The Life of Beatrix Potter
The children's author and illustrator who created Peter Rabbit
Beatrix Potter is one of the best-selling children's authors of all time. Her popular series of books that includes The Tale of Peter Rabbit was first published over one hundred years ago, and has never been out of print. Generations of children have enjoyed her many stories and illustrations, all of which celebrate the English lifestyle and rural landscape through the adventures of animals.
Born to a comfortable middle-class family in London in 1866, Potter spent much of her early life in her own company. She was educated in her parents' house by a governess and rarely saw her brother Bertram, who was sent to boarding school. Having little social contact with children of her own age, Potter began to be drawn into her own world of writing. When Beatrix was 15, she began to keep a diary written in a secret code of her own invention. Even Beatrix herself, when she read back over it in later life, found it difficult to understand. It was not until 15 years after her death that the code was cracked. To the outside world Beatrix appeared a shy and reserved person, but in her diary she was able to express herself openly, and she was critical of the paintings of a number of artists of the day.
Potter was a naturally gifted artist, and with the aid of some art lessons she also learnt the technical side of drawing. During her childhood, she looked after many animals, such as rabbits, frogs, and even bats. She drew these animals throughout her childhood, gradually improving the standard of her work by sketching in museums. She was also interested in natural history. She would spend many hours drawing wildlife such as fungi and flowers, and at one time she had an ambition to develop this scientific interest. An uncle tried to help her become a student at the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew in London, but she was rejected because of her gender. Nevertheless, she achieved a measure of respect from the scientific establishment for her illustrations and contribution to mycology, the study of fungi.
When Potter was in her early 20s, her parents tried to arrange a partner for her to marry. Many likely suitors were found; however, Potter turned them all down. She was a fiercely independent woman, and she disliked the idea of being tied down to a domestic life that, at that time, consisted mostly of staying at home and bringing up children. Thus, unusually for British women of those times, she remained single and lived in her parents' home.
For several years, Potter tried to get her first children's book, The Tale of Peter Rabbit, published. Her initial attempts proved unsuccessful, but she persevered and eventually the book was accepted for publication by Frederick Warne & Company. The book finally came out in 1902, when Potter was 36, but the publishers did not expect it would sell many copies. In fact, the project was given to the youngest brother in the family company, Norman Warne, for his first project as a kind of test. Luckily, he proved to be a good choice as he warmed to both the book and Potter. He was determined to make a success of the book and developed a good working relationship with Potter as they pored over the individual details of the book. It was Norman who insisted that each drawing would be in colour. Potter insisted that the book remain small so that it would be easy for children to hold, and by the end of the year, 28,000 copies were in print.
The relationship between Warne and Potter blossomed, and eventually they became engaged. However, Potter's parents were unhappy about this because of his occupation. They eventually relented, but insisted the couple live apart for six months to give Potter time to change her mind. Tragically, before the wedding could take place, Warne developed pernicious anaemia, a blood disease, and passed away. Potter was devastated and she wrote in a letter to his sister, Millie, 'He did not live long, but he fulfilled a useful, happy life. I must try to make a fresh beginning next year.'
After Warne's death, Potter moved to the Lake District in northern England. In 1905 she bought a small farm there, and for the next eight years she busied herself writing more books, some of which were based in or around the area. She lived there for the remainder of her life, but due to failing eyesight she was forced to stop writing children's books. Instead, she devoted her time to the breeding of sheep and helping with the conservation of farms in the district. Using proceeds from her very successful books and later her inheritance, Potter was able to buy many working farms. On her death, she left over 4,000 acres to the National Trust, an organisation which protects historical buildings and areas of countryside in England. It has meant that her beloved countryside is now accessible to many visitors.
The Economic Effect of Climate
Latitude is crucial to a nation's strength, says Anjana Ahuja
A Dr William Masters was reading a book about mosquitoes when an idea struck him. 'There was this anecdote about the yellow fever epidemic that hit Philadelphia in 1793.' Masters recalls. 'This epidemic decimated the city until the first frost came.' The sub-zero temperatures froze out the insects, allowing Philadelphia to recover. If weather could be the key to a city's fortunes, Masters thought, then why not to historical fortunes of nations? And could frost lie at the heart of one of the most enduring economic mysteries of all — why are almost all the wealthy, industrialized nations to be found where the climate is cooler?
B After two years of research, he thinks that he has found a piece of the puzzle. Masters, an agricultural economist from Purdue University in Indiana, and Margaret McMillan at Tufts University, Boston, show that annual frosts are among the factors that distinguish rich nations from poor ones. Their study is published this month in the Journal of Economic Growth. The pair speculate that cold snaps have two main benefits — they freeze pests that would otherwise destroy crops, and also freeze organisms, such as those carried by mosquitoes, that carry disease. The result is agricultural abundance and a big workforce.
C The academics took two sets of information. The first was average income for countries, the second was climate data provided by the University of East Anglia. They found a curious tally between the sets. Countries having five or more frosty days in the winter months are uniformly rich; those with fewer than five are impoverished. The authors speculate that the five-day figure is important; it could be the minimum time needed to kill pests in the soil. To illustrate this, Masters notes: 'Finland is a small country that is growing quickly, but Bolivia is a small country that isn't growing at all. Perhaps climate has something to do with that.'
D Other minds have applied themselves to the split between poor and rich nations, citing anthropological, climatic and zoological reasons for why temperate nations are the most affluent. Jared Diamond, from the University of California at Los Angeles, pointed out in his book Guns, Germs and Steel that Eurasia is broadly aligned east-west, while Africa and the Americas are aligned north-south. So in Europe crops could move quickly across latitudes because climates are similar. One of the first domesticated crops, einkorn wheat, extended quickly from the Middle East into Europe; it took twice as long for it to get from Mexico to what is now the eastern United States. This easy movement along similar latitudes in Eurasia would also have meant a faster dissemination of other technologies, such as the wheel and writing, Diamond speculates.
E There are exceptions to the 'cold equals rich' argument. There are well-heeled tropical countries such as Singapore, a result of its superior trading position. Likewise, not all European countries are moneyed. Masters stresses that climate will never be the overriding factor — the wealth of nations is too complicated to be attributable to just one factor. Climate, he feels, somehow combines with other factors — such as the presence of institutions, including governments, and access to trading routes — to determine whether a country will do well.
F In the past, Masters says, economists thought that institutions had the biggest effect on the economy, because they brought order to a country in the form of, for example, laws and property rights. With order, so the thinking went, came affluence. 'But there are some problems that even countries with institutions have not been able to get around,' he says. 'My feeling is that, as countries get richer, they get better institutions. And the accumulation of wealth and improvement in governing institutions are both helped by a favourable environment, including climate.'
G This does not mean, he insists, that tropical countries are beyond economic help and destined to remain penniless. Instead of aid being geared towards improving administrative systems, it should be spent on technology to improve agriculture and to combat disease. Masters cites one example: 'There are regions in India that have been provided with irrigation — agricultural productivity has gone up and there has been an improvement in health.' Supplying vaccines against tropical diseases and developing crop varieties that can grow in the tropics would break the poverty cycle.
Decision, Decision!
Research explores when we can make a vital decision quickly and when we need to proceed more deliberately
A A widely recognised legend tells us that in Gordium (in what is now Turkey) in the fourth century BC an oxcart was roped to a pole with a complex knot. It was said that the first person to untie it would become the king of Asia. Unfortunately, the knot proved impossible to untie. The story continues that when confronted with this problem, rather than deliberating on how to untie the Gordian knot, Alexander, the famous ruler of the Greeks in the ancient world, simply took out his sword and cut it in two — then went on to conquer Asia. Ever since, the notion of a 'Gordian solution' has referred to the attractiveness of a simple answer to an otherwise intractable problem.
B Among researchers in the psychology of decision making, however, such solutions have traditionally held little appeal. In particular, the 'conflict model' of decision making proposed by psychologists Irving Janis and Leon Mann in their 1977 book, Decision Making, argued that a complex decision-making process is essential for guarding individuals and groups from the peril of 'group-think'. Decisions made without thorough canvassing, surveying, weighing, examining and reexamining relevant information and options would be suboptimal and often disastrous. One foreign affair decision made by a well-known US political leader in the 1960s is typically held up as an example of the perils of inadequate thought, whereas his successful handling of a water crisis is cited as an example of the advantages of careful deliberation. However, examination of these historical events by Peter Suedfeld and Roderick Kramer found little difference in the two decision-making processes; both crises required and received complex consideration by the political administration, but later only the second one was deemed to be effective.
C In general, however, organizational and political science offers little evidence that complex decisions fare better than simpler ones. In fact, a growing body of work suggests that in many situations simply 'snap' decisions with being routinely superior to more complex ones — an idea that gained widespread public appeal with Malcolm Gladwell's best-selling book Blink (2005).
D An article by Ap Dijksterhuis of the University of Amsterdam and his colleagues, 'Making the Right Choice: the Deliberation-without-attention Effect', runs very much in the spirit of Gladwell's influential text. Its core argument is that to be effective, conscious (deliberative) decision making requires cognitive resources. Because increasingly complex decisions place increasing strain on those resources, the quality of our decisions declines as their complexity increases. In short, complex decisions overrun our cognitive powers. On the other hand, unconscious decision making (what the author refers to as 'deliberation without attention') requires no cognitive resources, so task complexity does not affect effectiveness. The seemingly counterintuitive conclusion is that although conscious thought enhances simple decisions, the opposite holds true for more complex decisions.
E Dijksterhuis reports four simple but elegant studies supporting this argument. In one, participants assessed the quality of four hypothetical cars by considering either four attributes (a simple task) or 12 attributes (a complex task). Among participants who considered four attributes, those who were allowed to engage in undistracted deliberative thought did better at discriminating between the best and worst cars. Those who were distracted and thus unable to deliberate had to rely on their unconscious thinking and did less well. The opposite pattern emerged when people considered 12 criteria. In this case, conscious deliberation led to inferior discrimination and poor decisions.
F In other studies, Dijksterhuis surveyed people shopping for clothes ('simple' products) and furniture ('complex' products). Compared with those who said they had deliberated long and hard, shoppers who bought with little conscious deliberation felt less happy with their simple clothing purchase but happier with the complex furniture purchases. Deliberation without attention actually produced better results as the decisions became more complex.
G From there, however, the researchers take a big leap. They write: There is no reason to assume that the deliberation-without-attention effect does not generalize to other types of choices — political, managerial or otherwise. In such cases, it should benefit the individual to think consciously about simple matters and to delegate thinking about more complicated matters to the unconscious.
H This radical inference contradicts standard political and managerial theory but doubtless comforts those in politics and management who always find the simple solution to the complex problem an attractive proposition. Indeed, one suspects many of our political leaders already embrace this wisdom.
I Still, it is there, in the realms of society and its governance, that the more problematic implications of deliberation without attention begin to surface. Variables that can be neatly circumscribed in decisions about shopping lose clarity in a world of group dynamics, social interaction, history and politics. Two pertinent questions arise. First, what counts as a complex decision? And second, what counts as a good outcome?
J As social psychologist Kurt Lewin (1890–1947) noted, a 'good' decision that nobody respects is actually bad. His classic studies of decision making showed that participating in deliberative processes makes people more likely to abide by the results. The issue here is that when political decision-makers make mistakes, it is their politics, or the relationship between their politics and our own, rather than psychology which is at fault.
K Gladwell's book and Dijksterhuis's paper are invaluable in pointing out the limitations of the conventional wisdom that decision quality rises with decision-making complexity. But this work still tempts us to believe that decision making is simply a matter of psychology, rather than also a question of politics, ideology and group membership. Avoiding social considerations in a search for general appeal rather than toward it.