Ignorance is bliss

We’ve all heard that ignorance is bliss. I remember hearing it as a small child, and I’ve been intrigued by that statement for my entire life. I’m going to tell you why, but as usual I’m taking the long route to do so.

I remember my science classes in college. I majored in Biology and minored in Chemistry, so I had quite a few of them. It seemed like every theory that I learned followed a similar history.

Professor A discovered a new phenomenon he described by Theory A. A few years later Mr. B found that Theory B more fully explained the phenomenon. This continues until we arrive at the present day with our current Theory X, which is accepted to be the most complete theory ever put forth.

The history of science, philosophy, and everything else pretty much follows this pattern. The theory is gradually modified until a time when someone shows that it is completely wrong. We then form a new theory that is gradually modified, and we continue the cycle.

What fascinated me was the overwhelming belief that our current theories are “pretty much right”. Sure, we understand that we don’t know everything, but we’re not completely off base…are we?

I used to sit in a class of a hundred or so science majors who would laugh at the perceived naivety of previous scientists, while ardently believing in the theories that are currently in the mainstream. I always wondered what makes them think we are any different from those that thought the sun revolved around the earth.

I think things have changed in the fifteen years since I was a college freshman. When I was a freshman I went to the library to do research. By the time I graduated I could find anything I needed on the web.

In the past six months I have read articles and listened to lectures on quantum physics, string theory, the big bang, Christianity, Judaism, Taoism, economics, technology and literature. I’m not bragging that I read a lot. I’m pointing out how easy it is to find information on any subject that caters to a reader of any level of expertise.

We literally have the collective knowledge of mankind at our fingertips.

What has all of this information taught us? I will tell you what it has taught me: we know next to nothing.

We can transplant hearts, but we can’t cure a cold. We can send probes into space, but we can’t tell you why those probes are sucked to the ground upon entering the earth’s atmosphere. We can build skyscrapers, but we can’t tell you why we do it. We can build huge economic systems designed to carry us for hundreds of years, but we can’t predict the weather next month.

There is a certain peace in recognizing our limitations. There is a respite in knowing that we are not as important as we sometimes imagine. There is bliss, not in denying learning, but in recognizing how ignorant we really are.

Socrates may have spoken of the gods who lived on Mount Olympus, but he had it right when he said “I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance.”