On pens and power

Everyone knows that "the pen is mightier than the sword." This is, however, not true...or at least not the whole truth.

The difference between the sword and the pen is not quantitative (the amount of power of each); it is qualitative (the type of power). Pens may grant us power, but that is not what they're about. "The pen is mightier than the sword" implies that the only advantage that pens give us is increased strength, when really, the pen (and writing) gives us so much more. I remember childhood discussions about this phrase, in which we concluded that the greater strength of the pen was contained within judicial death sentences (and whatever a "license to kill" might look like), but that is not the strength of the pen. A more sophisticated view of the greater strength of the pen highlights the pen's utility in written arguments; changing minds, crushing opponents. And this, too, is not quite right.

The "strength" of the pen is not its value as a combative weapon -- to kill, or to crush your opponents in a debate. While these qualities certainly lie, latent, within the Bic ballpoint on your desk, these are not the greatest features that it has. The pen, to me, is about expression -- poetry, describing a sunset, emotion. Novels, fiction and non-fic, big ideas. These things are on an entirely different axis than the "might" of arms, and considering only the relative strength or weakness of various tools available to us can blind us, tragically, to the greater number of better uses for the humble pen.

I think that this misconception about pens and power is related to society's approach to strength in general. I think we all, individually and as a society, focus far too much on strength. But this wider discussion is, perhaps, a topic for another day.

Einstein's paper clip

There's a story that I've heard about Albert Einstein that contains a very powerful message and parable.

Google tells me that the story comes from Ernst Straus, “Memoir,” in A.P. French, ed., Einstein: A Centenary Volume, 1979. The version of the story told here goes as follows:

We [Einstein and Ernst Straus] had finished the preparation of a paper and were looking for a paper clip. After opening a lot of drawers we finally found one which turned out to be too badly bent for use. So we were looking for a tool to straighten it. Opening a lot more drawers we came upon a whole box of unused paper clips. Einstein immediately started to shape one of them into a tool to straighten the bent one. When asked what he was doing, he said, ‘Once I am set on a goal, it becomes difficult to deflect me.’

‘Once I am set on a goal, it becomes difficult to deflect me.’ I think about this story every once in a while, especially when I encounter a roadblock en route to a larger goal. Remembering this story serves as my cue to reconsider the bigger picture — is this the most efficient path to take? Or was my attention focused solely on the first path that I saw, blinding me to better options?

When working toward a goal, it's good for us to pause and reconsider if we're focusing on the right things. Are we looking for a usable paper clip? Or are we trying only on bending the first paper clip back into shape?