This might not come through in my articles, but I have a real thing for paradoxes (tragedy too, but that’s not important right now). The reason why I have a thing for paradoxes is that if you put the effort into resolving them, then you usually gain a much better understanding.

And in this article I am going to talk about the paradox of why autarchy is important in engineering.

First off, what is autarky?
Autarchy is an ancient word that basically means self-sufficiency and independence. It can be applied to the state or to an individual. In ancient Greece, it influenced other philosophies that dealt with the ideal human state. Some reaching the conclusion that people should be free of clothes and shelter so that they did not need to rely on anyone else. But most reaching the conclusion that a person should invest in themselves and their ability.

How would autarky relate to engineering?
To be a good engineer (a global engineer) you need to invest in yourself. Skills like framing, systemic thinking, goal analysis, creativity, prototyping. And knowledge, first principles, domain knowledge, recent advances in technology. And correcting for any gaps in your engineering expertise that you have identified and were caused by your background.

As you continue to invest in your engineering ability, you become a self-sufficient engineer (you demonstrate autarky).

Why is this a paradox?
As I noted in my book, there is no longer any such thing as the singular engineer who does everything. There are no more hero engineers. That’s because technology and engineering have become so sophisticated that no one person can be across everything. 

That’s why engineers need to work in teams. And this is where the paradox presents.

• Why should you be part of an engineering team?
• What do you offer that the team needs?

The needs of an engineering team vary from team to team and with time as new challenges faced by any given team present. That means, if you have a small set of skills, then the chances you can help a team (one you are on or one you wish to be on) are limited.

And that’s where the paradox presents: you invest in yourself to be a self-sufficient engineer so you are of value to the engineering team.

You might not use all of the skills you have when you are part of a team, but the more skills you do have (and the more of a self-sufficient engineer you are), the more you are able to support your team. 

“He who is unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast or a god.” – Aristotle

So think now about which skill you are going to work on next. How will you exhibit autarky and be either a beast of an engineer or an engineering god?

If you are not 100% sure where to start or want another perspective on your engineering expertise, then try Ingeny, the AI engineering coach I developed, here. I have recently added an auditing feature, that you might find useful.

When we talk about engineering, your mind probably leaps to blueprints, CAD drawings, graphs: visuals. Most engineers naturally rely on sight. But what if you could be a better and happier engineer by spreading your focus to all your senses?
To be a truly global or expert engineer, you need all your senses—not just your sight (literal or imagined).
Synectics: Engineering Through Your Body
In Synectics—an inventive design technique—engineers don’t just think; they become part of the system. You might physically mime the motion of a piston, feel the inertia of a valve, or walk through your proposed layout in the car park. This “sensual embodiment” sharpens your intuition about friction, resonance, and balance in ways a CAD model cannot.
When you feel the problem, you bypass the limitations of abstract thought—and you often find on solutions faster.
Beyond the Visual: A Full Sensory Approach
It is worth noting that, with age, you will likely develop subtle multi-sensory awareness: hearing the hum of a motor, feeling the vibration in a bridge truss. But why waiting for that to emerge passively? Instead, you can (should) train your senses deliberately:

• Listen to how systems vibrate or resonate.
• Touch materials to sense texture or stress effects.
• Smell overheated bearings to understand they are being worked too hard.

These can be your engineering superpowers; if you cultivate them.
A Lesson from Homer via Samuel Florman
Engineering isn’t new to sensory thinking. Samuel Florman recounts in The Existential Pleasures of Engineering how Homer’s Odyssey immerses us not just in sight, but in sound, touch, and even smell as Odysseus and Calypso fashion a raft. Florman writes that Homer’s detail brings us deeper into the world of engineering, in an almost romantic sense, by noting how all our senses can be stimulated by the process.
Why This Matters
We now live in an era reliant upon digital twins and simulations – and the chance of some engineers being replaced by AI. You risk losing the grounding connection to what it feels like, sounds like, smells like. And those are potent feedback channels. By intentionally engaging all your senses, you deepen your connection with the challenge ad your intuition for it. This makes a more effective engineer and you also get more out of the experience: making it more satisfying for you.
Take This Forward

• Next time you’re sketching solutions or creating them in CAD, stand up and mime the situation (or just use your hands if the office is crowded and you don’t want the attention).
• During testing, close your eyes—what do you hear, feel, or smell?

Becoming a sensual engineer I about reclaiming the full spectrum of what makes engineering more human and leveraging the power that offers.
Learn more about being a better engineer here.

​In my book I have a section dedicated to willpower and food for when you want to change (and improve) your engineering practise. I have found that some (likely many) don’t really let this set in.
So let’s now talk more about the Hungry Engineer – and the fuel needed for change.
Let me be clear: I’m not talking about motivation in the vague, spiritual sense. I’m talking about literal energy. Glucose. Calories. Food. Fuel.
If you’re trying to change how you work as an engineer — to become the kind of thoughtful, principle-led, systems-aware, globally competent engineer that I would argue is the real engineer — you’re going to encounter resistance. And resisting change takes far less energy than driving it.
I’ve experienced this firsthand. When you start asking for others to consider broader systemic issues, for shared understanding, for time to frame problems properly or apply first principles, people get uncomfortable. You’re challenging assumptions about what good engineering is, breaking habits, and that can feel threatening to those around you. You’ll hear things like, “We’ve never needed to do that before” or “That sounds like you’re overcomplicating it.”
So what happens? Every step forward becomes a battle. You’re not just doing engineering; you’re doing change management. You’re having to explain yourself, justify your approach, and sometimes go it alone until the results start speaking for themselves. That takes effort. More than most people expect.
By the way, it is not any easier when you’re leading. Because while you can decide the process, you still need to keep everyone on the new track.
And if you’re already tired, then you’re going to feel it. And you are probably going to have to compromise, which, in this case, means lower standards.
It’s not some abstract challenge of "willpower." It’s a literal problem of energy management. You’re running your body and brain on low reserves and expecting yourself to do the hardest work there is: change. And when you think about it like an engineer, that makes perfect sense. Willpower is a type of power. And like any other kind of power, it needs a power source.
That’s why one of the simplest but most powerful things you can do as an engineer committed to improvement is to make sure you’re well-fueled.
I’ve even changed my own eating habits in response to this. I fast regularly for health reasons, but I’ve sometimes had to end a fast early because I knew a big meeting was coming up where I’d need to be sharp and resilient. I needed the energy.
It’s easy to scoff at the idea that eating a good lunch could make the difference in whether you bring improvement to yourself or your company. But the evidence from the research shows that it absolutely can. Engineering change is hard. Don’t make it harder by running on empty.
So if you're serious about becoming a better engineer—more globally competent, more systemically minded, more committed to best practice—then start with the basics. Eat. Rest. Fuel up.
Change takes energy. Make sure you've got enough of it.

In this article, we're going to delve into the design of "clickers," or old TV remote controls from the 1950s. This marks the first installment in our retro-engineering series, where we examine past engineering designs to gain insight into the methodologies engineers employed. With the benefit of hindsight, we can discern which designs succeeded and which did not. By reverse-engineering the processes behind successful designs, we can glean valuable lessons in sound engineering practice.

Let's begin by exploring how these clickers functioned.

You might be aware—or perhaps not—that these clickers operated using sound. Inside each clicker were several metal bars. When tapped, these bars resonated at specific frequencies, each corresponding to a particular television function: changing channels, adjusting volume, powering the TV on or off, and so forth.

Pressing a button on the clicker activated a spring-loaded toggle mechanism, causing a small hammer to strike the appropriate bar. This produced a clear ringing sound at an ultrasonic frequency, inaudible to the human ear. From the user's perspective, the experience was akin to using modern remote controls.

Understanding the mechanics of these clickers allows us to critically assess the development process behind them.

Firstly, it's noteworthy that the designers accurately identified user needs. From an outcome-driven innovation perspective, this was spot on. Users preferred the convenience of controlling the television without the need to physically approach it – it made the job to be done much easier.
This necessity raised the question: how to transmit the user's command to the television?

This framing led to two critical considerations: the nature of the signal and the medium through which it would travel.

Potential options at the time included:

• Infrared signals, akin to those used in many modern remotes.
• Radio waves, similar to those employed in remote-controlled toys.
• Wired connections, as seen in some early remote controls.

However, each of these options had drawbacks. Infrared and radio wave technologies were prohibitively expensive due to the cost of components (recall Moore’s Law where electronics have been regularly halving in size and cost while doubling in power for decades now) and the limitations of battery technology at the time. Wired connections, while feasible, were cumbersome and detracted from user convenience.

Consequently, engineers had to explore alternative solutions. Sound, particularly ultrasonic frequencies, emerged as a viable option. By applying fundamental principles, they realized that the natural frequencies of metal bars could be harnessed to generate distinct signals.

This realization reframed the design challenge: creating a handheld ultrasonic transmitter.

Because TVs were already established, along with the internal technoilogy, it was possible to create a circuit to process the signal from the microphone using vacuum tubes. They were not transistor type electronic devices that are the subject of Moore's law. Therefore, it likely would have seemed quite obvious that the microphone should be attached to a circuit to activate the respective switch depending upon the frequency of the signal reaching the microphone and being converted into the electrical signal. I don't want to be dismissive of this though, it still would have been a design challenge and an engineering challenge, it's just that it probably would have flowed a lot more after the previous frame, designing an ultrasonic generator that can be held in one’s hand, was formed.

For a more detailed history of TV remote controls, you can refer to Zenith's heritage page: Zenith Remote Background.

Now here’s a question for you: would you have conceived the same solution under similar constraints? Contemplating this can provide deeper insight into your own engineering skills and how to further develop them.
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Additionally, if you have alternative ideas for creating a remote control using 1950s technology, feel free to share them in the comments. Personally, I pondered the use of inductors and capacitors to filter the microphone's signal into the respective circuits as an alternative to vacuum tubes. That’s because I recall making a filter for a speaker box I made some time back, and I have a fixation on such filters. So also think about what made you come up with the your idea.