Their Lips Are Sealed

Got a secret? Choke on it.

John Brown’s Cardigan chair.

Most of the world’s woodworking knowledge isn’t stored in books, magazines or videos. Instead, it is kept safely underground – in graveyards.

If you think this is a modern problem, you would be off by at least 250 years. Here is A.J. Roubo complaining¹ in the late 18^th century about woodworking knowledge that has been lost.

(C)abinetmakers always make a great secret of the composition of their dyes in order to preserve exclusivity, and not to increase the number of workers in their trade. From that circumstance comes the fact that most of the compositions that the ancient cabinetmakers used have not been passed on to us, or are presently badly imitated. Those being used presently are defective, or even if they are good, cannot be perfected given that those who possess them hide the process. They keep this information secret not only from their colleagues but even from those for whom the theory could be useful in perfecting the composition of their dyes. This would be much more advantageous than the enjoyment of maintaining a secret, which is not a big thing, but which, even when it is perfectly well known to us, leaves us still to regret the loss of the method of Jean de Veronne, who tinted woods with boiling dyes and oils that penetrated them.

People keep secrets. It’s nothing new. Corporations lock up their formulas. Chairmakers keep a tight lip when it comes to angles and processes. Museums keep paintings, woodwork and sculptures in storage so only they can study and interpret them. Even my dad refused to share his recipe with my sisters and me for his bread pudding with pecan bourbon sauce.

Corporations and small businesses keep secrets to protect profits. Individuals do it because they are insecure, or they’re afraid they won’t be seen as special if the world obtains their recipe for crack cookies, or their trick for making their roses so redolent. Museums are run by insecure gatekeepers. And my dad – we’ll deal with him in a bit.

I detest secrets. The number of things in this world that should be kept secret is limited to things that harm others (kitchen recipes for nerve gas, for example). And when it comes to organizations that receive public tax money (universities/museums/drug companies/I could go on), I think your research belongs to us. All of us.

That’s why I never had ethical qualms while hacking into JSTOR, a vast database of academic papers and research that only academics could use. Almost every page of information in JSTOR arrived there with the help of our tax dollars. Though individuals can now pay for access to JSTOR, I think that’s bullshit. Open it up for everyone. For free.

If you think the paragraph above is a shitty opinion, try this one on. Woodworkers – you, me and everyone – aren’t entitled to keep secrets. Craft knowledge belongs to the craft.

Did you drink from the river of knowledge? Or eat from tree of wisdom? Keeping secrets chokes the river and withers the tree. In my book, if you keep secrets, you are a traitor to the craft.

If you are a bit uncomfortable now, stop reading. It’s about to get worse.

Craft knowledge should never have a price. I reject the notion that one must “earn” the right to learn to cut a tricky joint, or the angles that produce a fast-running hull to a boat.

If you think donkey work must pay for knowledge, then I think you are simply exploiting others.