Iconoclast

I`con`o`clast/ n / A person who does something that others say can't be done.

Iconoclast is my most favorite word for 2012.  We need more inconoclasts.  We need them in business.  We need them in education.  We need them in science. We most certainly need them in government.  We need people who will challenge the status quo and can bring fresh thinking and ideas to solve problems.  I like Albert Einstein's quote in this regard.

"We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them."

I am currently reading a book titled "Iconoclast" by Gregory Berns who is a Professor of Neuroeconomics at Emory University.  Berns delves into the reasons that inconoclasts are so creative and successful.  He also explains how we can all become more inconoclastic by learning to see things clearly for what they are and not being influenced by other people's opinions.  By not letting fear rule our decisions and by learning the necessary social networking skills so that other people will eventually come to see things the same way as the inconoclast.

Berns introduces the book with a story about Howard Armstrong.  That is a name I was not familiar with but he was quite a man, and quite an inconoclast.

More than any other person, Armstrong was responsible for the three basic technologies that make radio and television possible.  In addition to his first discovery, called regeneration, which is the technique that allows radio signals to be amplified, Armstrong invented the superhetererodyne receiver, which transforms high-frequency waves into audible sound waves.  But his crowning achievement, and his ultimate undoing, was the creation of FM radio-a technology that the entire radio industry had dismissed as inferior.

We all know now that the sound quality of FM radio is vastly superior to that of AM radio.  However,  Armstrong was alone in his belief of the superiority of FM in the 1930's when he developed the first FM receiver.  He was discredited and disparaged by the AM adherents who only knew what they knew.  He ultimately took his own life in 1954 not knowing that his iconoclastic views would eventually be fully accepted after his death.

I have been thinking a lot about inconoclasts this year which led me to an interesting article in today's Wall Street Journal about 13-year old Aidan Dwyer from Northport, NY.  This young man looks to me like a budding iconoclast.

This past summer, Aidan won a national science competition with what seemed to be a bright idea: His research appeared to show that solar panels arrayed like the leaves on a tree collect sunlight more efficiently than traditional setups.

Many people on the Web called the Long Island teenager a "genius" who had achieved a true "breakthrough" in solar power. Others praised him for proving that nature's own designs are superior to man's.

But there was one little problem: To prove his hypothesis, Aidan had measured the wrong thing. 

As readers figured out the mistake, the Internet went supernova. Commenters and bloggers attacked Aidan with vitriol usually saved for political enemies and the Kardashians. Blogs decried his experiment as "bad science" and "impossible nonsense." Someone called him "an alien—a cool one, though."

Aidan and his family watched in amazement as strangers around the world debated his intelligence and abilities, as well as his opinion of subjects generally beyond the scope of a suburban boy his age: politics, evolution and the state of modern society, for example.

Does that sound somewhat similar to the experience of others like Howard Armstrong who advance a new and novel idea?  How did Aidan see something new and what got him cross-wise with so many others?

On a recent afternoon, Aidan and his parents admitted they were somewhat baffled by the attention for a project that began two years ago on a winter hiking trip through the Catskill Mountains.

Aidan, then 11, stared at the tree branches denuded of leaves and noticed they looked alike; he wondered why. Back home, his parents encouraged him to research the subject. Google searches uncovered that a mathematical concept called the Fibonacci number sequence underlies the structure of tree branches. 

His parents had been hoping to install solar panels on their Long Island house, but their yard was too small and their roof wasn't suitable. There was, however, enough room for a tree. Perhaps, Aidan postulated, trees arranged their branches to improve the collection of sunlight. If he used the Fibonacci sequence to imitate that design with solar panels replacing leaves, maybe the structure could fit his family's limited space, look pretty—and power the house.

He did chores to earn the money to buy about $75 worth of materials. With help from his father—and after many mistakes—Aidan ended up with two models: a traditional flat-panel array and a tree-shaped solar collector designed to mimic the branch sequence of an oak tree. Over the course of months he compared measurements. To his delight, the tree structure's numbers were higher. 

Exuberantly, he submitted the results to the Young Naturalist Awards, a national contest run by the American Museum of Natural History. Of 700 entries, his was picked as one of 12 winners.

"Then," Aidan said with a slight smile, "things got out of hand."

As the report went viral, attacked and championed in hundreds of comments, museum officials became worried. "We do think it's really important that information that we put forth is scientifically accurate," said Rosamond Kinzler, senior director of science education at the museum. They were also concerned for Aidan, she said.

Critics had a point: Aidan had recorded voltage, when he needed to calculate power. It is a serious flaw, explained Jan Kleissl, an assistant professor of environmental engineering at the University of California, San Diego.

Imagine a water pipe, he said. Voltage is equivalent to water pressure. Current is the size of the pipe. Power is equal to the flow of water out of the pipe, which depends on both variables.

Aidan has not been deterred.  He has listened to the constructive advice he got, ignored the critics and the vitriol, and gotten back to work.  A true inconoclast.

On a recent afternoon, Aidan showed a visitor his newest model, tweaked to respond to his critics: a towering seven-foot tree form adorned with solar panels and painted green. He is now measuring current and power. So far, he said, the tree continues to outperform the traditional panel. "I'm thinking that it could actually change the world."

Aidan may or may not be proven right in the end.  However, it is people like Aidan, Florence Nightingale, Henry Ford, Walt Disney, Jackie Robinson and Bill Gates that move us forward as a society.   My fervent wish for 2012 is that we will send some inconoclasts to Washington.  We need them so that people like Aidan can pursue their dreams and ideas for the betterment of us all.