Complexity = Stupidity
I can find it convincing the idea that such elite studies would reach such important conclusions: Â
Researchers asked seventy-one Stanford undergraduates to evaluate various writing samples; the lexicon in the samples was systematically varied, with each judge getting either a “moderately complex” or a “highly complex” version of each sample. (The researchers created the highly complex versions by replacing every noun, verb, and adjective with the longest possible synonym.) The highly complex samples may have made for muddy reading, but the effect they had on readers is clear: as complexity increased, the judges' estimation of the author's intelligence declined.
The same issue of the Atlantic Monthly, mentions this:
[Dr. Neil Clark] Warren is a big proponent of what he likes to call “folksy wisdom.” One look at the shelves in his office confirms this. “I've been reading this little book about the Muppets–you know, Jim Henson,” he said. “And I've been reading another book about Mister Rogers. I mean, Mister Rogers was brilliant beyond belief! He got a hold of concepts so thoroughly that he could transmit them to six-year-old kids! Do you know how much you have to get a hold of a concept to transmit it simply? His idea of simple-but-profound has had a profound influence on me.” . . .
He leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mister Rogers and Jim Henson,” Warren continued, “they got a hold of the deep things of life and were able to put them out there. So that's what we want to do with our products. We want to put them out there in a way that you'd say, 'This is common sense. This seems right, this seems like it would work.'”
Dr. Warren is right, and I honestly believe the results of the Stanford researchers. Complexity often means stupidity. Complexity, in fact, is often a mask for stupidity, or at least for a lack of competence. The pristine thinkers--Aristotle, Aquinas, Pascal--aren't hard to read. They might be voluminous, but not hard.
People occasionally tell me that they don't understand things on my blog. Most of them mean it as a compliment (in the sense that the subject matter is supposedly deep), but it's a compliment that makes me wince. If a post is too deep for the average reader, either (i) I'm not trying real hard (which happens occasionally, since blogging is a hurried type of writing that doesn't always leave time for adequate reflection and clear prose), or (ii) I don't grasp the subject real well (which also happens, since some of my posts deal with subjects I'm still exploring).
(Aside: For younger readers' edification:Â My first sentence above should read, "I find this convincing")
