cynicism and astronauts: death and rebirth of the dreamers

My friend Rob recently wrote on Facebook:

I was seven when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. We were camping with family friends on a plot of land on the shore of Lake George, site of our future summer camp. Dad had car batteries, an inverter, and a small black and white TV. Reception was horrible. We had never watched TV at the lake before – this was something special. In the midst of the VietNam war, which I was largely isolated from, we had a man walking on the moon. It was late, I was tired, but I watched intently. America could do anything. Looking back at the last 43 years, it is very hard not to feel that we have fallen extremely short of our potential. I miss that dream. [emphasis added]

Indeed, how and why has America fallen so far?

Think about rock stars. Most of them rise up to fame for a short period, then they loose it… they fade slowly back into oblivion. When they’re on tour (if they are), they always replay the great hits, because that’s what the crowd wants.

There are exceptions.  Those are the bands and players that keep going for a decade or more, folks like The Beatles, The Grateful Dead, Pink Floyd.

The reasons for America’s fall are hidden in the distinction between these two.  Before the “big reveal,” let’s consider another case: that of the science professor.

The science professor works her ass off through graduate school and a postdoc position (kind of like a Medical residency) just to get offered a starting faculty position.  Then she works even harder for 5-7 years to earn tenure.  Tenure just means that her colleagues approve of her, and permanently accept her into the fold.  Once tenured, it’s very hard to fire her.

The period of working towards tenure is often the most intensive of a scientist’s life.  I know, because I did that.

When I was done, I lost the dream.

I wandered aimlessly through a land of mental cynicism and angst for several years after tenure.

The challenge was gone.  The dream was over. I’d reached the pinnacle. All that I could see in front of me was more of the same, but without the challenge, without the goal, without the prize to reach for.

How did I regain the dream and recover from the cynical post-tenure blues? Therein lies the secret of how America could, if its people wanted to, recover from the slump.

The problem with achievement

There’s one big problem with achievement of any kind – whether it’s putting a man on the moon, writing a hit song, or getting tenure.

Those achievements can breed a festering fear.  It’s a fear that comes from a few sources:

• Fear of having lost the dream.  Once the dream has been achieved, it’s no longer a dream.  Seems obvious, right?!  Yet for the person experiencing this firsthand, it’s almost never obvious what the problem is.  There’s just a gnawing inner sense of “now what?” We’re not taught as a society how to deal with the “now what?” Think about all the popular stories and movies (e.g. Star Wars): they always center around a challenge, a dream, or a problem, and at the end of the story, the problem is resolved or the dream is achieved.  But those stories never show what happens next… unless a new challenge arises in the sequel.
• Fear of loosing the status. A related fear is that of loosing the status achieved in pursuing the dream.  When I got my first big science grant with a score that put me in the top few percentile, I thought to myself: there’s no way I can repeat that! It’s impossible!  I had a fear that I couldn’t top my own success. I was gun-shy. That fear slowed me down.  I didn’t want to submit another grant and be knocked from my pedestal.  It reminds me of a TED talk by author Elizabeth Gilbert, who discussed the angst that comes with having written a bestselling book, centered around the question: “can I do it again?”