The play Arcadia byÂ Tom Stoppard‘sÂ links entropy and chaos theory, the history of englishÂ landscape gardens, romantic literature and idiocies ofÂ academia.

Cameron Neylon

::: {.wp-caption .alignleft .zemanta-img style="width: 155px"}
[![Cover of first
edition](http://cameronneylon.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/180px-arcadia_book.jpg "Cover of first edition"){.zemanta-img-inserted
.zemanta-img-configured decoding="async" loading="lazy" width="145"
height="243"}](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:180px-Arcadia_book.jpg){target="_blank"}

Cover of first edition (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
:::

The play *Arcadia* byÂ [Tom
Stoppard](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Stoppard "Tom Stoppard"){.zem_slink
target="_blank" rel="wikipedia"}'sÂ links entropy and chaos theory, the
history of englishÂ landscape gardens, romantic literature and idiocies
ofÂ academia. I've always thought of it as Stoppard's most successful
"clever" play, the one that best combines the disparate material he is
bringing together into a coherent whole.Â *Rosencrantz and Guildernstern
are Dead*Â feels more straightforward, more accessible, although I don't
doubt that many will feel that's because I'm missing itsÂ depths.

In the Theatre Royal Brighton/English Touring Theatre production that
just closed at the Theatre Royal in Bath the part of Thomasina was
played by [Dakota Blue
Richards](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dakota_Blue_Richards "Dakota Blue Richards"){.zem_slink
target="_blank" rel="wikipedia"}, Septimus by Wilf Scolding, Bernard by
Robert Cavanah, Hannah by [Flora
Montgomery](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flora_Montgomery "Flora Montgomery"){.zem_slink
target="_blank" rel="wikipedia"}Â and Valentine by Ed McArthur. To be up
front I found the production disappointing, probably not helped by our
seats up in the gods. Richards and Scolding were excellent as tutor and
tutee, each learning from the other but I found Cavanah and
Montgomery'sÂ competitive academics to both be thin, even shrill. The
caricature in the parts of Bernard and Hannah are easy, making their
motivations human â€" while also ensuring that their verbal sparring is
intelligible â€" a greater challenge where I felt that they fell short.

And it was in that execution of dialogue that the production seemed to
fall flat. Arcadia depends on dialogue and ideasÂ that run through two
time periods, on believing that we understand theÂ jokes shared between
characters, but above all on theÂ *audienceÂ *connecting the threads so
that all the pieces fall into place. Despite a constant stream of
references that will only make sense to those familar with
thermodynamics, or landscape history or romantic poetryÂ the play itself
is self contained. All the cluesÂ that are needed toÂ knit the many
threads together can be found in the script. But the delivery is
critical. The timing crucial. Every word needs to be pointed and natural
and timed perfectly or the connections are lost. The responsibility lies
with the audience to hold those threads and weave them together, but
they depend on a faultless ensemble to make this work.

ButÂ is it fair to expect an audience to hold in their heads a comment
from Act 1 that is only answered in passing an hour or more later in Act
2? How much can the playwright expect the audience to hold? Certainly
the audience in Bath seemed to struggle.Â An audience member who
knowsÂ enough about thermodynamics and romantic poets and English
landscape gardening has an advantage over one who does not. Simply that
there is less that needs to be held onto to follow the threads. Experts
have a distinct advantage in parsing the play.

It was Michael Nielsen who most clearly articulated the idea that the
most valuable resource we have in the research enterprise (or in many
places) is the attention of experts. Â And those who have internalized
an understanding of an area to the extent that problem solving is
intuitive are the most valuable. But we at the same time value the
serendipitous, the sense of being open to the surprising insight.
Valentine, the PhD scholar working on understanding population dynamics
of grouse in the modern half of the story is unable to see that
Thomasina had recognized the path to modern thermodynamics years earlier
than thought. His character is painted as limited in that respect until
he can see it. The modern academics are similar painted as only open to
the surprises they are seeking. Thomasina'sÂ tutor, Septimus is perhaps
of a similar age to Valentine but by contrast is painted as open to idea
that his 16 year old charge is capable of such insight.

If fortune favours a prepared mind, then that mind is expensive and time
consuming to prepare. So we protect them, and lock them up inside
institutions so as to ensure only the relevant demands are made on their
time. But if the provocations, the serendipities, come from outside
established grounds then, to invert the question I posed of the
playwright, what can we reasonably expect of the expert in dedicating
time to being open? Or is there a level beyond mastery in Dreyfus'
hierarchy ofÂ skill acquisition, where the expert cannot just examine
their own practice, but simultaneously be open to outside influence.
Does it need to be "or" or can it be "and"? Can we not just ride a bike
without thinking about it, but ride a bikeÂ *while* thinking about how
we do it.

What we may reasonably expect of the playwright in guiding us, what they
may reasonably expect of their audience; what we may reasonably expect
of the expert and what they may expect of us as we approach them,
areÂ connected by a sense of the contract we implicitly form, the
audience with the playwright, publics with the expert. Different pieces
of theatreÂ require differing levels of commitment from the audience,
with expectations set by forms, venues, even ticket prices. It is
plausible to argue that commodification of theatre into mass market
entertainment necessarily lowers that level of commitment as it must
work for a larger audience. It might converselyÂ be argued that the
commitment required to understanding American Football or rugby (or
cricket!) is as great as that required to engage with Stoppard or
Mozart.

In the realm of the academic expert these questions cut to the heart of
what the research establishment is for. And are we delivering on that.
Stoppard answers this question with three self-obsessed roles;Â one
hardened by the toxic combination of imposter syndrome and arrogance
that many in academia will recognise; one partway through that process,
perhaps redeemable, perhaps not likely where she sees herself heading,
but nonetheless ready to both rise to the bait and to patronise the
third; the academic in formation. Yet it is Valentine, the PhD student
who when asked "And then what" gives the answerÂ that speaks most
directly to academic sensibilities, "I publish". There is no
explicitÂ stage direction but, given this is said to Hannah, the middle
of our three academics the line clearly needs to be delivered with the
sense of "well d'uh...".

Yet Stoppard makes his academics figures of fun with their obsessions
with prestige rather than engagement, how is this to be reconciled with
his own demands on the audience? In truth the there is a deeper message.
The puzzle for the modern protagonists can only be solved by bringing
their differing expertises together. Bernard uncovers the trail and
knows the problem is of interest, but it is Hannah's expertiseÂ on the
garden and its plant that reveals that Bernard is only partly right. It
is Valentine who has the evidence that Byron visitedÂ Sidley House, but
Hannah who pushes him to understand the depth of Thomasina's work.
Hannah in turn needs Valentine to uncover the identity of the hermit and
what he was doing.

On the earlier timeline it is Thomasina who has the insight, but even
her genius is limited. She laments her inability to fully work outÂ the
implications saying "I cannot. I do not knowÂ the mathematics". It is
made clear to us that her tutor does "Let \[the Germans\] have the
waltzÂ they cannotÂ have the calculus." makingÂ his working through of
Thomasina's ideas plausible. Stoppard throughout presents with exactly
the serendipitous connections (and misconnections) that require an open
mind to see, identify and integrate into an expert model. It is the
arrogance and lack of confidence of the modern characters that prevents
them working together to solve the puzzle much quicker (albeit with less
drama). By contrast greater openness of the Cambridge educated Septimus
to the possibility thatÂ Thomasina'sÂ insight is greater than his
provides many of the most sympathetic moments in the play.

Of course Stoppard is cheating. He has a static construct in which to
lay his threads, ready to catch the prepared mind of the audience. The
answer is known and the final curtain set. At the same time he
plotsÂ jokes and asides throughout. His real genius is in setting these
up so that as long as you know something of gardens, or thermodynamics,
or academic life, or Byron, or chaos theory, or shooting, or the English
aristocracy. You don't need to know all of these, but knowing one will
enrich the experience. Of course the challenge for the players is to be
aware of all ofÂ *theseÂ *threads as well as those that make up the
surface narrative. In Bath, my implicit stage direction above was
missing.

In the end Stoppard does make serious demands, and repays repeated
engagement with the text. But those demands are not of expertise. If the
answer he poses to my question is that experts will gain more by working
together and being open to each other's expertise, what he demands of
the audience is simply to be open andÂ *attentive.Â *In the end perhaps
that is the answer to the question of the reasonable expectations of
expertise in the academy. Not to be prescriptive about when and how an
expert focuses, or opens up, or whether they need to achieve a level of
mastery that allows them to do both, but simply to be attentive. To
continuously absorb, remember, compare and contrast. To value mastery as
a tool, but not as the answer in its own right.

That is the mistake that the modern characters make in the play. In the
best productions you understand both how Bernard, Hannah and Valentine
have arrived where they are, but also that they don't very much like
what they see in the mirror. That they, like many academics, are
constantly seeking an escape from the pursuit of prestige and
publication that they have locked themselves into. That they have been
trapped into a cycle where they are required toÂ demonstrate mastery but
not necessarily applyÂ it, and certainly not build on it. The aim for
all three is publication, not understanding.

Breaking out of these cycles is hard. But in the end if Stoppard is
calling us to pay attention, to be engaged enough to not just see the
threads, but to hold them and weave them together, that might be enough
to make a start.


Cover of first edition (Photo credit: Wikipedia)  The play
<em>
 Arcadia
</em>
byÂ Tom Stoppard’sÂ links entropy and chaos theory, the history of englishÂ landscape gardens, romantic literature and idiocies ofÂ academia.

Messaggi di Rogue Scholar

The problem of expertise: The Brighton/English Touring Theatre production of Stoppard’s Arcadia