There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don't know we don't know.
Donald Rumsfeld
Agniology is the philosophical or scientific study of ignorance. Though I am neither scientist nor philosopher, today I am contemplating my level of ignorance. It's not a pretty sight.
Donald Rumsfeld
Agniology is the philosophical or scientific study of ignorance. Though I am neither scientist nor philosopher, today I am contemplating my level of ignorance. It's not a pretty sight.
Let me show you what I mean.
Every day I visit certain websites and find polls regarding American opinions of topical issues. Yesterday this headline popped up: “59% of Americans Support the Affordable Care Act, also known as Obamacare.”
Really? Wow! Me, I still can’t figure out how the beastly thing works. I do know that after the government enacted The Affordable Care Act, the cost of my Blue Cross/Blue Shield insurance shot through the roof in the space of just three years. Other than that, I am lost in space, baby. Do all those people supporting Obamacare understand how the program operates? And those opposed to Obamacare? Do they know how it functions? If so, then my hat is off to my fellow Americans. I never could cipher out this Byzantine piece of legislation.
The same holds true for many other ideas in circulation. Take Global Warming. Many Americans take a strong stand on this issue, either pooh-poohing it as progressive hogwash or predicting that in another decade we'll all be carcasses fricasseed by a celestial GrillMaster. Myself, I am too ignorant of the problem of global warming to offer a valid opinion. Were I to spend the next two decades studying up on meteorology, climate, and temperature changes, I might form some ideas worthy of an audience. But more important things like earning a living keep intruding. So ask me about Global Warming, and instead of answers all you’ll get from me are questions about your sources and data. (Al Gore: you own enormous houses and zip around the world in energy-guzzling private jets while warning us about the melting of the Arctic and the rising levels of the oceans. Pardon me, but I won’t be listening to you.)
My ignorance about many subjects is as vast as the Gobi Desert, my field of comparative knowledge about the size of Boonville, North Carolina, a postage stamp town that was my boyhood home and is now the address for around 1,100 good souls. Astrology, astronomy, alpacas, amaurosis, amines, amphiboles, aneuploidy: I have little or no knowledge of these areas or of hundreds of others starting with the letter A. Throw in the rest of the alphabet, and my vacant head surely deserves a dunce’s cap.
In other words, on most topics my mind is as blank as a white board. And here I am addressing only what Donald Rumsfeld called my “known unknowns.” Heaven knows how many “unknown unknowns” are floating around me even as I am writing these words.
Probably some of you share my ignorance. Probably some of you, like me, meet others who seem experts on every topic raised in conversation.
I’m here to reassure you about those people. They may know less than you do about the topic under discussion. They absorb some article online, or peruse a book, or watch a television show, and suddenly they can spout off on everything from black holes to women’s rights, from oenology to myrmecology. Delivered with a mix of confidence and condescension, their remarks make you feel small, uninformed, and…well…ignorant.
Baloney.
Most of the time, these people who offer opinions on subjects far and wide are like those movie stars who appear on late night television shows and share their views on politics as if they had spent the last decade reading philosophers from Plato to Michel Foucault. They blab on, and we listen to them and even give credence to their ideas because they won an Academy Award or are starring in the latest reality show. In truth, they usually know only as much, or perhaps less, than we do about the topic they are addressing.
So again, baloney.
Until recently, I was a teacher. After some years in the classroom, I found that being able to say “I don’t know” gave me a tremendous sense of freedom. Most students would rather a teacher confess his ignorance than bluster about as if he owned all the answers. An example: A student once asked me what I thought of Darwinism versus Creationism. I told him I was too ignorant to offer a reply. I have an opinion on the subject—I have opinions on lots of subjects—but what are opinions but ignorance half-baked? Why are we fighting in Iraq? I don’t know. Why is the universe expanding? I don’t know that either, though I do wonder where it’s going in such a hurry. Why don’t pine trees lose their needles in the wintertime? No idea. Why are we here on this magical planet whirling through space? I’m stumped, though I do love the ride. How does my cell phone or computer work? You might as well ask me that question in Swahili. Why do some people believe so much in a political cause that they are willing to kill or beat senseless those who disagree with them? You’ve got me.
Ignorance is not bliss. Nor is it a virtue. But recognizing ignorance, at least in my case, brings a sort of peace. In some instances, my ignorance also inspires me to learn the unfamiliar.
Like how to listen to a voice message on my phone without dialing back the caller.
Every day I visit certain websites and find polls regarding American opinions of topical issues. Yesterday this headline popped up: “59% of Americans Support the Affordable Care Act, also known as Obamacare.”
Really? Wow! Me, I still can’t figure out how the beastly thing works. I do know that after the government enacted The Affordable Care Act, the cost of my Blue Cross/Blue Shield insurance shot through the roof in the space of just three years. Other than that, I am lost in space, baby. Do all those people supporting Obamacare understand how the program operates? And those opposed to Obamacare? Do they know how it functions? If so, then my hat is off to my fellow Americans. I never could cipher out this Byzantine piece of legislation.
The same holds true for many other ideas in circulation. Take Global Warming. Many Americans take a strong stand on this issue, either pooh-poohing it as progressive hogwash or predicting that in another decade we'll all be carcasses fricasseed by a celestial GrillMaster. Myself, I am too ignorant of the problem of global warming to offer a valid opinion. Were I to spend the next two decades studying up on meteorology, climate, and temperature changes, I might form some ideas worthy of an audience. But more important things like earning a living keep intruding. So ask me about Global Warming, and instead of answers all you’ll get from me are questions about your sources and data. (Al Gore: you own enormous houses and zip around the world in energy-guzzling private jets while warning us about the melting of the Arctic and the rising levels of the oceans. Pardon me, but I won’t be listening to you.)
My ignorance about many subjects is as vast as the Gobi Desert, my field of comparative knowledge about the size of Boonville, North Carolina, a postage stamp town that was my boyhood home and is now the address for around 1,100 good souls. Astrology, astronomy, alpacas, amaurosis, amines, amphiboles, aneuploidy: I have little or no knowledge of these areas or of hundreds of others starting with the letter A. Throw in the rest of the alphabet, and my vacant head surely deserves a dunce’s cap.
In other words, on most topics my mind is as blank as a white board. And here I am addressing only what Donald Rumsfeld called my “known unknowns.” Heaven knows how many “unknown unknowns” are floating around me even as I am writing these words.
Probably some of you share my ignorance. Probably some of you, like me, meet others who seem experts on every topic raised in conversation.
I’m here to reassure you about those people. They may know less than you do about the topic under discussion. They absorb some article online, or peruse a book, or watch a television show, and suddenly they can spout off on everything from black holes to women’s rights, from oenology to myrmecology. Delivered with a mix of confidence and condescension, their remarks make you feel small, uninformed, and…well…ignorant.
Baloney.
Most of the time, these people who offer opinions on subjects far and wide are like those movie stars who appear on late night television shows and share their views on politics as if they had spent the last decade reading philosophers from Plato to Michel Foucault. They blab on, and we listen to them and even give credence to their ideas because they won an Academy Award or are starring in the latest reality show. In truth, they usually know only as much, or perhaps less, than we do about the topic they are addressing.
So again, baloney.
Until recently, I was a teacher. After some years in the classroom, I found that being able to say “I don’t know” gave me a tremendous sense of freedom. Most students would rather a teacher confess his ignorance than bluster about as if he owned all the answers. An example: A student once asked me what I thought of Darwinism versus Creationism. I told him I was too ignorant to offer a reply. I have an opinion on the subject—I have opinions on lots of subjects—but what are opinions but ignorance half-baked? Why are we fighting in Iraq? I don’t know. Why is the universe expanding? I don’t know that either, though I do wonder where it’s going in such a hurry. Why don’t pine trees lose their needles in the wintertime? No idea. Why are we here on this magical planet whirling through space? I’m stumped, though I do love the ride. How does my cell phone or computer work? You might as well ask me that question in Swahili. Why do some people believe so much in a political cause that they are willing to kill or beat senseless those who disagree with them? You’ve got me.
Ignorance is not bliss. Nor is it a virtue. But recognizing ignorance, at least in my case, brings a sort of peace. In some instances, my ignorance also inspires me to learn the unfamiliar.
Like how to listen to a voice message on my phone without dialing back the caller.
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