I don’t know if it’s true, but the tale of how, commanding a Russia submarine during the Cuban Missile Crisis, one Vasily Arkhipov refused to press the nuclear button, always gives me a pleasurable shiver. If nothing else, the story gives us the sense that individuals can make a difference. And the central idea of this book that the title, Cleopatra’s Nose, points at is that there is:
…not just the randomness of history, but a specific kind of randomness. Namely, the randomness caused by individuals.
The book starts with a rather brisk summary of why physical science is full of unlikely coincidences and logical curiosities, but, as I say, to me it is the human aspect that is more intriguing. When Jakob Andreas Sjölander Johansson writes that events like the disagreement on the submarine rule world history, it resonates more than to talk of the inscrutable randomness of the universe.
Philosophically, though, this book is a bit of a ramble. For exampe, in a war, it is not true that a surprise attack will seem to the victim as "random" – rather it is a "surprise". Conversely, in physics, there is more randomness than suggested here: an element of randomness in even the most everyday things. Johansson doesn't mention it, but the orbits of the planets around the sun are chaotic, as the gravitational pulls of moons and planets can potentially perturb each other - causing (for example) Mercury to hurtle towards the Sun.
“The butterfly effect could be likened to a crossroad”, writes Johansson, explaining that someone could choose to be influenced in a significant choice simply by their observation of a butterfly. But this is not the original idea. It is an interesting, a curious take, but it is not the idea. The butterfly effect is about the dynamics of the atmosphere, which are unpredictable at a certain scale. Yet (like the circling of the planets), there is a uniformity. Which is why, when I wave my hand in the air, I really do not need to worry about causing a tidal wave in the Atlantic. Or, as Johansson puts it, the butterfly can change the weather, but not the climate.
On the other hand, a feature of the book is that it does outline just why science is not quite as simple, not quite as cut and dried, as the popular summaries would have it. To show this, the illustrations offered are varied and thought-provoking - like the tale of the Codex Argenteus, the “Silver Bible”) - but the assertions are sometimes too easy. “We will always find that 2 + 2 adds up to 4”, says Johansson, which indeed is something of a standard claim - but the certainty is only that of tautology - saying the same thing twice, and true by definition. Or consider this claim in the book: “The third reason why societies are less vulnerable than individuals to randomness is that larger entities usually consist of smaller parts, and that the whole can survive without these parts.” If it were this easy, then there would be no ‘butterfly effect’. Undaunted, Johansson goes on to draw grand, political conclusions from his argument, saying: “Thus, divisions within a society, between subgroups, classes, cities, regions, corporations, and various levels of government, provides (sic) some protection against randomness.”
The example of a path through a forest is more appealing. At first, the line of the path is rather random. But over time “it is easier to walk where others have gone before” and eventually, a trail emerges, and then a road, maybe with bridges.
Thus, randomness often destroys itself and gives rise to order in the long term.
Later, however, we are told that while people following each other is usually a good idea, it becomes a problem “if everyone does so”. I'm not sure what Johansson had in mind when he wrote this, but it’s a garbled thought. Presumably, the problem is people following each other off the cliff-edge – like lemmings, as he also says. If everyone follows good advice, where is the problem?
A related confusion is over the merits of large and small groups.
The more radical a group is, the smaller it is likely to be – fortunately, I might add. And the larger a group is, the more moderate it is likely to be.
I can guess what the author means, but history offers us the example of the Nazis, or the Bolsheviks, or the Cultural Revolution in China, all very large groups, with the radicalism increasing as they crushed rivals. Johansson wafts away such possibilities with the observation that sometimes “a small subgroup” seizes power and abuses the larger group for its own purposes.
This is an unusual book, a thought-provoking look at randomness. But yes, at times, the content can be a bit random too.
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