Private first, public when ready

I recently read Galileo’s Dream by Kim Stanley Robinson, an exquisite historical science-fiction novel about the Italian scientist’s life. A central highlight is a story Galileo wrote in 1623 in his book The Assayer (one of the original diss tracks) that’s unlike anything he wrote before or after. 

A transcript:

“Once upon a time, in a very lonely place, there lived a man endowed by nature with extraordinary curiosity and a very penetrating mind. For a pastime he raised birds, whose songs he much enjoyed…

“One night this man chanced to hear a delicate song close to his house… When he arrived at a road he found a shepherd boy who was blowing into a kind of hollow stick while moving his fingers about on the wood, thus drawing from it a variety of notes similar to those of a bird, though by quite a different method…”

“Realizing that if he had not chanced to meet the boy he would never have learned of the existence of a new method of forming musical notes and the sweetest songs, he decided to travel to distant places in the hope of meeting with some new adventure… 

There was a lonely man who was bewitched by the mysteries of sound. He was sound-sniped by a flute, so he started traveling the world trying to hear every sound he could. 

Back to Galileo:

“His amazement was increased when upon entering a temple he heard a sound, and upon looking behind the gates discovered that this had come from the hinges and fastenings as he opened it. [H]e observed that wasps, mosquitoes, and flies do not form single notes by breathing, as did the birds, but produce their steady sounds by swift beating of their wings. As his wonder grew, his conviction proportionately diminished that he knew how sounds were produced… 

The more he learned, the more he realized how limited his knowledge was.

“For having captured in his hands a cicada, he failed to diminish its strident noise either by closing its mouth or stopping its wings. [N]othing happened until his needle drove too deep, and transfixing the creature he took away its life with its voice… When asked how sounds were created he used to answer tolerantly that although he knew a few ways, he was sure that many more existed which were not only unknown but unimaginable.”

Where once he had been certain, the hugeness of the universe left him humbled.

The wisdom of Galileo

So it is with anything worth exploring. The deeper we go, the deeper we see to go. We accrue knowledge, patterns, the intricacies of difference and taste. An endless well and pleasure to explore. But always still: a deeper unknown underneath.

When we give what we’ve received time and space, the pieces reassemble in new shapes. This is the eureka moment of discovery people write about, and typically where the story stops. 

Galileo shows what comes after: a thirst for understanding and exploration that overtakes us and leads down unpredictable paths. We realize our discoveries were the product of circumstances whose conditions we seek to recreate and adjust, with at times fatal consequences.

Some of Galileo’s wisdom that stays with me:

• Certainty is immaturity; enlightenment is humility
• Trying too hard to understand a thing can kill a thing
• If we're diligent and true-hearted, the universe will grant a glimpse at its inner workings and how to understand them — but no knowledge will ever be complete

How understanding accrues

Over the course of his life, Galileo made many unprecedented discoveries and scientific leaps. Some involved eureka moments. But even when actively thinking about a problem, the process of understanding could take months or even decades. 

It was important to Galileo that others understand his assertions and the process he used to get there. So he spent many more months, years, and, yes, decades trying to find the clearest way to explain himself. He practiced in private letters to friends, peers, and people who randomly wrote to him. He tried out different arguments and paid close attention to how people reacted to his metaphors and explanations. His storytelling evolved based on what worked.

If we visualize Galileo’s growing confidence in his theories, we can picture the theory’s expression snowballing with each exchange. Back and forth the idea goes, each volley increasing understanding until the snowball makes itself into a proper structure that can be clearly explained and presented in a way that others can test its conclusions.

Galileo used private chats and audiences to refine his ideas before going public. In part because his theories were seen by some as dangerous, but also because he trusted conversational iteration to lead him to truth. 

The Galileo Method

The timelines of Galileo’s day differ from ours, but the benefits of this approach remain the same. If we try to transport Galileo’s practice to today, we might get something like the Galileo Method:

Stage 1: The table — Test your idea in a small circle of actual people before sending it on the internet. Try saying the idea out loud or writing it conversationally. Be genuine. What happens?

Stage 2: The mirror — Pay close attention to how people respond in these private exchanges. But also be careful not to let them easily move you off your convictions. Incorporate feedback and strengthen weak points. 

Stage 3: The square — Publish your ideas with confidence and publicly thank your co-thinkers when you do. This shows that your ideas are part of a wider community, and will inspire others to do the same.

The Galileo Method in a phrase: private first, public when ready.

Sharing secrets

In Galileo's story he writes of someone with "extraordinary curiosity and a very penetrating mind" but who lives "in a very lonely place." This sounds like us. But what if we changed that?

Go through Galileo’s story again. Only this time the protagonist isn’t “lonely,” they’re doing it as a group. The shepherd boy is a member. Another person in the group was the one who noticed the temple’s hinges. Yet another has been studying the cicadas song for months.

Instead of one mind following a trail of clues, in this version many minds share in the quest together. Would such a group generate more knowledge than the solitary seeker? Maybe. Would they feel more joy, connection, and momentum along the way? This feels likely.

The long distances of Galileo's day made such arrangements very difficult. The internet of our day constantly gives us this potential. Inviting another soul into our work to share their perspective is a sign of genuine trust and respect that creates growth and outcomes beyond what you can achieve on your own. Individually our knowledge is always limited. But shared knowledge, building on each other’s ideas, has moved humanity forward. Not from one mind, but from many.

Galileo reminds us that certainty is immaturity and enlightenment is humility. The lesson is not to rush toward quick answers or public declarations, but to sit with questions, to refine them in trusted company, and to wait until the shape of truth emerges. Private first, public when ready.

Thank you to Alvaro Enrigue, Anthony Perasso, Lena Imamura, and Jamie Kim for conversations that helped shape this essay.

Linknotes

• Galileo’s Dream by Kim Stanley Robinson. Excellent historical sci-fi.
• Galileo’s Daughter by Dava Sobel. Excellent nonfiction.
• Artist Corporations, Bentoism, Metalabel, the Post-Individual, and This Could Be Our Future all went through a similar process to the Galileo Method. They were first shaped by private conversations and debates with people I trusted. Only after clearing those hurdles and weighing very different perspectives did I feel my ideas were strong enough to publicly share. 
• By reading this, all of you are part of my thinking process. I’m always happy to hear what you think. Don’t be shy about writing back and sharing a thought. It’s always appreciated.