Prospective retrospective

Tomorrow is my birthday, assuming that I publish this today–and I predict that I will.

I spent the morning catching up with my friend Elsa. This post is dedicated to her because I needed a better reason to post than it’s the day before my birthday. So I said I would, and now I won’t disappoint. Anyone else want a post dedicated to them? Ask, and you shall be given.

Here’s part of the chat:

Do you remember when you were coaching me and we made a plan and you checked in with me and I said that the plan had failed and that I was not surprised?

And I realized that I made lots of plans that (if I had been asked) I would have predicted would have failed. But I never had asked

So we came up with a new process. Make a plan. Predict the outcome. If the prediction was failure, then predict reasons for failure, take them into account in the plan.

The goal was a plan that would either succeed or if it failed would fail in an unexpected way

Quoting from a blog post:

“I remembered an earlier time, working with Elsa, my personal coach. I’d made a plan and didn’t do what I had planned to do. When we talked about it, I said that I wasn’t surprised that my plan had failed. I’d made plans that had failed hundreds of times before. My failure was unsurprising. We then worked to make a plan that might fail—but whose failure would at least be surprising.”

Haha I could have saved all that typing just by quoting Past Me

Fucking brilliant guy, Past Me.

Indeed!

Moving backward: I started chatting with her because last night, as I was drafting a post, I asked myself whether or not I’d end up finishing and posting it.

What did I predict I would do?

I predicted that I would not.

And I was right.

But before I was right, I thought: if I’m intending to publish a blog post and predict that I will not do it, then there’s something wrong.

And that reminded me of Elsa.

Something was wrong.

I set out to discover what was wrong and correct it.

This post provides some evidence that I’m on the right track.

Meanwhile, I’m going to post this one and make my prediction accurate.

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Vote arete!

Arete, in its primary sense, says Wikipedia, means “excellence” of any kind.

I want to compare arete with commonly chosen alternatives: adequacy and mediocrity.

Fitness

Let’s start with fitness.

Fitness means “being suitable for a specific task or purpose.”

The task or purpose defines the level of fitness needed for its doing.

Some tasks demand excellence, but most do not. They only what is adequate to do the job.

I will call that minimal level of fitness “bare adequacy.”

Sufficiency, in contrast to adequacy, would provide a comfortable margin of fitness.

Bare adequacy is the minimum.

Mediocrity

Mediocrity means being “in a middle state.”

The word carries negative connotations, but I’ll use it neutrally.

To carry out a task requires bare adequacy.

To carry it out with a comfortable margin for failure requires sufficiency.

To carry it out in the best possible way would require excellence—arete.

To carry it out in ways that are better than barely adequate, yet less than excellent would be to carry it out in a mediocre way.

Mediocrity is sufficient, by definition.

Mediocrity is inevitably popular and acceptable because, on average, people are average.

The average person is average

How could it be otherwise?

Only the most capable people doing their best can achieve excellence. Some do, and this sets that standard for excellence.

Some competent people routinely do less than their best. They strive for some level of fitness, often to be above average, but not for arete.

Why is this?

The common wisdom is that efficiency has replaced arete as a virtue.

It’s possible to both seek efficiency and excellence, but an acceptable level of efficiency is deemed sufficient in general.

People reward others for doing what it takes to get by with a modest cushion for error.

If there’s no benefit to doing a better job, we’re told, don’t waste the resources.

But every decision to do that is a secret vote for mediocrity.

It’s a vote for mediocrity for yourself, your children, and the world around you.

Vote arete, I say!

Being better than average

Most people want to be above average—but not too much above average. There are social reasons for this.

If everyone did their best, then people with average talents would have to do their best just to achieve an average performance.

There was a time when getting a “gentleman’s C” was the norm.

When I was at MIT we were graded on the curve. Everyone could do the math (of course). People who raised class average made it harder for everyone less talented to get a passing grade. The best were both admired and resented.

And in truth, how could one strive for excellence in a system where that caused needless suffering? Was causing others to suffer a virtuous act?

Luckily for average people, not everyone does their best. People who can do better than average can do less than their best and still be above average. And they do.

The more capable a person, the further from arete they can move and still pat themselves on the back for being above average.

This pulls the average down.

So average people can do their best and be better than average. In some cases, considerably better.

Or average people can be efficient and settle for just above average. They’re never going to be excellent, and who cares what level of mediocrity they reach?

But anyone doing their best can still achieve personal excellence.

Unfortunately, few applaud them for that, and no one teaches them to commend themselves.

In this kind of system, there are powerful reasons for people to vote for mediocrity.

Senator Roman Hruska got his fifteen minutes of fame defending mediocrity.

In 1970, Hruska addressed the Senate, urging them to confirm Richard Nixon’s nomination of G. Harrold Carswell to the Supreme Court. Responding to criticism that Carswell had been a mediocre judge, Hruska argued:

Even if he were mediocre, there are a lot of mediocre judges and people and lawyers. They are entitled to a little representation, aren’t they, and a little chance? We can’t have all Brandeises, Frankfurters and Cardozos.[11]

Why arete?

For the Greeks, (at least the ones we mythologize) arete was a moral virtue. One might as well ask why be moral? Why be virtuous?

In some sense, I’ve always done my best. Indeed, I’ve tried. I wrote about it here: We always do our best..

I’ve also always aspired to do better—but often did not act in accord with my aspirations.

There was a time when I saw that as a failure of character. Now I see it as a lack of knowledge.

I wanted my kids to be the best—or at least the best they could be. Still do.

My question to them was always: “Did you do your best?” With a little thought (which is a motivation for writing this, might discover a better quetion.

Like lots of other people, I want the sports teams that I cheer to be their best.

People want their country to be the best.

So why not ourselves?

What I do I teach

I wanted my kids to do their best (and still do).. I could say that it would have been hypocritical not to teach them by example. But I think that the truth is somewhat different and needs exploration.

How I see things now

I’m not dead yet, and that means I’ve got responsibilities.

If I am not working toward personal excellence, I’m casting a vote for mediocrity and teaching everyone around me to vote with me.

That is an idea, a bit of knowledge, that I need to keep handy.

When people like me, those who can do above-average things, settle for mere fitness instead of arete, we let the average drop.

Then the average person can do less and still be above average, and the average drops further.

Do it enough times, and civilization unwinds.

I like to think that what I do makes a difference. The difference may be small, but it is a difference.

I’m not dead yet, and as long as I’m not, I’ll do my part to Vote Arete! and #keeptheaverageup.

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Solve for X! Xplained.

Dear Future Mike, (my next post after this one began):

Your last post was profoundly satisfying to the person who you were during the time you were writing it. It’s also satisfying to who you are at this moment.

I hope you continue to find it as helpful as your Past Selves did.

In case you don’t remember, a series of drafts began with words like “Solving for X” or “Solve for X.”

That post was the first draft that you completed. That was when you began to see what “Solve for X” (and eventually “Solve for X!” could mean to you.

If you get stuck again, take my advice: Solve for X!

Again.

Best Regards,
APS (A Past Self)

Solve for X! is a trick

Solve for X! is a trick. Today it’s a good trick. Tomorrow it may not work as well. Or at all.

Likey, one day, Solve for X! will become useless. Every other trick I’ve come up with has eventually stopped working, so why not that one?

But right now, it works. So, until it fails, I’ll keep Solving for X!

Then I’ll do something else. And later, perhaps, I’ll discover this post or this one and give it another try.

A theory: why Solve for X! works for me

In many past moments, it was a fact that I had a goal. It was a fact that I was doing nothing to progress toward the goal.

In those past moments, based on those facts, I repeatedly drew several conclusions. I concluded that I didn’t know why I was doing nothing; my behavior made no sense.

Each conclusion was an ending. And each carried with it the same hidden assumption: “I don’t know the answer.” And more: “I should know the answer.” And more: “There’s something wrong with me.”

But along comes a different assumption. I could define X and solve for it. As I worked with it, the idea of solving for X became Solve for X! It was a kind of rallying cry.

Ideas are alive. They come to me when I invite them—and sometimes they come on their own.

Solve for X! is an idea, and so is each X.

Some ideas are familiar, like old friends.

Some ideas are unusual.

Some are wild.

Some ideas contain new information, and new information can open new possibilities.

“Like me!” Says the idea, Solve for X!

“Like you!” I say, reflecting its enthusiasm.

Solve for X! creates new opportunities. So also can be the ideas, the X’s that are solved for.

“I’m what you needed to get this post written,” says an idea. It had appeared when I started to write this post and solved for X.

“Actually,” it corrected me, “that’s when you noticed me. I was here before that.”

“It was,” another idea agreed. “The universe conserves information. Like all information, knowledge, and ideas (which are, after all, just forms of information), that idea had always been and always will be. It’s been waiting for the time to make its presence known.

“Me, too,” it added.

“Now is my time!” Said the idea that I had first noticed. “Or was!”

I sat for a moment, thinking idly. I wasn’t completing the post. Then I realized what I needed to do. I solved for X!

“Excuse me,” I said to an idea that had distracted me, “I’d like to finish writing this and posting it, and you’re kind of in my way.”

“Oh, sorry,” said the distracting idea. “I had no idea that I was doing that.” It laughed. “No idea! You get it. I’m an idea and I had no idea!”

“I do,” I said. “And thank you. But…”

“I know,” said the idea, “I’m still in your way. No problem. I’ll just step aside.”

It did. And a few minutes later, I posted this.

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Solve for X!

Because I’m not dead yet, I can describe how I would like to live the life that remains for me.

(I might describe it in another post. But not now. This one is about Solving for X! )

Most of my life is consistent with the description I might write, but there are mismatches—things that I would like to be doing, am physically able to do, and yet not doing.

Why would that be?

I’ve puzzled over that for weeks. Maybe months. Perhaps years.

Now I have a theory.

My theory is this: something that I believe or have decided must be wrong or unknown.

Let’s call what’s wrong or missing X.

I want to solve for X.

“Done,” says a voice in my head. Or some typing at my fingers.

“Done what?” I ask.

“You’ve solved for X!” Says the voice, or the typing or whatever. “I am X! You’ve solved for me! Now you can get to living the life that you might describe in a later post.”

“But I don’t know what X is,” I complain.

“Of course you do!” Comes the reply. “It’s me! Didn’t you just define me? Am I not here!”

“Not exactly,” I say. “I defined the properties of something that I called X. I said that X is what I believe and is incorrect, plus what I don’t know.”

“Exactly!” came the answer. “That’s what I am! You’ve found me! Get on with your life!”

“You mean that’s all I had to do?” I ask. “It seems like cheating.”

“It’s not cheating!” comes the answer. “I’m the answer! You’re writing this, aren’t you? You’re going to post it, aren’t you? And then you’ve going to work on some other things, aren’t you?”

“Which other things?” I ask.

“I’ll tell you when it’s time!” is the answer. “You’ll know. All you have to do is Solve for X!”

“Meanwhile, post this.”

I did.

And then I wrote a post explaining it to my future self

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