I don't know: In Praise of Admitting Ignorance (Except When You Shouldn't)Leah Hager Cohen
Riverhead (September 2013), Hardcover (ISBN 1594632391 / 9781594632396)
Nonfiction, 128 pages
Source: ARC from publisher
Reason for reading: Personal interest
From Chapter One:
"I was twenty-two and in my first week of graduate school in journalism. I knew by their appearances that most of my classmates were older, just as I knew from the school’s brochure, which promised to provide journalists 'a unique opportunity to hone and deepen their skills at any point in their careers,' that many of them already had experience working in the field, whereas I had never so much as written for my college newspaper. But until the moment I searched in vain for the devilish little entity called a nut graph, I’d been more thrilled than cowed, eagerly optimistic about joining their ranks.
"Now I sat awash in shame. It wasn’t the shame of incompetence so much as the shame of hubris. To think I had dared imagine I could be a journalist! I couldn’t even keep up with the class in the very first week of instruction.
"Did I raise my hand to ask for help? Turn to a neighbor with whispered appeal?
"I did not. The cost felt too great. To confess my ignorance would be to expose my inadequacy; I would be cast off, dismissed from this world to which I craved entry. Such was my fear, and it was powerful enough to make stewing in the solitary confinement of my shame seem a preferable alternative."
In a culture that seems to be more and more in search of a sense of certainty and definitive, black-and-white answers, Leah Hager Cohen’s I don't know: In Praise of Admitting Ignorance (Except When You Shouldn't) bravely presents another perspective. It’s a difficult work to describe. It makes use of existing research, but isn’t particularly scholarly; it’s an extremely long essay, but a pretty short book; it’s a quick read, but a sticky one, simple in appearance but deeply thought-provoking. It has the potential to open minds and discussions, and it deserves to find an audience open to both.
Reading I don’t know made me wish I were in a face-to-face book club right now, because I’d want the group to read it and talk about it. I’d hope we’d have a variety of responses the ideas it expresses, and not feel compelled to declare any of them right or wrong. I’ve been coming around toward more acceptance of uncertainty--finding a comfort level in asking and living with questions, and appreciating (sometimes preferring) the shades of gray--for the better part of my last decade. It sounds contradictory, but Cohen’s book helped me feel a bit more confident that it’s good to know what I don’t know...and that it really can be a gateway to growth. This one’s a keeper--I can see myself going back to it when I need to remember that it’s OK to know what I don’t know, as long as I remain open to knowing more.
"Now I sat awash in shame. It wasn’t the shame of incompetence so much as the shame of hubris. To think I had dared imagine I could be a journalist! I couldn’t even keep up with the class in the very first week of instruction.
"Did I raise my hand to ask for help? Turn to a neighbor with whispered appeal?
"I did not. The cost felt too great. To confess my ignorance would be to expose my inadequacy; I would be cast off, dismissed from this world to which I craved entry. Such was my fear, and it was powerful enough to make stewing in the solitary confinement of my shame seem a preferable alternative."
Book description, from the publisher’s websiteComments: I’ve spent far too much of my life believing that lack of knowledge and lack of intelligence meant the same thing. Growing up as one of the honor-roll “smart kids” seemed to carry an expectation that one was supposed to know things. Not knowing things--or admitting to not knowing them, at any rate--meant potentially risking being revealed as not being so smart after all, and that was a risk I was rarely willing to take. It took years for me to get smart enough to understand that recognizing what I didn’t know--and then learning what I needed to remedy that--might be a better barometer of intelligence than carrying around a stockpile of facts. It’s not so much a matter of having all the answers as it is openness to the questions.
In a tight, enlightening narrative, Leah Hager Cohen explores why, so often, we attempt to hide our ignorance, and why, in so many different areas, we would be better off coming clean. Weaving entertaining, anecdotal reporting with eye-opening research, she considers both the ramifications of and alternatives to this ubiquitous habit in arenas as varied as education, finance, medicine, politics, warfare, trial courts, and climate change. But it’s more than just encouraging readers to confess their ignorance—Cohen proposes that we have much to gain by embracing uncertainty. Three little words can in fact liberate and empower, and increase the possibilities for true communication. So much becomes possible when we honor doubt.
In a culture that seems to be more and more in search of a sense of certainty and definitive, black-and-white answers, Leah Hager Cohen’s I don't know: In Praise of Admitting Ignorance (Except When You Shouldn't) bravely presents another perspective. It’s a difficult work to describe. It makes use of existing research, but isn’t particularly scholarly; it’s an extremely long essay, but a pretty short book; it’s a quick read, but a sticky one, simple in appearance but deeply thought-provoking. It has the potential to open minds and discussions, and it deserves to find an audience open to both.
Reading I don’t know made me wish I were in a face-to-face book club right now, because I’d want the group to read it and talk about it. I’d hope we’d have a variety of responses the ideas it expresses, and not feel compelled to declare any of them right or wrong. I’ve been coming around toward more acceptance of uncertainty--finding a comfort level in asking and living with questions, and appreciating (sometimes preferring) the shades of gray--for the better part of my last decade. It sounds contradictory, but Cohen’s book helped me feel a bit more confident that it’s good to know what I don’t know...and that it really can be a gateway to growth. This one’s a keeper--I can see myself going back to it when I need to remember that it’s OK to know what I don’t know, as long as I remain open to knowing more.
No rating, but highly recommended
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