strange behaviors

Cool doings from the natural and human worlds

  • Richard Conniff

  • Reviews for Richard Conniff’s Books

    Every Creeping Thing: True Tales of Faintly Repulsive Wildlife: “Conniff is a splendid writer–fresh, clear, uncondescending, and with never a false step; one can’t resist quoting him.” (NY Times Book Review)

    The Species Seekers:  Heroes, Fools, and the Mad Pursuit of Life on Earth by Richard Conniff is “a swashbuckling romp” that “brilliantly evokes that just-before Darwin era” (BBC Focus) and “an enduring story bursting at the seams with intriguing, fantastical and disturbing anecdotes” (New Scientist). “This beautifully written book has the verve of an adventure story” (Wall St. Journal)

    Swimming with Piranhas at Feeding Time by Richard Conniff  is “Hilariously informative…This book will remind you why you always wanted to be a naturalist.” (Outside magazine) “Field naturalist Conniff’s animal adventures … are so amusing and full color that they burst right off the page …  a quick and intensely pleasurable read.” (Seed magazine) “Conniff’s poetic accounts of giraffes drifting past like sail boats, and his feeble attempts to educate Vervet monkeys on the wonders of tissue paper will leave your heart and sides aching.  An excellent read.” (BBC Focus magazine)

  • Wall of the Dead

  • Categories

  • Advertisements

Laying Down The Law

Posted by Richard Conniff on October 8, 2007

I like to collect gratuitous opinions served up as laws of social behavior. Murphy’s Law (“If anything can go wrong, it will”) is the most famous example. But the obscure ones are more fun. Say, for instance, that someone in an argument starts to foam at the mouth. You mildly remark, “What you’re saying is a perfect instance of Benford’s Law of Controversy,” and it will take a Google search for the poor sap him to figure out that you have insulted him: Benford’s Law states that passion in any argument is inversely proportional to the amount of real information advanced.

Godwin’s Law is also handy. It holds that the longer an argument drags on, the likelier someone will stoop to a Hitler or Nazi analogy. And in common practice, when a rival tries it (other than in appropriate contexts like genocide), you have only to say “Godwin’s law,” and a trapdoor falls open, plunging him into a pool of hungry crocodiles. Sweet, no?

Sweeter still, these little rules allow us to sound intellectual without necessarily having to do any homework. That’s why people are always citing the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. Well, it’s also the reason they almost always get it wrong. The Uncertainty Principle actually has to do with physics, and let’s just say that if you read it, your head will explode. So what’s that nice idea about how observation inevitably alters the thing being observed? That’s “the observer effect.” But nobody calls it that because the absence of a tag like Heisenberg means it lacks smartypants heft. What we really need is the Heisenberg Probability Principle, which states that anybody mentioning Heisenberg is probably a pompous twit. (And may I be the first to plead guilty as charged?)

Well, o.k., it’s not just about the pleasures of intellectual one-upmanship. Some of these rules actually hold precious wisdom. Hegel’s Paradox, for instance, says, “Man learns from history that man learns nothing from history.” And Clarke’s First Law, coined by science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke, nails the tricky nature of wisdom: “When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible he is almost certainly wrong.”

Once in Ireland, I ran across a statement by a nineteenth-century bishop that struck me as particularly profound: “It is almost impossible to exaggerate the complete unimportance of almost everything.” I’ve never been able to track down the source (but that’s unimportant). In any case, Sturgeon’s Revelation, named after science fiction writer Theodore Sturgeon, gives the same idea a nice modern spin: “Ninety percent of everything is crud.”

The workplace has spawned more than its share of such obiter dicta (not to mention crud.) Thus the Dilbert Principle says, “The most ineffective workers are systematically moved to the place where they can do the least damage: management.” But Joy’s Law, coined by Sun Microsystems co-founder Bill Joy, also captures every manager’s sinking sense of despair: “No matter who you are, most of the smartest people work for someone else.” Harried tech workers like to trot out Brooks’s Law, from software engineer Frederick P. Brooks: “Adding manpower to a late software project makes it later.” Or as Brooks also put it, “The bearing of a child takes nine months, no matter how many women are assigned.”

Impatient bosses often strike back with Parkinson’s Law, which states that “work expands to fill the time allotted for its completion.” (“Come on, I know you can get that baby done in eight …”) In fact, my annoying editor just showed up at the door to remind me that time’s up.

”Don’t be such a deadline Nazi,” I snapped.

“Godwin’s Law,” he replied.

Note: This article of mine appears on the back page of the October Smithsonian:


One Response to “Laying Down The Law”

  1. Len said

    Back in the ’80s, I thought of something I called “Len’s 1st Law of Economics.” It goes like this:

    Expenditure rises to overtake income.

    There is, as yet, no second law.

    Well, about a year-and-a-half ago, I was thinking about posting this aphorism on my blog in order to lay claim to it permanently, so I googled the phrase exactly. I got one hit. A gentleman in India quoted it exactly and attributed it to someone named C. Northcote Parkinson. Mr Parkinson was a British bureaucrat and author who is best known for his formulation “work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.”

    Now, I’ll grant you that I may have heard of Mr Parkinson at one time or another–his “law” gets lumped in with the Peter Principle and other such things– but I’ve never read any of his books or anything about him until I looked him up on Wikipedia. Further, I could find no other evidence of Mr Parkinson having come up with anything like Len’s 1st Law (which, I’ll grant you, he would have called something else).

    At the risk of sounding like Eric Von Daniken, is it possible that my ancient wheeze got passed around until it not only reached the other side of the globe, but had the name of someone slightly more famous than me attached to it? Could be! Could be!

    In fact, somebody could probably come up with a law to explain this phenomenon.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s