Black Sails
The first time I visited Greece, I spoke at a conference on Santorini island . On my last night there, I attended a reception aboard a boat owned by one of the event sponsors. Receptions and cocktail parties have never been my thing, as the fear of making small talk with a bunch of strangers who expect me to be far more interesting than I am is always nerve-wracking. While looking for a place to hide as we cruised around the Aegean Sea, I met a member of the boat’s crew who gave me a history lesson on how that famous inlet of the Mediterranean got its name.
According to Greek mythology, after Crete defeated Athens in a revenge war, the Athenians became subjects of the Minoan Empire. King Minos demanded that as a tribute of honor, seven Athenian boys and seven Athenian girls were to be sacrificed every nine years. The children were sent to Crete and devoured by the Minotaur, a monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull, who lived in the Labyrinth.
Theseus, the son of Aegeus, King of Athens, decided to end the shameful bloody sacrifices by slaughtering the Minotaur. He took the place of one young man scheduled to be offered up and set sail for Crete. Before leaving, Theseus made an agreement with his father that if he defeated the beast, on his return home, his crew would raise white sails on the ship declaring his success. If he perished, the sails would be black.
Theseus killed the Minotaur and was able to escape the Minoan island safely. In all the excitement over his victory, however, Theseus forgot to tell his crew about the sails and the arrangement he made with his father. The crew left the black sails on and Aegeus, who from the highest tower in Athens could see the ship approaching, thought his son was dead. In his grief, he threw himself into the sea and drowned.
This story dates back to around 20 BCE, but it shares the same insight as Claude Shannon’s Information Theory from the 1940s:
Signals deliver information. They don’t deliver meaning.
The signals in this story were literally black and white. Not nearly as complicated as those we send and interpret every day in emails, contracts, advertising, employee manuals, laws, and social media posts. A white sail meant Theseus was alive. A black sail meant he was dead. So, how could things have gone so wrong?
It’s easy to blame Theseus for his father’s death. How do you forget to do the one thing you agreed to, especially knowing how important it is to a person who loves you? I don’t know. But I also don’t know what it feels like to battle with a Minotaur and then escape from an island of people who want to see me dead. My guess is that after an experience like that, changing the sails on my ship would not be top of mind. Theseus doesn’t deserve a complete pass, but it’s impossible to know what he was thinking or if he was at all. We can’t even know how seriously he took the agreement with his father. Maybe he saw the pact as a pacifier, a way of reassuring his dad that everything was going to be alright. Something we have all probably promised a parent at one stressful time or another.
As for Aegeus, what was the rush? Would waiting for the boat to return to port, making certain that Theseus was dead, be so unbearable? Was there no other explanation for why the black sails were hoisted? Maybe the rigging was damaged, and they couldn’t replace the canvas. Perhaps the crew suffered massive injuries as they made their escape and needed the white sails for bandages. Or maybe, in all the excitement, Theseus simply got distracted. Aegeus killed himself because he saw a signal and interpreted it to mean the only thing it possibly could. He closed off his mind to other possibilities and took the one extreme action he couldn’t undo when the truth finally came out.
The story of Aegeus and Theseus is a legend, but much of it gets repeated throughout human history. We communicate information without thinking and interpret it without questioning. We have all been Theseus at one time, saying or doing something that we believed was harmless or meaningless, unaware of the hurt or confusion it may cause. And we have all been Aegeus, ascribing intent to the things we see and rushing to judgment before considering all the possible explanations.
Today, displaying a flag means something. Wanting to teach America’s complete history means something. Going to a NASCAR race means something. Attending a Pride event means something. Wanting to cut taxes for the wealthy means something. Wanting to raise taxes on the wealthy means something. Wearing a crucifix, a yarmulke, or a hijab means something.
Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t.
Signals deliver information. They don’t deliver meaning.
Aegeus and Theseus would have benefited from knowing that. So can we.