Change we can believe in, or not

Change we can believe in, or not

Posted on November 25th, 2008 by Frank Wilson

Lucius Cary, 2nd Viscount Falkland, was killed at age 33 at the first battle of Newbury during the English Civil War — fighting, of course, on the side of the king. Lord Falkland was well thought of by his contemporaries and was celebrated in verse by the likes of Ben Jonson, Edmund Waller, and Abraham Cowley. (Here is Cowley’s “To the Lord Falkland.”) During the parliamentary debate over whether the Anglican episcopacy should be abolished, Falkland — who opposed the measure — is said to have declared that “when it is not necessary to change, it is necessary not to change.”

Given all the talk of change these days — from change we can believe in to climate change — this seems an utterance well worth pondering. That in itself is good, because change is one of those things people are inclined to talk about — and do — rather than think about — and perhaps refrain from doing.

Lord Falkland’s remark has the effect of bringing you up short. It reminds you first of all that there are two kinds of change: the kind over which you have some control — and the other kind. Lord Falkland was obviously referring to the former and, at first glance, his formulation seems unobjectionable. Why make a change if you don’t have to?

But look a little closer and you’ll see that isn’t exactly what he was getting at. His statement is a conditional proposition, and the point of it is not the antecedent clause — “when it is not necessary to change” — but the consequent: “it is necessary not to change.” Think of all the cosmetic surgery that would not have taken place had patients acted on Lord Falkland’s principle.

In fact, Falkland was advancing a rather austere notion. Imagine how different the world would be had his advice been consistently followed. After all, mankind has made an immense number of changes that were not strictly necessary. One could argue — and I am sure that some environmentalists would — that it was not strictly necessary for us to abandon hunting and gathering and take up farming and commerce.

The full impact of what Lord Falkland was proposing becomes clear, though, only when you take it personally. For if it is not necessary to buy a second car, then it is necessary not to buy a second car. And if it is not necessary to leave your wife and children and marry your mistress, it is necessary that you not do so. Ah, but you and your mistress are in love. This is the real thing, and while you still care for your wife and dearly love your children, Cupid’s economy demands a change be made, however wrenching.

This common scenario makes plain how all those unnecessary changes human beings have made over the millennia came about: They weren’t thought unnecessary at all. That is because, when we find a particular change desirable, we tend also to be terrifically resourceful in finding reasons why the desired change is necessary.

Consider the converse, the transparently necessary change. Take a guy whose life is in a shambles because he passes out drunk every night. He knows — however reluctant he may be to admit it — that he needs to make a change. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll make it.

So the guy who decides to leave his wife makes an optional change that causes plenty of discomfort all around because his desire for the change outweighs all other considerations. The drunk, on the other hand, declines to make a necessary change because he doesn’t desire it enough to face the discomfort that change would entail. This may not tell us much about the nature of change, but it tells us a very great deal about the nature of human beings.

Lord Falkland’s cautionary proposition is most applicable in situations like the one in which it was first put forth: debates over policy changes, which can prove both dicey and costly. It may even be wise to remind oneself of it when pondering a personal change, though it’s unlikely it will turn out to be the determining factor in your decision. We may be rational, but we are not exclusively so. We are inclined to change, not because we have to, but because we feel like it. And Lord Falkland notwithstanding, there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that.

The 2nd Viscount Falkland was said to be of a melancholic disposition. Too much rationality can do that to you. Perhaps he would have been better off if, just once, he had decided to make some sort of change just for the thrill of it.

That’s What He Said is published on Tuesdays