Indeed, it hooks the interests when experts simplify the content & still deliver substantive information. Thanks for prof. Richard Feynman’s talks. Goodness, so good!
I really liked the philosophy of Jack Schultz when he was head of the Bond Life Science Center. He made the scientists learn how to communicate their research to the public and I think added a required course in science communications to the Ph.D. program. In science you are roundly criticized if you are not exact in your writing and explanations, but the type of language that is required to communicate to your peers doesn't work when talking to the Rotary club, where the audience needs analogies that they can relate to, regardless of the precision.
Even the time value of money has its practical caveats--not all things will cost more in the future. Money and its equivalents are subject to all sort of other factors (we are just lucky here in the US to have a stable monetary system).
With great profs like Feynman (and you John), you are on the other side of complexity. Many others have not learned their field well enough to get to the other side. I think I am just now getting to the point that I understand computer systems well enough to explain them clearly. Here is a post that describes what I mean: https://www.jonkolko.com/writing/notes/simplicity-on-the-other-side-of-complexity
From the Post: "Frank later taught me a basic principle that I remember and reteach to my students. He called it "simplicity on the other side of complexity." Here's how he explained it.
Draw a basic bellcurve. From left to right is understanding, and up and down is complexity. At the left of the diagram, and at the beginning of taking on a new complex problem, you are blissfully naïve. Your descriptions of a topic are overly simplistic and reductive. They are based on assumptions, stacked on top of guesses, and are likely wrong and incomplete. You don't know what you don't know, and so when you talk about things with other people, you aren't able to fully engage.
To move to the right on the diagram, you start to experience things and learn. Your knowledge and insight grows as you become more and more of an expert. You see things from different perspectives, and you start to form an integrative whole. As you peak in the middle of the curve, you see the meaning in the data, and you've formed your own opinion about it. This means that, to some extent, you own the information—it's meaningful to you and so you can act on it.
But you can't necessarily communicate that information. You've integrated it for you, but that doesn't mean you've distilled it down to a meaningful, concise story for someone else, someone still at the left side of the curve. And as Frank described, the top of the curve is the unfortunate place where people typically try to explain complex ideas. Because they have all of the data, they think other people need all of the data, and so they drop a massive document or spreadsheet on everyone else. Maybe they orate an endless meeting. Often, the audience leaves more confused than when they started.
But keep moving to the right on the simplicity curve. Continue to experience things, to find that meaning in the data, and to revise and recast your opinion. Because at the right of the curve is simplicity, again. This is simplicity on the other side of complexity. It's where you've not only been able to synthesize the content into your own worldview, but you've discerned the essence of the idea in such a simple, direct way that you can communicate it to other people. And you can communicate it in a way that people with little or no knowledge of the subject matter can then themselves move along their curve, moving to the right.
The place you land on the right—the simplicity on the other side of complexity—is often super obvious in retrospect. That's sort of the point: it's made obvious to others because you did the heavy lifting of getting through the mess."
Indeed, it hooks the interests when experts simplify the content & still deliver substantive information. Thanks for prof. Richard Feynman’s talks. Goodness, so good!
I really liked the philosophy of Jack Schultz when he was head of the Bond Life Science Center. He made the scientists learn how to communicate their research to the public and I think added a required course in science communications to the Ph.D. program. In science you are roundly criticized if you are not exact in your writing and explanations, but the type of language that is required to communicate to your peers doesn't work when talking to the Rotary club, where the audience needs analogies that they can relate to, regardless of the precision.
Even the time value of money has its practical caveats--not all things will cost more in the future. Money and its equivalents are subject to all sort of other factors (we are just lucky here in the US to have a stable monetary system).
With great profs like Feynman (and you John), you are on the other side of complexity. Many others have not learned their field well enough to get to the other side. I think I am just now getting to the point that I understand computer systems well enough to explain them clearly. Here is a post that describes what I mean: https://www.jonkolko.com/writing/notes/simplicity-on-the-other-side-of-complexity
From the Post: "Frank later taught me a basic principle that I remember and reteach to my students. He called it "simplicity on the other side of complexity." Here's how he explained it.
Draw a basic bellcurve. From left to right is understanding, and up and down is complexity. At the left of the diagram, and at the beginning of taking on a new complex problem, you are blissfully naïve. Your descriptions of a topic are overly simplistic and reductive. They are based on assumptions, stacked on top of guesses, and are likely wrong and incomplete. You don't know what you don't know, and so when you talk about things with other people, you aren't able to fully engage.
To move to the right on the diagram, you start to experience things and learn. Your knowledge and insight grows as you become more and more of an expert. You see things from different perspectives, and you start to form an integrative whole. As you peak in the middle of the curve, you see the meaning in the data, and you've formed your own opinion about it. This means that, to some extent, you own the information—it's meaningful to you and so you can act on it.
But you can't necessarily communicate that information. You've integrated it for you, but that doesn't mean you've distilled it down to a meaningful, concise story for someone else, someone still at the left side of the curve. And as Frank described, the top of the curve is the unfortunate place where people typically try to explain complex ideas. Because they have all of the data, they think other people need all of the data, and so they drop a massive document or spreadsheet on everyone else. Maybe they orate an endless meeting. Often, the audience leaves more confused than when they started.
But keep moving to the right on the simplicity curve. Continue to experience things, to find that meaning in the data, and to revise and recast your opinion. Because at the right of the curve is simplicity, again. This is simplicity on the other side of complexity. It's where you've not only been able to synthesize the content into your own worldview, but you've discerned the essence of the idea in such a simple, direct way that you can communicate it to other people. And you can communicate it in a way that people with little or no knowledge of the subject matter can then themselves move along their curve, moving to the right.
The place you land on the right—the simplicity on the other side of complexity—is often super obvious in retrospect. That's sort of the point: it's made obvious to others because you did the heavy lifting of getting through the mess."
A great comment! I love the idea of simplicity on the other side of complexity. Sounds like Jack Schultz was a fan.