History is full of unfortunate predictions. However, the New York Times’s claim in 1903 that human flight would not be possible for another one to ten million years is one of the most striking examples. Is this a classic case of pessimism from an era unable to anticipate technological progress? Not quite. The story is far more interesting. It’s about an elite that uses its own failure as proof of impossibility while underdogs persist in trying and ultimately succeed.
On December 8, 1903, the Langley Aerodrome, an aircraft prototype, failed to take off once again and ended up in the Potomac River before the eyes of journalists and officials. Samuel Langley, the secretary of the Smithsonian Institution—the great American science institution—had just squandered the equivalent of two million dollars in today’s money in public funds on this aircraft that stubbornly refused to fly. Following this failure, the New York Times claimed that human flight would not be possible for another one to ten million years.
The newspaper’s implicit reasoning is as follows: Resources, credentials, and institutional legitimacy are necessary for innovation. If those who meet these conditions fail, no one else can succeed. The frontier of the possible coincides with the capabilities of the accredited elite. If “the best among us” cannot do it, then it is impossible. Charitably, the newspaper adds that “for the ordinary man, it would seem that this effort would be more profitable elsewhere,” an observation we still hear today regarding every innovation.
However, just a few days later, on December 17, the Wright brothers made a mockery of this prediction when they flew their plane at Kitty Hawk in a historic flight. They were complete unknowns and paupers compared to the scientific and financial elite represented by Langley. They were bicycle mechanics without degrees, grants, or institutional prestige. Their budget consisted of only a few hundred dollars from their own savings. But they were the ones who won.
This story is instructive in several ways. First, despite being paupers, they had an advantage: they had nothing to lose. Langley was managing a reputation, a public budget, and an institution. When the plane crashed for the second time in the Potomac River in front of journalists and officials, Langley’s reputation was ruined. The stakes were too high. The Wrights, on the other hand, had no reputation to defend. Their initial failures were known only to them, so they were freer to try new approaches. The stakes were limited. A failure? We would try to figure out why and start over. This is the famous “acceptable loss” approach of effectuation.
Second, the elite have a disadvantage: they can give up more easily. What’s striking about Langley is that, after the second crash, he decided to cut his losses. He was humiliated, but he could still continue his career elsewhere. He’s like an amateur athlete who gives it a try but doesn’t push it. The main thing is to participate. If it doesn’t work out, you’re upset, but that’s it. A pauper, on the other hand, is risking his life. The Wright brothers were obsessed with flight. They will persevere for as long as they can. They succeed because they persist.
Third, the episode illustrates the elite’s arrogant and pessimistic stance. They don’t say, “We haven’t succeeded,” or “We don’t know how to do it.” They say, “It’s impossible.” This shift is significant because it transforms personal failure into a universal law. It is the hallmark of a mindset that confuses its own limitations with the limitations of reality. This mindset cannot imagine someone else succeeding by doing things differently. Furthermore, it is easier to declare a problem unsolvable than to admit failure. The elite’s inability to envision a solution to a problem translates into pessimism that is costly for society as a whole. This isn’t the first time this has happened with Langley, and it won’t be the last.
Fourth, the episode underscores the premise of the New York Times article that only what legitimate actors do matters, and that legitimacy comes from who they are rather than what they do. It is an aristocratic way of thinking. If they can’t do it, no one can. The unknowns from Ohio don’t count. They’re paupers, not part of the circle from which discoveries are expected. Moreover, the two brothers’ achievement will receive minimal media coverage. This is a worldview in which innovation is reserved for the accredited, the experts, the graduates, and the officially sanctioned, while the rest of humanity is relegated to the role of spectator. Saint-Simon would have recognized himself in it. Yet this view is mistaken; the world has often been changed by amateurs. The Industrial Revolution, for example, was driven by brilliant amateurs rather than scholars and institutional leaders. This remains true today with figures like Steve Jobs and Elon Musk.
Make way for the underdogs!
Langley’s experience and how the New York Times treated it highlight the danger of reserving innovation for large institutions, whether private or public. These institutions certainly have a role to play, but when it comes to disruptive innovation, the only real advantages are the ability and motivation to see things differently and question dominant mental models. These are difficult qualities for those who have been shaped by the current system, with its emphasis on degrees and medals. A society that wants to remain innovative must bet on the underdogs.
🔎 Sources : @HansMahncke and @PessimistArchive on X
🇫🇷 A version in French of this article is available here.
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