by Waqas Ahmed
Let us take the case of the notorious nineteenth-century Italian adventurer Giacomo Casanova. By the age of 25, he’d already had short but lively careers as a court lawyer, soldier in the Venetian army, violinist for the San Sanuele theatre, professional gambler, physician to Venetian noblemen and clergyman in Rome. Following a period of scandal, imprisonment, escape and social climbing on the Grand Tour around Europe, he gained a reputation among Parisian nobility as an alchemist, became a spy for the French government, sold lottery schemes to European governments and then spent his last years in Bohemia as a librarian in Count Waldstein’s household, where he wrote the illustrious memoirs that would make his name synonymous with womanising. What a colourful life! But do Casanova’s illustrious pursuits qualify him as a polymath? Or did he fall short, spreading himself too thin and failing to make any real contribution in most of the fields in which he operated?
Or what of American fraudster Ferdinand Waldo Demara, who assumed various identities over a lengthy career as a serial impostor in the mid-twentieth century. Without the necessary qualifications, he worked deceitfully (but indeed successfully) as a ship’s doctor, a civil engineer, a sheriff’s deputy, an assistant prison warden, a doctor of applied psychology, a hospital orderly, a lawyer, a child-care expert, a Benedictine and Trappist monk, a newspaper editor, a cancer researcher and a teacher. Here was a man of great variety; but did he demonstrate the necessary depth as well as breadth to be called a polymath?
Technically, the polymath usually excels in at least three seemingly unrelated fields (‘poly’ being more than two). But in reality, to suggest that someone ‘has excelled in’ or ‘is accomplished in’ a particular field would be a relative statement. Accomplishment — just like happiness, success and intelligence — comes in various forms, and is a generally subjective state of being. Conventional manifestations of accomplishment, however, usually include any one or a combination of the following: critical acclaim, popular recognition, financial success, publication or exhibition of works, qualification or award, demonstrated skill and experience. But even assessing accomplishment simply in terms of a profession or academic discipline is a rather insular and limited way of viewing the polymath. A human being is much more than her ‘profession’ or field. Many-sidedness comes in many forms. So the real polymath has a type of mind and approach that is far more substantial and holistic, as we will explore later.
In any case, one must be careful not to throw around the label of ‘polymath’ too loosely; there is a difference between simply being multitalented and being a genuine polymath, just as there is a difference between being intelligent and being a proven genius. A multitalented individual does not necessarily utilise or bring to fruition those talents to accomplish things in the fields that correspond to each talent. That said, few people realise that the term applies to a host of different types of individuals, including those that may not have been thought of as polymaths before.
In all cases the prerequisite, as mentioned earlier, is an ‘exceptional cross-domain versatility,’ but the greatest, most influential, most self-actualised polymaths are essentially self-seeking, holistically minded, connection-forming humans characterized by a boundless curiosity, outstanding intelligence and wondrous creativity.
Of course, every human is born with multifarious potential. Why, then, do parents, schools and employers insist that we restrict our many talents and interests; that we ‘specialise’ in just one? We’ve been sold a myth, that to ‘specialise’ is the only way to pursue truth, identity, or even a livelihood. Yet specialisation is nothing but an outdated system that fosters ignorance, exploitation and disillusionment and thwarts creativity, opportunity and progress.
Following a series of exchanges with the world’s greatest historians, futurists, philosophers and scientists, this book weaves together a narrative of history and a vision for the future that seeks to disrupt this prevailing system of unwarranted ‘hyperspecialisation.’ Indeed, it reveals that the true specialist is actually a polymath.
There is another way of thinking and being. Through an approach that is both philosophical and practical, we will set out a cognitive journey towards rediscovering and unlocking your innate polymathic state. Going further, this book proposes nothing less than a cultural revolution in our education and professional structures, whereby everyone is encouraged to express themselves in multiple ways and fulfil their many-sided potential. Not only does this enhance individual satisfaction, but in doing so, facilitates a conscious and creative society that is both highly motivated and well equipped to address the complexity of twenty-first-century challenges.
To take the reader on that journey, this book will follow a very particular structure. To begin, we need to understand that in different societies and at different times, polymaths have always existed and indeed were some of the most influential figures in world history, instrumental in shaping the modern world. This is particularly important, as today we live in a highly specialised society which discourages (almost suppresses) the polymath, as well as any memory of her existence. While this status quo suits a select few (who are happy to divide and conquer by using specialisation as a tool of control), it comes at the expense of human fulfilment, intellectual freedom and societal progress.
Most importantly, sapiens will simply vanish unless we cultivate the mind in a way that makes us indispensable to Project Earth. With machine intelligence and the so-called technological singularity looming (not to mention nuclear, environmental and economic catastrophes that are more imminent), the world has little choice but to see a revival of the polymath, as it is only this species of multifaceted, complex, creative, versatile and inimitable human that will have any value or relevance in a highly complex, automated, super-intelligent future.
So what to do? First, we must all recondition our minds to be able to think and operate like the polymath, adopting the timeless traits and methods demonstrated by countless polymaths throughout history. We must then identify those polymaths still living to seek out lessons on how to unleash our own polymathic potential and resist the hyperspecialisation forced upon us by the system.
Finally, we must seek to change the system itself — its prevailing culture, educational curricula and pedagogy, social structures, institutions, work environment and indeed its general worldview — and replace it with one that breeds and encourages polymathic minds and ushers in a new global generation of polymaths. It is only these optimally functioning, highly creative, self-actualised minds that can take stewardship of the future and steer humanity towards a progressive tomorrow. It requires nothing less than a revolution that is both cognitive and cultural; the following chapters aim to awaken your consciousness, so that you, too, might join it.
Let us be clear from the start: polymaths are not members of an exclusive club, order or society — every human has the potential to become one. In fact, ‘becoming’ is perhaps less accurate than ‘reverting.’ We are all inherently multifaceted beings and clearly demonstrate this disposition during childhood; whether or not we remain that way into adulthood is determined by a cornucopia of cultural, educational, political and economic influences. So for the individual, to be a polymath is in essence to be true to your primordial self; it is to unlock the glimmering potential of an otherwise slumbering mind. The first part of that process is to compute and internalise a fundamental fact: that polymaths are a timeless people.
Chapter 2
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A Timeless People
The polymath is as old as the Homo sapiens himself. The capricious nature of early human life, in which human knowledge was limited yet the challenges and opportunities so great, would have demanded exceptional versatility and creativity. Zoologist and ethnologist Desmond Morris, in his popular book The Naked Ape, confirmed that the human is by nature the most non-specialised, adaptive, opportunistic animal of all. So it’s not surprising that the leading world historian Felipe Fernández-Armesto postulated that ‘the further b
ack you go the more polymathy there was, because, until fairly recently sub-specie aeternitatis, domains were undefined and expertise in one field would not have inhibited interest in another . . . an expert stargazer could be a healer or hunter or whatever he or she seemed apt for.’
In such early societies, most humans would have made it their business to become ‘practical generalists’ — that is, to acquire a wide range of knowledge and skills which had a practical value for their survival. This often meant that one person would have the knowledge of a botanist or physician (to know which plants harm, heal or are edible), the skills of a hunter (to provide for themselves and their families), the creativity of an architect or engineer (building a safe house or shelter on the correct terrain using the right materials) and the mind of an artist (to entertain and enlighten his family or community through games, shows and visual artwork). There was no division of labour — everyone was everything they could be.
Of course, everyone had his or her particular strengths and inclinations, which were recognised, encouraged and drawn upon for the sake of the family, community or tribe. A functionalist society did inevitably develop. But there is no evidence of a culture of lifelong micro-specialisation. Moving on from traditional societies, the polymath was integral to the creation of the early civilisations and the resultant ‘high culture’ responsible for the great artistic and scientific accomplishments of ancient history.
Considering great ancient edifices such as the pyramids of Egypt and Central America, the ziggurats (staged tower temples) of Iraq, the palace of Knossos in Crete, the fortress at Mycenae in mainland Greece and the grid-planned cities of Harappa and Mohenjo-daro on the Indus, popular writer and historical investigator Graham Hancock believes that the great monuments built during these times are in themselves evidence that the architects were polymaths:
If you look at the achievements of the Ancients, you will find that only polymaths could have created them. Even if we don’t have biographies of the individuals concerned, we can deduce from their handiwork that these were not a team of narrow specialists but rather a group of people that were multiply able in many different disciplines.
There’s no better example of this than Imhotep, the architect of the step pyramid at Saqqara and the first of the historically recorded polymaths. Most historians agree Imhotep was a contemporary of the legendary King Djoser (probably the best known pharaoh of Egypt’s Third Dynasty). Imhotep was a commoner who received a relatively liberal education and according to his biographer ‘grew up an erudite, versatile man, a sort of Aristotelian genius, who took all knowledge for his province.’ His genius, it seems, was quickly identified and rewarded as he rose up the ranks and eventually gained the attention of King Djoser himself. It was this close relationship with the king that allowed Imhotep both the flexibility and resources to be able to explore the diversity of his interests and exhibit the multitude of his talents.
Impressed by his potential, Djoser appointed Imhotep as his trusted minister, or vizier. It was in this role that he flourished most, involving as it did a variety of cross-disciplinary duties. His jurisdiction ‘extended over the various departments of state,’ including ‘the Judiciary, the Treasury, War (Army and Navy), the Interior, Agriculture, and the General Executive.’ It was a sort of twenty-first-century prime ministerial or chief executive role, and there are many examples given by historians of Imhotep’s skilled statesmanship in areas of economy, foreign relations and public engagement.
Imhotep’s newly found status and power allowed him to pursue activities beyond his conventional stately duties. His polymathic urge pushed him towards his greatest talents: architecture, medicine, spirituality, science, poetry and philosophy. As an engineer and architect, Imhotep made some phenomenal breakthroughs. With his works fast appearing around the region, Imhotep became known for being one of the first to use columns in his buildings. His impressive ability to design, compose and work with stone (he had built many buildings around the region of Saqqara) won him an ambitious project to design the Saqqara step pyramid for King Djoser. This provided Imhotep with the opportunity to display his abilities not only as an architect, but also as a sculptor, astronomer and inventor. He designed the Djoser Pyramid to be the world’s first completely stone-dressed building of such magnitude. The result was a staggering 200-foot-tall stone pyramid which revolutionised the architectural world of the time and set a precedent for successive Egyptian dynasties. Furthermore, it is considered by researchers such as Robert Bauval as ‘an astronomical “manual” in stone’ for its hidden celestial alignments.
As a physician, Imhotep’s achievements are recognised as being equally, if not more, groundbreaking. He is known to have identified and cured over 200 diseases and written numerous treatises on medicine. He is credited with the invention of the papyrus scroll and has been identified as the author of what would become known as the Edwin Smith papyrus — a medical treatise remarkable for being uncharacteristically devoid of supernatural notions, and which contains a series of landmark anatomical observations, ailments and cures, including the use of honey for wounds and the use of raw meat to stop bleeding. Imhotep’s reputation as a skilled and innovative physician played an instrumental role in earning him his demigod status for centuries after his death. Physician Sir William Osler said it was Imhotep who was the real ‘Father of Medicine . . . the first figure of a physician to stand out clearly from the mists of antiquity.’ Imhotep’s legacy in the medical profession can be seen in the origins of the Hippocratic oath (an oath taken by all physicians upon practising) in which it refers to Asclepius — the god that the Greeks associated with Imhotep — as a god to be sworn by.
Beyond this, Imhotep played an important role as chief lector priest (a priest of the higher class) with permanent duties and spiritual engagements such as sacrificial ceremonies and mummy funeral processions. He often represented the king (the ultimate high priest of the kingdom) at events, a position he could only have been elevated to if in possession of the appropriate skills and respect. Imhotep also produced works in philosophy and poetry. His ideas were famously referred to in poems such as ‘I have heard the words of Imhotep and Hordedef with whose discourses men speak so much’ and he is accredited with various proverbs, including the famous ‘Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.’ The rareness of such diverse overachievement seems to have overwhelmed the people of his time — who perhaps saw this as an indication of his divinity — and he became the only commoner ever to be elevated to divine status and to be depicted as part of the pharaoh’s statue.
As a practising physician, architect and astronomer who also made tremendous contributions to Egyptian society and culture as a priest, inventor, poet, philosopher and statesman, Imhotep was one of the first recorded polymaths. His official titles according to the inscription of his tomb include:
Chancellor of the King of Egypt, Doctor, First in line after the King of Upper Egypt, Administrator of the Great Palace, Hereditary Nobleman, High Priest of Heliopolis, Builder, Chief Carpenter, Chief Sculptor, and Maker of Vases in Chief.
Patronage
Like Imhotep, polymaths have, in most cases throughout history, had a platform — namely in the form of a social or professional position — which provided them with opportunities to explore and contribute to multiple fields. Their job intrinsically allowed (or sometimes required) them to be polymathic. A typical example of such a platform that has existed for much of social history is the position of the courtier. These were intellectuals and artists who acted as advisers, administrators or entertainers at the royal courts. Not only did a vibrant and flamboyant court attract polymaths, but it also created an atmosphere that actively fostered and encouraged the multitalented. Given important positions in office, these courtiers relied upon the patronage of their monarch. Their all-round brilliance was either an innate attribute which was favoured and encouraged by the patron, or was fortuitously unleashed through the arbitrary commissioning of var
ious projects relating to different fields.
In Western history, the archetype of such court culture existed in Renaissance Italy. Here, Baldassare Castiglione in his Book of the Courtier outlined the ideal and status of the ‘perfect courtier’: ‘He [the courtier] will have the knowledge and ability to serve them [their princes] in every reasonable thing.’ Importantly, royal patrons were not afraid to commission the same individual for various unrelated tasks, as trust in the overall ability of the individual was more important to them than ‘efficiency,’ ‘specialisation’ or the division of labour. In this context, it was the position of the courtier that allowed the polymath to thrive at the heart of the establishment.
This was the case with the man considered to be the world’s most celebrated polymath: Leonardo da Vinci. This great maestro began as a painting and engineering apprentice at a Florentine guild, and went on to become one of the foremost practitioners in both fields. At least two of his paintings — Mona Lisa and The Last Supper — are considered among the greatest masterpieces of all time. Other works, such as the Virgin at the Rocks and the more recently attributed Salvator Mundi, painted in his signature sfumato style, are also hailed by art critics as paintings that define Renaissance art. As a sculptor, he designed and built the famous but ill-fated Sforza Horse. He also served as a royal stage and costume designer, an event organizer and interior designer and was active during at least two royal weddings. He was named ‘family architect and general engineer’ for Cesare Borgia and designed Mario de Guiscardi’s suburban villa. During the siege of Pisa he made topographical sketches, designs for military machines and fortifications for the Signoria of Florence and the Lord of Piombino and also worked as a military engineer for the Venetian Republic during its attempts to resist Ottoman invasion.
