Researchers have discovered that rats can be trained to drive a car, and that they enjoy the experience. With practice, and the incentive of some Froot Loop breakfast cereal, a sample of laboratory rats steered a vehicle constructed from a plastic container, by grasping at a wire that propelled it forward. (Kaya Burgess, The Times, 19 November, 2024)

Writing on The Conversation website, Kelly Lambert, a professor of behavioural neuroscience at the University of Richmond, Virginia observed:

‘Unexpectedly, we found that the rats had an intense motivation for their driving training, often jumping into the car and revving the ‘lever engine’ before their vehicle hit the road.’

The scientists then set about establishing whether the rats’ eager anticipation was for the Froot Loops or the driving. And so, they offered the rats a choice: they could either access the Froot Loop by making a short journey on foot, or they could climb into the car and drive the long way round to the treat.

‘Surprisingly, two of the three rats chose to take the less efficient path of turning away from the reward and running to the car to drive to their Froot Loop destination. This response suggests that the rats enjoy both the journey and the rewarding destination.’

Perhaps the lab rats can teach us a lesson.

Work shouldn’t just be about ends, goals and objectives. If we enjoy the process as well as the prize, we can be more fulfilled; we can make better teammates; and, over time, we can become more resilient.

'It’s not the destination, it's the journey.’
Ralph Waldo Emerson

My fondest recollections of advertising are not just of pitch wins and finished commercials. They are of deconstructing briefs and developing hypotheses; of sharing thoughts and shaping executions. The synergies of multi-disciplinary teams and the camaraderie under pressure. The diplomacy of client engagement and the theatre of presentation. The daft situations, wise aphorisms and witty observations.

I found the journey as satisfying as the arrival.

As Lambert concludes:

‘Anticipating positive experiences helps drive a persistence to keep searching for life’s rewards. Planning, anticipating and enjoying the ride may be key to a healthy brain.’

Useful advice if you want to survive the rat race.

'You're working at your leisure to learn the things you'll need.
The promises you make tomorrow will carry no guarantee.
I've seen your qualifications, you've got a PhD
I've got one art O level, it did nothing for me.
Working for the rat race,
You know you're wasting your time.
Working for the rat race,
You're no friend of mine.
You plan your conversation to impress the college bar,
Just talking about your Mother and Daddy's Jaguar.
Wear your political T-shirt and sacred college scarf,
Discussing the worlds situation but just for a laugh.
You'll be working for the rat race,
You know you're wasting your time.
Working for the rat race,
You're no friend of mine.’
The Specials, ‘Rat Race’ (R J Byers)

No. 506

‘My Wife, My Horse and Myself’ - Alfred Munnings

‘The most radical revolutionary will become conservative the day after the revolution.’
Hannah Arendt, Philosopher and Political Theorist

I confess I’m partial to the art of Alfred Munnings.

In the first half of the twentieth century Munnings painted East Anglian life in bold, bright colours: race meetings, horse fairs and hunting; farm hands, gentry and gypsies. Mostly he just painted horses, for whom he seemed to have a greater affection than he had for people. He titled one painting ‘My Wife, My Horse and Myself’ and the horse takes centre stage.

To modern eyes Munnings’ paintings are not particularly challenging or thought provoking. But in his youth he was part of the progressive art colony based on the south coast of Cornwall, the Newlyn School, and he served as a war artist during the First World War. His work is honest, open and true. It is rooted in the English countryside and English painting tradition. It is in its own way rather beautiful.

‘Every hero becomes a bore at last.’
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essayist

Sadly Munnings’ reputation in the art world is tarnished. As he grew older he developed a passionate dislike of modernism. In his late sixties he served as President of the Royal Academy of Art and, in a speech broadcast live on the BBC in 1949, he drunkenly accused his fellow painters of ‘shilly shallying in this so called modern art.’ He suggested that Cezanne, Matisse and Henry Moore had corrupted art, and he joked that he’d like to join Churchill in kicking Picasso up the arse.

’The Start at Newmarket’ - Alfred Munnings

‘A great scientific truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light, but rather because its opponents eventually die.’
Max Planck, Nobel Prize-winning Physicist

I was prompted to think about Munnings by a piece I read in The Times (Rhys Blakely, 17 September 2019). A recent study by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology tracked the careers of 13,000 elite scientists, looking at their funding, published papers and citations. The research suggests that ‘superstar scientists,’ once they have achieved a position of authority, tend to suppress new ideas from other quarters. After their deaths their field of study is often invigorated by younger rivals, who suddenly publish research at a faster rate, and by scientists migrating from other adjacent subject areas.

‘Our results suggest that, once in control of the commanding heights of their fields, star scientists tend to hold on to their exalted position – and to the power that comes with it – a bit too long.’
Pierre Azoulay, MIT

This conclusion may resonate with people working in business today. The senior ranks of industry are quite often filled with individuals who in their youthful prime were high-achieving radicals. However, with the passing of the years and the accrual of status, recognition and rewards, these same people can become increasingly conservative, set on defending their turf from new people and new ideas. They can’t help regarding the world through the prism of their own talents and beliefs. In time most revolutionaries become reactionaries.

Speaking from experience, as you get older you can feel marginalised. The world seems to be reinventing itself around the needs and tastes of new generations. It’s easy to resent change. And conservatism creeps over you like a comfortable blanket. We all occasionally suffer Luddite leanings.

‘All sorts of allowances are made for the illusions of youth; and none, or almost none, for the disenchantments of age.’
Robert Louis Stevenson, Writer

I’m not sure it’s wise to ‘rage against the dying of the light.’ At least not in the reactionary way that Munnings did. We may not want to run at the future, but we certainly shouldn’t run away from it. The grumpy old man or woman is rarely attractive, seldom makes for an effective leader, and should probably avoid the sauce when speaking in public.

'Old man, take a look at my life
I'm a lot like you.
I need someone to love me
The whole day through.
Ah, one look in my eyes
And you can tell that's true.’

Neil Young, ‘Old Man'

No. 259

If You Want to Survive the Rat Race, You Need to Learn to Enjoy the Ride

When Revolutionaries Become Reactionaries: Alfred Munnings and the Disenchantments of Age