The Myth of the Singular Hero: Why Jared Diamond’s ‘Hamlet Test’ Falls Short
There’s something deeply appealing about the idea of the singular hero—the individual whose unique genius or circumstance changes the course of history. It’s a narrative we’ve been fed since childhood, from Alexander the Great to Steve Jobs. But what if this narrative is not just oversimplified but fundamentally flawed? Jared Diamond’s Profits, Prophets, Coaches and Kings attempts to tackle this question through what he calls the ‘Hamlet test,’ a framework designed to determine whether certain individuals are irreplaceable. Personally, I think this test, while intriguing, reveals more about our obsession with greatness than it does about the mechanics of history.
The Hamlet Test: A Flawed Litmus Paper for Greatness
Diamond’s ‘Hamlet test’ posits that if no one else could have created something as extraordinary as Hamlet, then Shakespeare’s genius is undeniable. On the surface, this seems like a reasonable argument. But here’s where it falls apart: history is not a vacuum. What many people don’t realize is that creativity, innovation, and leadership are deeply contextual. Shakespeare didn’t emerge in isolation; he was part of a vibrant Elizabethan theater scene that included Christopher Marlowe, Ben Jonson, and others. To claim that only Shakespeare could have written Hamlet ignores the collaborative and competitive environment that likely spurred his genius.
Take Marlowe, for instance. He was stabbed to death at 29, but his works like Doctor Faustus and Tamburlaine were already groundbreaking. If you take a step back and think about it, Marlowe’s early death doesn’t just rob us of his potential masterpieces—it also deprives Shakespeare of a rival who might have pushed him even further. This raises a deeper question: Is greatness a product of individual talent, or is it the result of a particular time, place, and set of circumstances?
The Illusion of the Indispensable Leader
Diamond applies his test to figures like Seretse Khama, Botswana’s first president, arguing that only he could have gutted the power of traditional chiefs and stabilized the country. While Khama’s achievements are undeniable, this analysis feels overly deterministic. From my perspective, it’s easy to overstate the role of a single leader when, in reality, systemic factors—colonial legacies, economic conditions, and social movements—often play a far greater role.
This reminds me of the way we often credit CEOs with a company’s success, even though studies show they account for only 6–29% of a firm’s performance. One thing that immediately stands out is how eager we are to attribute outcomes to individuals rather than to the collective efforts of teams, institutions, or even luck. What this really suggests is that our fascination with heroes blinds us to the complexity of history.
Natural Experiments: A Double-Edged Sword
Diamond leans heavily on ‘natural experiments,’ a method borrowed from economics and social sciences. These experiments compare similar scenarios to isolate the impact of specific variables. For example, David Card and Alan Krueger’s study on minimum wage laws challenged conventional economic wisdom by showing that higher wages didn’t necessarily lead to job losses.
While this approach can be illuminating, it’s not without its pitfalls. A detail that I find especially interesting is how Diamond uses parking fines at the UN as a proxy for political corruption. It’s a creative leap, but it also feels like a stretch. Similarly, his citation of a study linking cousin marriage to lower IQ in European monarchs is problematic, not just because it relies on questionable proxies but also because it assumes territorial expansion is inherently desirable.
The Danger of Overlooking Context
One of Diamond’s most striking claims is that the assassination of Franz Ferdinand didn’t cause World War I. This is based on a study by Benjamin Jones and Benjamin Olken, which found that successful assassinations rarely alter the course of history. But what makes this particularly fascinating is that Diamond ignores the study’s caveat: Ferdinand wasn’t included in the data because he wasn’t considered a leader. He also omits the study’s more intriguing finding—that assassinations in autocracies can sometimes accelerate democratic transitions.
This oversight highlights a broader issue with Diamond’s approach: his disdain for subject-matter experts. Whether it’s military historians or literary scholars, he seems to believe that quantitative methods alone can unlock the secrets of history. In my opinion, this is a mistake. History is not just a series of data points; it’s a tapestry of human experiences, motivations, and contingencies that resist reduction to numbers.
The Human Need for Heroes
If you take a step back and think about it, our obsession with singular heroes says more about us than it does about history. We crave narratives that make sense of chaos, that give us someone to admire or blame. But this craving can lead us to oversimplify the past and underestimate the role of collective action.
What many people don’t realize is that this hero-centric view of history can also be dangerous. It can justify inequality by suggesting that wealth, power, or talent are concentrated in a few individuals for a reason. It can discourage us from addressing systemic issues by making us believe that only a savior figure can bring about change.
Conclusion: Rethinking Greatness
Jared Diamond’s Profits, Prophets, Coaches and Kings is a thought-provoking book, but it ultimately falls prey to the very myth it seeks to explore. The ‘Hamlet test’ is less a tool for understanding history and more a reflection of our desire to believe in the power of the individual.
Personally, I think the real lesson here is that greatness is not something that can be measured or isolated. It’s a product of time, place, and circumstance—and, most importantly, of the countless individuals who contribute to it, often without recognition. If we want to understand history, we need to move beyond the myth of the singular hero and embrace the complexity of the human story.
