Why do you need to take the letter ‘u’ out of all the words where we use them, change the ‘s’ to ‘z’? Why do you need to change car park to parking lot (is that really so hard to figure out from context?)? And these may be small things, but there were a lot of them and that led to a reading experience that felt wrong. I will happily read a book written by an American author, set in America, published in America, that is written in American English. That is the original language. But this was a book written by an Australian, set in Australia, that is suddenly in the wrong language. And it’s not like it even needed to be translated—Australian English is not that far removed from American English. This loss of flavour and character of language, that seems entirely unnecessary, is irksome.
For the past few months, I’ve been talking to many scholars about intellectual humility, the crucial characteristic that allows for admission of wrongness.
I’ve come to appreciate what a crucial tool it is for learning, especially in an increasingly interconnected and complicated world. As technology makes it easier to lie and spread false information incredibly quickly, we need intellectually humble, curious people.
I’ve also realized how difficult it is to foster intellectual humility.
The stories around wealth and success, in particular, are social narratives that we can’t seem to get enough of. Now, it should be obvious that the absence of either of these two things can cause anxiety and misery. I will not suggest otherwise. The narratives suggest, however, that no matter how much we have of each, we are expected to be reaching for more. The assumption is that ever more happiness is achieved with ever more money and more markers of success. The trap comes from the fact that the happiness hit from adherence to these narratives gets ever smaller the further up the ladder you go and, eventually, can become reversed. To be happier we need to move from a culture of “more please” to one of “just enough”.
Doing nothing is my favorite thing in life. I believe in the ancient practice of doing nothing. I believe that this planet is doomed because we so believe in doing things that now the world’s most recognized dictum is “Just do it.” But how can you think nothing? Especially when you’re told to think nothing?
“How many times can you tell a good story? It depends on the teller, but that tends to suggest that the more a story is told the further it retreats from reality. Somebody once said that if everyone who claimed to have been at the first performance of Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring had actually been there, you’d have needed Wembley stadium to fit them all in. Conversely, the famous riot has been so anthologised that it has now become chic in academic circles to question whether it actually happened.”
The powerful language proves equal to the story’s chilling moral profundity and all involved appear that bit smaller and meaner.
Ma’am
I know that you are rich And I am just a poor immigrant I’ve been selling milk tea on the street Since I was seven
But my grandmother watches me close
From her banana tree in heaven