Aristotle
Alexander the Great
Saint Thomas Aquinas
Leonardo da Vinci
Niccolo Machiavelli
What do all of these historical “big names” have in common?
The answer is something very few individuals possess today: a working knowledge of multiple subjects of study. This conglomerate of knowledge allowed the greats to apply varied understanding to the issues facing their societies. I find it pretty ironic that we study the lives and work of these men so closely and with such awe, and then proceed to learn in a completely different fashion from them. In the modern education system, we typically study just one subject area in depth - pursuing solely biology, mathematics, literature, etc. throughout undergrad, post-grad, and beyond.
Contrastingly, the “greats” were educated in a variety of topics, and this knowledge poured into their work - work we still rely on centuries later in the arenas of philosophy, science, mathematics, politics, music, and art, just to name a few.
I admit that there are benefits to studying a single subject in depth. After all, a person only has the time and energy to do so much, and focusing one’s undivided efforts on a single area of study produces a more comprehensive understanding of that topic. This extensive, particular learning is often necessary for advancements to be made within a subject area. For instance, a general understanding of physics probably won’t teach me about the quantum excitation that manifests as the Higgs boson, but years of studying the Higgs boson might. Further still, a deep study of particle physics theory might result in a brand new discovery in the field, transforming the future of physical science.
But I’d also assert that it is the application of theoretical knowledge to our physical reality which allows for advancement, whether this advancement occurs in the sciences, the arts, or the humanities. Without theoretical skills - that is to say, without critical thinking and philosophizing - one cannot imagine big enough to advance. Without the ability to coherently write or explain one’s discoveries to others, one also can’t spread their advancement, preventing their newfound knowledge from reaching its full scientific potential.
Advancements hidden in the solitary mind die quietly in the dark, never to be shared with the world, never to reach their full potential - a potential reached only with the heightened power of a thousand minds considering, pondering, wondering: What could this discovery mean for humanity?
To some extent, it can be argued that progress unshared is in fact no progress at all. What good is a development that will benefit the world if it remains solely in the mind of the discoverer?
Varied knowledge is also crucial in most collaborative work. Two well-learned minds may have the capacity to create something brilliant or innovative, but this advancement may only come to fruition if they can effectively collaborate. It may be that one individual specializes in physics and the other in literature, but if the physicist understands literature and the anglicist understands physics (at least on a basic level), the two will likely work better together than if they are solely knowledgeable in their designated field.
Why do we force people into the box of a single “subject area”? I think we have a general tendency to categorize humans, whether by race, religion, economic status, career, or other classification. Further, our present society isn’t particularly friendly to multi-subject study - or, as it is more properly called, a true “liberal education.”
This avoidance makes some sense in a capitalist society. Why hire a person who understands Aristotle, uniform circular motion, and plant cells when you could hire a person who knows a lot about the one thing you need them to understand? Or why teach people all these topics when many employers just need a breathing body who can read well enough to input repetitive data?
On an individual basis, training in just one subject costs less.
But as a whole society, does this practice really cost us less?
Isaiah Berlin penned an essay in 1953, I believe, called "The Hedgehog and the Fox". Though it is ultimately an analysis of Leo Tolstoy, it does identify the differences between specified knowledge and general knowledge. The "wide" vs "deep" idea. Might be of interest to check out sometime.
Also, "progress unshared is in fact no progress at all" is a great line. Thanks for sharing.
Isaiah Berlin penned an essay in 1953, I believe, called "The Hedgehog and the Fox". Though it is ultimately an analysis of Leo Tolstoy, it does identify the differences between specified knowledge and general knowledge. The "wide" vs "deep" idea. Might be of interest to check out sometime.
Also, "progress unshared is in fact no progress at all" is a great line. Thanks for sharing.