The Wisdom Abyss

To a great extent, we all-so-clever modern may have sacrificed Knowledge on the altar of the jealous god of Profit. That's not exactly what I said in my post last week, but it was certainly in the back of my mind. Too many of us are too willing to do whatever it takes if the cash prize is big enough. It's a sad state of affairs, I know, but what do we expect? It's the easy way out. We love to value people based on the perceived size of their bank accounts. That old Puritan notion of wealth as a sign of God's Elect has never gone away. We simply swapped out gods in the meantime.

Let me just say this much about the "Elect" before I get to my actual concerns for today: it's always easier not having to earn what you have. I know, I know, the wealthy elitists today like us to think they work hard, but they don't. The vast majority of the fabulously wealthy inherited their wealth, they didn't work for it. So when their lackeys and mouthpieces start moralizing about working hard and getting ahead, I can only sigh and get on with my life: they condemn themselves by their own mouths. No, I'm more concerned about why we've come to think these days that we can do without knowledge and why Wisdom is for all intents and purposes -- at least in public life -- reviled. Don't you find that odd? I do.

What I was alluding to toward the end of my post last week first struck me when I first came to Germany and realized what a big deal most Germans make of the distinction between "studying" (studieren) and "learning" (lernen). Most English-speakers use the words interchangeably, yet considering their differences can be an enlightening exercise. Americans have been so taken in by (and I'm guessing unconsciously revolted by) Pavlovian "operational" and Skinnerian "behavioral conditioning -- you know, getting dogs to salivate even though they won't be fed or getting rats to run mazes in ever shorter times -- that is, the whole system of positive and negative rewards for desired behavior) that they simply take this type of "learning" for granted. That's just how it's done. Gold stars, trophies, medals, ribbons, graduation stoles, certificates of achievement, special ceremonies and lots of cheers and applause are just a few of the tools of the conditioning trade. So, when we see little Emma or Noah in their rooms memorizing all the information their teachers are throwing at them so they can get good grades, we like to say they're studying, but they're not, they're learning.

The Germans, we should note, are just as short-sighted about all of this, even if it was their language that got me thinking about this. In common parlance a person learns as trade but goes off to university to study. If you look real hard at what's going on behind the scenes, you'll see that apprentices are learning, primarily through hands-on practice and endless repetitions of the same things. They are given specific tasks and jobs and they practice and practice getting it right till one day, at least here in Germany, the folks from the Chambers of Trade and Industry show up and watch them do them so they can get their journeyman's certificates. If you look at the average college student these days, they spend a lot of time memorizing (these days, Powerpoint slides or clearly defined algorithms, etc.) so that come exam time, they "get it right".

There was a time when things were quite different at university. One of the most readable and insightful accounts of how it was "back then" (and here we're talking about the early years of the 20th century), can be found in R.G. Collingwood's delightfully entertaining An Autobiography. Eventually going to take a degree in Ancient History and Philosophy, he found himself in his first few terms having to find some topic in Ancient Greek literature that would be worth exploring and then working up papers on that topic (based on original sources, it was understood) that he would have to present in person to his tutor. The book reveals the travails of a bright, young man trying to find his way in his new world, on the one hand, but it also reveals how a university-degree program was organized in those days: the student spent a lot of time figuring out what s/he wanted to know, and had to spend even more time trying to figure out to find, process, and assimilate what s/he needed to gain that knowledge. When I hear the word "studying" (in whichever language or conjugated form) that's what's going on in my head.

Two things are particularly worth noting here: first, there were a lot of basics needed for Mr. Collingwood to be able to go about his work (he had learned Greek in secondary school obviously) and this no doubt entailed a lot of rote work, practice, and memorization), but, in contrast to what we too often find today, those activities were part of the overall educational process, not its end; and second, while Mr. Collingwood was doing most of his work in his head, studying, in the sense presented here, is certainly not restricted solely to abstract or purely intellectual pursuits.

If you've ever encountered a master craftsperson, you know exactly what I'm talking about. There are cabinetmakers, just to name one trade, who can make furniture that can bring tears to your eyes: the aesthetics of the design, the interplay of light, shades and hues in the finishing, the sensuous feel of a particular combination of textures, the precision of the joining and assembly, all let you know that here is a person who "knows" wood and "knows" what s/he's doing.

What student Collingwood was doing in his head, our master cabinetmaker was doing with her hands. And end product is conceived, the required conditions analyzed, appropriate methods, techniques and procedures were identified, and the knowledge of appropriate resources and tools were applied when and however necessary to reach the desired end. What these two examples have further in common, we should note, is that though each already "knows" a lot going in, at every step along the way they are gaining knowledge, improving and refining skills (perhaps even acquiring new ones) and gaining in experience and becoming more competent at what they "do". They're certain not merely acquiring information. Put perhaps a bit more metaphorically, their hearts -- not just their heads and hands, if you will -- are in what they are doing. There's one helluva lot of emotion involved. They are passionate about what they do. Just how many of our young people today have a passion for school?

It was the Enlightenment that raised Reason to the non plus ultra of human existence. Even the short-lived counteraction of the Romantics (Goethe, Beethoven, Delacroix, Blake, Wordsworth, Keats, etc.) couldn't stem the rise to dominance of reason. By suppressing all that even smacked of "feeling" or emotion, the Industrial Revolution (and all its consequent ravages and destruction) was made possible. We were made to feel as gods but without all that effeminate claptrap about "others" and "values" and such. We were masters of our fates and the progress brought on by technology would cause a tide of prosperity that would lift all boats ... or so the reasoning goes. Unfortunately, although many strides have been made, the reality hobbles along pitifully behind the vision. The reasons for this of course, is that we let our subjectivity and our feelings get in the way. Yes, we've got all the information we need to make a better world, but we can't somehow. What could possibly be wrong?

Young Collingwood and our competent cabinetmaker, as we have seen, add a healthy portion of passion to their work. The work primarily for the thrill of the chase, for the increase of knowledge that comes from their doing, for the satisfaction you get when you know you've done something well. They know as well that at the end of the day, there is no amount of money that would (or could) compensate them for what they have actually put into their projects. They work for something that money, for example, can never compensate. The knowledge they have and gain is literally and truly priceless.

It's the feelings, the passion that drives them to do a "good" job, for what is "good" is not determined by something or someone external to the process, it is an intimate and essential part of it. That standard of "good" will vary from scholar to scholar, craftsperson to craftsperson, but they will recognize the "goodness" of the other nevertheless. They speak similar languages of knowledge and skill, not necessarily the same cultural language. They recognize their peers by their fruits, not by their words alone.

What our examples do writ large is accomplished by untold individuals in all walks of life, each in his or her own way. Maybe its the hobby gardener next door, the shade-tree mechanic down the street, or the alto in the local barbershop quartet or the hobby cook whose zucchini casseroles should be featured on TV. There is more knowledge "out there" than the current state of the world would have us believe, but it is too often overlooked, if not simply ignored, because you really can't make a lot of money from knowledge. (Some people do, no doubt about it, but they don't do what they do for the money, that's for sure, and I'd be willing to bet a considerable sum of money that they'd be the first to tell which lucky break (not their own hard work) that got them the money-making opportunity. In the end, exceptions always confirm the rules.)

That dimension of feeling and passion, that longing for "good" overflow both easily and readily into everyday life. A fundamental notion of "good" easily changes and develops into notions of what is right and proper and what is not. Before you know it, we find it is the knowledgeable or are reflecting morally while the informed go about business as usual. The link between knowledge and wisdom is most likely just as strong as the one we saw between data and information. This is certainly not to say that you can only get to wisdom via knowledge, but that there's been a good healthy dose of feelings, emotions, and experience involved.

In the end, it would seem that the old, oft-neglected, if not forgotten, adage is true after all: our feelings tell us what to think. You can combine, categorize, reorganize and shift, sift, sort and shake data and information without having to suffer the "irrationality" of emotions, and this is why computers are the ultimate information-processors. Whether anything good or bad, worthwhile or worthless, or beneficial or harmless comes of it ... well, that's only something a knowledgeable person might know. A wise person, of course, would know for sure. There are not objective criteria for any of those pairs. There's more than a mere cost-benefit analysis or risk-reward calculation or an arbitrarily determined utilitarian output involved.

If a bridge across the abyss is to be built, it would seem that knowledge has to build it.

Between Mr. Eliot's "Rock" and a hard place

Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
-T.S. Eliot, from "The Rock"

Those are big questions. In fact, they're ones I ask myself a lot. Maybe I'm expecting too much.

Back when I was striving to maintain my sanity in Silicon Valley, we made a distinction between different levels of "head stuff", for lack of a better word.

Most everyone started with data: bits of pieces of this and that, sometimes numbers (1, 0.5, pi) or letters (a, b, c, x) or facts of a sort (25 people answered question 1 correctly) or something that could be used as an attribute (red, large, miniscule), or maybe a date even (2016-06-04). We recognize things like that, but we can't do much with them. They're just there. They have no real meaning in and of themselves and we find ourselves trying to put them into some sort of context for without one you really didn't know what to do with what you have. Maybe that's why Mr. Eliot didn't even bother to mention it.

Collecting data and placing it in a context, however, made that data more substantial, and that's what we then called information. Collect data together in some kind of sensible chunk and you can do something with it. In the business world, folks liked (and probably still do like) to think that you can use information to make decisions (e.g., stock levels are below the minimum threshold ... hence, we need to order more.) I find that too limiting. I see the difference between data and information more in the meaning realm. The date 2001-09-11, for example, is just a date like any other. But when we say, "On 11 September 2001, the largest terrorist attack in the United States took place," we have some context and hence meaning and we can start thinking about it in some way.

Mr. Eliot was writing and wrote our lead-in quote, he even then he was pointing out that information was overwhelming knowledge. What would the poor man be thinking today, in our 24/7-online-wired-interneted world? We're no longer just overwhelmed, we're awash in information, we're drowning in information. You can find the right, wrong, reasonable and outrageous answer to any two-bit question you can think of. Smartphone, wifi, swipe, type and in a fraction of a second you've got it. I'm not sure we do much with those answers once we have them, and I'm not sure how much can be done with them. But I can relate to Mr. Eliot's sentiment: where's the knowledge?

Now, I certainly don't want to break open an epistemological debate here, but it doesn't hurt to ask ourselves, "Just what is knowledge? What are we talking about when we use the term? We saw how data differs from information (at least in one way), so what is the difference now between information and knowledge? Don't know? I'm not sure that I do either, but following the conceptual trajectory already established, it would seem to me that knowledge is more encompassing (broader, deeper, richer) than information. If we took the step from non-sense to sense so far, what's the next step toward knowledge? Well, for the sake of argument, I'd like to suggest it is significance, whereby we've not just moved up a level, we've changed dimensions. Always take heed when you change dimensions.

One way of looking at this next step is that data and information are, in a sense, quantitative. You can, for example, glue together some data and come up with information, but you can't just glue information together and come up with some knowledge. You can also separate data and information into classes or domains: this is an economics statistic, that's a rule of logic, this is a history fact, that is the second law of thermodynamics. We can memorize all these kinds of things and we can call them up when we think we need them. But even doing that: memorizing and recalling really doesn't add much value to anything; data and information are things you can have, in your head, say, but possessing data or information can never make you smart. At best, you'll be informed, but that's all.

Knowledge, on the other hand, feels more qualitative. Some stock-market indicator is rising, unemployment is falling, tax revenues are declining, poverty is increasing ... this is information that we encounter everyday, but what does it tell us? Getting the answer to that question isn't necessarily something you can google. Is there a (or perhaps even several) relationship(s) among these pieces of data and information? What kinds of relationships are they? How strong are they? How do they change over time? Have there ever been situations where the relationships among these data and information have been similar, and if so, what was it telling us then? How comparable are these situations? And these are just the first questions that come to mind, and none of them are easy to answer nor can they simply be googled. We may never be able to get a final, definitive answer to all of these questions at the same time, but we're changed somehow by trying to find them: the search, the reflection, the further questioning, the further searching all make us aware of something that might be useful in trying to address the issues that questions like that raise. I'd say that here we're in the realm of knowledge.

For one, we can only get at it by actively doing something (e.g., looking for connections, searching for additional information, drawing inferences, reorganizing the data and information, asking new questions, etc.) What is more, pursuing the answers takes both time and effort, you just can't look in your crystal ball (or Google) and find what you need. Even more importantly, you start to realize along the way that there may not be "an answer" to any of the questions, let alone all of them together. You do, however, start to get a feel for what kinds and how strong certain relationships are, and you recognize that there are many factors involved and that you find that relating things you're finding out to other experiences you've had and read and heard about may provide support for lines of thought you are having. In other words, what you "know" is constantly changing, it is dynamic. The data and information you acquire is always the same, but what you know certainly isn't.

Back in my Silicon-Valley days, we didn't talk a lot about knowledge. It was a messy notion, slippery, always just slightly beyond one's reach. It was much easier to just deal with data and information and identifying rules for manipulating them. Over time, a good number of people starting referring to that manipulation as "knowing" and sometimes even "knowledge" until it became just accepted practice that when you were talking about (mostly abstract) information and rules and principles, you simply used the word "knowledge". Before you knew it, there weren't many people who had any idea of what knowledge really is any more. And we're certainly deep in that place today.

Like a lot of you, I like to think that I keep myself well informed: I read, watch and listen a variety of news sources. I read a lot of articles and books from various fields and in many genres. (OK, perhaps I'm a bit of an exception in that I can read Adam Smith, Stephen Hawking and Kurt Vonnegut all in the same afternoon, but that's beside the point.) What I'm finding, however, and what's disturbing me is the fact that the more contemporary the material I'm engaging, the less knowledge (or knowledge-like notions) I'm finding. Oh, information en masse, practically buried alive in facts, figures, data and information, but damn little knowledge. I find that not only bothersome, but, to be honest, downright unsettling.

Knowledgeable writers (or presenters) are sharers. They not only let you know what they know, they let you follow how they got there, how they went from unknowing or puzzled to knowledgeable. You can follow the line of argumentation, get a peek behind the curtain of assumptions and presuppositions that otherwise would simply be taken for granted, glossed over, or ignored all together. You're shown the data and information, you're given reasons why certain questions were asked and not others, you're brought into the process, and you're given a feeling of inclusion. You never get the feeling you're being lectured, looked down on, or put in your place. You get the feeling your mind is being opened, that you are being stimulated to think along, reflect, consider and encouraged to inquire further on your own, should you so desire. They make the complex much less intimidating.

Oh, how different are how many (too often, self-proclaimed) experts (if writing) or pundits (if presenting). In your face from word one, focused (often claustrophobically so: I'm talking about unemployment, leave the stock market out of this), direct, unwavering, certain, dogmatic, a maximum of statements and a minimum of questions (other than rhetorical ones, of course), the only unknowing involved is in the heads of the readers/listeners), no revelations of givens and just-taken-for-granteds, no wishy-washy maybe's and what-if's, just here-it-is, this-is-how-things-are, and this-is-what-needs-to-be-done-about-it. No sharing, just telling; if you don't agree, you're obviously mentally or intellectually unfit for the task; you never have the feeling your mind is being opened, just filled, and many seem to revel in making the complex so complicated that it's downright intimidating.

(With the summer upon us and you, with perhaps a bit more time on your hands, may like to actually experience what I'm talking about. Try reading Graeber's Debt or Proudhon's What is Property? and Friedman's Capitalism and Freedom (and the order doesn't matter, by the way). Or try Zinn's A People's History of the United States and Brzezinski's The Grand Chessboard. Or perhaps Wilson's Consilience and Thompson's Coming into Being.)

Unfortunately, I know as well that this is a situation that isn't going to change any time soon. I've been to and in enough educational institutions (of all levels) to realize that information processing is being massively pushed and that knowledge has been all but forgotten. Oh, I know there are exceptions -- there are always exceptions to the rules -- but these are too few, too far in-between and not in the "system". Mainstream education, both public and private, has bought into the information-rich-knowledge-poor paradigm. Look at the No-Child-Left-Behind-test-'em-till-they-drop or Common Core disasters in the US; look at the OECD favoritism for objective testing and academics over crafts and trades here in Europe; look at the overscheduled, over-requiremented box-ticking that passes as bachelor (and I would suspect the majority of) master-degree programs (i.e. "higher education"), more and more of which is being dictated by "industry" so they can get the graduates they claim to need.

We poor saps out here in society are the ones who will foot the bill and pay the price for this short-sightedness and by the time most of our highly schooled but hardly educated young people finally awaken to the realization that they're full of information but don't know a thing, it just may be too late to turn things around. Who's going to solve problems when there's no one left who can think?

And no, I never even got to wisdom ... I wouldn't know where to start. We live in a world, governed by a mind-set that is willing to destroy the environment to make more money, that is oblivious to have-nots and ever-fewer have's, that is incapable of distinguishing between price and value, that is thrilled by show, even when there's no where left to go. Where is the wisdom in that?

But, as Mr. Eliot so aptly pointed out, we're so busy just living (with the lack of wisdom, absence of knowledge, glut of information and data) that we've lost sight of Life.