Updating “The Case for Crazy”
Awhile back, I attended a lecture by Sir Roger Penrose, an English mathematical physicist, which was part of a series by the Institute for Science, Engineering and Public Policy in Portland, Oregon. Mentor Graphics is the principal sponsor. The Institute sets up public lectures and visits to the schools by renowned speakers, such as Sir Roger, and is, I’m glad to say, still going strong. Next week I’m looking forward to a lecture by Dr. Brian Greene, the guru of string theory. Like Sir Roger, I expect Dr. Greene to thoroughly shake me up and compel me to reexamine some of the things I so smugly assume I already know.
One of Roger Penrose’s books was “The Emperor’s New Mind” which challenged the strong AI viewpoint that human thought was algorithmic–and therefore could be duplicated by a complex computer. Roger Penrose has received many prizes and awards, including the 1988 Wolf Prize for physics, which he shared with Stephen Hawking.
At his lecture, however, Sir Roger went in a new direction. He gave a contrary perspective on what might have existed before the Big Bang. The prevailing thought is that the Big Bang was a singularity and that the question of “before” is meaningless. He freely admitted that what he discussed was a radical departure from what he thought just six months before. His presentation wasn’t so much a complete theory as it was a proposal for renewed investigation and development – in effect he invited us to join him on a great adventure. But he did more that night than just inspire schools kids and give their elders a conceptual workout, he made a case for crazy ideas.
Crazy ideas come whenever you step away from the crowd and say “Yeah, but what if?” And the ideas stay crazy if you or anyone else can’t come up with supporting evidence. (One of the problems with being a contrarian is that the herd usually is right. There are certainly good reasons why some theories are built on as if “fact–and valid reasons why you shouldn’t waste time debating it. But what is the fun of that?)
Crazy ideas are necessary because there are often nagging exceptions that the crowd rushes past (if only because it’s highly impractical to know everything about anything). In Roger Penrose’s case he listed some of the problems that he claimed contemporary theories didn’t address and that most physicists have ignored (him included). He reviewed alternative theories that did account for some discrepancies but which created bigger ones. He even dismissed a few of them as “crazy ideas” before he gave his own proposal – which also stirred up new questions, including the need to find (if I recall correctly) a weightless charged particle. Presumably these ideas will seem just as “crazy” to many of his peers.
Now I’m looking forward to the way Professor Greene will “string” his audience along. Life’s getting too worrisome and depressing. I need to renew my sense of “wonder.”
I maintain that crazy, by the way, should never stop at the lecture hall. It has a role to play in every interaction, whether you are talking to yourself, your family, or a roomful of your peers. It is a part of everyday life.
In team meetings, for example, there always seems to be at least one assumption that just seems too negative, too positive, or just too bleak for me to accept at face value. Maybe it’s a new timeline, maybe it’s a new process, or maybe it’s the decision NOT to try something new. I’m usually more of a facilitator than an expert, and tend to be hesitant to take the lead. But I’ll cheerfully encourage someone with more expertise to question the assumption.
Even if wrong, a crazy idea can provoke valuable thought and exploration. It can highlight other assumptions that aren’t being tested but really should be. The ensuing discussion can even deepen the group’s commitment to the original, better idea. Or it can remind us of logical safety concerns that our herd mentality has blinded us too. Think of financial bubbles and lending practices of the last few years!
WARNING: Of course, if you tilt at too many windmills, you will dissipate too many resources that are urgently needed elsewhere (and even tilt yourself out of a job). But, hey, maybe the sky is falling….
So when do you point out the transparency of the Emperor’s new clothes, and when do you just blush and cheer along with the crowd? When do you push for a backup plan, or urge a riskier leap for the brass ring?
After that lecture, a woman asked Sir Roger why he changed his mind six months prior. His answer was that the prevailing theory just made the universe seem too dull–and that the universe is anything but dull.
Too bad my 401K agrees.