You will probably have heard this old wisdom chestnut: the archer takes aim with all their skill but once the arrow has left the bow, the result is out of their control. Like most truths you find in Stoicism it is not uniquely Stoic but expresses an idea found in many wisdom traditions across the globe. For example, the serenity prayer of St Francis of Assisi asks that we may accept the things we cannot change and be wise enough to recognise them. Sound pretty sensible, right?
The metaphor came to mind on Thursday evening as I sat by Bristol Harbourside with a glass of Prosecco, toasting the publication of my new book, having already done half a dozen talks and events promoting it. “The arrow has left the bow!” I thought. I have done all I can and now the book has been sent out into the world and whether it finds readers or not is out of my control. (As are the reviews, or even if it gets any.) This is well worth a reminder because, of course, the sober reality is that most books find very few readers. I even created these images to illustrate the mismatch between hope and the usual actuality.
But the more I thought about it, the more the metaphor seemed unhelpful and simplistic. Its power is that it describes a situation where there is a clear moment where events escape the control of the actor and there is nothing more we can do. But in the real world, things often do not fit this neat dichotomy. The metaphor suggests a neat control/non-control split, and whenever I see such a binary I ask whether it s better to think instead of a spectrum.
In this case, it is. We very rarely have complete control of anything. What we really exert is influence. When that is very strong indeed, it might feel like control, or even be control for all practical purposes. But we are never masters of the universe. At the other end of the spectrum, there are many things that we have zero influence over and which are indeed out of our control. Still, we often retain some influence. Think, for example, of whether it is in your power to give a fair deal to cocoa farmers by buying fairly traded chocolate. Of course it isn’t. But each purchase has a tiny influence on the outcomes for growers.
If everything were either in our control or not, it would be easy to understand that we should only concern ourselves with the things we can control and let the things we can’t run their course. But when things are on a spectrum of influence, the decision to keep trying to exert or not becomes more difficult. Take my book. The part over which I have most influence is done but I can still work hard to promote it and that may make some difference. Or it may not. So is it time for me to step back or not?
This raises a further complication. In real life, it is rarely a case that we face a choice to act or not. Rather, the question is how much time and energy we devote to something. So it might be time for me to do a lot less work on the book but it does not follow I should do nothing, now that it is published.
One obstacle to wise decision making in such decisions is that we live in a culture that tells us we have more control than we do. We are supposed to be the authors of own being, able to control our health outcomes, longevity, career success, fertility, even the people we date or hitch up with. The idea that we have less control or influence than we’d like to think is almost heretical. (This is a major theme of Hartmut Rosa’s book, The Uncontrollability of the World, which I read vicariously via my better half. It seems to be one of those books with a sensible central premise that is overblown and turned into a master theory.) So we have probably become inclined to keep trying to change the arrow’s course mid-air than we should be.
Indeed, the metaphor itself may not even be as compelling to a generation that is used to smart homes and drones. With the right technology, we could change the course of an arrow already in flight or move its target.
The metaphor also completely ignores the possibility – and sometimes even duty – to deal with the consequences of the fired arrow. If it hits a person rather than a target, I have a heck of a lot left to do. The end of control is not the end of responsibility.
The archer image is simple and memorable and I’m afraid I don’t have anything as vivid to capture the more nuanced idea of degrees of influence. The best I can do is a twist on an old David Hume maxim: A wise person proportions their efforts to their influence, and the importance of the outcome. If something is vitally important, it might be sensible to try all you can, even if your chances of changing the outcome are slim. It something is little effort, it might be worth doing even if again, the odds of having an impact are low. (For example, there’s no harm in once again inviting you to buy my book now!)
There can be no simple rule for determining the right time and degree of letting go. I’m with Aristotle who believed that there were no algorithms for living a good life and that the best we can do is develop our practical wisdom (phronesis) so that we can make better choices, case by case, as they come up. As usual, a slogan on a T-shirt can point us towards a deep truth, but it cannot capture it.