Skill vs. Soul: The Agonizing Choice Between Technique or Sincerity

Cousin Reginald Spells Peloponnesus. Norman Rockwell, 1918. Public Domain via Wikipedia Commons

Have you ever been to a party that included guests from both the worlds of art and science? At first, as the visitors arrive, there’s a short cordial meet-and-greet. Folks smile, shake hands, and exchange friendly hellos. As more people enter, they begin to group with like-minded individuals.

Artists cluster with other artists. Scientists huddle with other scientists. There’s still some intermixing of professions, but they’re quick, implying each wants to return to the safety of one’s kind.

You know what happens next. You’ve seen it in all walks of life, not just between scientists and artists. It could be between any two groups of divergent attitudes. Hanging out in the self-segregated echo chamber created by others who share their worldview reinforces that point of view. In turn, this boosts the confidence they have in their profession, their religion, their politics—whatever the subject of division happens to be.

What does this mean to the imaginary (or not so imaginary) party that began this column? Invariably, an argument ensues between an artist and a scientist. In the worst case, each group enters the fray to support their respective champion. If the host doesn’t nip things in the bud, the party morphs into an intellectual melee. The night is ruined. Lifetime friendships are destroyed. Each cliche retreats further into the cage of its own groupthink. Society takes a step back.

OK, maybe things don’t get that bad. But what’s interesting is this: What could drive such a formidable wedge between otherwise mature and upright people? What could scientists and artists argue about with such vehemence?

It’s a dichotomy as old as time itself. It’s the question of what’s more important: technique or sincerity?

There’s a thing about debating a dichotomy. You’re too tempted to simply dismiss it by saying, “Why not both?” While that’s an admirable thought and probably the most civil strategy, it’s also intellectually bankrupt.

Here’s why.

Almost every idea has a good side and a bad side. If you merely accept both prima facie, you’re not only accepting the good side, but you’re also allowing the bad side to sneak in.

Do you want the bad side to sneak in? Wouldn’t it be better to weed out the bad and keep only the good? How do you accomplish this?

In comes old reliable. That’s right. It’s the “Boundary Condition Test.” The Boundary Condition Test measures the viability of any hypothesis by looking only at the extremes. In engineering, you use this test to see if a bridge fails in the worst possible conditions. In stand-up comedy, you use this test to see if a joke goes too far.

In the great debate between sincerity and technique, you must consider what happens when your tactics employ only one or the other. You must answer the black-or-white question: Which is better? Sincerity or technique?

Let’s start with definitions.

“Better” means more successful in attaining a specified goal. Spoiler alert: It turns out the goal becomes an important variable in the test. Changing the goal can change the result. In other words, for some goals, sincerity is the desired path. For other goals, technique wins the day.

“Sincerity” can be likened to art, emotion, or other matters of the heart. You can sum it up by calling it the soul. You can feel it, but you can’t grasp it with your arms. You might associate sincerity with authenticity and genuineness.

“Technique” means your skill set. It embraces the cold antiseptic calculation of science. It’s more than numbers and formulae. It involves the precise practical application of the theories using that data and those tools. Another way to view technique is through the lens of expertise or craftsmanship.

So, which is better?

A better question might be, “Where does each fail most dramatically?” This act of failure represents the ultimate purpose of the Boundary Condition Test. Engineers want to know what conditions will cause the bridge to collapse. Stand-up comedians wish to know which jokes drive audiences away.

At our party of artists and scientists, artists will advocate for sincerity, while scientists will promote technique.

Ironically, the art world contains many examples of both technique and sincerity. Like many Renaissance artists, Michelangelo’s David exhibits a near-perfect technique. Michelangelo might have also been sincere in his artistic vision (no doubt he was), but if he did not possess the dexterity of technique, there would be no David.

On the other hand, as a precursor to Modern Art, Vincent van Gogh’s The Starry Night lacks the precision of Michelangelo or da Vinci. Despite this, is there any question about the sincerity that painting emotes? This makes it one of the most loved paintings despite the apparent sloppiness of van Gogh’s technique.

For those old enough to remember, the extremism of the art world’s movement toward embracing sincerity and rejecting technique is best embodied in its critical treatment of Norman Rockwell. Rockwell’s famous illustrations proved quite popular with the masses, but he wasn’t considered a serious artist. Critics considered his work nothing more than photographs of banal culture. They ignored his technique and pooh-poohed sincerity for the common.

At first glance, science seems likely to rely solely on technique. But that’s engineering, which is the practical implementation of applied science. True science begins with inspiration. This leap of faith is often spurred by sincerity.

Theoreticians have a passion for their respective fields of study. Recall the image of an apple falling on Sir Isaac Newton’s head as he contemplated the physics of gravity. Well, it didn’t really hit his head, but he did see an apple fall in the orchard at his family home, where he stayed when the fear of bubonic plague temporarily closed his school. According to an interview with his biographer, the precipitating fruit inspired the scientist to develop his Law of Gravity.

These examples show how technique and sincerity work in tandem in different spheres. But what happens if you employ only one? This one-dimensionality certainly introduces pitfalls you’d rather avoid.

Without sincerity, technique alone appears fake and untrustworthy. Sincerity alone risks catastrophic failure due to incompetence.

Still, if you had to choose one over the other when it matters most, which would you select?

That answer reveals itself in the following scenario.

They say there’s nothing more valuable in a doctor than a good bedside manner (i.e., sincerity). But if you’re about to go into the operating room, you don’t give a hoot about the doctor’s bedside manner, you just want him to possess the most competence (i.e., technique).

Sincerity may make you feel good, but in life-or-death situations, technique wins every time.