The First Principle: An Introduction to Not Being a Stupid Jackass

 “The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool.” — Richard P. Feynman, Nobel Prize-winning physicist

We all like to think that we are rational actors, but I would like to invite you to consider the possibility that you are not as rational as you think you are. Now, if you are willing to entertain this possibility, to exist (if only for a moment) in this uncertainty, I promise you that this article will dramatically enhance your reasoning abilities, your capacity for impartial observation and experimentation, and your overall critical-thinking skills. So, without further ado, if you are interested in becoming a more reasonable person, open your mind, and read on.

We will begin with the brilliant conclusion of “Unafraid of the Dark” — the 13th and final episode in season one of Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey (2014) — wherein Neil deGrasse Tyson lays out five rules for discoverers:

1) Question authority. No idea is true just because someone says so, including me.

2) Think for yourself.

3) Question yourself. Don’t believe anything just because you want to, believing something doesn’t make it so.

4) Test ideas by the evidence gained from observation and experiment.If a favorite idea fails a well designed test it’s wrong, get over it. Follow the evidence, wherever it leads. If you have no evidence, reserve judgment.

5) And perhaps the most important rule of all. Remember, you could be wrong. Even the best scientists have been wrong about some things. Newton, Einstein, and every other great scientist in history. They all made mistakes, of course they did, they’re human. Science is a way to keep from fooling ourselves and each other.

Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey is an altogether incredible series, well-worth watching in its entirety. It was nominated for 12 Emmys, and is based on Carl Sagan’s Cosmos: A Personal Voyage (1980). This stellar science documentary was written by Ann Druyan and Steven Soter, directed by Brannon Braga, Bill Pope and Ann Druyan, starring Neil deGrasse Tyson with accompanying music composed by Alan Silvestri. Seth MacFarlane, the beloved creator of Family Guy, was — in addition to being an executive producer — instrumental in bringing Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey to broadcast television.

Logical Fallacies and A Demon Haunted World

“Trial, Error and the God Complex”

In his stellar presentation at TEDGlobal 2011, “Trial, Error and the God Complex”, economist Tim Harford urges listeners to recognize the unfathomable complexity of our world.

Harford starts his talk with a story about Archie Cochrane, a prisoner of war and a doctor in World War II. Cochrane and the men under his care are suffering from a debilitating condition, the likes of which Cochrane has never encountered, that causes a horrible swelling up of fluids under the skin. In spite of dreadful conditions, Cochrane manages to provide a cure by procuring some Marmite (a rich source of vitamin B12), breaking his men into two equal groups and carefully noting the effects of Marmite consumption. Upon presenting his results to their German captors, Cochrane provided the Germans with incontrovertible evidence of malnutrition, and the Germans realized that failing to provide vitamin B12 would be a war crime.

Harford goes on to say:

I’m telling you this story because Archie Cochrane, all his life, fought against a terrible affliction, and he realized it was debilitating to individuals and it was corrosive to societies. And he had a name for it. He called it the God complex. Now I can describe the symptoms of the God complex very, very easily. So the symptoms of the complex are, no matter how complicated the problem, you have an absolutely overwhelming belief that you are infallibly right in your solution…

I see the God complex around me all the time in my fellow economists. I see it in our business leaders. I see it in the politicians we vote for — people who, in the face of an incredibly complicated world, are nevertheless absolutely convinced that they understand the way that the world works.

Harford then turns to the creation of Unilever’s high-pressure, factory, liquid detergent nozzles. When Unilever first attempted to design one of these working nozzles they found themselves a “little God”, a mathematician/physicist who understood fluid dynamics. Unfortunately, the problem was too complicated, and Unilever’s “little God” failed to create a working nozzle.

So, Harford explains, calling upon the work of geneticist Professor Steve Jones, Unilever employed a systematic trial, error, variation and selection method. The method worked brilliantly, and “after 45 generations” Unilever managed to create an incredible working nozzle. “The moment you step back from the God complex — let’s just try to have a bunch of stuff; let’s have a systematic way of determining what’s working and what’s not — you can solve your problem.”

Next Harford confesses that, for as long as he has been giving this talk, “People sometimes say to me… ‘Obviously trial and error is very important. Obviously experimentation is very important. Now why are you just wandering around saying this obvious thing?’”

In response, Harford explains:

You think it’s obvious? I will admit it’s obvious when schools start teaching children that there are some problems that don’t have a correct answer… And if you can’t find the answers, you must be lazy or stupid… When a politician stands up campaigning for elected office and says, ‘I want to fix our health system. I want to fix our education system. I have no idea how to do it. I have half a dozen ideas. We’re going to test them out. They’ll probably all fail. Then we’ll test some other ideas out. We’ll find some that work. We’ll build on those. We’ll get rid of the ones that don’t.’ — When a politician campaigns on that platform, and more importantly, when voters like you and me are willing to vote for that kind of politician, then I will admit that it is obvious that trial and error works…

Until then, I’m going to keep banging on about trial and error and why we should abandon the God complex. Because it’s so hard to admit our own fallibility. It’s so uncomfortable.

In conclusion, Harford talks about being “haunted by something a Japanese mathematician said on the subject [of trial, error and the God complex].” He briefly relates the story of Yutaka Taniyama, a young mathematician living in post-WWII Japan, who developed the Taniyama-Shimura Conjecture (in association with Goro Shimura). This conjecture turned out to be instrumental in proving Fermat’s Last Theorem. “In fact… it’s equivalent to proving Fermat’s Last Theorem. You prove one, you prove the other.”

Sadly, in Taniyama’s lifetime, it remained conjecture, and, despite his best efforts, he could never prove it was true. Then, shortly before his 30th birthday in 1958, Taniyama killed himself. Decades later, Shimura, Taniyama’s friend and colleague, reflected on Taniyama’s life. “He was not a very careful person as a mathematician. He made a lot of mistakes. But he made mistakes in a good direction. I tried to emulate him, but I realized it is very difficult to make good mistakes.”

Harford’s talk is brilliant in its entirety, and well worth your time. Check it out here:

Spotting Bad Science 101

“Nothing is more irredeemably irrelevant than bad science.” — John Polanyi, the Hungarian-Canadian chemist who won the Nobel Prize in 1986 for his research in chemical kinetics

This section consists primarily of passages and concepts from “Spotting Bad Science 101: How Not to Trick Yourself” — an appendix in The 4-Hour Body: An Uncommon Guide to Rapid Fat-Loss, Incredible Sex, and Becoming Superhuman by Timothy Ferriss. In its entirety, The 4-Hour Body is an excellent, unconventional guide to radical self-transformation; I would wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone trying to become a healthier, more well-rounded person.

Ferriss begins by assuring us that, “science isn’t arbitrary… You just need to learn a few simple concepts to separate truth (or probable truth) from complete fiction.” Next he emphasizes the importance of self-reliance — a common theme throughout The 4-Hour Body — and reminds us that it is dangerous to rely too heavily on doctors to solve our problems for us.1 “After reading the next eight pages, you will know more about research studies than the average MD.”

After his brief introduction, Ferriss gets into the five “tools most often used [by media or propagandists with agendas] to exaggerate and brainwash.” He refers to these as, “The Big Five.” Each one of “The Big Five” tools is phrased, “as a question you should ask yourself when looking at diet advice or the ‘latest research.’”

1) “Is a relative change (like percentages) being used to convince?”

To illustrate this concept, Ferriss lays out two potential news headlines. First, “Studies Show People Who Avoid Saturated Fat Live Longer.” He then explains that you should “find out exactly what ‘longer’ means” before making the decision to start avoiding saturated fat.

Based on available data, it turns out that reducing your saturated fat intake to 10% of daily calories for your entire adult life would add only 3–30 days to your lifespan.

The second potential headline is, “People Who Drink Coffee Lose 20% More Fat Than Those Who Don’t.” Ferriss explains that, “Relative [in this case, the 20% more] isn’t enough. It’s critical to ask what the absolute increase or decrease was — in this case, how many pounds of fat did both groups actually lose?”

If it were 0.25 pounds lost for the control group and 0.30 pounds (20% more) for the coffee group over eight weeks at three cups per day, is picking up the coffee habit worth the side effects of high-dose caffeine? Nope… Distrust percentages in isolation.

2) “Is this an observational study claiming to show cause and effect?”

Ferriss places special emphasis on this concept: “This is the mother lode. If you learn just one concept in this chapter, learn this one.” At this point you might be asking yourself, “What the hell is an observational study?”

Observational studies, also referred to as uncontrolled experiments, look at different groups or populations outside the lab and compare the occurrence of specific phenomena, usually diseases. One example is the often misinterpreted ‘China study.’

He goes on to deliver, “the most important paragraph in this chapter:”

Observational studies cannot control or even document all of the variables involved. Observational studies can only show correlation: A and B both exist at the same time in one group. They cannot show cause and effect.

“In contrast,” Ferriss explains that, “randomized and controlled experiments control variables and can therefore show cause and effect (causation): A causes B to happen.”

In an effort to further illustrate the importance of understanding the difference between correlation and causation, Ferriss calls on Pastafarianism — the satirical religion whose deity is the Flying Spaghetti Monster — to purposely confuse correlation and causation:

With a decrease in the number of pirates, there has been an increase in global warming over the same period. Therefore, global warming is caused by pirates… [And, even more compelling.] Somalia has the highest number of Pirates AND the lowest Carbon emissions of any country. Coincidence?

Drawing unwarranted cause-and-effect conclusions from observational studies is the bread-and-butter of media and cause- or financially-driven scientists blind to their own lack of ethics… Don’t fall for Pastafarianism in science.

Wrapping up this concept, Ferriss writes:

Observational studies are valuable for developing hypotheses (educated guesses that can then be tested in controlled settings) but they cannot and should not be used to show cause and effect. To do so is both irresponsible and potentially dangerous.

3) “Does this study depend on self-reporting or surveys?”

To the greatest extent possible, avoid studies that depend on after-the-fact self-reporting. Trust your own data. Just record it when things happen.

4) “Is this diet study claiming a control group?”

Desirable as it may be, it is almost impossible to change just one macronutrient variable (protein, carbohydrate, fat) in a diet study. It is therefore almost impossible to create a control group.

If a researcher makes such a claim and vilifies a single macronutrient, your skeptical spider sense should tingle.

Ferriss explains the advantages offered by self-experimentation in terms of establishing a “control”.

The control is everything you’ve tried up to a certain point that hasn’t produced a desired effect. Isolating one variable is often less important than the sum impact of a group of changes. In other words, has your bodyfat percentage gone up or down in the last two weeks of replacing diet A with diet B? If you weren’t losing fat on A and now you are, A was your control.

In an ideal (but unattractive) test, you would go back to A and see if bodyfat then moves in the other direction. Then repeat the switch again. This would minimize the possibility that the first change in bodyfat just happened to coincide with the change in diet to B.

Alas, this switching would also maximize your likelihood of going insane. If something seems to be working, just stick with it.

5) “Do the funders of the study have a vested interest in a certain outcome?”

Beware of unholy unions between scientists and funding sources.

Dr. Ben Goldacre

Dr. Ben Goldacre unpicks dodgy scientific claims made by scaremongering journalists, dubious government reports, pharmaceutical corporations, PR companies and quacks. He was trained in medicine at Oxford and London, and is the author of Bad Science (2009), Bad Pharma: How Drug Companies Mislead Doctors and Harm Patients (2013), and I Think You’ll Find it’s a Bit More Complicated Than That (2014).

Dr. Goldacre takes the stage at TEDGlobal 2011, delivering this brilliant talk wherein he shows us (at high speed) the ways evidence can be distorted, from blindingly obvious nutrition claims to subtle tricks of the pharmaceutical industry.

Dr. Goldacre makes an appearance at TEDMED 2012, delivering another brilliant talk wherein he explains potential dangerous and misleading consequences of unpublished trials. When new drugs are tested, the results of the trials should be published for the rest of the medical world — except, much of the time, negative and inconclusive findings go unreported, leaving doctors and researchers in the dark.

Dr. Goldacre also teamed up with Collins, to create some resources for teachers: Teaching Science with Bad Science: Resources for Teachers.

Here Be Dragons and Cognitive Biases

Most people fully accept paranormal and pseudo-scientific claims without critique as they are promoted by the mass media. Here Be Dragons offers a toolbox for recognizing and understanding the dangers of pseudoscience, and appreciation for the reality-based benefits offered by real science.

Here Be Dragons is written and presented by Brian Dunning, host and producer of the Skeptoid podcast, author of Skeptoid: Critical Analysis of Pop Phenomena, and Executive Producer of The Skeptologists and Truth Hurts.

Wikipedia's List of Cognitive Biases

Nassim Taleb’s 4-Volume Incerto Series

The ethical imperative driving Taleb’s Incerto series is: “If you see fraud and don’t shout fraud, you are a fraud.”

The Incerto series is:

[An] investigation of opacity, luck, uncertainty, probability, human error, risk, and decision making when we don’t understand the world, expressed in the form of a personal essay with autobiographical sections, stories, parables, and philosophical, historical, and scientific discussions in non-overlapping volumes that can be accessed in any order.

Additional Resources

The Work of David McRaney

Additional-additional Resources

This is not the end…

“They say it’s the last song. They don’t know us, you see. It’s only the last song if we let it be.” — Dancer in the Dark (2000)

Prescriptions for Guaranteed Misery in Life

[This article was originally published in the December 6, 2013 edition of the Collegian — The Grove City College Student Newspaper — edited by Kyle Burko]

Charlie Munger, Vice-Chairman of the Berkshire Hathaway Corporation, delivered a brilliant commencement address at the Harvard-Westlake Prep School on June 13, 1986. He was inspired to provide listeners with prescriptions for guaranteed misery in life by Johnny Carson, the 30-year host of The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson, who had previously given a speech specifying his own prescriptions for guaranteed misery in life.

The first half of Munger’s speech covers Carson’s original three prescriptions for guaranteed misery in life. The first prescription is to “ingest chemicals in an effort to alter mood or perception.” Munger goes on to add a bit of his own advice to this prescription, saying that “although susceptibility varies, addiction can happen to any of us, through a subtle process where the bonds of degradation are too light to be felt until they are too strong to be broken.” Moreover, he says, “I have yet to meet anyone, in over six decades of life, whose life was worsened by overfear and overavoidance of such a deceptive pathway to destruction.”

Carson’s second original prescription, covered by Munger, is envy. He immediately acknowledges that envy “was wreaking havoc long before it got a bad press in the laws of Moses.” Furthermore, in his discussion of envy, Munger encourages those bent on attaining the heights of misery in life to never read any of “that good Christian,” Samuel Johnson’s biographies because “his life demonstrates in an enticing way the possibility and advantage of transcending envy.”

Carson’s third, and final, prescription, covered by Munger is resentment. Once again, he recognizes Johnson who said, “Life is hard enough to swallow without squeezing in the bitter rind of resentment.” Additionally, Munger implores those seeking misery to refrain from the practice of the Disraeli compromise. He smartly explains that Benjamin Disraeli, one of the great British Prime Ministers, learned to give up vengeance as a motive for action, but maintained an outlet for resentment by putting the names of people who wronged him on pieces of paper in a drawer. Then, from time to time, he reviewed these names and took pleasure in noting the way the world had taken his enemies down without his assistance.

In the second half of his speech, Munger offers four of his own prescriptions for guaranteed misery in life. His first prescription is to be unreliable. In other words, “Do not faithfully do what you have engaged to do.” Munger insists, “If you will only master this one habit you will more than counterbalance the combined effect of all your virtues, howsoever great.” What’s more, he says, “If you like being distrusted and excluded from the best human contribution and company, this prescription is for you.”

Munger’s second prescription for misery is “to learn everything you possibly can from your own personal experience, minimizing what you learn vicariously from the good and bad experience of others, living and dead.” Elaborating on his second prescription Munger notes how little originality there is in the common disasters of mankind, and he offers “as a memory clue to finding the way to real trouble from heedless, unoriginal error the saying: ‘If at first you don’t succeed, well, so much for hang gliding.’”

He identifies Sir Isaac Newton as an exemplar of a non-miserable life, recalling his famous statement, “If I have seen a little farther than other men it is because I stood on the shoulders of giants,” and the unusual inscription above the bones of Newton in Westminster Abbey, “Here lie the remains of all that was mortal in Sir Isaac Newton.”

Munger’s third prescription for misery is “to go down and stay down when you get your first, second, or third severe reverse in the battle of life.” He recognizes that no matter how lucky, wise, or otherwise equipped to deal with life you are; there is so much adversity out there that this prescription will guarantee that, “in due course, you will be permanently mired in misery.” Furthermore, Munger urges those keen on misery to “ignore at all cost the lesson contained in the accurate epitaph written for himself by Epictetus: ‘Here lies Epictetus, a slave, maimed in body, the ultimate in poverty, and favored by the Gods.”

Munger’s fourth, and final, prescription “for a life of fuzzy thinking and infelicity is to ignore a story they told me when I was very young about a rustic who said: ‘I wish I knew where I was going to die, and then I’d never go there.’” He encourages those who desire a miserable life to mock the ignorance of the rustic and ignore his basic wisdom. “To help fail you should discount as mere quirk, with no useful message, the method of the rustic, which is the same one used in Carson’s speech.”

Charlie Munger’s 1986 Harvard-Westlake Prep School Commencement Address — Full Text — featured in Seeking Wisdom: From Darwin to Munger (3rd edition) by Peter Bevelin

Now that Headmaster Berrisford has selected one of the oldest and longest-serving trustees to make a commencement speech, it behooves the speaker to address two questions in every mind:

1) Why was such a selection made? and,

2) How long is the speech going to last?

I will answer the first question from long experience alongside Berrisford. He is seeking enhanced reputation for our school in the manner of the man who proudly displays his horse which can count to seven. The man knows that counting to seven is not much of a mathematical feat but he expects approval because doing so is creditable, considering that the performer is a horse.

The second question, regarding length of speech, I am not going to answer in advance. It would deprive your upturned faces of lively curiosity and obvious keen anticipation, which I prefer to retain, regardless of source.

But I will tell you how my consideration of speech length created the subject matter of the speech itself. I was puffed up when invited to speak. While not having significant public-speaking experience, I do hold a black belt in chutzpah, and, I immediately considered Demosthenes and Cicero as role models and anticipated trying to earn a compliment like Cicero gave when asked which was his favorite among the orations of Demosthenes. Cicero replied: “The longest one.”

However, fortunately for this audience, I also thought of Samuel Johnson’s famous comment when he addressed Milton’s poem, Paradise Lost, and correctly said: “No one ever wished it longer.” And that made me consider which of all the twenty Harvard School graduation speeches I had heard that I wished longer. There was only one such speech, that given by Johnny Carson, specifying Carson’s prescriptions for guaranteed misery in life. I therefore decided to repeat Carson’s speech but in expanded form with some added prescriptions of my own.

After all, I am much older than Carson was when he spoke and have failed and been miserable more often and in more ways than was possible for a charming humorist speaking at younger age. I am plainly well-qualified to expand on Carson’s theme.

What Carson said was that he couldn’t tell the graduating class how to be happy, but he could tell them from personal experience how to guarantee misery. Carson’s prescriptions for sure misery included:

1) Ingesting chemicals in an effort to alter mood or perception;

2) Envy; and

3) Resentment.

I can still recall Carson’s absolute conviction as he told how he had tried these things on occasion after occasion and had become miserable every time.

It is easy to understand Carson’s first prescription for misery — ingesting chemicals. I add my voice. The four closest friends of my youth were highly intelligent, ethical, humorous types, favored in person and background. Two are long dead, with alcohol a contributing factor, and a third is a living alcoholic — if you call that living. While susceptibility varies, addiction can happen to any of us, through a subtle process where the bonds of degradation are too light to be felt until they are too strong to be broken. And I have yet to meet anyone, in over six decades of life, whose life was worsened by overfear and overavoidance of such a deceptive pathway to destruction.

Envy, of course, joins chemicals in winning some sort of quantity prize for causing misery. It was wreaking havoc long before it got a bad press in the laws of Moses. If you wish to retain the contribution of envy to misery, I recommend that you never read any of the biographies of that good Christian, Samuel Johnson, because his life demonstrates in an enticing way the possibility and advantage of transcending envy.

Resentment has always worked for me exactly as it worked for Carson. I cannot recommend it highly enough to you if you desire misery. Johnson spoke well when he said that life is hard enough to swallow without squeezing in the bitter rind of resentment.

For those of you who want misery, I also recommend refraining from practice of the Disraeli compromise, designed for people who find it impossible to quit resentment cold turkey. Disraeli, as he rose to become one of the greatest Prime Ministers, learned to give up vengeance as a motivation for action, but he did retain some outlet for resentment by putting the names of people who wronged him on pieces of paper in a drawer. Then, from time to time, he reviewed these names and took pleasure in noting the way the world had taken his enemies down without his assistance.

Well, so much for Carson’s three prescriptions. Here are four more prescriptions from Munger:

First, be unreliable. Do not faithfully do what you have engaged to do. If you will only master this one habit you will more than counterbalance the combined effect of all your virtues, howsoever great. If you like being distrusted and excluded from the best human contribution and company, this prescription is for you. Master this one habit and you can always play the role of the hare in the fable, except that instead of being outrun by one fine turtle you will be outrun by hordes and hordes of mediocre turtles and even by some mediocre turtles on crutches.

I must warn you that if you don’t follow my first prescription it may be hard to end up miserable, even if you start disadvantaged. I had a roommate in college who was and is severely dyslexic. But he is perhaps the most reliable man I have ever known. He has had a wonderful life so far, outstanding wife and children, chief executive of a multibillion dollar corporation. If you want to avoid a conventional, main-culture, establishment result of this kind, you simply can’t count on your other handicaps to hold you back if you persist in being reliable.

I cannot here pass by a reference to a life described as “wonderful so far,” without reinforcing the “so far” aspects of the human condition by repeating the remark of Croesus, once the richest king in the world. Later, in ignominious captivity, as he prepared to be burned alive, he said: “Well now do I remember the words of the historian Solon: ‘No man’s life should be accounted a happy one until it is over.’”

My second prescription for misery is to learn everything you possibly can from your own personal experience, minimizing what you learn vicariously from the good and bad experience of others, living and dead. This prescription is a sure-shot producer of misery and second-rate achievement.

You can see the results of not learning from others’ mistakes by simply looking about you. How little originality there is in the common disasters of mankind — drunk driving deaths, reckless driving maimings, incurable venereal diseases, conversion of bright college students into brainwashed zombies as members of destructive cults, business failures through repetition of obvious mistakes made by predecessors, various forms of crowd folly, and so on. I recommend as a memory clue to finding the way to real trouble from heedless, unoriginal error the modern saying: “If at first you don’t succeed, well, so much for hang gliding.”

The other aspect of avoiding vicarious wisdom is the rule for not learning from the best work done before yours. The prescription is to become as non-educated as you reasonably can.

Perhaps you will better see the type of non-miserable result you can thus avoid if I render a short historical account. There once was a man who assiduously mastered the work of his best predecessors, despite a poor start and very tough time in analytic geometry. Eventually his own original work attracted wide attention and he said of that work:

If I have seen a little farther than other men it is because I stood on the shoulders of giants.

The bones of that man lie buried now, in Westminster Abbey, under an unusual inscription:

Here lie the remains of all that was mortal in Sir Isaac Newton.

My third prescription for misery is to go down and stay down when you get your first, second, or third severe reverse in the battle of life. Because there is so much adversity out there, even for the lucky and wise, this will guarantee that, in due course, you will be permanently mired in misery. Ignore at all cost the lesson contained in the accurate epitaph written for himself by Epictetus: “Here lies Epictetus, a slave, maimed in body, the ultimate in poverty, and favored by Gods.”

My final prescription to you for a life of fuzzy thinking and infelicity is to ignore a story they told me when I was very young about a rustic who said: “I wish I knew where I was going to die, and then I’d never go there.” Most people smile (as you did) at the rustic’s ignorance and ignore his basic wisdom. If my experience is any guide, the rustic’s approach is to be avoided at all cost by someone bent on misery. To help fail you should discount as mere quirk, with no useful message, the method of the rustic, which is the same one used in Carson’s speech.

What Carson did was to approach the study of how to create X by turning the question backward, that is, by studying how to create non-X. The great algebraist, Jacobi, had exactly the same approach as Carson and was known for his constant repetition of one phrase: “Invert, always invert.” It is in the nature of things, as Jacobi knew, that many hard problems are best solved only when they are addressed backward. For instance, when almost everyone else was trying to revise the electromagnetic laws of Maxwell to be consistent with the motion laws of Newton, Einstein discovered special relativity as he made a 180 degree turn and revised Newton’s laws to fit Maxwell’s.

It is my opinion, as a certified biography nut, that Charles Robert Darwin would have ranked near the middle of the Harvard School graduating class of 1986. Yet he is now famous in the history of science. This is precisely the type of example you should learn nothing from if bent on minimizing your results from your own endowment.

Darwin’s result was due in large measure to his working method, which violated all my rules for misery and particularly emphasized a backward twist in that he always gave priority attention to evidence tending to disconfirm whatever cherished and hard-won theory he already had. In contrast, most people early achieve and later intensify a tendency to process new and dis-confirming information so that any original conclusion remains intact. They become people of whom Philip Wylie observed: “You couldn’t squeeze a dime between what they already know and what they will never learn.”

The life of Darwin demonstrates how a turtle may outrun the hares, aided by extreme objectivity, which helps the objective person end up like the only player without blindfold in a game of pin-the-donkey.

If you minimize objectivity, you ignore not only a lesson from Darwin but also one from Einstein. Einstein said that his successful theories came from: “Curiosity, concentration, perseverance and self-criticism.” And by self-criticism he meant the testing and destruction of his own well-loved ideas.

Finally, minimizing objectivity will help you lessen the compromises and burdens of owning worldly goods, because objectivity does not work only for great physicists and biologists. It also adds power to the work of a plumbing contractor in Bemidji. Therefore, if you interpret being true to yourself as requiring that you retain every notion of your youth you will be safely underway, not only toward maximizing ignorance, but also toward whatever misery can be obtained through unpleasant experiences in business.

It is fitting now that a backward sort of speech end with a backward sort of toast, inspired by Elihu Root’s repeated accounts of how the dog went to Dover, “leg over leg.” To the class of 1986:

Gentlemen, may each of you rise high by spending each day of a long life aiming low.

This is not the end…

“They say it’s the last song. They don’t know us, you see. It’s only the last song if we let it be.” – Dancer in the Dark (2000)