The Competent Man

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."
-Robert Heinlein

The concept of the Competent Man is one most of us know from movies. The Competent Man is our square-jawed protagonist who is mysteriously proficient at any and all tasks he may need to perform. The perfect and most ludicrous example of this would be James Bond in Goldfinger. There is a scene where he sizes up the capacity of a fleet of trucks and deduces that they are just large enough to carry the entire contents of Fort Knox. Bond is also a gourmand, a martial artist, a fencer, and a computer hacker.

This sort of character is ridiculous, larger-than-life, most definitely. However, it does still have some use to us. Aspiring toward unattainable standards is arguably the most admirable pursuit a man can take up, and the Competent Man is the ultimate manifestation of such a thing.

During the Renaissance, the concept of a Universal Man became popular. A practical, attainable version of the Competent Man, the Universal Man was an individual who was proficient at just about anything required of him. He could fight a duel, write a poem, play an instrument and paint a picture. You will have noticed by now, I'm sure, that such a concept no longer exists or is even remembered.

If I may step onto my crumbling, mold-flecked soapbox for a moment, I blame this on the current sense of entitlement that everyone has. If you aren't good at something, it's alright. Maybe you're good at something else. Maybe you're destined to be the greatest plumber in your town, because you're special and no one should ever tell you otherwise. Characters in films now usually have a distinct lack of talent, their personality being glorified above their actual accomplishments. This is a symptom of the new Realist movement in film, something I have no complaints about in principle.

However, there's something to be said for James Bond and Indiana Jones. People need their unattainable standards, their superhumans on celluloid and paper to guide them. I see a nation whose colleges follow the curriculum of Cam's St. John's, where all disciplines are taught and majors do not exist. I see a generation of kids looking on in awe as the flawless hero guns down henchman no. 71 while curing cancer with a paperclip and some gum.

I grew up on Indiana Jones and Robert Heinlein, so I embraced that unattainable standard early on. I taught myself to write well, to appreciate good literature, to cook a decent meal and run a good distance. I lifted weights while learning to paint. I tried (and mostly failed, though I've picked it up again recently) to learn the guitar.

I could never claim to be an expert at any of these things, but most days I can comfortably say that I'm competent, and that's what matters in the end.