Tapestries-47 | Art, education, Australia
Reflecting on art, critiquing education, comprehending Thiel, and thinking about Australia.
Welcome to the second edition of this new format, delivered as promised on a fortnightly basis. The feedback on content and structure was really positive, so I hope you enjoy and find the below useful, and please keep the feedback and engagement coming.
1. What I’m thinking
I was in Paris for my honeymoon last week. We visited the Musee d’Orsay and the Musee de l’Orangerie while we were in town. Located near the Louvre, we thought we’d visit these two to avoid the summer crowds at the world’s most popular museum. Narrator: they did not escape the crowds. I don’t mind the summer throngs, but some of the patrons’ conduct was really grating, and amongst this annoying behavior, I found another angle through which to appreciate art.
Art is important. The art created in a particular period illuminates the cultural, social, political and philosophical currents of a particular moment; it’s a beautiful window into history, which is something I’m interested in. Art and other creative works also crystallize the inner workings of the human mind in a very abstract but direct manner; it’s a fascinating portal into human cognition, which in addition to history, is also something I’m interested in. So I was excited to visit the museums, and the collections on display were fantastic.
But what struck me the most about the visits was some of the crowds’ bizarre behavior. Based on the way many people were acting, it was very clear they believed the art was there to be possessed or consumed, not to be experienced. In the Musee de l’Orangerie, there are two rooms of monumental Water Lilies by Claude Monet, with eight panels across the two oval rooms totaling about 90 meters of epic painting. I can’t tell you how many people walked into the room, took a video of the panel or two (or themselves walking along a single panel or two), finished their video, and walked straight out the room, barely even looking directly at the painting. At the Musee d’Orsay, in the Van Gogh gallery, crowds jockeyed into position so they could take a selfie with the artist’s self-portrait, also barely taking the time to appreciate and look at the work they were capturing. Monet, and especially the Van Gogh in the self-portrait, would have been bemused.
Creative work, and the artist’s creative impulse, is generally designed to evoke an emotion, reaction or thought in those who experience it. I’ve found art can also be experienced as a mirror through which to view ourselves, and in this regard, the experiences at the museums were illuminating. Jostling through crowds in the museum, I couldn’t escape a mild disgust at the extent of our materialist desire to possess things. The experience of art or nature or beauty feels like it’s become a zero-sum game; there are finite objects and destinations of desire, and an ever-increasing number of people to consume them (see further comment below). Your ability to experience and enjoy something—whether an art gallery, national park, or concert—is often at the expense of my enjoyment, and I get the impression amongst others and within myself, that this sentiment pervades certain communal experiences.
As I type these words, I’m conscious that in somebody else’s description of these experiences, I’m the annoying member of the crowd, and they’d be absolutely right. It reminds me of friends in Australia going to the park during COVID-lockdowns and angrily thinking to themselves “what are all these morons doing here?” not acknowledging that to another observer, they were also one of the morons. Maybe it’s me that needs to change, to adapt my own expectations of, and posture towards, these experiences. One of the chapters in the book I’m writing is devoted to the principle of being present, and I’m sure I’ll cover this experience or sentiment in more detail there. In that sense the experience at the museums was constructive, and channeling it into the book sure beats sounding like an old man yelling at clouds.
Note: Peter Thiel describes resource competition in the piece discussed in the section below as a focal point of our current friction, and perhaps that’s true of both competition for paid positions post-studying (the example he uses), and also competition to see the world’s great artists. At times our objects of desire are finite in number, and as we grow in number and expectation, perhaps there’s natural friction with the growing competition. Worth a read below.
2. What I’m consuming
I’m enjoying writing this section because in addition to sharing content I’ve recently enjoyed, it’s also prompting me to return to content I’ve previously consumed (on a related topic) that’s stuck with me, and this section gives me the opportunity to weave that content back in. I hope you enjoy the linkages too.
A. The Tyranny of Merit, by Michael Sandel
I read a piece this week by Freddie DeBoer called Education Doesn’t Work 2.0. It’s a deep critique of our educational systems; read it if you like, but it’s long and dense. More importantly, it reminded me of Michael Sandel’s wonderful book, one I read earlier this year, that also places education at the center of its exploration. In the book, Sandel asks a provocative question: what has an emphasis on “merit” done to our concept of the “common good,” and as we think about what our societies could look like in the future, should we continue advancing a meritocracy? He argues (very persuasively) that our focus on merit and the empowering of technocrats has caused us to stop asking ourselves moral questions, specifically those about the “common good,” and that this has led to the social and political turbulence we are currently living through. Key quote:
Education is absolutely central to the concept of a meritocracy, and the DeBoer piece brought me back around to Sandel’s comments on the topic. Today, education performs our society’s key sorting function. DeBoer’s critique, placed in the context of Sandel’s more comprehensive social commentary, should force us to ask hard questions of the role of education, and to honestly consider what a just society actually looks like.
B. Peter Thiel on the Dangers of Progress, by Mary Harrington in Unherd
It’s a great opener to a fascinating piece. It’s important to understand what someone like Peter Thiel thinks (and why) for several reasons. First, he’s amongst the sharpest, shrewdest, and most intelligent operators of our generation. Second, he is pragmatic and effective, placing actions, intellect and capital behind his ideas. And third, and perhaps most importantly, he’s unique, and an independent thinker in a time that sorely lacks them (something he has in common with Sandel above, and interestingly, I believe they share similar views on education). One can find many reasons to disagree with Thiel’s methods, politics or religious zeal. But while one can bristle at what he represents, one cannot ignore him. I highly recommend a read to gain some insight into the workings of this formidable operator.
It separately reminded me of this short Tyler Cowen piece from early 2021 (Why will the important thinkers of the future be religious ones?). It mentions Thiel, and echoes some of his sentiments, namely that “both secular ‘left progressive’ and ‘libertarian’ traditions — both highly secular in their current forms — are not so innovative right now.” Original thinking is always valuable, especially so in times of turbulence, and Cowen suggests that amongst other things, religion as a form of rebellion may catalyze innovation in the next wave of our important thinkers. Also worth the short read.
C. The Rest Is History: 121. Australia Before Cook (podcast)
I listen to a lot of The Rest Is History podcasts. They’re wonderful explorations of different people, places and events in history. I came across their semi-recent episode about Australia before Cook’s arrival. I know embarrassingly little about Australian history, and I’d imagine many of my Australian peers and contemporaries would say the same. This episode gave a lovely, high-level description (with the help of Australian, David Hunt) of the events and cultures that preceded Cook’s arrival, with an emphasis on indigenous culture.
The discussion reminded me of Wade Davis’ exquisite Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World, a book I read last year. The book explains in vivid detail what it is we collectively lose when we sacrifice the wisdom of ancient cultures at the altar of modernity. It’s a gorgeous book, and listening to the podcast turned my mind back to the history of our indigenous people. I’m not sure what Australia’s identity is, or how I’d describe it. But I do know we need to more deliberately articulate it, and I believe the process should start with a collective re-engagement with the richness of our homeland’s deep history and culture. The book was a great prompt, and the podcast was a great reminder. Now I need to keep learning, and hopefully some of the books I’ve got queued on the topic will make it into this section in the future.
D. The best of the rest
I just finished reading Dune by Frank Herbert, and it was epic; thanks to Lee for recommending I read something to switch off while on vacation. I also just finished How to Cure a Fanatic by Amos Oz, a great short read on the Israel-Palestinian conflict, and the nature of fanaticism (a great pairing with The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements by Eric Hoffer); thanks to Alon for the gift! As central banks continue their fight against inflation, this was a great piece (The Nightmare Scenario For Central Banks) about inflationary regimes and the personal motivations behind the key protagonists. Finally, we should all be paying much more attention to semiconductors; this piece (China Has Leapfrogged the U.S. in Key Technologies. Can a New Law Help?) is a good, high-level point-in-time update, and I’ll share some useful in-depth pieces in a fortnight.
3. What I’m writing
I haven’t done any writing in the last two weeks (other than this newsletter) as I’ve been on my honeymoon and have tried to disconnect and take a break. I’m excited to get back to New York and to keep chipping away at the book. There are a few things I want to focus on when I resume.
The first is to decide whether “dignity” is the right principle to prioritize for the conditions described in the first chapter. I’ve described how distance—between us and our objects of desire and between us and the people around us—has changed, and I’ve proposed dignity as a principle for reintroducing proximity. I’m just not sure if dignity is the right principle, so I’m going to return to it. And second, I’m keen to finish the chapter on “integrity;” it feels like I’m close.
Once I’ve done these two things, I’m going to re-read the book in it’s entirety. I spoke with a very well-known author a few weeks ago for some advice, and he said that sometimes it’s worth pausing at a point to re-read the draft, and to take certain lessons from the process to date into the remainder of the book. I think I’m 30-40% through the first draft, so now feels like an appropriate time to undertake that exercise.
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