There's a private pleasure in solitary iteration: trial, error and correction, repeated so quickly that the errors hardly have time to unpack. Put the same thought in company and it begins to slow, as if walking through warm treacle in formal dress. A group of perfectly intelligent people seated around a table doesn't think faster than one of them alone; it thinks more courteously, which isn't the same thing. Every proposal has to be introduced, explained, defended and then gently softened so that nobody leaves feeling slighted. One member likes the second idea. Another is fond of the first, mainly because it was his. This is the quiet arithmetic of groups. Gathered together, opinions don't add up to brilliance; they average out toward something tolerable.
What gets lost here is the humble process of elimination, which is really the engine of all improvement. Progress depends less on finding the right answer than on getting rid of wrong ones quickly. None of this means company should be avoided like a damp spare bedroom. Other people supply what solitude can't: a challenge, a correction, an unexpected angle, and the occasional dry remark that saves a whole month of foolishness. The trick lies in timing. Thinking goes better alone, where iteration can run at full speed with nobody hanging onto its coattails. Testing goes better in company where the finished thing can be inspected by minds sharp enough to find its faults.
The rapid mind alone is a small, nimble craft able to turn in its own length. The group is an ocean liner, magnificent and well-catered but needing several miles of open sea to change course. Each has its place. It's simply worth knowing which vessel is under one's feet before setting off, and how long it will take to turn around once the iceberg has been politely pointed out.
