In Part One of How to be Interested I wrote about the value of intellectual curiosity and humility in an increasingly algorithmically curated and AI-mediated world. It was a call to be more deliberate about optimising our signal to noise ratio in a world where a cacophony of AI-content is at risk of drowning out the pearls of wisdom and connection which once made social media so great. And it was a call to be more like Virginia Woolf’s ‘common reader’, or someone that reads to experience life more fully and is open to the unfamiliar.
For part two I’d like to draw on Harrison Moore’s excellent thoughts about what makes for interesting writing (HT James Caig for the link). Moore references an old sociological paper by Murray S. Davis which attempted to define why some social theories have captured people’s imagination whilst other, no less valid theories, didn’t. And he concludes that the most interesting (non-fiction) writing is less about presenting new information to readers and more about challenging the taken-for-granted assumptions that they already have.
Helpfully, Davis’ paper set out 12 ‘species’ (or repeatable types) of interestingness which Moore has turned into a lovely ‘Index of the Interesting’. Each of these 12 types negate existing beliefs in some way, and so for my own purposes I’ve taken each of these and flipped them to create an ‘index of being interested’ (or a better name – an index of intellectual curiosity’). For completeness, I’ve included Moore’s definition of each type of interestingness and then attempted to turn that into some principles and practices for getting the most from your own intellectual curiosity.
Principle 1: Composition – Look for hidden connections.
Moore’s definition: Something can be interesting ‘if it shows us that what we thought were a bunch of unrelated things are actually related, or vice versa’.
It might feel uncomfortable to challenge assumptions but the habit of looking for under-recognised connections between seemingly unrelated things in topics that interest you (or assumed connections that are invalid) is a commitment to understanding that topic more intimately. ‘Whilst all interesting things are novel, not all novelty is interesting’, says Moore, which means that to be truly interested we have to be willing to go beyond seeking new information. As an example, I find that as I collect draft posts, isolated thoughts and ideas or links that I’ve found thought-provoking I end up making connections between them in my head that were not there before. Charles Darwin was a great notetaker and his intellectual curiosity led him to the insight that seemingly unrelated observations such as the struggle for existence, sexual selection, geographic isolation, and hereditary variation were all connected through the single mechanism of natural selection. In the modern world, AI tends to reinforce patterns rather than break them, which is why we need humans working with AI to break expectations or surface hidden connections.
Principle 2: Abstraction – Question levels of analysis.
Moore’s definition: ‘A piece of writing is interesting if it reveals that something which seems systemic is actually rooted in individual actions, or that something which seems personal is actually part of a bigger system’.
This is about deliberately shifting your perspective between the individual and the systemic. When something feels individual, consider what broader forces might be at play. When something feels systemic, ask how it manifests in individual choices. For example, when we think about productivity and AI, it’s a good idea to consider how it can be used at an individual level but also to ask ourselves what does ‘productivity’ even mean in the age of AI? Intellectual curiosity should help us to move seamlessly between scales.
Principle 3: Generalisation – Test the boundaries of ideas.
Moore’s definition: Writing is interesting ‘if it takes something assumed to be universal and shows that it’s actually specific to one group’ (and vice versa).
Whenever you encounter a principle, idea or insight, asking how universal it is helps us to understand it better. We can easily make assumptions that something which is unique to one audience or domain is more broadly applicable, the reverse is often just as true. As an example, generalists (and I count myself as one of those) are good at applying cross-domain lessons, or taking principles and examples from one sector or area and using them to challenge norms in another. Intellectual curiosity means being willing to challenge commonly accepted scope.
Principle 4: Stabilisation – Challenge assumptions of permanence.
Moore’s definition: Writing is interesting ‘if it shows that something chaotic and unstable is actually surprisingly steady, or that something stable and unchanging is actually fragile’.
Is something as inevitable or permanent as it looks? What if this apparently chaotic thing actually has consistent characteristics? Perhaps a problem that looks insurmountable is actually a tipping point into something new. Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s concept of antifragility challenged the assumption that stability is always desirable (‘Wind extinguishes a candle and energizes fire’). Curious thinkers look for phase transitions and challenge their assumptions about what’s fixed versus fluid.
Principle 5: Function – Question purpose and utility.
Moore’s definition: Writing is interesting ‘if it shows that something which looks broken actually works well (or vice-versa), or that something which appears to function in one way actually functions in another way.’
This is really about resisting taking things at face value, and being willing to question whether things serve the function that they claim to. Maybe that ‘broken’ system is working perfectly well for someone. Or maybe the success of an individual or business is actually not a result of what we immediately assume it to be. The curious mind interrogates function.
Principle 6: Evaluation – Embrace cognitive dissonance.
Moore’s definition: Writing is interesting ‘if it shows that something seen as bad is actually good (and vice versa)’.
In a fast-changing and increasingly polarised world we need to get better at sitting with ambiguity, and seeking out contradictions. Forcing ourselves to understand the reasoning behind, and even practice arguing for, contradictory perspectives. F. Scott Fitzgerald famously said: ‘The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.’
Principle 7: Co-relation – Map unexpected influences.
Moore’s definition: Writing is interesting if it reveals unexpected influences or causes, or if the assumed reasons behind something or wrong.
I think this is a close cousin of principle 1, and similarly involves not settling for obvious explanations. Intellectual curiosity and being interested is about following chains of influence that others may have missed. In the 1850s, physician John Snow mapped the deaths from a serious cholera outbreak in London’s Soho and discovered that rather than being caused by ‘bad air’ as many thought at the time, the Cholera cases clustered around a single contaminated water pump on Broad Street.
Principle 8: Co-existence – Question the compatibility assumptions.
Moore’s definition: Writing is interesting ‘if it shows that things which seem to fit together actually don’t, or that things assumed to be incompatible actually work well together.’
Not accepting received wisdom about trade-offs or combinations. Perhaps apparently contradictory things can be held together, or perhaps seemingly harmonious situations hide unexpected conflicts. Niels Bohr’s principle of complementarity in quantum mechanics (the principle that light behaves as both particle and wave) contradicted classical physics’ assumptions that something must be one thing or the other (he once said ‘How wonderful that we have met with a paradox. Now we have some hope of making progress.’)
Principle 9: Co-variation – Reverse your assumptions about relationships.
Moore’s definition: Something is interesting ‘if it shows that a relationship that looks positive is actually negative (and vice versa)’.
This is about questioning the assumed direction and nature of relationships between variables. What if the relationship is non-linear? The classic example of this one is the assumption that more information or data automatically leads to better decisions. Sometimes less is more. Sometimes more is different, not just bigger.
Principle 10: Opposition – Look for similarities in opposites.
Moore’s definition: ‘A piece of writing is interesting if it reveals that things which seem similar are actually opposites’ (and vice versa)
In a polarised world it can be really helpful to look for what both sides share, or what underlying value or fear unites people who seem diametrically opposed. Intellectual curiosity finds common ground in conflict and hidden tensions in agreement. George Orwell observed that the rhetoric of opposing political extremes (fascism and communism) used remarkably similar techniques including the cult of personality, suppression of dissent, rewriting history, and claiming absolute truth.
Principle 11: Causation – Question cause and effect
Moore’s definition: ‘…writing is interesting if it flips the assumed cause-and-effect relationship, showing that what looks like the cause is actually the effect—or vice versa’.
Related (but different) to principles 1 and 7, this is about resisting obvious causal stories, following the causal chain further back and considering whether both cause and effect are symptoms of something deeper, or should be flipped entirely. In the 19th Century, Ignaz Philip Semmelweis subverted traditional medical doctrine by showing that doctors were causing childbed fever by going from autopsies to deliveries without washing their hands. His findings were met with skepticism and even hostility by the medical establishment and other physicians who found it hard to accept that their own hands could be instruments of death, despite compelling evidence to the contrary.
Principle 12: Organization – Look for order in chaos (and vice versa)
Moore’s definition: ‘A piece of writing is interesting if it shows that something which seems well-organised is actually chaotic, or that something unorganised actually has structure.’
Question assumptions about structure and randomness. Are there actually navigable patterns in challenges that feel overwhelming? Mathematician Benoit Mandelbrot discovered that seemingly random phenomena, including financial market fluctuations, coastline measurements, and a wide variety of natural patterns, could all be described and modelled using fractal geometry. Equally, that apparently organised system might be concealing contradictions and tensions. Don’t mistake the appearance of order for actual coherence, or the appearance of chaos for actual randomness.
This index is ultimately an invitation to make thinking itself an active practice. The common thread to all of these principles is intentional skepticism about our own assumptions, being willing to question the framing for how we see the world, and going beyond simply seeking more information. As I said in part one, being intentional about where we place our attention is increasingly becoming an act of rebellion. But perhaps the deeper rebellion is being intentional about how we think, not just what we think about.
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