From ancient Greece 32 tragedies are available to us. These plays, from the 5th century BCE, mostly don’t have a good ending. Hence our use of the word tragedy.

The 32 remaining are from just three authors, Euripides (18), Aeschylus (7) and Sophocles (7).
Hundreds of tragedies have been written, we know of some 300 more through fragments and titles from just those three authors. There were other authors, and we know the number of festivals and stagings etc. that we know took place implies there have been hundreds more than that. Just at the Athens festivals alone an estimated 648 different tragedies have been performed over a 70 year period in the 5th century BCE. Just 1 or 2 percent of tragedies written and staged are left to us. A tragedy in its own right.

Why these 32 works? These three authors mostly because a century onwards, the Greeks themselves held them in high regard. But beyond that, why these out of the 300 or so the 3 authors wrote? Mostly because of the Romans. 24 of 32 remaining works were selected by Roman grammatic scholars 600 years later, becoming canon in the 2nd and 3rd centuries CE. All 7 from both Aeschylus and Sophocles, and 10 by Euripides. Likely because of their link to the Homeric tales, which was central in Roman educational efforts. The number 24 isn’t a coincidence either, aiding memory techniques and echoing the 24 chapters in the Iliad and the Odyssee. Of these 24 we have multiple manuscripts and comments and marginalia, because they were taught and used.

This filter, 600 years after the tragedies were written, and 1800 years ago to us means that neither the ancient Greeks nor we ourselves have had any influence on the logic of this selection. The 24 handed down to us through the Roman filter, weren’t selected because the Greeks thought them most representative, nor because we think they are the most outstanding work. And possibly not because of esthetic reasons at all, but because of Roman educational preferences in teaching Greek grammar.

The other 8, all by Euripides, have come to us via a different way. Their titles are in alphabetic order, ε to ι, a piece of what once would have been a full overview of Euripides work, being copied together by some scribes. No selection criteria, just coincidence that one part of these ‘collected works’ survived. No annotations or comments either, just the works.

We know tragedies end badly, right? The ancient Greek word, originally meaning something like ‘goat song’, has come to mean that very thing to us. But it’s not that the ancient Greek playwrights were all depressed or nihilists. It seems it’s just that the Romans selected 24 works that mostly ended badly. Contemporary sources from Ancient Greece tell us tragedies did also end happily, and that such plays were very popular. Yet, the Roman selection 600 years later definitely picked mostly ones ending in, well, tragedy.

Comparing the two groups of plays by Euripides gives an enormous contrast though: of the 10 Roman selected works by Euripides only 2 end happily (20%), of the 8 ‘alphabetical’ ones by the same author, 7 end happily (88%). A reverse image!

The Roman selection is what made tragedies tragedies for us. A group of people 600 years removed from the source of these plays and 1800 years removed from us. For their own, unknowable to us, reasons. It’s a survival bias, not an inherent trait of the plays concerned.

And we’re stuck with that choice.

Tragic.

Also highly fascinating, I find.

Sources: Libraries of the Mind by William Marx (2025), page 3 and 112-116, Greek Tragedy on Wikipedia.

When I was at university and my electronic engineering student association got an internet connection at the very end of the 80s, we named our servers. In the early 90s we had Utelscin (a mix of the (sub)domain names for the uni, faculty and association), and Bettie. Bettie was the mail server, short for Bettie Serveert, ‘Bettie serves’, after a Dutch alternative rock band (the band in turn was named after the title of a book on tennis by Dutch tennis player Betty Stöve).

Just now I was going through some papers on language and thinking by Dr. Evelina Fedorenko at MIT’s EvLab, where I came across a statement they name the lab’s hardware after scientists and engineers in history who did not get sufficient credit for their contributions. I like that.

screenshot of EvLAb website stating they name hardware after scientists, with links to those names

Maybe we should do something like that in our company too, for undercredited people in the fields we are active in.

Great Olympics opening show in Paris last night. I thought I’d have a quick look on tv, and then kept watching to the end at midnight. Impressive celebration of French cultural identity in a hugely inclusive way and embedded in the wider European context. Reactionary heads around Europe and the world must have exploded, at this display of embracing one’s national identity without resorting to othering anyone for it.

The beheaded Marie-Antoinettes rocking to heavy metal and opera while arterial blood spouts from the royal’s last Paris residence, liberty in part interpreted as a polyamorous trio celebrating French romantic literature in the library before discretely closing the hotel room door on us, the Dionysian festivities turned gender and age diverse catwalk on the bridge rocking to Euro disco, the golden statues rising from the Seine river of impactful French women, among them two who worked to legalise abortion, the dancer using sign language in their choreography, Assassin’s Creed Arno Dorian phantom like parcouring across Paris with the Olympic flame later taken over by not just one but a whole range of French and international sports heroes (including the oldest living French gold medallist at 100), to collectively light the Olympic fire, while La Giaconda floated away unnoticed on the Seine. Aya Nakamura, who endured a racist storm of abuse at the mere suggestion she might as France’s current internationally best selling artist have a role in the opening, performing with the 176 years old French Republican Guard band. All the little nods and layerings of intention and connections woven into it. It was joyous. It was meaningful.

Joyous too was having the opening ceremony not just escape but completely doing away with the customary stadium setting. The entire city center along the Seine was used as a stage. The city as a platform is an often used metaphor and it came to life here. The national anthem sung by Axelle Saint-Cirel from the enormous glass dome roof of the Grand Palais, the parcours route of the Olympic flame I mentioned, the boat parade on the river of the over 200 national olympic delegations, using the Eiffel Tower for a tremendous light show in sync with the music, Celine Dion performing from half way up the Eiffel Tower itself, and letting the Olympic flame rise above the city from the Tuileries on a balloon (a final nod to ballooning’s French start in 1783).

With all that, who cares they raised the Olympic flag upside down. They got the humanly important details right. Stuff happens, c’est la vie.

How could I not buy these small notebooks? Made by my friend Peter from paper cut-offs from boxes he made and printed in Tuscany, they are made from Magnani 1404 paper. Magnani started making paper in Pescia in 1404 (they ceased operation in recent years, but another Magnani is still making paper, since 1481), right at the moment in time that the literate population of Tuscany started using paper notebooks to make everyday notes, and lots of them. Paper had become affordable and available enough roughly a century earlier, with Tuscany being at the heart of that, and Florentine merchants used their book keeping system and the paper notebooks needed for it to build a continent spanning trade network. After the Black Death personal note taking took off too, and from 1400 onwards it had become commonplace:

At the end of the Middle Ages, urban Tuscans seemed stricken with a writing fever, a desire to note down everything they saw.’ But they remained a peculiarly local phenomenon: there was something uniquely Florentine (or more accurately ‘Tuscan’ as examples also survive from Siena and Lucca) about them,…

Allen, Roland. The Notebook: A History of Thinking on Paper (p. 61).”

Around the turn of the year I gave The Notebook as a present to Peter thinking it would be something to his liking. My own notes have helped me learn and work for decades. E and I when we lived in Lucca for a month, passed through Pescia by train en route to Firenze.

Tuscany, paper from a company that was there from the start of everyday note taking, The Notebook, personal knowledge management, and friendship, all coming together in this piece of craftsmanship. How could I not buy them? So I did.

Bookmarked Opening Space to Remember Harrison Owen by Nancy White

The originator of the Open Space technology, Harrison Owen, died March 16th. I am very grateful to Harrison Owen, as Open Space has been a key element throughout my working life in the past two decades. Open Space has allowed me to collaboratively set the conditions at various events for interaction in a way that fosters inclusion, allows all present to be heard, and works towards outcomes that are carried by all involved. You can find resources on Open Space at Openspaceworld.org. I first encountered Open Space as a format in January 2004, and was immediately convinced of its value. Since then I’ve facilitated it in a huge variety of sessions, that included our BlogWalk series 2004-2008, many conference side-events, Barcamps, IndieWeb camps, and the birthday unconferences E and I have hosted over the years. At times opening and especially closing the space can be an emotional experience. “Coming down to earth from creating and surfing the group’s collective energy and shared attention, from weaving the tapestry of the experience togetheras I wrote two years ago.

…the person who birthed OST, Harrison Owen, who passed away earlier this month…

Nancy White


One of the guidelines of Open Space posted on the wall in our living room as nudge and reminder for the participants of our Working on Stuff That Matters birthday unconference in 2010.

These index cards provide improvisation prompts. They contain words to use and suggestions for actions to use in a game of improvisation. One grouping of words and actions per index card. Seeing them laid out next to each other obviously reminded me of the use of index cards in personal learning/knowledge systems that are based on physical cards or made digitally (keeping one thing per note file), as well as of flash cards (like for spaced repetition). And it made me think of Chris Aldrich who collects examples of using index cards like these, as well as of Peter who is part of an improv group.

This set contains 108 cards with ‘nuclei’ of words and actions for improv. They were created by Jackson Mac Low in 1961 as ‘nuclei for Simone Forti‘ after seeing her perform in Yoko Ono’s loft. They were used by her as well as by Trisha Brown.

I came across this set of cards at the ‘Fondation du doute‘, the institute of doubt, in Blois, in a exhibition on the postmodern ‘Fluxus‘ movement that Jackson Mac Low participated in for some time.