The Art of Great Things is about, well, greatness. But it’s occurred to me on more than one occasion that greatness is not an easy thing to define.
Off the top of my head, I would say that greatness requires impact. What we accomplish cannot be called great unless it makes a difference in the world.
But again, impact means different things to different people. I might measure impact in terms of size: how many people have my accomplishments helped or hurt? You might measure impact in terms of intimacy: how closely have you mentored one child? How much support have you given to your wife or husband or friend? Can we both be right?
Greatness also implies legacy. A person isn’t great unless she’s remembered long after she’s gone. An accomplishment isn’t great unless its echoes are heard long after the moment of glory has passed.
But who will do the remembering? That’s another personal question. Your family? A single grateful child? A nation? The world? The Nobel Prize Committee?
Does it matter to you if strangers know your name? Or is the love of a small circle of friends more important?
It comes down to this: who do you want to impact – and who will remember you when you’re gone?
And yet, perhaps greatness isn’t really about impact or legacy at all. Perhaps greatness is not something other people see in us, but something we identify in ourselves, as many artists seem to profess: “A great accomplishment is one that I myself am satisfied with.” Is that true? Or is it hopelessly narcissistic for social beings like us?
Impact – legacy – self. Do you think these answer the question of greatness? How would you define great? Who, in your opinion, embodies greatness?
After all, these are but words – what matters is the concept, the connection, the value that these words represent. That’s what I’d like you to share.
Let’s discuss.
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
I think impact and legacy are a byproduct of greatness rather then an element of it. We are attracted to great works of art, literature, philosophy and devotion because they were done right not because they were done to be great. This innocents of motive may be one of the intrinsic properties of greatness.
Innocence of motive – that's an interesting idea, Quinn. I think you're on
to something with the idea that works of art, literature, etc. become great
because they were “done right” – but I think that's only part of the
equation. How do we decide whether or not a work is done right? And would we
consider such works great if they had never come into the public eye? Would
we even know about them?
Maybe, and I am just thinking out loud hear, perhaps things that are truly great spark something in those who see them. Once that spark is struck we want to share the source of the spark. So the things that are great are brought to public attention because of the reaction the inspire in those who see them.
I think impact and legacy are a byproduct of greatness rather then an element of it. We are attracted to great works of art, literature, philosophy and devotion because they were done right not because they were done to be great. This innocents of motive may be one of the intrinsic properties of greatness.
Innocence of motive – that's an interesting idea, Quinn. I think you're on
to something with the idea that works of art, literature, etc. become great
because they were “done right” – but I think that's only part of the
equation. How do we decide whether or not a work is done right? And would we
consider such works great if they had never come into the public eye? Would
we even know about them?
Maybe, and I am just thinking out loud hear, perhaps things that are truly great spark something in those who see them. Once that spark is struck we want to share the source of the spark. So the things that are great are brought to public attention because of the reaction the inspire in those who see them.
Well, the great thing about greatness (haha) is that it can't be easily defined or categorized. It is also not universally liked and cherished. Just like a great work of art. If we could easily define greatness, then it wouldn't be so great right? I know that's probably a little confusing but its got me thinking.
I don't know if you've read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, but it goes down a similar path with regards to “quality.” Quality can't be defined, so how do we know it even exists. Maybe the same could be said of “greatness”?
Jeffrey, you've really got me thinking about this. We are capable of great things, others remember and sometimes honor the great things done (Remembrance Day here in the Great White North comes to mind but there are plenty of examples found around the world). Our ability to do great things is not a question. We know great things have been, can be, and will be done. And at the same time, greatness can be ravaged by time, forgotten, scorned, ignored.
“I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert….”
(Trust an English major to relate this to a poem.)
Percy Bysshe Shelley's poem “Ozymandias” speaks of greatness – the Pharaoh's narcissistic vision of himself and his works (even though Shelley's history and description are, we'll say, liberal and slightly inaccurate). The idea behind the poem is that nothing lasts forever, not even the great works of great kings. The irony is that in writing the poem, Shelley contributes to the Pharaoh's greatness. It's all suddenly starting to get a little paradoxical.
A conundrum of sorts to consider: Robert Oppenheimer and his team at Los Alamos did some great work, they achieved their objectives and goals and did their work right. Their legacy lives on today and we remember them quite well. But was their achievement truly great? Were they fully aware and cognizant of what the outcomes of their work would be? Did anyone know what the result was going to be? Oppenheimer, at least, was to one extent: “Behold, I become death, the Destroyer of worlds.” And yet they carried on.
What then are we do with ourselves in achieving our greatness? Do we build great works to have them turn to dust before a Shelley of the future resurrects them? How do we know that what we're doing is great? I think, for me, greatness is something found inside, as you say, “something we identify in ourselves.” I find the notion of “done right” and “innocence of motive” appealing. And if others think it's great, that's alright, too.
English majors unite! “Ozymandias” happens to be one of my favorite poems too.
You make an interesting point when talking about Oppenheimer; I'd phrase the question as: Is it possible to be great, but not good? I think so, but it depends again on how you define greatness. If you define greatness in terms of impact on the world, then a person could be greatly good or greatly evil.
And if greatness is something we identify within ourselves, by what standards do we judge it?
True, greatness is hard to define, and that may indeed be part of its appeal. But I think the quest to define greatness, to understand what it is, to understand what to admire and what to condemn – that's something worthwhile.
I tend to think that greatness is connected to the way people will remember me. If you think about it, the only people who have really impacted the world are those that have done something to affect many people. Everybody knows the great historical figures (Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, etc.) that are in no way related to us and I obviously did not know personally. However, I can tell you next to nothing about my great-grandfather, a person I am intimately related to. We will only live on through our works.