« “I only know that I know nothing.” This maxim, attributed to the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates, is one of those universal phrases we‘ve all heard at some point in our lives. Although Socrates left no written teachings (we don’t even know, in truth, whether he really existed as such), his principal disciple, Plato, included him as a character in his dialogues and recorded this and other reflections from his teacher.
The well-known maxim is, in fact, an adaptation of words that appear in Plato’s Apology of Socrates. On one occasion, the Oracle of Delphi had declared that Socrates was the wisest man on earth. Astonished and sceptical at such a grandiose statement, Socrates embarked on an investigation to find other men in Athens who might possess the same level of wisdom and thus disprove the Oracle. To his surprise, when conversing with various men regarded as wise in the city, he realised that in them there were more assumptions than certainties, while he alone, humbly, was able to acknowledge his own ignorance.
In the Platonic dialogue, Socrates explains it as follows: “I do not think that either he or I know anything truly fine and good, but still I am better off than he is—for he knows nothing and thinks that he knows; I neither know nor think that I know.”
Thus, the philosopher’s willingness to recognise his ignorance made him, paradoxically, wiser than the others, who believed they knew everything yet in reality knew nothing. The Athenian philosopher’s preference for dialogue as a form of teaching and the maieutic method—that is, the Socratic idea of learning in which the teacher asks the pupil questions until the latter “gives birth” (the root of the word is linked to childbirth) to knowledge of which they were unaware or did not yet possess—are related to this way of understanding wisdom. Only by acknowledging before ourselves the inevitability of uncertainty, and by showing ourselves open to wonder and to new ideas, can we attain true knowledge.
« Only by acknowledging before ourselves the inevitability of uncertainty, and by showing ourselves open to wonder and to new ideas, can we attain true knowledge.»
The benefits of curiosity
Indeed, a lack of knowledge, properly directed, can become curiosity and a will to learn—qualities that are essential for our professional development. The docta ignorantia, as formulated by the Renaissance philosopher Nicholas of Cusa, implies that our real knowledge of the world will never be complete, nor perfect, but that doesn’t mean we should cease seeking to illuminate our ignorance, nor the end of our paradoxically infinite limitations. The world moves fast, and science and technology advance every day. If we believe that what we already know is enough, how can we expect to give the best of ourselves?
«Our real knowledge of the world will never be complete, nor perfect, but that does not mean we should cease seeking to illuminate our ignorance».
Curiosity is also something we practise. Maintaining an open attitude that forces us out of our own echo chamber is not only useful but almost essential in times of algorithms, when considering opinions or experiences different from those we’re accustomed to can become a challenge. The sapere aude or “dare to know” of which Kant spoke in his essay Answering the Question: What is Enlightenment?, where he urged human beings—almost as a moral imperative—to have the courage to exercise their own reason and critical thinking.
Curiosity is, in itself, a sign of brilliance. As José Antonio Marina writes in a text for Ethic: “All children go through an age of asking questions, when they may ask a hundred a day. I think it is an innate, not a learned, impulse—just as the desire to speak is. In the latter case, the child longs to express themselves; in the former, to know. Asking a question is an intellectually complex act, because it presupposes awareness that something one wants to know is unknown. That is, it’s knowing how to specify the absence of something. Children are geniuses.”
Learning in company
In a work team, not everyone knows everything. Some may have strong theoretical mastery but lack soft skills; others may have a weaker technical base but be excellent communicators with greater ease in dealing with the public. The ideal worker doesn’t exist, but it’s possible to build the ideal team, in which the less developed aspects of some are balanced by the strengths of others through mutual support, understanding, and a desire to learn.
«Knowledge is not a monolithic block: it is something that flows between different generations and each person’s circumstances, something that changes and acquires nuances every day»
Doubt is the beginning of any improvement. Questioning what can be improved and what is worth focusing on, accepting criticism, and fostering open dialogue that takes multiple viewpoints into account is essential in any modern organisation. In a saturated market increasingly concerned with leaving no one behind, pursuing self-knowledge and personal growth can make the difference.
Moreover, in teams with greater diversity, sharing knowledge is fundamental. A clear example is intergenerational teams. If younger workers learn from the experience of seniors, and seniors allow themselves to be influenced by the fresh ideas of the young, the flow of wisdom can produce excellent results. The same applies when, for example, people with disabilities are included in teams. The world can be very different—and at times hostile—for people with functional diversity: being able to listen to the ideas of someone who personally experiences accessibility challenges makes us more aware of the need to adapt what we offer, and to expand the purpose of our company or our own purpose as individuals.
Knowledge is not a monolithic block: it is something that flows between generations and through each individual’s circumstances, that changes and gains new shades every day. Only through Socratic humility can we come to achieve a fuller (or at least less partial) vision of the environment in which we are striving to develop professionally.