The modern polymath defined, part 2

A couple of weeks ago, I discussed some interesting definitions of the polymath from that Royal Institution presentation, “What happened to the polymaths?”

At that presentation, Oliver Morton, the Chief News and Features editor at Nature, defined the polymath as “someone who makes contributions to four widely conceived as distinct areas of science and culture” at a “professional level.”

John Whitfield, the author of a biography of the British polymath D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson, defined the polymath as someone who made “a contribution to more than one field that would stand on its own.”

And Andrew Robinson, the author of a biography of another British polymath, Thomas Young, defined the polymath as someone who had broad learning and curiosity that led to something original.

What about these definitions? Are any of them really good definitions for the modern polymath, taking into account how polymathy has been defined throughout the ages?

Morton’s definition sets the bar too high. No one knows everything any more. For better or for worse (probably for worse), there are no more Leonardos, no more Aristotles. No one can contribute to four distinct areas of science and culture at a professional level anymore.

However, Whitfield’s definition seems to be not be rigorous enough. Polymathy has always meant “great learning,” and “great learning” might require excellence in more than two disciplines.

Robinson’s idea is more general, but it is getting close to the truth. A polymath certainly has to have broad learning. After all, that is what the word has always meant. But what about curiosity that leads to something original? Why not? A person with broad learning is almost by definition curious? How could you possibly have such broad learning if you weren’t curious? And original thinking? Surely broad learning and curiosity will lead to at least one original idea. How could it not.

So we’re certainly zeroing in on a solid definition.

More tomorrow.