A History of Dangerous Assumptions
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A History of Dangerous Assumptions

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eBook - ePub

A History of Dangerous Assumptions

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About This Book

A History of Dangerous Assumptions features over two hundred illuminating and intriguing case-studies of this fascinating subject, including some of the most disastrous assumptions ever foisted upon the human race. This book began as an experiment, to discover if acting on assumptions could be discerned through the ages. In fact, this matter of assuming… of jumping to conclusions… of lacking sufficient evidence… of taking things for granted… seems to have caused far more problems for civilisation than expected. From Hannibal's crossing of the Alps, to Bonaparte's march on Moscow; from the hubris of Icarus and Phaeton, to the toppling towers of the Tay Bridge; from the maddening phantoms of a Northwest Passage, to the sinking of the Titanic; from the Schlieffen Plan of the First World War, to the creation of assumptions in the approach to D-Day; from Jean-Jacques Rousseau to Sherlock Holmes, here lies a highly contrasted trove of stories, episodes and anecdotes, their common link the mysterious mischief of assumption.

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Information

Publisher
Unicorn
Year
2021
ISBN
9781914414763
Subtopic
Insurance
PART ONE

CHRONOLOGICAL

ASSUMPTION IN ANCIENT GREECE To the Greeks the term hubris evolved to mean an insolent pride and presumption towards the gods, a wrongful action against the divine order. The bearer, and victim, of hubris – rich or powerful or over-successful – experienced an excessive self-confidence and a delusion of god-like grandeur. He, or she, might easily succumb to the mixed motives of fawning advisors. Later, this might develop into suspicion and mistrust of others.
Hubris is important in this history because it is a general assumption of greater status than is merited, but it’s also a perilous state of mind that is vulnerable to the making of further assumptions – and in situations where the stakes can be particularly high.
The sudden reversal of fortune – the turning point – that sooner or later follows hubris was termed peripeteia (Gk. peri around, peteia falling), when Fate catches up, and things come crashing down around you.
The final downfall of the victim of hubris was made manifest by the righteous indignation of the goddess of retribution, Nemesis (Gk. nemo give what is due, in other words ‘had it coming to them’). The indignation was felt at the breaching of limits; even the gods had to respect the boundaries drawn by the Fates. Nemesis brings down all immoderate good fortune, checks the presumption that attends it, and is the punisher of extraordinary crimes.
In Greek tragedy the refrain ‘Too late I understand’ is often heard. In Rome the triumph of a general is moderated by the words ‘Remember you are mortal’, whispered in the ear of the triumphant one. But classical hubris wasn’t just a weakness of the ancient world, but a dangerous, recurring affliction that seems to be alive and well in our own days.
Some victims of classical hubris:
Arachne was a shepherd’s daughter, a gifted weaver but boastful, even to the extent of challenging the skills of Athene, the goddess of crafts as well as wisdom. Shocked and enraged by Arachne’s presumption – and the flawless quality of her work – Athene strikes her three times on the head with the shuttle. Arachne hangs herself in terror and shame, but still lives on, transformed by Athene into a spider, still weaving. The first written account of this myth was given by the poet Ovid, in exile from the reign of Augustus.
Icarus was the son of Daedalus, a highly skilled craftsman of great renown, who had built a labyrinth for King Minos of Crete. To retain the secret of its design, the King had imprisoned father and son in a tall tower. Daedalus eventually hit on a way to escape, by constructing wings from dropped bird feathers. The wings would be held together by wax – distinctly worrying I’d have thought. What sort of wax was it? No doubt a rather stronger substance than we are familiar with. But it could still be melted, so Daedalus warned his son not to fly too high, as the sun’s rays could disintegrate the wings into a cloud of floating avian plumage.
The hubris of Icarus is seen in two ways: in not respecting the advice of his father, and in becoming over-excited by his ability to fly. Soon, young Icarus was keeping dangerous dizzy company with Helios, the sun god, whose chariot surged across the sky, whose crown radiated sunlight. The boy was at an altitude far above his usual station in life. The wax melts, his wings fall away; Icarus plunges to the waves and drowns.
A not-dissimilar fate awaited Phaeton, the son of Helios, who demanded to drive the chariot for a day, but was completely unable – as his father had warned – to control the mighty steeds that pulled it. Phaeton thus subjected the earth to sudden and capricious climate disasters, as the erratic course of the sun-chariot alternately scorched or froze the unhappy lands below. Obviously this state of affairs could not be allowed to continue. Zeus struck the chariot down with a thunderbolt.
Phaeton did not survive. But, bearing in mind his reputation as the most reckless driver the world has ever known, it seems a little surprising that his name was given in the eighteenth century to a successful open carriage, and by the early automobile industry to an elegant open touring car.
Salmoneus was King of Elis and founder of the city of Salmone. He was also arrogant and presumptuous, desiring that his people should worship him as Zeus and make sacrifices to him. Good luck with that! To intensify this bizarre idea he constructed a bridge of brass that would make a sound like thunder as he drove across in his chariot. The unpleasant effect of this was heightened by the resounding boom of cauldrons trailing behind. While this appalling racket was going on, fake lightning was conjured up by the hurling of torches. Such presumption could not be tolerated and Salmoneus and the city were destroyed, most appropriately, by Zeus himself, with another of those useful thunderbolts.
And more briefly:
Cassiopeia This vain queen, the wife of King Cepheus of Ethiopia, boasts that she, and her daughter Andromeda, are more beautiful than the seanymphs, the fifty Nereids. Poseidon gets to hear of this, and punishes her hubris in a grotesque way. This is reflected in the five-star shape of the constellation that still bears her name.
Oedipus In his pride and over-confidence, swollen by his success in answering the riddle of the Sphinx and becoming thereby the saviour of Thebes, Oedipus believes that he can avoid his own fatal destiny. This had already been prophesied on his visit to Delphi, where he asked the oracle who his real parents were. But the only answer he ever received was, that he shall kill his father and marry his mother… which he did.
Tantalus abuses the hospitality of his father Zeus by his theft of ambrosia and nectar, by the theft of a golden dog, and by indulging in the taboo atrocity of eating his own son, Pelops. Tantalus is thrown down to Tartarus where he is condemned to dwell in a pool, from which he can never reach the fruits that dangle above him, nor drink of the water that sinks away at his every approach.
Odysseus displays hubris in several episodes of the Odyssey, his long return journey from Troy to Ithaca, his island home. And he had stolen from the temple of Troy the Palladion of Athene, a sacred statue. But for this act of hubris he was forgiven by the goddess of wisdom, who was his protector.

THE GARDEN OF EDEN Hubris in aspiring to rise to a higher or god-like level is associated with Adam and Eve failing to obey the command of God: that they eat not from the Tree of Knowledge.

HUBRIS AS IT APPEARS IN THE PROVERBS OF SOLOMON 16:18 Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.

THE WOODEN HORSE OF TROY, c. 1180 BC This story of trickery certainly involves a great and puzzling assumption by the city of Troy. Why did they allow the giant wooden horse, with its hidden elite of Greek warriors, to pass through the city walls? Why was there no investigation as to what might be found inside?
Well, such a very old story is likely to have evolved into a mixture of legend, myth and history. The original tale may have been factually overridden over hundreds of years of oral tradition. There are theories that the ‘horse’ may have been a battering ram, a ship or an earthquake. But as a metaphor it survives yet, and is often referred to in military history and elsewhere.
But taking the story just as we find it in Virgil and Homer, I humbly submit a possible explanation.
It would seem that King Priam and the citizenry both accepted the story of one Sinon, a cousin of Odysseus, who had been left behind by the now-departed Greeks. Sinon explained that the Greeks had had enough of the ten-year siege, and after the death of Achilles were ready to return home. And the horse? Oh, well, that was just a peace offering to the goddess Athene, in reparation for a statue stolen by Odysseus from her temple. Why was the horse so large? Well, to prevent it being taken into Troy; if it entered Troy then Athene would promote the city across Asia and Greece, explained Sinon.
At this point the Trojan priest Laocoon rushes down to the assembly of people and warns them in the strongest terms that this is all a trick of Odysseus: you fools, the Greeks will return, there are men hiding inside the horse, it is a machine to spy upon us, it will fall upon the walls, Sinon’s talk sounds just like Odysseus! Laocoon couldn’t have been clearer. Thus his famous utterance: ‘Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes’: ‘I fear the Greeks even when they are bearing gifts.’ But two sea serpents sent by Poseidon rise from the sea and fall upon the priest and his two sons, who they entwine in their coils and throttle to death.
King Priam’s daughter Cassandra, the soothsayer that can never be believed – because of the curse laid upon her by Apollo – also predicts, in the same vein as Laocoon, that the Greeks will return. And the Trojans do not believe her. The gruesome fate of Laocoon and his sons suggests that it might be unwise to act on the priest’s warning. Do then the King and populace find themselves drawn towards a coherent pleasing picture, a comforting assumption, a Troy achieving peace at last, with Athene’s support – if the offering of the horse is taken into their city? Was this warming prospect too hard to resist? Perhaps to check the contents of the horse of peace may have been to risk the disfavour of the goddess.
The horse is drawn inside the walls.
Outside the city Sinon lights a beacon at midnight to signal to distant Agamemnon that Troy will soon be open. Within the dark city the warriors leap from the horse and the gates start to creak…

XERXES THE GREAT, 480 BC The invasion of Greece by the million-strong multi-ethnic army of the Persian Empire is an historic example of great hubris. In Herodotus’ account, written some fifty years later, he mentions numerous omens of Xerxes’ hubristic state, including the presence of the untrustworthy Mardonius. Particularly bizarre was the whipping of the waters of the Hellespont, punishment for their destruction of the bridges Xerxes had constructed. Was there some symbolic value in this? Could it have been a legend arising from the frequent use of whips to force the pace of troops and engineers marching towards Greece?
At first Xerxes’ army succeeded in Greece; Athens was destroyed on his orders. What he wanted now was ‘a decisive victory’ – well, don’t they all! But such victories are not so easy to arrange. And by some trick of misinformation the Greek general Themistocles may have excited Xerxes to move too soon towards the victory he needed.
Very little seems to be known about the details of the Battle of Salamis, but what is clear is that the Persians took a risk in bringing their vastly greater fleet into the narrow twisting Straits of Salamis – just where the Greeks had been waiting for them. The high point of Xerxes’ hubris was his ordering a throne to be built on Mount Aigaleo, from where he could watch the progress of his presumed ‘victory’, and reward commanders who showed especial valour. But overcrowding in the constricted waters cramped the attack of the Persians and much of their force was neutralised. The Greeks were able to pick them off one by one, as it were.
Salamis was the sudden reversal of Xerxes’ fortune, the peripeteia. A splendid canvas of this throne of hubris was painted by Wilhelm von Kaulbach in the nineteenth century: The Wrath of Xerxes, a rare depiction of a great assumption exploding in full view.
After this defeat Xerxes retreated to the north and back across the Hellespont, before the Greeks could close it.

SUN-TZU, FIFTH CENTURY BC The Art of War by the Chinese general Sun-tzu is one of the most highly respected books ever written. His insights are still admired and used today. He proposed that it is possible to win a battle before you have to fight it, and that real victory lies in not having to fight at all.
The last chapter of The Art of War deals with intelligence matters. He declares that military success is dependent on knowledge of yourself, your aims and your resources, and knowledge of the enemy, his aims and resources. Without that knowledge, you are left guessing and making dubious assumptions.
Useful knowledge of such crucial matters can only be obtained from other men. Thus intelligence through spying is essential. There are five types of spy, who must all be working at the same time to confuse the enemy with an incomprehensible body of information.
Sun-tzu’s conclusion is that ‘All warfare is based on deception.’ Spying is so important that the cleverest minds of the army must be employed and paid well.
Nevertheless, we shall encounter in later centuries dismal campaigning into which the clear rays of Sun-tzu’s advice have been unable to penetrate, hubristic commanders being deaf to advice, and liable to lose any clear understanding of themselves, let alone of the enemy.
In warfare, then, there is a great need to know the assumptions of your enemy, and to be alert to assumptions in turn foisted...

Table of contents

  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. CONTENTS
  3. WHY I HAVE COMPILED THIS HISTORY
  4. PART ONE: CHRONOLOGICAL
  5. MISCELLANY OF ASSUMPTIONS ENCOUNTERED IN THE LAST TWO DECADES
  6. PART TWO: NON-CHRONOLOGICAL
  7. TO SUMMARISE
  8. COPYRIGHT