The Sirens of Titan is a satirical novel, and one of the main targets of its derision is the hubris of humanity’s faith in our own intelligence. Hubris refers to excessive pride that in turn leads to the downward turn of a person’s fortune. Throughout the novel, foolish people and ideas are falsely believed to be intelligent. This is closely connected to the novel’s exploration of humanity’s search for meaning, as well as the consequences (and causes) of inequality. People want to believe that intelligent beings are in control, and this leads to (perhaps false) belief in both God and meritocracy. The revelation that the Tralfamadorians have shaped human history to their own ends suggests that more intelligent beings have been in control the whole time. However, an ironic twist emerges in the form of the fact that the message the Tralfamadorians sent Salo on a mission to deliver—and thus the whole reason that human civilization exists—says nothing more than “Greetings.” This message—though not exactly foolish—is not particularly wise, complex, or ingenious, either. It is yet another example of what the novel terms the “idiotically simple,” suggesting that it the habit of assigning greater complexity to simple or foolish matters is a trait not limited to humans.
One of the main messages of the novel is that while it is commonly assumed that more intelligence leads to greater success, the opposite is actually true. This is explored through the example of Noel and Malachi Constant, who are the most successful businessmen in the U.S. despite the fact that they know nothing about business. Noel made his fortune essentially at random, and his investment strategy is so “idiotically simple” that many people actually can’t understand it. They falsely believe that is complicated because of their faith in meritocracy, whereas in reality, Noel is unintelligent and doesn’t really understand business. The same is true of Malachi, who, whenever people ask him for investment advice, tells them to buy stock in an entirely fictional company. As the narrator explains, “what little charm the Constants had evaporated the instant they pretended that their successes depended on knowing their elbows from third base.” The Constants may be the richest people in the country, but this is not thanks to their own intelligence.
Indeed, the novel not only suggests that there is no link between intelligence and success—it also indicates that ignorance might even be more conducive to success. This emerges in the story of the origin of Noel’s fortune. The fact that he didn’t understand why he was becoming rich allowed him to keep pursuing the same uninformed investment strategy, which in turn meant that he continued making money.
The idea that ignorance can be necessary to success is also explored through the character of Boaz, one of the commanders of the Martian Army. Boaz has a very powerful position, but is not an intelligent, curious, or critical person, and the narrator explicitly links these two aspects of his character: “He was too good a soldier to go around asking questions, trying to round out his knowledge. A soldier’s knowledge wasn’t supposed to be round.” This quotation links the novel’s exploration of intelligence to its depiction of free will versus external control: Boaz restricts his own intelligence in order to blindly follow orders, and this makes him a successful soldier.
This is similar to Salo, who—despite being vastly more intelligent than any of the human characters—nonetheless obeys the commands of others to an almost fanatical degree. As the narrator explains, “Of all the orders Salo received before taking off from Tralfamadore, the one that was given the most importance was that he was not, under any circumstances, to open the message along the way. This order was so emphasized that it became the very core of the little Tralfamadorian messenger’s being.” Like Boaz, Salo does not possess a natural sense of curiosity. So despite going on a multi-millennial mission to deliver the message and getting stranded for 200,000 years during it, he is never once tempted to actually find out what the message is.
What appears to link Boaz and Salo’s success and ignorance is the fact that, by deliberately preserving their own ignorance in order to follow orders, they never discover that there is actually no intelligent plan behind their respective missions at all. In both cases, the supposed greater intelligence that (directly or indirectly) gives them orders is the Tralfamadorians trying to get their message delivered to the other side of the universe. Yet at the end of the novel, it is revealed that all this message contains is the word “Greetings.” The seemingly intelligent plot behind everything that happens in the novel is actually, like Noel Constant’s investment strategy, “idiotically simple.”
In contrast to the willingly ignorant Noel, Malachi, Boaz, and Salo, Rumfoord becomes intoxicated with his own intelligence, and thus becomes a warning about hubris. Having acquired the ability to travel through space with his dog, Kazak, through the chrono-synclastic infundibulum, Rumfoord boasts of having learned everything that will happen in both the past and future. While his belief in his own prophetic powers is not false, Rumfoord still fails to realize that a sunspot will eventually interrupt his journey through space and shoot him into oblivion. Indeed, the fact that Rumfoord is sent hurtling through space by a sunspot links his fate to a classical tale of hubris: the story of Icarus, who gains the ability to fly but dies after his wax wings melt when he flies too close to the sun. Like Icarus, Rumfoord acquires a special ability but then become overconfident in this ability, and this eventually leads to his downfall. In this sense, the novel suggest that it is better to always remain aware of one’s own stupidity, rather than (falsely) believe in one’s intelligence.
Human Intelligence, Foolishness, and Hubris ThemeTracker
Human Intelligence, Foolishness, and Hubris Quotes in The Sirens of Titan
Mankind flung its advance agents ever outward, ever outward […]
These unhappy agents found what had already been found in abundance on Earth—a nightmare of meaninglessness without end.
The moral: Money, position, health, handsomeness, and talent aren’t everything.
“When I ran my space ship into the chrono-synclastic infundibulum, it came to me in a flash that everything that has been always will be, and everything that ever will be always has been.” He chuckled again. “Knowing that rather takes the glamour out of fortunetelling—makes it the simplest, most obvious thing imaginable.”
The discovery of the chrono-synclastic infundibula said to mankind in effect: “What makes you think you’re going anywhere?”
It was a situation made to order for American fundamentalist preachers. They were quicker than philosophers or historians or anybody to talk sense about the truncated Age of Space.
There was something pathetic and repellent about Malachi Constant’s talking business. It has been the same with his father. Old Noel Constant had never known anything about business, and neither had his son—and what little charm the Constants had evaporated the instant they pretended that their successes depended on their knowing their elbows from third base.
His system was so idiotically simple that some people can’t understand it, no matter how often it is explained. The people who can’t understand it are people who have to believe, for their own peace of mind, that tremendous wealth can be produced only by tremendous cleverness.
[…] he was too good a soldier to go around asking questions, trying to round out his knowledge.
A soldier’s knowledge wasn’t supposed to be round.
(71.) Unk, old friend—almost everything I know for sure has come from fighting the pain from my antenna […] Whenever I start to turn my head and look at something, and the pain comes, I keep turning my head anyway, because I know I am going to see something I’m not supposed to see. Whenever I ask a question, and the pain comes, I know I have asked a really good question […] The more pain I train myself to stand, the more I learn. You are afraid of the pain now, Unk, but you won’t learn anything if you don’t invite the pain. And the more you learn, the gladder you will be to stand the pain.
Once upon a time on Tralfamadore there were creatures who weren’t anything like machines. They weren’t dependable. They weren’t efficient. They weren’t predictable. They weren’t durable. And these poor creatures were obsessed by the idea that everything that existed had to have a purpose, and that some purposes were higher than others.
These creatures spent most of their time trying to find out what their purpose was. And every time they found out what seemed to be a purpose of themselves, the purpose seemed so low that the creatures were filled with disgust and shame.
Chrono had always known that his good-luck piece had extraordinary powers and extraordinary meanings.
And he had always suspected that some superior creature would eventually come to claim the good-luck piece as his own. It was the nature of truly effective good-luck pieces that human beings never really owned them.