The Unknown
A long time ago Socrates heard an oracle that he was the wisest of men and he was incredulous. After a lifetime of testing he decided that he was, as a matter of fact, the wisest of men, since he at least knew the most important thing that he could know, that is that he didn’t know anything at all. Of course, that was a long time ago and we’ve learned a lot since then. The known world has been expanding at a dizzying pace and we’re rightly proud of this, especially in a setting like a major research university. We know, for example, that the earth isn’t at the center of the universe. We know the speed of light. We know that gravity or at least something like it exists, and that all living things have at their core the same basic molecules. We know how to use controlled explosions to propel ourselves at magnificent speeds over vast distances. We know how to manipulate metals so that they can support the unimaginable weights of our buildings and bridges. And thanks to our own Penn colleagues here about a generation ago, we know that using a binary language we can store vast amounts of data on magnetic devices. But then again, there are still some things that we don’t know. We don’t know whether we have souls. We don’t know where we came from; we don’t know where the universe comes from. We don’t know whether killing is necessary for life, as some people tell us. We don’t know whether light is a particle or a wave, or something else entirely. We don’t know whether we’re alone in the universe; whether there’s a god, or whether good wins over evil. We don’t know what separates matter that is sentient from matter that isn’t or what counts as objectivity. And maybe most significant of all, we don’t know how big the unknown world is. That is, while we may feel like the known world is expanding, we do not know whether we can meaningfully say that the unknown world is at all shrinking. That may sound depressing, well, I don’t know? It depends on how you look at it, I think. These tremendous stresses of the unknown, if they’re over valued could invoke paralysis and fear, and if they’re undervalued, they could lead us to be impetuous, rash and hubristic. But somewhere in between fear and hubris lies humility, compassion, and hope. All these responses – hope, fear, hubris and humility -- after all, are after effects of the unknown. And if I need to face fear in order to make hope possible, I’ll take that bargain any day. In short, give me ignorance, please, let me not know.