I once read a quote from the late Robert A. Heinlein that changed my perspective. It’s from his 1973 novel Time Enough for Love, spoken by the central figure, Lazarus Long:
“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. Specialisation is for insects.”
Lazarus embodies Heinlein’s ideal of a “competent man” – a polymath capable of handling almost anything. You could argue that Lazarus embodied Heinlein himself, a man of many interests: a fiction author, an aeronautical engineer, and a naval officer.
Since I was a kid, I’ve questioned why humans are expected to be one-dimensional. I juggled many unrelated interests – still do – and they’ve always made life, my life, worth living.
I strongly believe it’s healthy to learn a wide range of things, even when there’s no financial incentive – which is what motivates most people. It’s like travelling: even if it’s just within your country, it humbles you and shows you there’s a bigger world outside your “norms.”
There’s no immediate reward for this, but the life lessons stay with you. Closing yourself off from new knowledge just because it doesn’t seem useful is never a good idea.
Of course, there’s value in specialisation. This isn’t an argument against that. If I had a tumour on my brain, I’d want a surgeon with decades of experience before they cracked my skull open. But that doesn’t change my belief that building range makes you a more well-rounded human being, better equipped to handle life’s inevitable curve balls.
And in this AI era, the “specialisation is for insects” idea makes even more sense. Machines can already write, code, and analyse data. Soon enough, they’ll outpace us in many specialised tasks. If they can do the narrow things faster and cheaper, what’s left for us?
I think the answer is balance; cultivating range, curiosity, and a willingness to cross between different worlds.
The Renaissance as proof of range
The Renaissance was a European cultural movement (roughly 14th–17th centuries) that revived classical Greek and Roman ideas. It brought realism in art, new scientific curiosity, and the rise of modern-day law. Many call it the “rebirth” of classical culture.
What’s fascinating about this period is that three of the greatest polymaths in history were born. Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael – 1452, 1475, and 1483 respectively.
Leonardo painted the Mona Lisa, but he also dissected bodies, sketched ideas for helicopters, studied water flow, and worked on fortifications. Michelangelo sculpted marble into life, designed architectural elements like domes, and studied anatomy. Raphael painted graceful, balanced works like The School of Athens and also contributed to architectural projects in Rome.
They didn’t see art, science, philosophy, and mathematics as separate boxes. They saw them as one canvas.
I like to call this mix S.P.A.M. – Science, Philosophy, Art, Mathematics. Renaissance learning encouraged this kind of cross-pollination. Anatomy improved painting. Geometry improved architecture. Philosophy shaped ethics and science.
At school, I often wished teachers linked what we learned. I wanted to know how solving for X sharpened my critical thinking or connected to real life. Like realising that buying those sneakers might just give me a “negative X value.” When learning feels meaningless, the brain “bins” it as soon as the test is over. Assign meaning, though, and it sticks. That’s why you’ll remember a close family member’s number off the top of your head, but not your boss’s.
Now, I understand that not everyone back then was a genius. But the culture allowed curiosity to breathe across disciplines, and that likely fuelled their genius in the fields they pursued. There weren’t strict boxes like “I’m an artist” or “I’m a scientist.” Drawing was both a way to study nature and to plan buildings or machines, making overlap natural.
And of course, there were no phones. People locked in, with no distractions. I can’t imagine Leonardo saying to the government of Florence, “Sure, I’ll design your fortification… but let me first check what’s trending on Instagram.”
What changes in the AI era
The Renaissance taught us the power of crossing boundaries between disciplines. But how does this apply in our modern, AI-driven world? For most of the industrial and post-industrial age, the safest path was specialisation: become a lawyer, a doctor, an engineer, an accountant. Pick a box and stay there. That model worked when systems relied on humans to be efficient cogs.
Times have changed. Anyone claiming to know what jobs will look like in the next ten years is either guessing or lying. That’s why I think it’s worth exploring your curiosity, even without a financial incentive. Your unique perspective and ability to express it matter far more than how often you can say “large language models” in a meeting.
AI is already stepping into historically robust careers – law, medicine, engineering, and accounting. It can write legal briefs, scan medical images, and generate code.
Yes, there are countless companies and people doing what you do. But what about your story? Maybe it’s how you were raised, an experience that reshaped your perspective, or a belief most people don’t share.
These details – your flaws, quirks, and experiences – are what no AI can ever replicate.
Steve Jobs, co-founder of Apple, lived this idea. While at Reed College, he took a calligraphy class simply because he was interested. Years later, it helped shape the Mac’s unique typography. He also traveled to India in 1974, looking for spiritual insight, which taught him to value intuition and simplicity. All these random experiences fed his creativity and helped make Apple what it is today.
What becomes valuable now is the ability to connect dots that machines can’t. To bring context, empathy, and creativity into the mix, making what you create feel human. You, with your quirks and unique lens on the world, are the differentiator.
Have you ever heard of Moravec’s Paradox? Back in the 1980s, scientist Hans Moravec noticed something strange about AI: computers can master complex tasks like playing chess or solving equations, but they struggle with simple things that even toddlers find easy. Like recognising a parent’s face, walking across a room without bumping into things, or picking up a glass without dropping it. That’s the human edge – our experiences, our perceptions, and how we make sense of this messy, nuanced world, something no machine will ever truly copy.
Looking back, what once seemed like ‘genius’ in the Renaissance – the ability to cross disciplines – is exactly the kind of range we need today to stay human in an AI-driven world.
My own experiments with range
I don’t just talk about range. I live it. I can’t help but follow my many interests. I studied Marine Biology, now work in tech, and built the portal you’re reading this on. I’m into personal finance and write part-time for a fintech company. My mother is a teacher, and maybe I inherited that gene, as I share what I learn through writing and also teach tech skills to graduates at work.
I’m also drawn to architecture and design, even though I’ve never trained in those fields and don’t plan to. For me, curiosity itself is proof of possibility. Writing this very piece is another expression of range; connecting history, technology, philosophy, and personal reflection.
I’m not saying anyone should copy me. We’re not the same. But I believe everyone has range in them. Too often, we bury it under fear of judgement, fear of being a beginner, or fear that an interest won’t lead to money or recognition. Yet curiosity itself is enough. It doesn’t need a reward.
The cost of ignoring what you love
When you ignore the things you love or are drawn to, part of you quietly dies.
Sometimes forever.
We all know this feeling. The guitar gathering dust. The book never written. The company never started. The class you wanted to take but never did. Those sparks don’t disappear; they just sink under fear or routine. And unless you do something, they’ll haunt you. You’ll find yourself wondering, what if I’d tried?
I hope your “wonder list” won’t be long – especially if you can do something about it now.
You don’t need to know where every interest will lead. Leave that to God, or the universe, or whatever you believe in. The point is to begin, to follow your curiosity. Some things will blossom, some will fade, and some will unexpectedly connect years later in ways you could never have planned.
Naval’s lesson on range
People who know me well know how much I admire Naval Ravikant. He’s smart, an exceptional writer, rich, and a philosopher. What more could you ask for? He’s also a practitioner of range. He often talks about its importance, citing Joe Rogan – the UFC commentator and podcaster – as an example.
I remember Naval sharing how some friends in his entrepreneurial circles advised him not to post about philosophy on Twitter because it “wasn’t related to business.” The irony is that what made him famous outside of entrepreneurship were exactly those punchy tweets on unrelated topics. Those tweets opened doors that business alone never could.
That’s the beauty of range. By stepping into areas that seemed “unrelated,” Naval connected more deeply with people. Likewise, your mix of interests might be the very thing that sets you apart. Not the narrowness of your skill, but the breadth of your curiosity.
Balance is human
The Renaissance gave us artists who were scientists, philosophers who were architects, mathematicians who were poets.
Today, AI reminds us that narrow specialisation is no longer enough, and balance… that mix of skills, interests, and human expression, is essential for survival and may even open doors that change your life.
AI hasn’t killed human creativity. If anything, it has made being human – with all our messy perspectives, quirks, and lived experiences – the only real competitive advantage left.
Even though I don’t work in science, the scientific method still guides how I tackle technical problems in IT. I’m sure you also have interests or traits that could apply in unexpected areas of your life; you just haven’t realised it yet.
Range is how we stay human in a world of machines, because AI may master tasks, but only we can master the art of being whole.
© Phumzile