Look homeward angel now, and melt with ruth.
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
-- John Milton, "Lycidas" (163-164)
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| John Milton |
These lines from John Milton's poem "Lycidas" are really about the death of his friend, Edward King, who drowned in a shipwreck off the coast of Wales in 1637. But somehow, these words never carry that meaning for me. I find in them an injunction to look to the past, perhaps with sadness, and then to have my eyes and attention turned forward to a destination. They always come to me this time of year. I'm not a maker of resolutions, but I do believe in reflection and in resolve. So, those of you unlucky enough to be reading this can thank Milton.
I've been thinking a bit recently about balance and objectives. How and why this came up--other than poor Lycidas and the season--isn't important, but these thoughts turned to considering what I read and wrote this year and why. For context, though, let me go back a bit further.
I can't put my finger on a specific reason--perhaps I was tired or lost or seeking something--but my reading habits changed dramatically this last year. I wandered into wandering from title to title and from topic to topic with no real objective in mind. Sometimes the titles were suggested by friends. Sometimes they were the hot read of the day (my disastrous run-in with Ghost Fleet happened thus). Sometimes they were books sitting on my shelf not yet read that, on unpacking, found themselves at the top of the pile. So, in the order I read them (and not including sources such as The Strategy Bridge, From the Green Notebook, WarCouncil--now the Modern War Institute--articles ad nauseum, and a good deal of random poetry), this was my year in books:
What I feel I didn't do was enough. I didn't work hard enough at my profession--which at this point has become leadership. I feel that failure keenly, and I owe the people who work for me more. I didn't work hard enough at finding my place in the world. I feel that failure keenly, and I owe myself and my family more. I didn't work hard enough at strategy, the game I'll be playing when, inevitably, they take my squadron from me. I feel that failure keenly, and fear what it means for my nation and what I will have to offer when called. And I feel the length of the list. I have many excuses and a few good reasons, but I can be better and do more...and I can do more with better balance.
Perhaps the single-minded objectives of 2013 and 2014 were a bit much, and perhaps I need to leave room for wonder and serendipity, and I CERTAINLY need to leave room for poetry and for fiction...but perhaps a bit more strategy in my approach is in order.
In this space I've spent a great deal of time exploring the history and philosophy of my profession as a mathematician and analyst, the dangers of data-driven decisions (a concept anathema to someone in my profession), wondering aloud at the possibilities of the truth we seek (and this space extols), the utility of social media (a utility it has taken me a LONG time to understand), and more. The hours I regretted reading Ghost Fleet turned into a review for The Strategy Bridge, a few more articles/posts/essays of which I'm pretty proud (this is my favorite)...and a relationship with a group of men whose company I'm proud to keep and with whom I'm proud to tilt at windmills while we change the world.
This year has also seen some fascinating things on Twitter (a forum I don't understand or like, but whose utility I appreciate) as well as the continuation of an experiment in micro-blogging on Facebook that has brought many surprises and much satisfaction--and some epic arguments with much-loved friends on a myriad of topics, to my great benefit. And all of this brought to me new acquaintances, new friends, and new possibilities.
Read
In 2013, I was preparing preparing myself for an unscheduled trip to Afghanistan, and as I departed learned I would take command of a squadron not long after my return. Suddenly, my reading took an instrumental turn unlike any I'd experienced since graduate school. I built for myself a plan of study that alternated deliberately between the recent and distant history of Central Asia (especially but not exclusively Afghanistan), theoretical and practical examinations of international relations and of warfare (especially counterinsurgency and "small wars"), and works on leadership. After my return from Afghanistan in 2014, the second category transformed itself a bit, and I took an interest in country studies more generally--and found an oddly special affinity for sub-Saharan Africa--but the instrumental, objective-oriented intent remained the same. So what changed in 2015?I can't put my finger on a specific reason--perhaps I was tired or lost or seeking something--but my reading habits changed dramatically this last year. I wandered into wandering from title to title and from topic to topic with no real objective in mind. Sometimes the titles were suggested by friends. Sometimes they were the hot read of the day (my disastrous run-in with Ghost Fleet happened thus). Sometimes they were books sitting on my shelf not yet read that, on unpacking, found themselves at the top of the pile. So, in the order I read them (and not including sources such as The Strategy Bridge, From the Green Notebook, WarCouncil--now the Modern War Institute--articles ad nauseum, and a good deal of random poetry), this was my year in books:
Think
Making such a list is easy, not least because the list is short, but thinking about it is much more complicated. By and large, I don't feel my time was wasted--not even by Ghost Fleet, for reasons that will become clear in a moment, though it is perhaps the worst book I've read in many years. I learned some things about my profession, the history of conflict and the protagonists in a region that remains a hotbed of unrest, the life and work of perhaps the greatest Western theorist of war, the utility of fiction as a mirror for understanding culture, and the international system. I even set aside a bit of time for fiction...and flat enjoyed The Martian as much as any work of fiction I've read in years. |
| Melancholia I, Albrecht Durer |
Perhaps the single-minded objectives of 2013 and 2014 were a bit much, and perhaps I need to leave room for wonder and serendipity, and I CERTAINLY need to leave room for poetry and for fiction...but perhaps a bit more strategy in my approach is in order.
Write
I set myself an objective to write much more this year than the last and to explore the possibilities of "new" media--that is, publication outside the rigidly academic world in which I've spent much of my life (and new to me because I'm a bit of a Luddite). I'm not built for positive self-reflection, so I'll say I might have done more and done better...but I've also done more than I thought I could.This year has also seen some fascinating things on Twitter (a forum I don't understand or like, but whose utility I appreciate) as well as the continuation of an experiment in micro-blogging on Facebook that has brought many surprises and much satisfaction--and some epic arguments with much-loved friends on a myriad of topics, to my great benefit. And all of this brought to me new acquaintances, new friends, and new possibilities.
Turn of a word. Not "wrong", but rather "limiting".
ReplyDelete"IT ISN’T ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT [our model is limiting.]
IT IS IMPORTANT TO KNOW THE WAYS IN WHICH [our model is limiting.]
Critt, I think you're referring to the George Box discussion to which I linked above ("all models are wrong") and one of my conclusions/assertions. Correct? I think I might be inclined to argue with you. The problem isn't that the models are limiting; the problem is that they incorrectly describe reality and the input/output relationships we want to exploit to create advantage. Now, the fact that I'm right (insert silly smile here), doesn't mean you're wrong. You are absolutely correct that models are limiting. They change the way we view the world, the ends we conceive of, and our understanding of the ways and means for achieving them. But that's not what I was talking about. Cool that we can both be "right," eh?
DeleteMerf