Psychic Dynamite

"Every prophet has to come from civilisation, but every prophet has to go into the wilderness. He must have a strong impression of a complex society and all that it has to give, and then he must serve periods of isolation and meditation. This is the process by which psychic dynamite is made." Winston Churchill

When I first encountered this quote while researching for my book, it stopped me in my tracks. Churchill wasn't just describing prophets in the biblical sense, but anyone who seeks to generate transformative ideas or profound insights. He was articulating a fundamental creative process that applies to innovators, leaders, and thinkers across every domain. But what exactly is ‘psychic dynamite’? And why does its creation require this seemingly contradictory journey between civilisation and wilderness?

The Essence of Psychic Dynamite

At its core, I would say that psychic dynamite represents ideas or insights with explosive transformative power – thoughts capable of shattering established paradigms and reconstructing our understanding of the world. It's intellectual TNT, powerful enough to blast through the bedrock of conventional thinking.

In my book, I explored how genuine innovation often emerges from this volatile compound of societal immersion followed by deliberate withdrawal. It's not merely clever thinking or incremental improvement – it's the kind of revelatory breakthrough that fundamentally alters our perspective.

Darwin's theory of evolution, Einstein's relativity, or Picasso's Cubism. Each represented psychic dynamite in their respective fields, and each emerged from minds that had deeply absorbed the knowledge of their civilisation before retreating to process and transform that knowledge in isolation.

The Civilisation Component

Churchill's insight begins with the necessity of civilisation. We cannot create in a vacuum; we need the rich soil of existing knowledge, perspectives, and problems that only immersion in society can provide. The civilisation phase is about acquisition and absorption. It's about reading widely, engaging in debates, observing societal patterns, and wrestling with the complexities of human endeavour. It's where we gather the raw materials for our eventual breakthroughs.

Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's (I’m still learning to pronounce it) research on creativity emphasises this point. In his studies of creative individuals across disciplines, he found that meaningful innovation requires deep domain knowledge – a thorough understanding of what has come before. As he puts it:

“It is impossible to enjoy a tennis game, a book, or a conversation unless attention is fully concentrated on the activity.” Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

This aligns with what philosopher Karl Popper termed the "problem situation" – the existing context of knowledge and questions within which new ideas must situate themselves. Without understanding the current state of play, our ideas lack both foundation and relevance. He even used this as part of his falsification principle, which I used to teach as part of the A-Level syllabus: existing solutions or theories are useful and true until there is evidence that falsifies them. It’s almost “I’ll believe it until I know otherwise!”

Steve Jobs exemplified this approach when he obsessed himself with calligraphy classes at Reed College, something seemingly unrelated to his technological pursuits. Years later, this civilisation phase experience would provide the raw material for Apple's revolutionary typography and aesthetic design.

The Wilderness Necessity

But Churchill didn't stop with civilisation. He understood that exposure to society's knowledge and problems isn't enough. The prophet "has to go into the wilderness" – to withdraw from the constant stimulation and social pressure of civilisation.

This wilderness phase isn't about abandoning society entirely. Rather, it's about creating mental and often physical space for deep processing to occur. It's where we digest, connect, and transform the raw materials gathered during our civilisation phase.

The wilderness serves several crucial functions. First, it provides freedom from conformity pressures. As social psychologist Solomon Asch demonstrated in his famous conformity experiments, our thinking is profoundly influenced by those around us. In the wilderness, we escape the gravitational pull of consensus thinking. Secondly, it allows for what neuroscientists call the “default mode network” to activate – the brain state associated with introspection, autobiographical memory, and creative connections. This network often becomes suppressed in environments demanding constant attention to external stimuli like screens, people and ‘stuff’. Third, it creates space for what psychologist Jerome Bruner called "effective surprise" – the unexpected connections and insights that emerge when our minds are freed from immediate problem solving to wander more associatively.

“The road to banality is paved with creative intentions. Surprise is not easily defined. It is the unexpected that strikes one with wonder or astonishment. What is curious about effective surprise is that it need not be rare or infrequent or bizarre and is often none of these things. Effective surprises … seem rather to have the quality of obviousness about them when they occur, producing a shock of recognition following which there is no longer astonishment.” Jerome Bruner

J.K. Rowling famously conceived Harry Potter during a delayed train journey – a temporary wilderness between destinations. Similarly, Friedrich Nietzsche produced some of his most revolutionary philosophical works during solitary walks in the Swiss Alps, far from academic circles. I have written many times previously about how my wanderings (physical, emotional and spiritual) have allowed me to think more clearly than structured routines or strict protocols ever have.

Where Dynamite Forms

The magic happens in the interplay between these two states. Psychic dynamite isn't formed solely in the marketplace of ideas, nor in complete isolation. It emerges from the creative tension between immersion and withdrawal, between absorption and reflection. This dialectical process creates what philosopher Hegel might have recognised as a synthesis – not merely combining elements from civilisation, but transforming them into something genuinely new through the alchemical process of isolated contemplation.

The psychologist Carl Jung captured this dynamic perfectly in his concept of active imagination, which is a process requiring both conscious engagement with material and an allowing of unconscious processes to work upon it. Jung himself built a retreat at Bollingen where he could withdraw from his busy psychiatric practice in Zurich, creating the conditions for his most innovative psychological insights. It also ties in closely with Graham Wallas’ ideas about trains, which I reference in most of my workshops about the creative process. One thing that sticks out to me from Wallas is:

"The final “flash,” or “click” is the culmination of a successful train of association, which may have lasted for an appreciable time, and which has probably been preceded by a series of tentative and unsuccessful trains. The series of unsuccessful trains of association may last for periods varying from a few seconds to several hours." Graham Wallas

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Psychic Dynamite in Practice

This interplay between civilisation and wilderness can be seen across various domains.  In business, Phil Knight built Nike after thoroughly understanding the athletics market and Japanese manufacturing approaches (civilisation), then retreating to develop his distinctive vision during a post-graduation trip around the world (wilderness). In science, Isaac Newton developed his revolutionary theories of gravity during the plague years when Cambridge University closed, forcing him to retreat to his family home at Woolsthorpe Manor. His mind, saturated with the mathematics and physics of his day, found transformative insights in relative isolation. In literature, Mary Shelley conceived Frankenstein during a rainy summer at Villa Diodati, where she and her companions withdrew from London society to tell ghost stories. Her mind, steeped in the scientific advances and philosophical debates of her era, transformed these elements into a narrative with enduring power.

In my own work in education, I've witnessed how the most transformative pedagogical approaches emerge not from educators constantly immersed in day-to-day teaching, nor from those entirely detached from classrooms, or dare I say it, during an away-day at a CPD conference, but from practitioners who regularly cycle between intense engagement and reflective withdrawal.

Churchill's insight isn't just an observation. I believe it's a prescription. If we want to generate truly transformative ideas, we must intentionally design this rhythm of engagement and withdrawal into our lives. One way to approach this might be to work through a process similar to the following:

First, immerse yourself deeply in your domain. Read widely, engage with diverse perspectives, attend conferences, debate with colleagues, absorb the problems and possibilities of your field. Don't just skim the surface; develop what philosopher Thomas Nagel might call "a view from somewhere" – a thorough, situated understanding.

Then, create deliberate wilderness experiences. These needn't be dramatic retreats (though they can be). They might be daily walks without your phone, weekend digital sabbaticals, or regular meditation practices. The key is creating space where your mind can process without constant new input.

Avoid the trap of perpetual civilisation – the endless meetings, constant connectivity, and incessant information consumption that characterises modern professional (and sadly, personal) life. Without wilderness, you may become knowledgeable but rarely transformative. Similarly, beware of extended isolation without prior immersion. The hermit who withdraws before deeply engaging with society's knowledge and challenges may find peace but rarely produces psychic dynamite. 

Instead, consciously oscillate between these states. As psychological research on the "incubation effect" in creative problem-solving suggests (not least in the Wallas book I talk about all the time!), our most powerful insights often emerge when we alternate between focused engagement and strategic disengagement.

The Philosophical Dimensions

Churchill's insight connects to deeper philosophical questions about knowledge and creativity. It resonates with what philosopher Michael Polanyi called “tacit knowledge” – the understanding that must be absorbed through immersion rather than merely studied intellectually, yet which requires reflection to articulate and transform. It also echoes philosopher Martin Heidegger's concept of “meditative thinking” vs “calculative thinking”. The former requires  stepping back from immediate concerns to consider more fundamental questions.

Perhaps most profoundly, it speaks to what Aristotle termed theoria which is the contemplative activity he considered humanity's highest calling. For Aristotle, this wasn't mere abstract thought but a process requiring both engagement with practical matters and withdrawal for deeper reflection.

"For contemplation is both the highest form of activity (since the intellect is the highest thing in us, and the objects that it apprehends are the highest things that can be known), and also it is the most continuous, because we are more capable of continuous contemplation than we are of any practical activity." Aristotle

Key Takeaways

1. Embrace the dialectic: Recognise that transformative thinking requires both deep societal engagement and strategic withdrawal. Deliberately schedule both in your life. It is not an either/or but a both/and situation!

2. Accept that quality of immersion matters: During your ‘civilisation’ phases, seek depth over breadth. Don't just collect information; wrestle with complex problems and diverse perspectives.

3. Design your wilderness: Create specific times and spaces for undistracted reflection. Whether it's a daily walk, detox day, weekend retreat, or longer sabbatical, make this non-negotiable. I have started doing bits of it (to work up to a full weekend retreat!) and I can’t recommend it enough.

4. Mind the transition: The shift between civilisation and wilderness is itself valuable. Journal at these juncture points to capture emerging insights. How did you feel moving between immersion and isolation?

5. Value incubation time: Recognise that your most powerful insights may emerge not during active problem-solving but in the spaces between focused effort. But, guard against both constant connectivity that eliminates wilderness and extended isolation that disconnects from civilisation's problems and knowledge.

6. Expect resistance: Both internal and external forces will pull against this rhythm. Society rewards constant visibility while our own FOMO drives perpetual connection. You will get resistance within yourself and likely from those around you who have been happy to have you all to themselves.

Churchill's insight about psychic dynamite offers a powerful framework for understanding how transformative thinking occurs. It's not merely an interesting historical observation but a practical template for anyone seeking to generate ideas with genuine impact. Our world is not just connected; it’s hyperconnected. The wilderness phase becomes increasingly rare and therefore increasingly valuable. Those who can master this rhythm – moving purposefully between deep engagement and strategic withdrawal – possess the formula for creating the psychic dynamite that changes minds, organisations, and potentially the world.

The prophets of tomorrow won't be those who shout loudest in the marketplace of ideas or who retreat permanently from society's challenges. They'll be those who have learned to move skilfully between civilisation and wilderness, gathering raw materials and transforming them through the catalytic power of solitude and reflection.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ I want to blow up some stuff (in a good way!).