On Not Knowing

In my last original post, I had heard that water has memory, but I didn’t know enough to decide either way.

I did some digging, and it turns out that the water studies were not conducted in a scientific way, nor were they peer reviewed. There’s no way to substantiate any of the claims made. In other words, pseudoscientific mumbo jumbo. Good to know.

Confused
Rory the Tiger, confused – Artwork by Ruby Wang

Now that that’s been cleared up, let me turn to my main point for this post. I want to reiterate a point I brought up in that previous post: it’s both extremely uncomfortable and incredibly rewarding to admit that we don’t know something.

I think we internalize this discomfort with not knowing from a young age. We learn to only speak when we know the answer.

Here’s a good time to enact what I’m advocating for: I don’t know how people feel about saying they don’t know something in other parts of the world. Or even here, really, so I’m speculating based on things I’ve read and my own observations in North America and Europe.

Within this realm, parents and older siblings often chide children for asking too many questions. It’s annoying and time-consuming, and probably the parents and siblings don’t know the answer half the time. This situation can make them uncomfortable, especially for parents, since they are socially responsible for their children’s education. If they don’t know what information to give their child, have they failed in their role?

While there are many outstanding teachers in the world, many are forced to silence curious children. The goal of public education is to get children to pass standardized tests and learn the required material laid out in a narrow curriculum based on memorization, rather than research and discovery.

This trend of consuming information instead of seeking and building knowledge continues into adulthood. At work, seeming unsure might lead clients, bosses, and coworkers to distrust your abilities. Saying you don’t know merits chastisement, even to the point of getting fired for “incompetence.” (I’m not saying there aren’t actually incompetent people, just that learning is a process that takes time and acceptance of errors.) Instead of providing training and allowing employees to grow into their positions, many companies – including those in the arts – want their new recruits to come fully formed with years of experience and lots of energy. When David Bowie put out his first album, no one expected a success, but they gave him the benefit of the doubt and let him explore his sound in the studio for multiple subsequent recordings. Nowadays, if you don’t sell enough copies right off the bat, you risk being cut from the label.

So we feel that it’s uncomfortable and inhibiting to admit we don’t know something. Yet in reality, no one can claim to know everything. If we can start accepting this condition in ourselves and others, we may build a more honest world.

We will also start to recognize our own strengths and to value those of others. If I can admit that I don’t know something about medicine or physics or politics, then I can find someone who does know. In this way, I can become smarter and more informed.

We will all become better at discerning good information from bad if we practice finding out what we don’t know. It’s not enough to click on the first Google hit. SEO, paid ads, and popularity play a huge role in what’s at the top; facticity and accuracy do not.

It’s also not enough to read a few lines or even a few paragraphs on a topic and call it “learning.” Most things that are “known” are way more complex than a simple explanation will suggest. It’s always good to examine opposing views, because someone can be very convincing without being right. It’s also important to look at the person’s claim to authority, which can mean many different things. Their positionality in the world (which social labels they fall under, where they live, and many other factors) will influence their perspective as well.

Learning through discovery is hard, much harder than reading a “fact” and then regurgitating it. But we don’t really know anything until we’ve looked at it closely from many angles and sat with it for some time. Otherwise, we’re just repeating words that someone else said. We can’t actually own the knowledge as a personal intellectual asset. We’ve accepted information as true without having any understanding of what makes it so.

Sometimes new information emerges and what we previously “knew” becomes obsolete, shown to be incorrect. Other things can change from moment to moment, place to place, person to person. Democracy doesn’t just mean one thing; neither does religion, or even a specific type or subtype of religious belief. Sufi Islam is very different from the Sunni persuasion. Pagans vary across the board. And of course individual circumstances affect interpretations and practices, so you can never come up with a timeless, immutable law of Sufi practice or any other human endeavour.

640px-B&W_Happiness
Rory the Tiger, confused – Artwork by Ruby Wang

I don’t know a lot of things. When I write a post expressing an opinion, I often second-guess the validity of that statement. In other parts of my life, I try to present myself as knowledgeable as frequently as possible; obviously I’m not immune to the socialization process. I also tend to simply remain quiet when I don’t know something, hoping that someone else will fill in the blanks.

However, training in research methods has spilled over into my daily life. The first thing we all should know is how to find solid, valid information. Then we should know how to examine it, test it, shake it up, and see if it still stands.

Of course, we all have limited time and resources at hand, including life experience or education in various subject areas. To some, something might seem obviously untrue, while someone else might be convinced by its apparent value and what looks like supporting evidence. We also need to respect this type of difference (without being afraid to challenge another person’s viewpoint, of course).

We can’t all know the same things, no matter how hard we try. In this light, it seems worthwhile to question our own received knowledge and try to really understand why we think we know what we do. This approach just might help us all get smarter, while simultaneously producing the joy of discovery and the solace of mutual respect.

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Mansplaining and Feminist Chromosomes

"Battleofthesexes" by Welleman - Own work. Licensed under Public Domain
“Battleofthesexes” by Welleman – Own work. Licensed under Public Domain

Mansplaining” is an increasingly nebulous term used in some feminist circles to criticize men who condescend to women by relaying their apparently superior knowledge in self-important ways. From my understanding, the term is applied most commonly in situations where the woman already knows a lot about the topic at hand, but the man assumes that she doesn’t and that what he has to say is more pertinent.

In many cases, the topic is sexism or misogyny or, you know, feminism.

It seems obvious that women would know more about women’s rights or experiences of sexism than men, doesn’t it? How could a man possibly have anything to say about it that a woman wouldn’t already know?

I hope the rhetorical device is apparent in the above two questions. Asking how a man could possibly know more than a woman on a specific topic is essentializing to both genders. But the problem runs deeper than that. It may be the case that many people distrust experts in a number of realms, and rightly so! Science is a method, not a religion to be taken at face value, and questioning every claim is integral to its progress. (So is accepting solid evidence, but that’s for another day.)

But yes, there have been many scientists who failed at their projects because they refused to consider laypeople’s knowledge about their own lifeworlds. It’s a give and take. Other so-called experts from educators to politicians have intentionally deceived or accidentally misled those in their care.

It’s not a perfect world and experts aren’t immune to hubris or other human pitfalls.

Wait, so are the men who start telling women about so-called women’s issues exhibiting hubris and a false sense of expertise? Or are women who throw the mansplaining label around claiming absolute authority for themselves with a de facto rejection of anyone else’s perspective?

The old saying goes, “Everybody you meet knows something you don’t.” If we actually interacted with one another on that basis, communication would improve in all directions.

Formal experts have studied and trained, and they’ve often spent years researching issues by examining and deconstructing primary and secondary evidence of many kinds. They know something.

Laypeople have also gained years of experience, sometimes their own, sometimes an accumulation of social knowledge that has been passed down from one generation to the next. They also know something.

Both so-called experts and so-called laypeople have some knowledge that the other can’t immediately access.

Can a middle-class social theorist discover a fact about the systemic roots of poverty that someone living in the ghetto might not have known? Does a light-skinned person who suffered from genocidal attacks in Rhodesia have to kowtow to the opinion of someone whose ideas of racialized discrimination are based purely on North American definitions of being black?

Is a person with a penis incapable of knowing anything about women’s issues? Can a man not read a book or watch the news or talk to women or even other informed men and come to a reasonable, respectable conclusion about rights or sexism or feminism?

Does being a male feminist mean shutting up and listening while the women talk?

Before entering any discussion, let’s take a moment to acknowledge everyone’s unique positionality in the world. I know what I know and you know what you know. The goal is to question what we know, as much as possible, so that we can all get closer to some semblance of truth. Of course, like everyone, I might mistakenly wax polemical for a while, until someone more informed shuts it down or at least provides evidence that forces me to embrace more nuance in my stance.

Women’s experiences are crucial to understanding feminism and sexism and misogyny. Assuming women don’t know about economics or astrophysics is sexist and insulting. In addition to personal experiences, many female feminists have spent years studying social issues and engaging in empirical research on which they base their knowledge and arguments.

So have male feminists, like Michael Kimmel. I agree that being condescending and silencing others is reprehensible. But it’s not “mansplaining,” a trait somehow unique to men, nor is it shared by all men (although there are men who automatically assume their own superiority to women, of course).

And it’s not only about gender – some men speak that way to other men, as do some women to other women. Some queer and trans people do it to one another, and to cis people and vice versa. People with lighter skin do it to people with darker skin and the reverse is equally true. If you have differently shaped eyes, or a different accent, the condescending tones might come out. (And, by the way, so-called “white male Westerners” don’t have a monopoly on arrogance.)

Having a certain type of chromosome or physical appearance doesn’t make you an expert. And it certainly doesn’t give you the right to drown out another person’s voice.

Before we engage in a shouting match, let’s take some time to listen. Everyone’s positionality has taught them something we don’t know. And some people know a lot, while others know a little. Some people can spout statistics, while others can tell us how something feels.

So if we each know something, maybe we can let go of our egos and put the parts together. That way we can all become smarter.