by Waqas Ahmed
Even if we take for granted the inevitability of superintelligent machines, there is still a lead period during which humans must make its most important, most fateful contribution. Anders Sandberg from Oxford University’s Future of Humanity Institute is a hopeful warner: ‘at least for the next few decades until machines become smarter than humans, the human polymath will be very important to society.’ Sandberg underscores the importance of polymaths during this period, ‘Jobs that can be crisply defined are threatened by automation. Jobs that are hard to define are actually pretty safe. Polymaths are obviously the latter.’ Polymaths, he says, are important to the future because ‘not only are they good at doing the jobs that don’t have a proper description, but they are, moreover, good at inventing such jobs.’
Not only is specialisation becoming a redundant method of understanding truth, it is also a poor strategy for survival — whether for the individual, an organisation, a society or indeed an entire species. Simply put, then, Homo sapiens run the severe risk of perishing within the next two centuries unless the mind is reconditioned to allow for a vanguard of polymaths — if not an entire generation — to give humans a sense of purpose. Machine intelligence, and maybe even the Kurzweilian singularity may be looming, but there are at least a few decades during which the human race can dig deep to rediscover, and then re-establish its timeless uniqueness. Specialisation is certainly not a wise strategy for this purpose — on the contrary it is dehumanising humans, mechanising us in an era where it is simply futile to compete with machines. In other words, it is ridding us of any real purpose.
Specialisation, then, is not a ‘given.’ It is only ‘given’ to us as a system by those it serves — the extreme minority. The rest of us simply take for granted that it ought to be the way forward. We unquestioningly believe the dominant spiel fed to us by the priesthood of government, business and the media. The real truth, as we have now come to learn, is that specialisation is nothing short of a curse, for it is hindering human fulfilment, stifling creativity, limiting opportunities for survival, fostering intellectual ignorance and bigotry and more generally giving people a very one-dimensional, colourless life experience. It is, quite frankly, killing the human spirit, constraining the human experience and furthermore threatening our very existence. To emancipate ourselves from this unfortunate reality, we must recondition our minds. We must each revert to our primordial self — the innate polymath — and take an alternative path to growth and development.
Chapter 5
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Reconditioning the Mind
The first step toward bringing down a system infected by specialisation is to detoxify our own minds.
We all are born with an innate disposition that is curious, creative and versatile. Obsessed with homogeny, order and conformity, society then conditions each mind to forget her original self. This inflicted amnesia comes at our peril — as individuals and as a species. After all, what value will we, as inadequately trained mechanistic specialists, have in a world of superintelligent machines that can easily out-specialise us? How will our conditioned, one-dimensional mind be capable of comprehending the complexity of twenty-first-century challenges? How can we emancipate ourselves from the multitude of unnecessary biases that shape our decisions, morals and opinions? Perhaps more importantly, as complex beings who seek self-actualisation in its entirety, how can we fulfil our own many-sided potential? For this we must rediscover the polymath within.
Through a synthesis of traditional wisdom, modern cognitive science and lessons from the lives and thoughts of polymaths over history, we can chart the epistemological journey of the polymath, which can then be internalised to recondition our own minds. There are six main components to such a journey:
1. Individuality — Understanding oneself;
2. Curiosity — Continuous, boundless enquiry;
3. Intelligence — Nurturing, exercising and optimising various abilities;
4. Versatility — Moving seamlessly between different spheres of knowledge and experience;
5. Creativity — Connecting and synthesising seemingly disparate fields for a creative outcome;
6. Unity — Unifying various strands of knowledge for greater clarity and vision of the whole.
Every human being — to some extent or another — has a sense of unity, the skill of versatility, the ability to make connections, a degree of intelligence, moments of creativity, an inherent curiosity and an awareness of his individuality. When these features are unlocked with remarkable synchronicity, the mind of the polymath is awakened. So if we can assimilate each of these (integrally interconnected) features into our consciousness, our mindset, our approach to life, it will allow for a robust foundation from which to launch a polymathic life.
Individuality
Man can do anything if he but wills it.
— Leone Battista Alberti
You’ve probably never heard of Arthur Alfred Lynch, even though he led one of the most swashbuckling lives in modern history. He was born in 1860s Australia, where he qualified and practised as a civil engineer but later moved to London to become a journalist, at first for the National Reformer, and then as Paris correspondent for the Daily Mail. Yearning for greater adventure, he left for South Africa as a war correspondent to cover the Second Boer War for the Reformer. There, he developed sympathy for the Boers, and following a meeting with General Louis Botha in Pretoria he joined the Boer side as a soldier. Given the rank of colonel, he raised the Second Irish Brigade, which consisted of Irishmen, Cape colonists and others that resisted British occupation.
But before long he was captured and imprisoned by the British, who sentenced him to death. In a twist of fate, he was pardoned and later during World War I volunteered for the New British Army, raising a private 10th Battalion Royal Munster Fusiliers. While in London, he somehow managed to qualify and practise as a physician, and was even elected to parliament for constituencies in both England and Ireland. Having travelled widely, Lynch also became fluent in several languages and wrote extensively including novels and autobiography, as well as critiques on various scientific topics such as physiology, philosophy and physics, including a bold critique of Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity.
Like most polymaths, Lynch demonstrated a relentless pursuit of his individuality and a commitment to achieving his true potential. We must all begin with an introspective journey to establish our individuality. In exploring your essential uniqueness (Einzigkeit), you have then to be willing to go against the grain — reject formal, traditional, official ways where necessary and be ready to suffer the consequences. The resultant marginalisation should drive you to become as self-sufficient as possible in all that you do. Then, and only then, will you be prepared to pursue your optimal self — an optimum set by none other than you. This inner journey must then convert to an outer one.
Self-Realisation
Not everyone is meant to be a polymath. But for those that have the interest and inclination in many fields, polymathy in a sense is to be true to oneself.
— Seyyed Hossein Nasr
Plato once postulated that knowledge is innate and we become aware of it through recollection and rediscovery. Indeed, the Greek word for truth was aletheia (‘things unforgotten’) and the word ‘educate’ originally meant ‘to draw out that which is within.’ To discover and to develop the Self is the primary aim of the polymath.
Individuality alludes to a focus on the Self — a kind of selfishness: but one that does not pursue individualistic interest at the expense of others but instead focuses on the introspective journey toward social, intellectual and spiritual freedom. The ‘Self, here, must therefore be distinguished from the ‘ego’ — indeed liberation of the Self from the ego has been the preoccupation of Eastern philosophy for millennia. True polymaths generally have the ability make this distinction.
Individuality is essentially a question of restoring, recognising and realising human dignity as well as the aff
irmation of free will. For Pakistani poet and polymath Muhammad Iqbal, individuality (khudi) had both physical and metaphysical connotations: ‘Raise the Self to such heights, that upon writing every destiny God himself asks man: to what do you agree?’
The Self, of course, is not just a metaphysical concept romanticised by poets but a neurobiological fact — it alludes to a genetic uniqueness that each of us are born with. As neuroscientist David Eagleman reminds us:
Each of us is on our own trajectory — steered by our genes and our experiences — and as a result every brain has a different internal life. Brains are as unique as snowflakes . . . as your trillions of new connections continually form and re-form, the distinctive pattern means that no one like you has ever existed or will ever exist again. The experience of your conscious awareness is unique to you.
Our genetic make-up (genome) and neural structure (connectome), that is, are unique to our existence. It is important to rediscover, nurture and direct it. The emergence of silent reading (as opposed to the traditional ritual of chanting scripture aloud in congregation) in medieval Europe, for example, allowed for such individuality to develop in the Western world, whereas it has been an integral dimension of Eastern meditative traditions for millennia. However one goes about it, simply becoming both conscious and convinced of your uniqueness is the first step. Once you have understood who you are, you will be in a position to understand what you can be.
Alberti’s sixteenth-century proclamation that ‘man can do anything if he but wills it’ set the foundations for the kind of individuality that would inspire an entire epoch of polymathy during the European Renaissance and became the mantra for the would-be ‘Uomo Universale.’ The reality, however, is that we are each endowed with certain strengths and weaknesses, talents and incapacities, challenges and opportunities. We can control them to some extent — indeed there are always remarkable stories of people creating opportunities from nothing and turning weaknesses into strengths (consider the remarkable case of Irishman Christy Brown who had cerebral palsy and could use only his left foot, but became a celebrated poet, novelist and playwright as well as a painter). Yet we are but mere mortals with physical and intellectual capacities that are brilliant yet limited. So we have to play the hand we’re dealt the best we can. For the true polymath, striking the right balance between ambitious self-belief and a sense of reality is key. As Teddy Roosevelt said: ‘keep your eyes on the stars and your feet on the ground.’
British educationalist Ken Robinson insists that the focus of an individual should be on those areas where talent or capacity meets passion or desire; it is at this intersection, as proven time and time again, where success brews. Those who discover this talent — passion connection in multiple fields ought to pursue them all. While Nathan Myhrvold was chief technology officer for Microsoft, he also pursued wildlife photography, worked nights as a chef and took time off to get a culinary degree. After leaving Microsoft, he returned to scientific research, founded his second startup company and began inventing prolifically. Dubbed by TED as a ‘professional jack of all trades,’ he spoke at the TED Conference in 2007 of the importance of being true to oneself and embracing one’s many facets:
There is a tremendous amount of wisdom in finding your passion in life and focusing all your energy on it, but I’ve never been able to do that. Yes I’ll have passion, but then there’ll be something else, then something else. For a long time I fought this; I thought jeez I’d better knuckle down. But ultimately I thought I ought not to fight being who I am, but embrace it.
Myhrvold reverted back to his innate disposition and rediscovered his individuality. In doing so, he was able to pursue his optimal self.
The Self, of course is a fluid concept that is discovered as much by reaction to experiences as by introspection. Juli Crockett, boxer-philosopher-singer-playwright, explained how it was the recognition of this that led to her eventually excelling in multiple fields: ‘I try to keep my relationship with myself open, and not take myself for granted. To not pretend to “know” myself, and therefore I don’t know my limitations.’ Indeed, Herminia Ibarra, author of Working Identity implied that one’s identity and potential is best discovered through trial and error by pushing into various careers and assessing your reaction to each experience.
Against the Grain
If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.
— Maya Angelou
Edward Heron-Allen thought and operated differently to the normal nineteenth-century Englishman. He began as a soldier with the intelligence unit during World War I and his war journals were later published. But interestingly, during a time when the non-specialist was derogatorily branded as an ‘amateur,’ he decided to pursue a range of projects that seemed unrelated. Firstly, he handmade violins and published a book of violin-making which stayed in print for over a hundred years. He also became an expert palmist, writing numerous books and delivering a number of lectures on the topic across the United States. He then decided to qualify in and practice the law. As a scientist, his breakthroughs in microscopy and biology and studies into ‘foraminifera’ (single-celled protists with shells) meant that the scientific establishment had no choice but to acknowledge him. He was eventually elected to the Royal Society.
Like Lynch, Heron-Allen too found the time outside his careers to write on a range of subjects including books on history, Buddhist philosophy and even a treatise on asparagus. As an oriental linguist, he studied Turkish and Persian, and went on to translate the poems of Persian poet Omar Khayyam. What’s more, he was also an accomplished novelist, publishing a number of novels and short stories in the horror and science fiction genres under the pseudonym of ‘Christopher Blayre.’
Heron-Allen was a free spirit, and followed his passions and inclinations, even if that isolated him from conventional circles. As such, he was, like many of the greatest polymaths, labelled an ‘eccentric’; the usually pejorative label often given to those who challenge or digress from ‘normality.’ To go against the grain of specialisation — the latter was, of course the status quo — was for many considered unconventional and ‘odd’ behaviour by societal standards. So with single-field specialisation being the norm, those polymaths automatically earned this label.
According to the most extensive study done on eccentricity by psychologists, eccentrics are said to be perfectly happy, rational people who are simply different in thought and in action from the majority. They are on a different wavelength from the majority of their society; and often for good reason. Of course, there have been studies to show a strong correlation between true genius and ‘madness.’ But we now know mental health conditions such as autism and synaesthesia often unlock an exceptional intelligence and creativity. In any case, French thinker Foucault reminded us ‘madness’ is frequently used by elites to vilify and discredit those deemed by them to have a view or behaviour that is ‘unacceptable.’ Contrary to common assumption, however, eccentricity is not madness.
Interestingly though, eccentricity is a common (although not essential) personality trait of the polymath. Of the 18 specified characteristics of the ‘eccentric’ outlined by clinical psychologists, the most important ones — including a nonconformist attitude; idealistic; creative; intense curiosity; a happy obsession with hobbies; highly intelligent; early knowledge of their uniqueness — correspond with that of the polymath. It is therefore not surprising that many (if not most) polymaths through history — including the likes of Benjamin Franklin, Leonardo da Vinci, Isaac Asimov and Ludwig Wittgenstein — were, either by their contemporaries or posthumously, known as eccentrics.
A key aspect of individualism is the challenging of established orthodoxies. This mindset leads inevitably to the continuous questioning of anything and everything, ranging from the legitimacy of authority and prevailing economic doctrines to the interpretation of scripture and validity of scientific truths. But anyone who does not follow the standard social an
d intellectual trend is likely to be marginalised by the majority.
Yet such polymaths took little notice of cynical and derogatory attitudes toward their approach. They stayed true to their innate disposition and refused to succumb to social pressure. To quote Theroux, they were never afraid to ‘march to another drummer.’ They lived within their own world, with their own vision and methods, and had a confidence about their approach to the pursuit of knowledge and to self-development in general.
There were cultural paradigms where such individuality was frequently expressed. During the Italian Renaissance, according to Burckhardt, ‘no one was afraid of being conspicuous, of appearing different from others; men stubbornly followed their own course of life and the laws of their own personalities.’ Anything was possible for anyone. Learning new skills, writing a treatise on a random subject unrelated to your core occupation was not a problem for the polymath, even if it was not the predominant culture.
Self-Sufficiency
In 1830, American Transcendentalist Ralph Waldo Emerson published his influential essay Self Reliance in which he urged people to avoid conformity and to follow their own instincts and ideas. He encouraged people to discover the genius within and realise their self-worth. Millennia before, Plato’s contemporary Hippias of Elis taught and demonstrated the virtue of auterkeia (or autarky) — an ethic of self-sufficiency and independence from other people through being able to meet one’s own needs — which he also taught and encouraged. This had both practical and intellectual implications.