
Harmony and our animal nature: One read is
that wu wei means being passive, living a life of quiet
contemplation in harmony with the wold. "In not wanting is
stillness. In stillness all under heaven rests". But human beings
are (in part) pan African plains apes. We are animals. We
all have ambitions and desires and a drive for change; in some of
us this is very strong. To deny that is itself to live in
disharmony with our nature. I wonder to what extent wu wei is a
coherent notion at all7?
Connection to flow: The verse is closely
connected to the notion of "flow" in modern psychology. In a state
of flow we act in near-effortless harmony with our environment.
Against flow: Flow is often idolized. I think
that's a mistake. It's best adapted to activities like tennis,
where you want to spend most of a match in flow, unconflicted with
goal or environment. Or acting on stage, where actors ideally
identify with their character. But while practicing you'll often
be out of flow, learning to do things which at first are awkward
and uncomfortable8. Often, if you're in flow too
much it means you're learning little. This is true even for
relatively well-defined tasks, like playing tennis. And it's even
more true for highly creative tasks, which require that you get
used to failure, to periods of (so-called) "unproductivity" and
frustration, where the very notion of efficiency is a mistake.
This doesn't mean you don't want to spend some time in flow. But
it's a mistake to idolize flow as an aspiration. A better
question: what's the right balance between flow and uncomfortable
work, and how can we move closer to that balance?
Higher flow: That said, there is also a
notion that I think of as higher flow, in which you are
comfortable with persistence, gumption, embracing mistakes, not
being ashamed to be "bad" at things, living equably in the world,
being happy to be in a state of creative uncertainty. These are
skills too! And skills you can get better at. Children often start
out very good at them. They lose that as they become more
conscious of themselves as social beings, and begin to internalize
social judgements. "Am I doing the right thing? Is this good
enough? Will my friends still like me?" And then, they (sometimes)
grow through that. (No intent to claim I've grown through it: I
have in some ways, but I'm still very much working on
others!)
E. O. Wilson: Much stress is caused by
tension between our individual selfish desires and group needs.
Wilson points out this tension between individual and group is
founded in evolutionary history, and appears in all eusocial
species, not only human beings. As an example: many human systems
(certainly, our economic system) serve the group more than they
serve most individuals. Think of how many people have trouble
finding an intrinsically satisfying job. Even many "good" jobs are
alienating and dull, poorly suited for individuals, existing
because they serve an economically valuable collective purpose.
There's also many softer versions of this tension. When we
reluctantly feel "I should do such-and-such" [perhaps go to the
office Christmas party] it's often the result of such a conflict.
My view is that such conflicts aren't to be rejected or regarded
as bad. Rather, they're at the heart of human life, and learning
to understand them deeply, sometimes even embrace them, is part of
living well.
Conflicted nature: More generally, I take wu
wei to be a critique of conflicted nature. But conflicted nature
is only bad when it's all you ever experience. It is a condition
to embrace and understand, while realizing that being unconflicted
some of the time is valuable. There is some viewpoint in which one
must choose between the Will to Power and submission to nature.
And another healthier viewpoint in which they actually work
together. Ideally, wu wei is about this latter.
A modern version: We understand many things
today where the Tao Te Ching is too simplistic. We saw above an
example: the lack of understanding that humans are animals, with
animal drives. It's interesting to ponder rewriting the Tao Te
Ching to correct those errors9. Related: the idea
of writing discovery fiction for the Tao Te Ching (or other
similar works).
Verse 1: Taoing
The way you can go
isn't the real way.
The name you can say
isn't the real name.
Heaven and earth
begin in the unnamed:
name's the mother
of the ten thousand things.
So the unwanting soul
sees what's hidden,
and the ever-wanting soul
sees only what it wants.
Two things, one origin,
but different in name,
whose identity is mystery.
Mystery of all mysteries!
The door to the hidden.
"The way you can go isn't the real way. The name you can
say isn't the real name. Heaven and earth begin in the
unnamed": The Tao Te Ching begins with a warning! Words and
internal models – our own minds – might be our reality. But they
are not reality! The text which is to follow isn't reality. It's a
little tricky, since we (and the words) are part of reality. But
they are only a tiny part, and we shouldn't confuse words with the
whole reality10.
"So the unwanting soul sees what's hidden, and the
ever-wanting soul sees only what it wants": Literally false,
but pointing at something real. Be careful what (and how much) you
want, for it will change what you see. This can be a very useful
pattern. It can also be immensely destructive. I am skeptical the
unwanting soul sees what's hidden. I think the unwanting soul
often sees little. But it can be a good transition state and
preparation to see.
"Two things, one origin, but different in name, whose
identity is mystery. Mystery of all mysteries! The door to the
hidden." As nearly as I understand, what's going on is that
both the Way (the Tao) and the named have their origin in the Way.
That Way is fundamentally a mystery, but is the source of all
things. It's pretty close to a form of pantheism. Also to
Korzybski's "the map is not the territory". Though it's more like
"the territory is the source of both map and territory, but don't
confuse the former for the latter", and with the caveat that we
don't have direct access to the territory. It's also somewhat like
the relationship between our written mathematics and the
underlying Platonic reality. Something I like about this is the
reminder that it is a mystery.
Verse 48: Unlearning
Studying and learning daily you grow larger.
Following the Way daily you shrink.
You get smaller and smaller.
So you arrive at not doing.
You do nothing and nothing's not done.
To run things,
don't fuss with them.
Nobody who fusses
is fit to run things.
"Studying and learning daily you grow larger. Following
the Way daily you shrink. You get smaller and smaller.So
you arrive at not doing. You do nothing and nothing's not
done": Again, as in the others, a puzzle is set up. Surely
studying and learning and growing larger is good! So how is it in
contradiction to the Way? Why does following the Way make you
shrink? Does that make following the Way bad? Or does it mean
studying and learning is bad? I suspect it's simply meant as a
false dichotomy. Iris Murdoch's notion of unselfing comes to mind
again: getting more connected to the universe, and less
self-involved. Einstein put it interestingly, describing his life
as a flight "from the I and the We to the It"; also his comment
that "The most beautiful thing we can experience is the
mysterious". I must say, I prefer Einstein's concrete engagement
with the unself to the Tao Te Ching's too-abstract notion! When
you read deeply into Einstein's writing and his life, it's
astounding just how deeply and with how much concrete detail he
explored the universe (and, indeed, the mysterium tremendum). But
Einstein had the advantage that in modern times we can be
far better connected to the unself. An example, one of many: his
abandonment of the cosmological constant after Hubble's discovery
of the expanding universe! I also admire Feynman's passionate
commitment to the primacy of "doubt and uncertainty and not
knowing". Again: carried out in great detail. I'm far afield here!
To refocus on the line from the Tao Te Ching: perhaps it should
simply be taken to mean focusing one's studying and learning on
connection to something larger11.
"To run things, don't fuss with them. Nobody who fusses is
fit to run things." Le Guin notes that the word she
translates as "fuss" is considered problematic by translators, and
that another translation is "diplomatic". The result is: "To run
things, be undiplomatic. No diplomat is fit to run things". I find
this translation easier to understand! Diplomacy is often taken to
mean leaving hard truths unstated. (Good diplomacy I suspect is
often the opposite.) And that makes it harder to run things well,
since it makes it harder to establish the truth as common
knowledge. That said: what does this have to do with the first
half of the verse? Maybe it's that insofar as we deal with truth,
it is larger than us; we occupy less space, in some sense. Whereas
our lies and misconceptions and misunderstandings are only in our
self.
Verse 35: Humane power
Hold fast to the great thought
and all the world will come to you,
harmless, peaceable, serene.
Walking around, we stop
for music, for food.
But if you taste the Way
it's flat, insipid.
It looks like nothing much,
it sounds like nothing much.
And yet you can't get enough of it.
"Hold fast to the great thought and all the world will
come to you, harmless, peaceable, serene." I like it! It's so
often true. And hard to remember, so the reminder is valuable.
It's easier to be impatient. Something I enjoy in the Tao Te Ching
is the emphasis on dualities. "Be more patient" and "be more
impatient" are both excellent pieces of advice. Indeed, sometimes
they're both excellent pieces of advice in the exact same
situation. It can be a bit like driving a car through an
intersection where an accident is about to happen: it may be an
excellent idea to greatly speed up or slow down, but staying the
same speed may be a mistake12.
"if you taste the Way, it's flat, insipid. It looks like
nothing much, it sounds like nothing much.And yet you
can't get enough of it." I don't understand this. At this
stage of my understanding, it seems mostly worth noting as an
assertion, part of my process of figuring out the intent behind
the text. One interesting metaphorical meaning: suppose one
identifies the Way with the underlying laws, the source of all
things. Such laws are, in fact, rather abstract and inhuman and
hard to connect with; insipid isn't entirely inaccurate. Steven
Weinberg's observation "The more the universe is comprehensible
the more it also seems pointless" may be related.
General observations
"The 5,000 character classic": I love this
alternate title for the Tao Te Ching. It suggests a task everyone
should attempt: what is your personal 5,000 word classic? How much
wisdom can you distill into 5,000 words?
100 word classics? It's enjoyable to think
about even more condensed versions. A few that come to mind:
Jesus's two great commandments: (1) "Love the Lord your God
with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your
mind"; and (2) "Love your neighbour as yourself".
Keanu Reeves' spontaneous response to "What do you think
happens when we die?": "I know that the ones who love us will miss
us."
Feynman's famous observation: "If, in some cataclysm, all of
scientific knowledge were to be destroyed, and only one sentence
passed on to the next generations of creatures, what statement
would contain the most information in the fewest words? I believe
it is the atomic hypothesis (or the atomic fact, or whatever you
wish to call it) that all things are made of atoms – little
particles that move around in perpetual motion, attracting each
other when they are a little distance apart, but repelling upon
being squeezed into one another. In that one sentence, you will
see, there is an enormous amount of information about the world,
if just a little imagination and thinking are applied."
Puzzles as a way to cause serious engagement with what
seems simple and familiar
I resisted the idea of a deep reading of the Tao Te Ching for
rather snotty reasons: "the ideas in the Tao Te Ching are very
simple, there's no need for deep reading". It's true that the
ideas are on the whole much simpler than doing difficult
mathematics13. However, crucially: an
idea can be simple and important, but also hardto
internalize and understand theconsequences of, to act
on, and to understand the limits of. The Tao Te Ching is
concerned with many such ideas. If they were written out plainly,
we'd nod our heads, think "that's obvious", and then continue
acting contrary to them in our everyday life. By presenting ideas
in a more puzzling form, the Tao Te Ching forces deeper
engagement.
An example, just to illustrate the point: "Be kind to others".
Sure, we say, sounds right, and move on to other things. But in
practice being kind is fraught with tensions which make it hard.
You didn't get enough sleep. Your neck hurts. Your kids are giving
you a hard time. The person reminds you of your ex. Most of the
verses artificially create tension which make it hard to accept
their conclusions. I believe they're doing that to get you to sit
with the ideas and engage with them much more slowly and at
length. The basic media form is then: Each verse is a
single puzzle,usually aimed at one main idea,
often an idea thatis conventional, but bears
deeper engagement and reflection.
A different approach (fiction and history):
You can create this kind of tension in other ways. In fiction, the
narrative forces characters to consider such "simple" problems,
but in contexts which concretely illustrate the tensions which may
be involved. It's a different approach to problematizing the
familiar.
Incidentally, Paul Dirac once complained: "In science one
tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by
everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry,
it's the exact opposite." The Tao Te Ching illustrates why this is
valuable: as I said, it forces us to question and more deeply
engage with ideas we already think we understand. That does not
mean, however, that every way of problematizing the familiar is
equally valuable!
After writing these notes, I'm enjoying the other
verses more! I'm still often stymied or uncomprehending.
But I understand more easily. And I suspect writing notes on a few
more verses (and perhaps on structure, see below) would help me
get more out of the remaining verses. Indeed, I suspect that once
I've passed some threshold of understanding, reading the Tao Te
Ching will be a pleasure and highly meaningful(?)
Notes on structure: I suspect I'd learn a lot
by writing notes on the overall structure of the Tao Te Ching, and
perhaps it would help me understand the local structure better.
Incidentally, in this vein it was rewarding
to ask ChatGPT to "take the (metaphorical) Fourier transform"
of the text.
A generous enough read will make almost anything
worthwhile: In fandoms, you often see fans put more and
more into their understanding of a book or show. It can make the
experience very rich, even when the underlying source material
isn't very good. A benefit of the Tao Te Ching is that it is a
rich focus for deep reflection.
Take seriously, but don't venerate. The aim is to
metabolize: Some people, especially fans, venerate
classic texts, and place them on a pedestal. I think that's a
mistake. Not because we're smarter than the author. But culture
advances, and sometimes ideas familiar to us supersede older
ideas. When you've decided a text is worth taking seriously, you
should attack the ideas, try to digest them, truly metabolize
them.
As an act of communion: Something that
puzzled me is why some people enjoy the Tao Te Ching even without
deep reading. Le Guin points out that the beauty of the text plays
an essential role. It is not "merely" style, it is content. I
respond very strongly to beauty in many contexts – in art, music,
sculpture, and many other places – but not so much in text. And
that is perhaps why I had so much trouble connecting.
What will I take away?
I've learned many ideas about writing that are new and
exciting to me. I'm especially excited about the approach to
problematizing the familiar. I've puzzled why there is so little
interesting modern writing on "big issues". Many terrific books
are written, but often on very narrow subjects. And I think it's
because it can be hard to say something fresh about big
issues.
I'm less sure I'll take away that much from the ideas
themselves. This is partly due to the chosen form: there are few
of Hemingway's true sentences. I'm not sure any of the sentences
will stick in my mind. And to some extent it's that the Tao Te
Ching suffers the curse of success: many of its ideas are now
carried by our culture in improved forms.
I don't think I'll immediately return. But I will be curious
to observe how much the ideas stay in mind. And I may return in
future.
Footnotes
Various critiques of Le Guin's translation have
been made. Many of the critiques seem motivated by misogyny,
jealousy, or both. A renowned woman with the audacity to publish a
new translation without the "proper" credentials! The nerve! I
find this attitude so irritating that I plan to ignore all
critiques, unless they are from someone I know and trust. I'm sure
Le Guin's translation is imperfect – as are all translations, and
in any case there is no single "true" Tao Te Ching. Nevertheless,
her translation is remarkable on its own merits, and that is how I
shall consider it.↩︎
Paying attention to the general population is a
recurring theme of the Tao Te Ching. While the exact dating of the
Tao Te Ching is uncertain, modern notions of democracy are far
later. On the other hand, Cleisthenes' instigation of Athenian
democracy circa 508 BCE may well pre-date the Tao Te Ching
(though, as noted, the exact date of composition of Verse 49 is
unknown). The parallel is at least interesting.↩︎
Not bad people. Indeed, part of the point of the
work seemed to be that they were redeemable.↩︎
I'm reading Tom Holland's book "Dominion" at the
moment, and although I'm still early in the book he appears to
believe that Christianity succeeded in changing the level of good
in the world(!)↩︎
One challenge in reading old texts is that what
appears platitudinous to us may have been a fresh idea at the
time. I don't have the historical knowledge to judge here.↩︎
It's unclear how widely known Jesus was in his
lifetime. But it's plausible he had a few dozen really serious
followers, and a fanbase of a few hundred. So: a minor local
celebrity, charismatic, but not unusual. In notability he was
probably a bit like the quarterback in a college football team. I
wonder how surprised he would be by the position of Christianity
in world affairs 2,000 years later?↩︎
In general, the tension between religion and
evolutionary biology is fascinating. Can a chimp be enlightened?
An elephant? Should they aspire to wu wei? Can they be in a state
of sin? Is it worth them trying to connect to the Tao? The very
notion of the perfectibility of human nature is strange. Chimps
don't hold such aspirations! And the self-help section at a chimp
bookstore would, one suspects, be rather bare, except insofar as
it concerned the immediately practical (growing food, getting
mates, where are the best bananas to be found, and so on).↩︎
Indeed, I found that somewhat with writing these
notes. It sometimes felt dull, and like I was wading in molasses.
But that was partly because this kind of commentary is something I
haven't done very often, and I suffered from not being fluent in
the nuts and bolts of the process. As I did more, it became more
pleasurable. It was a bit like golf: when you first play, it's
mostly terrible, but every once in a while you hit a shot that
makes you feel like a pro. And as you learn more, that happens
more frequently.↩︎
Such proposals tend to be regarded by some as
sacrilegious. I find that really annoying. The author or authors
of the Tao Te Ching were just people. Very wise and smart people,
is my impression. But you don't just accept the word of wise and
smart people – you ask them questions, you try to think things
through for yourself, you gather other evidence, and sometimes you
realize they're wrong, or come to different conclusions. Reflexive
contrarianism is silly, but so too is unquestioned deference to
authority. Sometimes you need to be wise enough to knock down
Chesterton's fence.↩︎
Tangentially, something I find personally
fascinating is the distinction between what is and what
is possible. The space of possibility is far, far larger
than what will ever be. In some sense this seems to me a source of
grief. Almost all of possibility will never be! Reality, actual
being, is scarce when compared to possibility. I'm never quite
sure if this is simply me fooling myself with a mirage; it's an
instinctive response of some sort.↩︎
In an interview Alan Kay is asked about learning
Linux, and he says (very roughly) that he doesn't see the point –
it's a great big giant machine, fascinating, but much of it is
arbitrary, and it only contains a relatively small number of deep
ideas. And he (evidently) would rather spend his time engaged with
deep ideas. I often think about this when I see people very
focused on giant arbitrary machines – the ephemera of politics,
say, or various social hierarchies. There are often very good
reasons to have such focus, but I also believe some people focus
in this way because they enjoy studying complicated systems, even
when they are pure ephemera. Perhaps a counter-argument is that
deep principles can be taken away from such study. I once saw a
talk by Johan Galtung, the founder of Peace Studies, and it was
striking how principle-centered his understanding of conflict was;
he could only have taken that away from a study of hundreds or
thousands of superficially very contingent conflicts. Similarly
many of the other deepest students of particular classes of
complex system (people like Elinor Ostrom, James Scott, Jane
Jacobs, and others).↩︎
I have heard – I do not know if this is true –
that the Titanic hit the iceberg at almost the worst possible
speed, and it would have been better to either hit it faster and
more full on, or slower.↩︎
Actually, most ideas in mathematics are also very
simple. But they're much further removed from the human world, and
this seems to make them difficult. We are less of an evolutionary
fit.↩︎