To Know, or Not to Know

that is the question

The first essay for class discussion in my undergrad philosophy 101 course posed a simple question, “Is it better to know or not know?”

The essay presented the groundwork for a conversation that the professor meant to be an introduction to the importance of philosophy. It was meant to illustrate the divide within our culture between those who value an examined life and those who were quite happy, thank you very much, with an unexamined life.

Later, I came across a parable that poses the same question, “to know or not to know” that is the question. In the parable, scientists teach a gorilla named Quigley sign language and through exposure to photos of decomposing dead gorillas, they eventually get the gorilla to understand that it too will die.

The story goes on to say…

“to make sure Quigley retains the awareness of his own demise the team spent several hours per day reinforcing the certainty of death’s arrival.

(They say/sign) Quigley, you die! You will die soon!

The researchers say at first Quigley could only communicate rudimentary fears about his own death, but he soon moved on to expressing more complex emotions, like indifference and self-hatred.

(Quigley signs to researchers)

Stupid Quigley.

Now sees truth.

Existence. Cruel joke.

And just two days ago Phillip Townsend and his colleagues even witnessed what they believe to have been a panic attack in Quigley.

Researcher: He was letting out these anguished cries and banging his head against the wall.”

To know or not to know?

Knowledge or ignorance?

Is an examined life or an unexamined life the better choice?

I was having another variation on this question the other day in a conversation with a friend. We were talking about social media and how it has impacted our everyday lives. In particular, we were talking about how it has impacted the Church in our part of the world.

The dilemma I posed was this – was it better when we didn’t hear each other say our own quiet parts out loud or was it worse? Has it been a positive gain to know things that people we know think are worth “sharing” on their Facebook, Instagram and TikTok? Were we all collectively better off when we didn’t create so many opportunities to repost, retweet or blog what we really think about politics, theology, race and immigration?

Were our relationships better off when we kept a lot more things to ourselves because we couldn’t count on enough likes for the opinion we might share at the neighborhood picnic to make us feel empowered to share it?

I mean, we still shared those opinions. People have always known when they were in relatively safe spaces and gathered with enough like minded/hearted people that they could feel confident in sharing opinions. And we’ve always had that crazy guy that was excited about wearing his team’s colors as he waded into a bleacher section filled with the colors of the other team. We’ve always had the cranky aunt or uncle who spiced up every family gathering by sharing a radical conspiracy theory or loudly declaring their disdain for the current president or complaining bitterly about all the breaks some other people group got without acknowledging any of their struggle.

But the world has never seemed so full of crazy, cranky uncles as it does now, in this age of social media.

And to be honest, I find it challenging when I gather with friends to not think about the stuff I’ve seen them post on social media.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m always down for a reasoned critique. I’m a big fan of hard conversations. And I can follow you down the rabbit hole of a speculation and connecting the dots.

I think the tension of differing viewpoints is the healthiest opportunity to arrive at the best decisions.

But were we better or worse off when our friend’s racism kept its head down?

Were we better or worse off when our friend’s convictions about a flat earth weren’t known to us?

When a PhD in psychology posts the definitive interpretation of New Testament scriptures, do I really want to hear his “insights” and do I want to know how many of my friends have liked his post despite the years I’ve invested in teaching principles of hermeneutics that the PhD blithely ignores or rolls right over? Do I want to see how many of my friends love his tripe?

Is it better to know or not to know?

When I first moved into the Carolinas, a young man gave me some very important advice. “Don’t tell anyone your politics or which university you cheer for.” After many years I foolishly made a public statement about my love for Duke basketball. It was a strangely unifying moment for our church because if there was one thing it seems everyone could agree on, one thing that could bring State fans and UNC fans together it was their common dislike for Duke.

Back in that Philosophy 101 class I was sure that it was better to know. An examined life was better than an unexamined one. Seeing things, and people, as they are, was better than an illusion. And I feel the same way about myself. I’d rather live openly, honestly, a mess of a person engaged by God in a process of healing and ordering and slow transformation. It would be too much too soon to tell everyone I meet everything I think I know about myself – but what I do try to do is resist the temptation to wear a mask or pretend to be something I am not.

In an old Rich Mullins song (I guess their all old now), Rich sang:

Now the plumber’s got a drip in his spigot

The mechanic's got a clank in his car

And the preacher's thinking thoughts that are wicked

And the lover's got a lonely heart

My friends ain't the way I wish they were

They are just the way they are

We’ve all got our stuff.

And I think knowing our stuff – the stuff in my baggage, the stuff my friends are lugging around, is better than not knowing but it can also make relationships feel heavier when there’s a dissonance between who they say they are to me and who they say they are on social media.

Or just whenever they say the quiet part out loud.

Dr. Maya Angelou said, “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.” My experience has been that we often don’t follow Dr. Angelou’s wisdom. It feels like we can be so committed to an ideology or a group or even a person that when they say the quiet part out loud, when they spell out exactly what their intentions are we tend to think, “nah, I must’ve/you must’ve/y’all must’ve misunderstood what was said/done.” Or we are told, “It’s not what it looks like.” And we believe it. Or an appeal gets made that goes something like, “I know these guys/this guy, there good guys, I’m sure they didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

Especially when we have already tied out hopes, our futures, our livelihood, and our vocation to the people in question.

Like the catchphrase of the bumbling Sergeant Schultz, “I hear nothing, I see nothing, I know nothing!” And this becomes our way of life, going along to get along.

We don’t follow up, we don’t look for satisfying answers, we aren’t interested in facts, we never ask for receipts or footnotes – because we want to believe the best…as we define ‘best’ in the circumstances in which we find ourselves. Mundus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. We reframe. We spin. We deny. I’ve found that people willing to settle there find it hard to appreciate the people unwilling to settle, those who want to know, those who find the unvarnished more attractive than the gilded.

Ignorance is bliss and knowing can feel like a curse but I would tend to think Jesus was right when he said, “For whatever is in your heart determines what you say.” And I prefer the glimpses into the interior lives of the people with whom I’m sharing life together to living in the dark, forever relating to a carefully crafted public persona, a mask, that hides the truth from me.

But I get it. I got it that day in philosophy class. We’re not all on the same page. Some of us find the knowing unbearable. An argument can be made for both states - the examined and unexamined - the knowing and the unknowing - it’s the living side by side that presents the greatest challenge.