There’s a war going on in my mind. The Specialists, numbering in their millions, were wielding their sharpened, highly honed spears. The Generalists, a motley group in the dozens, stood fast, holding their battered shields and battleaxes.
“Charge!” shouted a Specialist.
A ripple fragmented the front line of the Specialists. In a strangely beautiful pattern, the Specialists swarmed towards the Generalists, an undulating wave upon wave of clanking moving bodies. “Hold tight!” cried a Generalist, as she levitated effortlessly into the air, and materialised a volley of icicles shooting towards the Specialists. Another Generalist moved forward, forsook his axe and shield, and clapped his hands to unleash a thundering tremor, toppling the front line of the approaching Specialists.
“Archers!” And a sleet of arrows flew into the air, formed a graceful arc, and rained on the Generalists. Just before the the arrows hit, shields faced skywards to deflect most of the arrows. A sudden gust of wind blew to disrupt the flight path of the arrows, sweeping them harmlessly to the side.
Then the clash came.
Spears were thrusted, aiming for the head. Battleaxes were swung, some to break spears, some to bash heads, some to disembowel, some to clear a path for others. The Specialists used everything they knew, which was to thrust a spear unerringly into the head, or shoot an arrow unerringly to the eye. The Generalists used everything they knew, which meant using the flat end of the axe to increase surface contact with the head, or the blunt end to smash spears, or the sharp end to slice.
“NOW! Everyone together!” That Specialist appeared to be the leader. The Specialists moved closer to the leader and started charging in an arrow-like formation, intent on splitting the Generalists.
One Generalist near the point of the formation reversed his battleaxe and thrust it downwards. The ground exploded. Another Generalist took the opportunity to blow the dirt towards the Specialists. Yet another Generalist sliced her hand in the air and formed a fire barrier. The front line of the Generalists held their shields together, propped them on the ground, enlarged them, and directed some of the heat from the fire onto their shields and melded them together.
=====
That war is still waging. Everyone says to specialise. To find a niche. To go ever deeper into something. A part of me agrees. Another part of me also says that something is wrong. If everyone goes into a deep hole, how are they going to talk to each other? If there’s an ambiguous problem, who’s to come forth and solve it?
And ambiguous problems we will have, given the increasing complexity of our problems. I envision problem solving then to start similarly to medical diagnosis. Maybe you feel an erratic inability to breathe. You might want to go directly to a Specialist. Which one then? A lung Specialist? Probably a good choice. What if it’s not your lungs, given that you probably don’t know much about the human body? What if it’s your trachea, or a fungal infection, or the ginseng tonic you drank 3 days ago?
My friend had a compromise. It was originally called “PI expertise” or something like that. I can’t remember what’s the vertical axis, so I’m calling it the inverted PI.
Out of the range of topics you know, you master 2 (instead of just 1) topics. For the other topics, you maintain a passable level of knowledge. I’ll leave you to decide what “passable” means, since I believe it’s up to the individual.
It just so happens that I write about maths and programming here on the blog. Ok, I’m topic-wandering lately, but I originally just wrote about those 2 topics.
I will also tell you that I’ve met mathematicians who can’t program for biscuits, and programmers can’t do math logic to save their lives. For me, these 2 topics complement each other. If I didn’t write code, I wouldn’t know that for some maths concepts, a workaround is needed (such as “1/3 cannot be represented exactly with floating point numbers”). If I didn’t do maths, forming complicated if-else statements might be tough (I’ve seen programmers who don’t understand De Morgan’s laws, even if they don’t know the name of the concept).
Maybe I just happen to like 2 topics that can work symbiotically.
I’m also not a master of maths and programming. Far from it. In fact, I feel my skill levels in both diluting. But my interest in both is still there. I just happen to like exploring other topics too.
I don’t think that struggle will go away. I’m neither interested enough to only hone just one skill, nor clever enough to master several skills. It’s like neither the Specialists nor the Generalists can accept me. It’s a war I tell ya.
Now I need to get back to experiencing that war again. Tell me what you think though.
Tags: generalist, polymath, specialist
In this September 2010 issue, I have an exclusive interview with Parker Emmerson (also mentioned previously), a mathematician, musician and artist. We talked about his art and how he used mathematics to create images.
Download the September 2010 issue.
Other articles include:
- The business of iPhone apps (yay, finally, a tech article!)
- How to understand 1/3 of Japanese texts in 1 hour
- What happened at the Tech65 Party?
- You probably don’t know this about snakes…
- I witnessed the “beheading” of dozens of plastic bottles. A PHEMAS live cutting event.
Read all that, right here in the September issue. Download the September 2010 issue.
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Tags: emmerson, issue, japanese, magazine, parker, phemas, september, singularity, snake, tech65
I think I figured out how to improve the general negativity that “polymath” or “jack of all trades” has. But first, let me tell you a story.
I remember back when I was still working in a job, I had a job title. It started with “Systems Analyst”. Then at the end of 2 one-year contracts, I decided I’ll never get free of VB.NET if I don’t do something.
So I jumped ship to a startup, where I get to use C# and was supposed to practise extreme programming. I was excited, for I also had to learn something I’ve never used before: regular expressions. I joined the startup (after I went on that New Zealand trip for a well deserved rest) and had some job title that I can’t remember now and don’t think it matters. Let me ask you, can you differentiate the following job titles?
- Systems Analyst
- Systems Engineer
- IT Analyst
- IT Engineer
- Applications Analyst
- Software Analyst
- Software Engineer
- Systems Designer
- Software Designer
- Applications Designer (I just made this up. Don’t know if it’s real)
There are probably many more with meanings just as ambiguous. I don’t really know what those titles mean, and don’t know if there’s a difference. I was still writing specifications, designing software and systems and frameworks, writing code, liaising with users and fellow colleagues and supervisors and managers, attending meetings, taking conference calls, giving presentations, doing software/server maintenance, and solving users’ computer problems (whether it’s because of my software or other people’s software or just general computer problems).
Wait, I thought I was supposed to just write code. Yeah, everyone does pretty much the same thing despite their titles.
Where was I? Oh yes, the startup. Well, I got sacked after exactly 6 weeks. The first 3 weeks were still bearable. There were a few interns, so the workplace was more fun. 3 weeks later, the interns left, and I was stuck with the founder/CEO and the original programmer (there were only 2 of us coding when I started. There was another programmer hired, but one programmer story at a time…). Wait, there was the original programmer’s wife as well (don’t get me started…). I didn’t get to write a lot of C# code. I didn’t get to use that regular expressions skill that I studied and practised really hard (because the founder got another PhD intern to do the regular expressions) which was the backbone of how to parse patent text (part of the startup’s product).
What was my mistake? During the interview, I was asked by the founder what I saw myself as in 5 years (you know, a typical HR-ish question). I gave a typical answer, you know, leading a small team of programmers.
So the founder started me on doing all the administrative stuff. I handled the printer setup. I made sure the computers and other assets were properly recorded. I made sure the source code settings were done properly (ok, so maybe that was more related to software development).
And the other programmer was, shall we say, less tactful in how he talks to me. His English was (much) less than fluent (he’s Chinese). He used Microsoft Access as the backend database, and gave me a talking-down when I pointed out that the client might not have Access installed. The .NET Framework would already be a required installation, so the less we impose on the client, the better, right? The data retrieval functions and objects were inflexible (not all SQL statements need a where or group by clause). He called me a four-eyed toad (what are we, 6 years old? I was still wearing glasses then). He gargled water at his desk while coding (it’s not a big office. You could just about fit 2 cows into it. Maybe 3.).
I frequently lunched alone.
So a week before Christmas, the founder called me up for a private meeting. He could see that I was unhappy working with the other programmer. He also suggested perhaps I could be happier working at some place else.
“Am I being let go?” I asked.
He nodded. Somewhat awkwardly I might add. I don’t think he’s fired anyone before.
So for the rest of the week, I began documenting what work I did, and what was already done on the project. I cleaned out my computer (as in wiping traces of me, not wiping all the work) as I didn’t want anything about me left there in that miserable workplace, even if it’s just an Internet cookie.
On my last day, which is Christmas eve, I packed my stuff, ready to go. The founder had a Christmas party planned and stuff. He invited me.
I declined.
After that, I rested for a couple of weeks, and then joined a software house. The team I was assigned to, worked in the Singapore city area. The client was a Japanese company, had security precautions I had only seen in the movies (I needed to pass a fingerprint scanner to get to the washroom. Another story for another time…), and while happier than at the startup, was still longing for something more. I did discover Michael Buble, who’s an awesome singer.
I worked there till the end of my 4-month contract, and I decided to return to the first company I worked at. I was even willing to work with the “evil” boss that was part of the reason why I left. I was hired, and no, I worked at another team. Well, that lasted for 5 years, and that brings us to here and now.
I can tell you now, titles mean very little. It’s what you do and what you’ve done that’s more important.
Which brings us to the original point. How do we improve the general negativity of the term “polymath”? I believe a big part of the problem is that polymaths (and the various terms used) are seen to dabble, never quite committing to anything. Well, I can tell you that, even if a person isn’t dabbling, the person isn’t by definition committing to anything either.
So I believe a solution is that you, me, us, the polymaths, need to apply ourselves. We can’t just keep learning this and that trinket of knowledge and skill without applying it. It’s the “frivolity” of learning that’s the crux of the negativity.
A person learning one thing without applying himself is considered “being focussed”. He’s trying hard! He’s concentrating on just one thing! He hasn’t done anything useful with it, but it’s ok!
A person learning many things without applying himself is considered negatively. It’s not fair, but it’s the way it is. No information is useless, we just haven’t found a use for it yet.
Now in my previous company, the term “programmer” was deemed to be a low position. So if you had “programmer” anywhere in your title, you’re like dirt, just barely above the administrative staff and cleaning ladies/janitors. If you have a degree, you’re a “Systems Analyst”. If not, you’re an “Application Programmer”.
I say we should overturn that kind of stigma. We are going to be Application Polymaths. Because we’re multi-learners who apply ourselves.
Tags: application, job title, polymath
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Hi! I write about maths and programming and other topics of esoteric interest. I'm also the editor of the online magazine Singularity, and you can get the latest issue at the top (it's free!).
