When I worked in business in the 1980s I was struck by the constant demand for the new. The company I worked in produced and stocked a wide range of well-designed products for a varied international market, but customers would regularly pass over existing designs鈥攅ven the most recent ones鈥攁nd ask 鈥淲hat鈥檚 new?鈥� Eventually the company鈥檚 overstock of products became a serious problem. I suggested that we simply give new names to current ranges and present them in a new product catalogue. This proved a great success; customers complimented the company鈥檚 鈥渆xciting new ranges鈥�, and sales took off. It made me wonder what it really meant for something to be 鈥渘ew.鈥�
Novelty in presentation was not all the company needed to think about. New technologies, new production sources, new organisational systems, new personnel, new design protocols鈥攁ll had to be negotiated, examined, and embraced. The process felt both exciting and alarming, and I wanted to know whether a similar ambivalence had always been felt about 鈥榯he new鈥�, particularly in eras when novelty was a conspicuous phenomenon. As I was schooled in classical history, the first period that came to my mind in this regard was that of classical Greece.
In the course of five centuries from around 800 to 300 BC, Greeks were faced by intellectual and cultural novelties of enormous and鈥攖hough they were not to know it鈥攍asting consequence. These novelties included the use and spread of the first true alphabet (the vehicle of Greek writings and subsequently of all Western thought), the first appearance of democratic politics and a monetised economy, the earliest notions of philosophy, logic, evidence-based historiography, mathematical proof, theatrical drama, and empirical medicine, and new waves of thinking and experimentation in art and archit颅ecture, music and science, warfare and religion.
The Greeks鈥� accomplishments have sometimes been spoken of as 鈥榯he Greek miracle鈥�, but they did not achieve their innovations by magic or by accident. They understood what innovation involved and applied themselves to creating the new. Can their manifold experience help us to understand innovation in general? Can we apply the lessons and principles of the distant past to our own projects in order to be more innovative?
The Greeks were well placed to borrow ideas from nations to their east and west, and one key principle that emerges from the study of ancient innovation is that the new always builds on the old. There is no such thing as truly 鈥榬adical innovation鈥� i.e. novelty that has no roots in or connections to the past: all innovation is an adaptation of something that already exists. As the philosopher Parmenides (fifth century BC) argued, 鈥楴othing comes from nothing鈥�; logically, we cannot have any under颅standing of or connection to something that is wholly detached from prior experience.
The corollary is that, if one wishes to innovate, one needs to know the background against which one seeks to produce something new. This highlights the importance of knowledge, education, and inquiry, and it鈥檚 no coincidence that the period of the Greeks鈥� most notable attempts at innovation saw the rise of schools, writing, and forms of secondary education. An educated, informed populace with the resources to disseminate and criticise existing knowledge enjoys a firm base on which it can seek to innovate.
Analysis of the Greeks鈥� experience of novelty, for which some classic and entertaining narratives may be found, shows how strategies such as the cross-fertilisation of disparate ideas, disruption and reversal, or adaptation and 鈥渢weaking鈥�, are key mechanisms of the innovative process. Unconsciously or consciously applied, these represent constant structures of creative thinking which in myriad combinations and permutations allow innovators to create what is recognised as new.
The acceptance of what is new, however, is as much a matter of psych颅ology as of external reality. 鈥極 brave new world that has such people in it鈥�, exclaims Miranda in Shakespeare鈥檚 罢别尘颅辫别蝉迟, on seeing young men for the first time on her magical island. 鈥樷�橳is new to thee鈥�, Prospero replies. For the young woman the novelty is an objective attribute of the world; for Prospero it鈥檚 a function of his daughter鈥檚 youth and ignorance.
Innovators generally don鈥檛 seek to do something radically new. They use strategies such as the transferring a technique from one context to another or making incremental improvements to a product. If the recipients of their innovations are not familiar with what they present鈥攈owever well known these are in other instances鈥攖he result will be a perception of something new. An example might be the transition to democracy by a nation that has not hitherto enjoyed democratic rights; though the political principles will be well known elsewhere, they will feel like an innovation to that society.
Aristotle, the most comprehensive thinker of the ancient world, examined both the logic of change (in Physics) and its social ramifications (in Politics). The latter explores innovative ideas in legal and constit颅utional arenas. 鈥淚s political change a good thing?鈥� Aristotle asks. Can one invent new laws or new ways of running a state, as if creating a new product or a work of art? Aristotle pertin颅ently observes that innovation means different things depending on the area in which it is applied, and that political innovation is in a different category from technical innovation. Following Aristotle鈥檚 lead, innovators and invest颅igators of novelty are bound first to analyse the particular context in which they are operating, and to consider such questions as 鈥淲hat does 鈥榥ew鈥� mean in this area? What sort of innovation is required here?鈥�
Innovation is a dynamic process, involving an active interchange between individual innovators and the public, tradition and change, old and new. The pluralistic environments which foster the pursuit of innovation generate diverse responses. Freedom, competition and incentive are widely recognised as key conditions of innovation. The ancient Greeks were no strangers to these notions. After all, they invented the notions of democracy and freedom under the law and the first large-scale monetary system; and they were notoriously competitive鈥攕o much so that constant warfare between city-states led to the eventual diss颅olut颅ion of Greek pluralism, as the Hellenic world was subsumed into the empire of Alexander the Great. Military imper颅atives generally have the effect of diverting such creativity to destructive outcomes; but creative thinkers have often鈥攊n a standard innovative manoeuvre鈥攂een able to apply military inventions to peaceful purposes.
The new takes the place of the old; and since this is sometimes bound to mean the loss of real value, societies should also consider when not to innovate. The modern world has little time for reflection about the destruction that innov颅ation can entail. But if today鈥檚 ceaseless innovation鈥攆rom new technology and polit颅ical change to new art and music鈥攂rings anxiety as well as excitement, we can acknowledge that in this respect at least there is nothing new under the sun. The pressure to innovate will not abate, and in today鈥檚 urgent circumstances of pandemic, climate crisis, and political turmoil, positive innovation is needed more than ever. An anatomy of classical Greek innovation, with its fund of entertaining and illustrative histories, offers valuable insights into the timeless operations of creative thinking.
Armand D鈥橝ngour is Professor of Classics at the University of Oxford. His book The Greeks and the New was published in 2011. How to Innovate: An Ancient Guide to Creative Thinking is due from Princeton in October 2021.