The Senior Common Room at St Anselm's had rarely been so divided over a document that everyone agreed with.
This, Professor Quillibrace observed, was usually a sign that the document was interesting.
"The curious thing," he said, placing the paper upon the table, "is that every person involved appears to want exactly the same thing."
Mr Blottisham looked surprised.
"That cannot be right."
"Why not?"
"Because they disagree."
"Ah," said Quillibrace. "You have discovered one of the great mysteries of human affairs."
Miss Elowen Stray smiled.
"Perhaps the disagreement is not about values."
"Precisely," said Quillibrace. "It is about the translation of values into action."
Blottisham looked thoughtful.
"So everyone agrees on the destination, but they are arguing about the road?"
"A useful metaphor."
"Excellent. Then we need only build a better road."
Professor Quillibrace sighed.
"Unfortunately, Mr Blottisham, roads are easier to build than agreements about where they should lead."
Miss Stray lifted the conference proposal.
"What interests me is how quickly a question about climate becomes a question about identity."
"Explain."
"The community does not simply ask: 'What produces emissions?' It asks: 'What kind of community do we wish to be?'"
Quillibrace nodded.
"Yes. That is the deeper question."
Blottisham frowned.
"Isn't that rather dangerous?"
"Why?"
"Because once people start asking what kind of people they are, someone usually decides what kind of people everyone else should be."
There was a brief silence.
Professor Quillibrace looked at him.
"Mr Blottisham, that may be the most sensible thing you have said all afternoon."
Blottisham beamed.
"I have been practising."
"The difficulty," continued Miss Stray, "is that communities built around moral commitments face a particular challenge."
"Which is?"
"They must decide how to disagree."
"Surely that is easy," said Blottisham. "You listen carefully, then explain why the other person is mistaken."
Professor Quillibrace closed his eyes.
"An elegant summary of many committee meetings."
Miss Stray continued.
"When a community values responsibility, a disagreement about methods can easily become interpreted as a disagreement about values."
"So one side says, 'You don't care enough,'" said Quillibrace.
"And the other says, 'You are simplifying too much.'"
"Exactly."
Blottisham nodded.
"I see the problem."
Both colleagues looked at him.
"The first person thinks the second person has a moral deficiency."
"And the second?"
"Thinks the first person has an intellectual deficiency."
A pause.
"Remarkably," said Quillibrace, "you have described academia."
Miss Stray turned to the document.
"There is another issue here."
"The question of measurement?"
"Yes."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"One of humanity's favourite modern solutions."
"Measurement?"
"No. The belief that whatever is measurable is therefore important."
Blottisham looked alarmed.
"But surely numbers are useful."
"Of course."
"Then what is the problem?"
"The problem is not measurement. The problem is forgetting that measurement is a tool rather than a worldview."
Miss Stray nodded.
"We can count flights."
"We can estimate emissions."
"We cannot easily count a conversation that inspires a ten-year collaboration."
"Nor a doctoral student who decides to remain in research because someone took them seriously at a conference."
"Nor the intellectual confidence gained from discovering that one's work belongs to a global community."
Blottisham looked puzzled.
"But those things are real."
"Exactly."
"Then why don't we measure them?"
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"An excellent question. Perhaps because the universe has not yet provided us with a convenient spreadsheet column for human flourishing."
The room became quiet.
Outside, the college gardeners continued their eternal struggle against weeds, a contest in which both sides had displayed remarkable persistence over several centuries.
Miss Stray spoke again.
"Perhaps the deeper danger is optimisation."
"Optimisation?"
"Yes. The desire to improve one variable without considering the whole system."
Quillibrace nodded.
"An ancient problem."
"Reduce carbon."
"Good."
"Increase access."
"Good."
"Preserve intellectual communities."
"Good."
"Lower costs."
"Good."
Blottisham smiled.
"That sounds easy."
"Does it?"
"All the goals are good."
"Exactly."
"So why is it difficult?"
Professor Quillibrace looked at him.
"Because, Mr Blottisham, the universe has an unfortunate habit of arranging good things in conflict with other good things."
Blottisham considered this.
"That seems rather unfair."
"Reality has rarely consulted administrative preferences."
Miss Stray picked up her teacup.
"I wonder whether the real question is not how we eliminate trade-offs."
"Because we cannot?"
"Because perhaps mature institutions are those that acknowledge them."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"A very unfashionable idea."
"Why?"
"Because modern organisations prefer dilemmas with solutions."
"And reality?"
"Reality prefers dilemmas with management."
Blottisham brightened.
"Perhaps we need a committee."
"No."
"A working group?"
"No."
"A strategic framework?"
"Absolutely not."
Blottisham looked wounded.
"How then shall we proceed?"
Professor Quillibrace looked at him kindly.
"By thinking."
Blottisham appeared disappointed.
"That seems rather inefficient."
"Indeed."
"How long does it take?"
"Usually longer than a meeting."
Miss Stray smiled.
"There is something almost paradoxical here."
"What is that?"
"A community committed to studying meaning has discovered that the meaning of its own practices cannot be reduced to a single metric."
Professor Quillibrace raised his cup.
"A rare moment when a discipline discovers that its own theory applies to itself."
Blottisham looked pleased.
"So the solution is more linguistics?"
"No, Mr Blottisham."
"Less linguistics?"
"No."
"Precisely the right amount?"
"Perhaps."
Blottisham nodded.
"Excellent. I shall form a committee to determine the precise amount."
Professor Quillibrace looked horrified.
"Please do not."
"Why?"
"Because I fear you will accidentally create the first bureaucracy devoted to measuring the optimal quantity of bureaucracy."
Miss Stray laughed.
"And then we shall need another committee to evaluate whether the committee has exceeded its recommended bureaucratic threshold."
The fire crackled.
The conference paper remained on the table.
No decision had been reached.
But, as Professor Quillibrace remarked while gathering the documents, this was not necessarily evidence of failure.
"Sometimes," he said, "the purpose of discussion is not to produce agreement."
"Then what is it?"
"To prevent premature certainty."
And in the Senior Common Room, where premature certainty had caused more difficulties than disagreement ever had, this was considered a considerable achievement.
