Lex Nunc

Sturgeon’s law

Ninety percent of everything is crap.

What is Sturgeon’s law?

Sturgeon’s law is the ultimate defence for the misunderstood, the mediocre, and the genre-obsessed. Summarised by such a blunt revelation, it was born from a moment of mid-century literary frustration. Theodore Sturgeon, a prolific science fiction author, grew tired of critics dismissing his entire field as “juvenile space-opera.” His rebuttal was as simple as it was devastating: of course 90% of science fiction is bad, but that’s only because 90% of everything — from classical music to French literature to plumbing — is also uninspired, derivative, or just plain poorly executed.

The law reminds us that the good stuff is always the exception, never the rule. Sturgeon first articulated this in 1951, later refining it into “Sturgeon’s Revelation.” It serves as a vital tool for the modern consumer of information: it suggests that when you look at a new trend, a shelf of books, or a feed of social media posts and find it mostly repulsive, you aren’t being a snob, you are simply observing a universal constant. The trick isn’t to find a field that is pure, but to become an expert at hunting for the 10% that actually matters.

To help navigate this sea of mediocrity, consult The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker. Walker provides 131 exercises to help you sharpen your senses and find that elusive 10% of beauty and quality in a world designed to distract you with the other 90%. For a more philosophical take on why our standards have drifted, The Death of Expertise by Tom Nichols explores how the crap (misinformation and low-quality discourse) often drowns out the actual experts, proving that Sturgeon’s law is particularly dangerous when applied to the internet.

Sidebar

Hanlon’s razor: the merciful corollary

If Sturgeon’s law explains what we are looking at (mostly crap), Hanlon’s razor explains why it got that way.

When you encounter a 90% failure — a broken website, a nonsensical law, or a badly printed mug — it is tempting to imagine a conspiracy of villains working against you. Hanlon’s razor suggests a much more likely (and human) reality: someone was tired, someone didn’t check the settings, or someone simply didn’t know better. When combined with Sturgeon’s law, it suggests that the world isn’t out to get you; it’s just naturally prone to being 90% disorganized and 100% human.

Ultimately, Sturgeon’s law isn’t meant to be a nihilistic complaint; it’s an invitation to be discerning. It liberates us from the guilt of not liking most things and encourages us to cherish the rare instances of excellence when we finally encounter them. It’s the legal justification for being picky, and for making sure your own 10% stands out from the rest.