Let's Hear it for the Dilettante

WE WERE reminded in this paper the other day of the words of the late Dr Noel

Browne, who said the great tragedy for this State was that instead of entering public life, many of our "egocentric political dilettantes" did not take up golf, sailboarding, hare coursing or cordon bleu cooking.

This was a foul slur on all golfers, sailboarders and cordon bleu cooks - and to include hare coursers in such distinguished company was unnecessarily complimentary.

Worse, it was a slur on the dilettante.

In this age of dreary specialisation and iron bound conformity, there are almost as few genuine dilettantes left as there are aesthetes and eccentrics, and we should celebrate them as national treasures rather than sneer at them.

If they were to bestow their talents on politics, even for a few short years, the State would almost certainly be the better for it.

The notion that politics should require a lifelong devotion, as proof of genuine involvement and commitment, is deeply suspect. After all, we brought in a divorce law to allow people who have tired of their partners to look elsewhere.

Are we to deny a similar facility to those married to politics? To insist that an unhappy and unproductive relationship be maintained ad infinitum?

The dilettante is to be encouraged. We need a lot more people who take pleasure in art, science and literature on an honest but superficial level, people who deliberately have no overly serious purpose to their hobbies, who are not involved in the dreary money/ power/reputation struggles all these disciplines currently generate.

Let's hear it for the dabblers.

But how did the dilettante get such a bad name? In the 18th century, educated people knew as much about science as they did about literature. Then began the process of creeping specialisation, accelerated by the rise of the university and the gradual ring fencing of so called specialist knowledge by the various interest groups.

The huge expansion of knowledge in more recent times helped popularise the notion that it was impossible for all but the rare polymath to be truly knowledgeable in more than one field.

Envy and jealousy also played a role, because the dilettante by definition usually had a well paying job, or inherited money, allowing him to devote spare time, rather than career time, to the special interest.

But the notion that expertise in a particular subject is gained by concentrating entirely on that subject, to the exclusion of all other disciplines, is an entirely modern one, and quite fallacious.

There are welcome signs that some employers are beginning to recognise the value of the dabbler.

Say for example you are a young woman and you would like to embark on a career as a spy. In the old days you would have been discreetly recommended by someone already in the intelligence service. You might have come directly from Oxford or Cambridge, quite possibly with a First in Mathematics, or you might already be working in the middle echelons of the civil service.

Now however, Britain's security service, the formerly secretive MI5, has openly advertised in the newspapers for candidates at two levels. The first involves three or four years of work experience and a good honours degree "or the intellectual clout with which you could have gained one had you so chosen".

This may be one of the first whitecollar top jobs advertised in recent years which does not demand an academic background or work specific qualifications. (The other level is more complicated, involving more work experience and life experience).

It is good to see an employer seek the well rounded man or woman, and recognise the value of dilettantism, the intelligence of applying one's abilities to a variety of interests.

The advertisement (initially in the Guardian) was simply headlined "Intelligence". It is a welcome and long overdue tribute to the dilettante, an acknowledgment of his admirable eclecticism. It recognises the true dilettante, a sort of intellectual butterfly, flitting lightly from interest to interest, depositing knowledge here, sipping sustenance there, bringing welcome vigour, freshness, revitalisation and the cross pollination without which all founts of knowledge would inevitably dry up. {CORRECTION} 97061100087