Contrary to popular belief, Einstein didn’t articulate the famous phrase, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different outcomes.” As per Nature magazine, the credit goes to Rita Mae Brown in her book, Sudden Death (1983). There are many who frequently remind me of this quote, due to my routine of repeating actions and assuming they will yield varying results. I don’t claim to be completely sane – to the contrary, I harbour a half-belief in the ability of lifeless items to magically heal themselves, and quite frequently, I have seen the results alter unpredictably.
Only last week, we rented a holiday cabin within a modest estate. A few fellow occupants let their dogs roam around freely, causing some inconvenience when I needed to step outside, and rendering it nearly impossible for me to venture out alone. Yet, I remained the last one inside, tasked with emptying the overflowing bins. Ensuring my surroundings were clear, I picked up a long broom as a makeshift weapon and courageously stepped out, only to be greeted by three barking dogs when I neared the bins. It was unintentional, but I saw myself hastily dart back into the house, holding onto the rubbish and the broom. I managed to secure myself inside, and after a period of time the dogs retreated. In the heat of the day, I contemplated transporting the litter home in my car, which was luckily parked nearer to the house. However, the prospect of a hot day, a long journey, a compact car, and the stench of decomposing fishbones persuaded me otherwise. With cautious breaths and calculated pacing on a later attempt, I once more faced off with the dogs, and managed to deposit the food waste into the right bin before hastily retreating – same action, identical dogs, yet differing outcomes. There were no remains of fish decomposing in an overheated vehicle.
Interestingly, it wasn’t an exact replica of the actions. There were variables involved – my fear of the dogs was measured against my revulsion for the smell of decomposing seafood, and I made a conscious effort to endure further. Perhaps the dogs too, underwent a change as they may have appeared less hostile in their second encounter. Could the scent of me reached them a bit delayed? Did I exude more resolve than fear during the second attempt? Possibilities are numerous. This reminds me of a comment by a psychologist friend, who once pointed out that siblings do not grow up in the identical family environment as the dynamics change with time.
Change is inevitable, constant and integral to our existence. The idea that an action can be repeated and yield the exact same result assumes a level of control over situations that is mostly imagined and rarely true, even within a scientific setting. A vital aspect of the value of scientific findings is in its replicability; can the same experiment conducted by different people at another time yield the same outcome? It’s never guaranteed and often becomes a far-fetched expectation as the passing of time brings about changes, making the world different from one moment to the next. As simple as a rusty lock illustrates this point perfectly – at times it opens, at times it doesn’t when the same key is fit and turned in it. Its operation isn’t solely reliant on this action but influenced by unseen and uncontrollable variables such as dampness, or the vibrations from an overhead plane.
There is nothing outlandish about expecting or being apprehensive about varying results from familiar actions, it’s a normal part of life. The notion that reality remains constant is just pure fantasy detached from actuality.
An adept reader of literature can think like an affluent Caucasian man, but what about finding your true, unique perspective? I was of the belief that everyone possesses a sensory-rich world filled with infinite light, sound, scent, taste and touch in their minds. Yet, the issue doesn’t lie with me and my so-called upscale way of life including sourdough bread and kale. The key issue is that access to wholesome nourishment shouldn’t be a privilege, it should be a universal right.
A psychologist friend frequently points out the radical changes family dynamics undergo over time: new family members are born, others pass away, possible relocations or emigrations could occur, changes in the family’s financial situation or health status plays a part too. My own children have been a part of these changes, experiencing different phases of their education in various countries. To one, a taxi is a usual mode of transportation whereas the other views buses as a recourse when it becomes too cumbersome to walk. One has the knowledge of having four grandparents and a great-grandparent and is consequently more acquainted with familial disputes, while the other has grown up in a close-knit, peaceful family. These distinctly dissimilar environments have shaped their worldview significantly different even though we’re more or less English. One of them has a clear memory of the last Labour government while for the other, Britain being Tory has been a constant. Hence, even within a family, the environment can be considerably different for each member, and this only accounts for the changes I can see currently.
As we traverse the world, it in turn navigates through us. Our engagement with it, whether it pertains to challenges or progeny, is intriguingly enigmatic. Absence of control implies that it’s invariably worth making another attempt.