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Not sure what to do with your life? You're on a path to success.
In David Epstein's 'Range', dabblers and dillettantes are ascendant.
- There are more paths to professional success than practicing for 10,000 hours, says David Epstein.
- In his new book 'Range', the author illustrates the benefits of being a generalist in a specialized world.
- While the conclusions are good news, they're not as surprising as Epstein might believe.
If you're a young person who hasn't yet figured out what to do with your life, or the parent of one, you'll likely hear that the most important thing for a young person to do is to find at least one area of interest and practice it endlessly — think "Tiger Moms" like Amy Chua — to become an incredibly talented X, where X is, well, whatever. Oboist. Snowboarder. Speller. You need to be great at something if you're to have any hope of standing out and succeeding in an increasingly competitive world.
In a new book, Range: Why Generalists Triumph In A Specialized World, the science writer David Epstein, author of The Sports Gene, comes out hard against what he sees as a recent cultural trend toward obsessive training and narrow expertise. In our present, "10,000-hours"-obsessed age, generalist approaches to problem solving and personal growth are getting short shrift. Epstein argues that for individuals to thrive and society to solve pressing problems, we all need to move a step or two away from Chua and her ilk and more toward the sort of wisdom that prevails in Silicon Valley: "Move fast and break stuff." Try a bunch of different things and if something doesn't work, don't cling too tightly to it — move on to the next thing and learn from your mistakes. While Range occasionally get mired in its overreliance on anecdotes and what is actually not all that provocative a thesis, overall it works as an impressive collection of insights from art, history, and (most of all) social science.
Epstein opens with the very different stories of Tiger Woods, who was an uncannily talented golfer from toddlerhood, and his friend Roger Federer, whose path to tennis greatness was very different, and involved a significant amount of early-life flitting between sports and other interests. As Epstein explains, a lot more elite athletes follow a Federian path than one might think, and he soon expands this argument into a wide variety of different domains. Often, it isn't the obsessive nerds with encyclopedia knowledge solving difficult problems and helping human society to advance; it's the bigger-picture thinkers who might not be bona fide experts in any particular area, but who are adept at drawing surprising connections and discerning hard-to-see patterns.
Much of Epstein's argument hinges on the difference between kind and wicked problems. Kind problems are predictable. If your goal is to become good at shooting free throws, for example, you will benefit from the fact that the task you are performing is more or less the same whether you are performing it on an otherwise empty summertime blacktop or during an NBA playoff game. You can practice the same routine over and over again, with instant feedback along the way, and expect fairly consistent process toward expertise. But our trickiest problems and most impressive feats are different. "In wicked domains," Epstein writes, "the rules of the game are often unclear or incomplete, there may or may not be repetitive patterns and they may not be obvious, and feedback is often delayed, inaccurate, or both." This is where obsessively focusing on a narrow set of skills often isn't the best approach.
Epstein is an expert collector and synthesizer of miniature case-studies — he rolls out story after story covering various facets of the generalization-versus-specialization debate. They have a really high hit rate, in that they are mostly interesting or add some important bit of fodder to the book's overarching argument. I was particularly fond of his explanation of groundbreaking research conducted on peasant farmers in the Soviet Union comparing those who had already been connected, via the Soviet Union's ambitious development agenda during the socialist revolution, to modern society, with those who hadn't yet. When it came to basic cognitive tasks many of us take for granted — tasks along the lines of "Put all the circular objects in that pile off to the side, in their own pile" — the premodern farmers genuinely couldn't understand what they were being asked to do. They often didn't seem able to grasp that objects had properties unless those properties tied directly into their everyday uses in the farmers' lives. But as soon as people were exposed to modern society, the ability to think in more abstract, creative ways seemed to come with it. "Our most fundamental thought processes have changed to accommodate increasing complexity and the need to derive new patterns rather than rely only on familiar ones," Epstein writes. The best parts of the book, like this one, reveal surprising aspects of human cognition, or some field of expertise (cardiologists are obsessed with stents, it turns out, despite a horrifying dearth of evidence for their overall efficacy in many situations), or some real-world problem (an important advance in cleaning up oil spills was inspired by convenience-store slushy machines, it turns out).
But the book falters at times, too, and that's mostly because the underlying thesis isn't actually that surprising. If you sit and think about it for a moment, it probably won't surprise you that the most imposing challenges facing humans, or the most jaw-dropping works of art our species has produced, require a certain degree of borrowing from various domains, of understanding the universe's hidden connections. So, that high anecdotal hit rate notwithstanding, there are times when it feels like rather than advance or refine his argument, Epstein is just piling anecdote atop anecdote, occasionally giving the book a slightly saggy feel.
An easy way to address this would have been for Epstein to connect his book more to the contemporary world. Modern-day America is strangely absent from Range. That's unfortunate, because the themes Epstein discusses — dabbling in different areas before choosing a vocation, debating whether it's worth it to invest in narrowly specialized educational training, and the aforementioned child-rearing questions — matter a great deal given the country's current economic situation.
In short, the incentives for young workers are a lot different these days. It used to be, for a fairly large swath of the U.S. workforce, that if you found one thing you were decent-enough at — or even just had a cousin who worked at a factory who could get you an entry-level job there — you could build a decent life for yourself on the basis of that work. A large part of the story of the last half-century or so of American life has been the gradual unraveling of this arrangement as work has become more piecemeal and less likely to come with generous benefits. These days, we're in an increasingly gig-economy-obsessed society in which it's harder and harder for people to carve out decades-long careers at a single firm the way they used to (I'm sure by now more than one Generation Z kid has asked "Daddy, what's a 'pension'?").
How do the changing economic incentives affect the specialization-versus-generalization debate? What does it mean to encourage people to dabble and perambulate around different career possibilities at a time when economic insecurity is creeping up the American income latter and so many people are afraid of sliding down it, or of their kids doing the same? It's interesting to imagine how the new, less settled landscape has forced people in exactly the direction Epstein thinks is best, toward lateral thinking, exploration, a willingness to fail and move on, and so forth. It wouldn't be much of a silver lining to the many people languishing during these epochal shifts, but still: the economy is foisting upon people entirely new, rapidly changing notions of what it means to be a competitive worker, and many of those changes line up with Epstein's argument about what leads to success.
We don't hear much about any of this, nor about all the people who develop a wide range of skills and nonetheless falter — there's a bit of survivor's bias here, reminiscent of Angela Duckworth's Grit, a book that Epstein mentions.
Whatever his answer to these questions, had Epstein connected his argument more tightly to what's going on in the real world at the moment, rather than rattling off success story after success story of late-bloomers and polymaths with staggering intellects, it would have given Range just a bit more heft.
Another missed opportunity comes in Epstein's otherwise brisk and entertaining recounting of the famous wager between the doomsaying environmentalist and The Population Bomb author Paul Ehrlich, who built a career in the 1960s and 1970s arguing that the planet was heading toward a terrifying human die-off sparked by overpopulation and subsequent famine, and Julian Simon, an economist who thought he was dead wrong (as you can likely infer, Simon won the bet). Epstein deftly explains how certain thinking errors on the part of Ehrlich helped lead him astray, while also pointing out that Simon wasn't right about everything, either, but there's no mention of another burgeoning ecological panic — a contemporary one that feels like it has much more evidentiary weight behind it. How should we apply the lessons of the Simon-Ehrlich wager to the current political and policy debate over how to address climate change, which, after all, also relies a great deal on long-term forecasting? The question just sits there, obvious but unasked.
Overall, though, Range works well as a broad, highly readable exploration of some fascinating questions. Anyone with an interest in the peaks and valleys of human achievement and folly will gain some valuable insights from it, and there's definitely a subset of high-achiever types who could use its core message, which is that it's okay to dabble and to explore, and that doing so won't necessarily cause you to fall behind in the long run — even if that message isn't quite as groundbreaking as Epstein would like it to be.
Jesse Singal is a contributing writer at New York Magazine who is working on a book for Farrar, Straus and Giroux about why half-baked psychological ideas go viral.
Andy Samberg and Cristin Milioti get stuck in an infinite wedding time loop.
- Two wedding guests discover they're trapped in an infinite time loop, waking up in Palm Springs over and over and over.
- As the reality of their situation sets in, Nyles and Sarah decide to enjoy the repetitive awakenings.
- The film is perfectly timed for a world sheltering at home during a pandemic.
In more than a dozen countries as far apart as Portugal and Russia, 'Smith' is the most popular occupational surname
- 'Smith' is not just the most common surname in many English-speaking countries
- In local translations, it's also the most common occupational surname in a large part of Europe
- Ironically, Smiths are so ubiquitous today because smiths were so special a few centuries ago
Meet the Smiths, Millers, Priests and Imams - the most popular occupational surnames across Europe.
Image: Marcin Ciura<p>Although very few people are smiths by profession these days, there are millions of Smiths by surname the world over. It's the most popular surname in Britain, Australia, New Zealand and the United States, as well as the second most popular surname in Canada and the fifth most popular one in Ireland. And they're a thriving bunch, at least in the U.S.: the 2010 Census (1) counted 2,442,977 Americans called Smith, 2.8% more than in 2000.</p><p>Curiously, 'Smith' also is one of the most popular surnames across most of Europe –translated in the various local vernaculars, of course. This map shows the most common occupational surnames in each country. By colour-coding the professions, this map shows a remarkable pro-smith consistency across Europe – as well as some curious regional exceptions.</p>
‘Smith’ popular throughout Europe<p>'Smith', in all its variations, is the most popular occupational surname throughout Europe. Not just in the UK, but also in:</p> <ul><li>Belgium (<em>Desmet</em>) and Luxembourg, (<em>Schmitt</em>);</li> <li>France (<em>Lefebvre</em>), Italy (<em>Ferrari</em>) and Portugal (<em>Ferreira</em>);</li> <li>Slovenia (<em>Kovačič</em>), Croatia (<em>Kovačevič</em>), Hungary (<em>Kovács</em>), Slovakia (<em>Kováč</em>), Poland (<em>Kowalski</em>), Lithuania (<em>Kavaliauskas</em>), Latvia (<em>Kalējs</em>) and Belarus (<em>Kavalyov</em>);</li> <li>Estonia (<em>Sepp</em>); and</li> <li>Russia (<em>Kuznetsov</em>).</li></ul>
‘Miller’ on top in many Germanic-language countries<p>'Miller' is the most popular occupational surname in many Germanic-language countries, but also in Spain and Ukraine (perhaps because the grain in both countries is mainly in the plain):</p> <ul><li>There's <em>Müller</em> (in Germany and Switzerland), <em>M</em><em>ø</em><em>ller</em> (in Denmark and Norway) and <em>Möller</em> (Sweden);</li> <li><em>Molina</em> (in Spain – the map also shows the most popular surname in Catalonia/Catalan: <em>Ferrer</em>, i.e. 'Smith'); and</li> <li><em>Melnik</em> (in Ukraine).</li></ul>
Clergy surnames rule in the Balkans<p>Catholic clergy must remain celibate, so 'Priest' as a surname is rare to non-existent throughout Europe. Except in the Balkans, where Catholicism is largely absent. Here, the Orthodox and Islamic clergies have passed on the title from father to son, eventually as a surname, to popular effect. Orthodox clergy are addressed as <em>papa</em> or <em>pope</em> (which means 'father' – so the surname rather redundantly translates to 'father's son'). Islamic teachers or imams are known by the Turkish/Persian term <em>hodzha</em>. An overview:</p> <ul><li><em>Popov</em> (in Bulgaria), <em>Popovic</em> (in both Serbia and Montenegro), <em>Popovski</em> (in Macedonia);</li> <li><em>Popa</em> (in Romania); </li> <li><em>Papadopoulos</em> (in Greece); and</li> <li><em>Hodžić</em> (in Bosnia-Herzegovina), <em>Hoxha</em> (in both Kosovo and Albania).</li></ul>
Landowners and other professions<p>Austria and the Czech Republic have different national languages but are neighbours and share a lot of history. Could that explain why they have a similar most popular occupational surname, for 'landowner'?</p> <ul><li><em>Huber</em> (in Austria) and</li> <li><em>Dvořák</em> (in the Czech Republic).</li></ul> <p>Just four professions, that wraps up all but five countries on this map. Those five each have their very own most popular occupational surname:</p> <ul><li><em>Bakker</em> (in the Netherlands): 'Baker'</li> <li><em>Kinnunen</em> (in Finland): 'Skinner'</li> <li><em>Ceban</em> (in Moldova): 'Shepherd'</li> <li><em>Avci</em> (in Turkey): 'Hunter'</li> <li><em>Murphy</em> (in Ireland): 'Sea Warrior' </li></ul>
Even more Smiths<p>Judging from the popularity of these surnames, your generic European village of a few centuries ago really couldn't do without a smithy. It was a much more essential craft even than that of the miller (or the baker, who put the miller's flour to good use) – except in the Balkans, where spiritual sustenance apparently sated a greater need. On the outskirts of <em>Anytown, Europe</em> live the shepherd and the hunter, the skinner and the pirate.<br></p><p>A bit too simplistic? Perhaps not simplistic enough. This map could have been dominated by even more Smiths. As the original poster explains, he always picked the most frequent version of an occupational surname, even if multiple variants point to a more popular alternative. </p><p>In the Netherlands, for instance, people with the surnames <em>Smit, Smits, Smid, de Smit, Smet </em>and <em>Smith</em> collectively outnumber those with the surnames <em>Bakker, Bekker, de Bakker</em> and <em>Backer</em>. So, the Netherlands could be considered another win for 'Smith' – except that the variant <em>Bakker</em> is more frequent than any other single variant.</p><p>Same story in Germany: added up, there are more people named <em>Schmidt, Schmitt, Schmitz </em>and <em>Schmid</em> than <em>Müller</em>. Ditto for Spain: <em>Herrero, Herrera </em>and <em>Ferrer</em> together outnumber <em>Molina</em>. Also in Finland, where <em>Seppä</em>, <em>Seppälä</em> and <em>Seppänen</em> together have a higher count than <em>Kinnunen</em>. </p>
Smiths in other cultures<p>'Smith' was a crucial occupation in other cultures too, judging from the familiar ring it has in these languages:<br></p><ul><li><em></em><em>Demirci</em> (Turkish)</li><li><em>Hadad</em> (Syriac, Aramaic, Arabic)</li><li><em>Nalbani</em> (Albanian)</li><li><em>McGowan</em> (Gaelic)</li><li><em>Faber</em> (Latin)<span></span></li></ul>
Other most popular surnames<p>Take note, though: 'Smith' may be the most popular surname in in the Anglosphere, this map does not mean to show that its variants in French, Russian and other languages also are the most popular surnames in the countries marked grey. They are merely the most popular <em>occupational</em> surnames.<br></p><p>As this sample of most common ones for each country shows, surnames can refer to a host of other things. Personal qualities or physical attributes, for example:</p> <ul><li>Russia: <em>Smirnov</em> ('the quiet one')</li> <li>Turkey: <em>Yilmaz</em> ('unflinching')</li> <li>Hungary: <em>Nagy</em> ('big')</li> <li>Italy: <em>Rossi/Russo</em> ('red', in northern and southern Italy, respectively)</li></ul> <p>Another option: the origin of the name-bearer (be it a place or a person):</p> <ul><li>Sweden: <em>Andersson</em> ('son of Anders')</li> <li>Slovakia: <em>Horvath</em> ('Croat')</li> <li>Kosovo: <em>Krasniqi</em> (refers to the Krasniq tribe and their mountainous home region)</li> <li>Portugal: <em>Silva</em> ('woodland')</li> <li>Latvia: <em>Bērziņš</em> ('little birch tree')</li> <li>Estonia: <em>Tamm</em> ('oak')</li></ul> <p>But sometimes, even for the most popular ones, the exact origin of the surname is lost in time:</p> <ul><li>Spain: <em>Garcia</em> (originally Basque, possibly meaning 'young', 'bear' or 'young bear')</li> <li>Finland: <em>Korhonen</em> ('hard of hearing' or 'dim-witted'; 'village elder'; 'proud'; 'upright'). </li></ul>
Smith popularity theory<p>So why exactly is Smith – and not Miller, for example – the most popular surname in many English-speaking countries? The theory propounded by historian C.M. Matthews in <em>History Today</em> (July 1967) probably also holds for the other-language variants so popular throughout Europe:<br></p><blockquote>"The reason for (the) multiplicity (of the surname 'Smith') is not so much that metal-workers were numerous as that they were important and widespread. On the skill of the smith, both rich and poor depended for the most essential things of life, the tools of husbandry and the weapons of hunting and war. Every community in the land must have one, every castle, every manor; and so distinctive was his trade that he would seldom need another name".<em></em></blockquote><p>That does not mean all people with the surname have a forefather who forged iron into weapons and farm tools. Especially in North America, 'Smith' was adopted by many people precisely because it was already common – as a secret identity or to blend in, for example by natives, slaves and immigrants.</p>
A recent analysis of a 76-million-year-old Centrosaurus apertus fibula confirmed that dinosaurs suffered from cancer, too.
- The fibula was originally discovered in 1989, though at the time scientists believed the damaged bone had been fractured.
- After reanalyzing the bone, and comparing it with fibulas from a human and another dinosaur, a team of scientists confirmed that the dinosaur suffered from the bone cancer osteosarcoma.
- The study shows how modern techniques can help scientists learn about the ancient origins of diseases.
Centrosaurus apertus fibula
Royal Ontario Museum<p>In the recent study, the team used a combination of techniques to analyze the fibula, including taking CT scans, casting the bone and studying thin slices of it under a microscope. The analysis suggested that the dinosaur likely suffered from osteosarcoma, a type of bone cancer that affects modern humans, typically young adults.</p><p>For further evidence, the team compared the damaged fibula to a healthy fibula from a dinosaur of the same species, and also to a fibula that belonged to a 19-year-old human who suffered from osteosarcoma. Both comparisons supported the osteosarcoma diagnosis.</p>
Evans et al.<p style="margin-left: 20px;">"The shin bone shows aggressive cancer at an advanced stage," Evans said in a <a href="https://www.rom.on.ca/en/about-us/newsroom/press-releases/rare-malignant-cancer-diagnosed-in-a-dinosaur" target="_blank">press release</a>. "The cancer would have had crippling effects on the individual and made it very vulnerable to the formidable tyrannosaur predators of the time."</p><p style="margin-left: 20px;">"The fact that this plant-eating dinosaur lived in a large, protective herd may have allowed it to survive longer than it normally would have with such a devastating disease."</p><p>The fossilized fibula was originally unearthed in a bonebed alongside the remains of dozens of other <em>Centrosaurus </em><em>apertus</em>, suggesting the dinosaur didn't die from cancer, but from a flood that swept it away with its herd.</p>
Dinosaur fibula; the tumor mass is depicted in yellow.
Royal Ontario Museum/McMaster University<p>The new study highlights how modern techniques can help scientists learn more about the evolutionary origins of modern diseases, like cancer. It also shows that dinosaurs suffered through some of the same terrestrial afflictions humans face today.</p><p style="margin-left: 20px;">"Dinosaurs can seem like mythical creatures, but they were living, breathing animals that suffered through horrible injuries and diseases," Evans said, "and this discovery certainly makes them more real and helps bring them to life in that respect."</p>
Join the lauded author of Range in conversation with best-selling author and poker pro Maria Konnikova!
UPDATE: Unfortunately, Malcolm Gladwell was not able to make the live stream due to scheduling issues. Fortunately, David Epstein was able to jump in at a moment's notice. We hope you enjoy this great yet unexpected episode of Big Think Live. Our thanks to David and Maria for helping us deliver a show, it is much appreciated.