by Waqas Ahmed
But human rationality is also driven by another source of knowledge, which comes from perceptual experience, acquired directly by the human senses (sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste). As Leonardo said, ‘all our knowledge has its origins in our perceptions.’ This ‘empirical’ knowledge, however, is only momentary unless it is continually stored in the memory and fused with other knowledge in order to enhance general understanding. In this way our own individual memories — and the insights resulting from their fusion — can serve as a major source of knowledge in their own right.
While testimony, reason, experience and memory are agreed to be the main sources of knowledge by most modern Western epistemologists, other traditions have their own epistemic frameworks (for example, the Hindu yogic tradition alone has 16 highly nuanced sources of knowledge). More generally, important sources as acknowledged in different traditions worldwide include esoteric (such as the one described by Steiner in his Knowledge of Higher Worlds); revelatory (divine wisdom communicated through scripture such as the Quran, Bible, Zend Avesta and the Vedas); linguistic (each language represents a certain mode of thought); cultural (different values, morals and practices can influence a way of knowing); artistic (the ‘language’ of music or painting). Others might include intuitive (system 1 of Kahneman’s dual process model); genetic (Carl Jung’s genetic memory theory); synesthetic (experiencing the outcome of one sense through another sense); emotional (our ‘irrational’ feelings can teach us a lot about ourselves and the world); intoxicant (drug-induced creativity, demonstrated by countless geniuses in all fields over the ages); natural (the epistemology of plants, animals and the cosmos); technological (the prospective fusion of human and machine intelligence is set to shift our mode of consciousness beyond plain biology); sexual (some Hindu traditions believe in the power of sex to instigate an epistemological shift); and interactive (dialectics).
As the Hawaiian proverb goes: ‘Not all knowledge is learned in one school.’ Different sources have value for different purposes, but simply understanding that they are various and potentially of equal validity and potency depending on the context is an important insight. The aspiring polymath should seek to draw his knowledge from multiple sources and in doing so will automatically find himself amid various ‘fields’ of knowledge.
The Limitations of Mind
What was once called the objective world is a sort of Rorschach inkblot, into which each culture, each system of science and religion, each type of personality, reads a meaning only remotely derived from the shape and colour of the blot itself.
— Lewis Mumford
A.J. Jacobs, editor of Esquire, is a self-confessed human guinea pig. On a mission to improve aspects of his life, he has put himself through a series of extreme lifestyle experiments which include stints outsourcing his life to a team in India, living a year strictly according to the Bible, pursuing extreme bodily perfection, organising a global family reunion and obeying all 110 social rules of the Founding Fathers. He’s written a book on each experience. One day, feeling intellectually inert, he decided to try and become a ‘know-it-all’ by spending a year reading the entire Encyclopaedia Britannica, from A to Z (some 44 million words!). On completing the task, he came to an unexpected realisation: ‘I’ve become much less conclusive about everything,’ he said. ‘There’s only one thing I’m certain about, and that is that certainty is a dangerous thing. We all need to talk in probabilities a lot more often. We need to acknowledge the limits of our knowledge.’ Jacobs’ conclusion reminds us of an age-old wisdom.
The wisest minds in history have always been at pains to stress the importance of understanding the limits to what one human mind can fathom in a single lifetime. The third-century Chinese sage Ko Hung proclaimed that ‘what one knows is but little in comparison with what he does not know. There is a great variety of things.’ What Ali ibn Abi Talib, cousin of the Prophet Mohammed and fourth Caliph of the Islamic Empire, said was almost identical: ‘the truly learned man is he who understands that what he knows is but little in comparison with what he does not know.’
And what of the stark similarity between the conclusions of Chinese philosopher Confucius, who said that ‘real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance’; fifteenth-century German philosopher Nicolas of Cusa, who said that ‘the better a man will have known his own ignorance, the greater his learning will be’; Indian philosopher Swami Ramdas, who said ‘when you know that you do not know anything, then you know everything.’ They all clearly echo Taoist Lao Tsu’s proclamation that ‘the wise man is he, knows what he does not know.’
A genuine recognition of this humbling fact is the essential mark of the polymath. Professor David E. Cooper, author of World Philosophies in which he surveyed many (if not all) of the world’s philosophical traditions throughout history, speaks of the important realisation that comes from the exploration of multiple philosophical perspectives.
One merit of exploring many perspectives throughout history is the lesson of humility it teaches. Ignorance of these allows people to think they are the first to have thought of something, when in fact it was anticipated centuries earlier.
The limitedness of our minds in understanding reality is not just the contention of Eastern and pre-modern philosophers. Modern neuroscience reveals that the human mind is only able to grasp the reality in accordance with our sense perceptions, which actually only have access to one-tenth of trillionth of the electromagnetic spectrum (we see only light rays, and need machines to capture other rays like gamma, X-ray, radio, Wi-Fi and so on). As bestselling neuroscientist David Eagleman confirms, ‘Our experience of reality is constrained by our biology. . . our brains are sampling just a little bit of the world.’ Other animals can see bits of reality that we cannot (snakes see infrared and honeybees see ultraviolet, for example). The human mind has its own umwelt (the German word for ‘surrounding’ that scientists use in this context), which is at once extraordinarily insightful and hopelessly limited.
While for some this fact makes the pursuit of knowledge a hopeless and futile exercise, for the polymath, who is open-minded, it serves as evidence for the existence of multiple worlds, each there to be understood and integrated. He understands how human thought and the path to knowledge is too often so one-dimensional and shrouded in the multiple cognitive and cultural biases that influence (or limit) our thinking. This sparks a powerful, endless curiosity, making the polymath a true seeker.
Multi-Perspectivism
Polymaths thus seek to become more objective — that is, to expand their umwelt. They engage in a method of intellectual enquiry that consists of discovering, pursuing, experiencing and knowing multiple perspectives and then synthesising (fusing and contextualising) them in a way that allows for a more complete, fairer picture of the world. Philosopher of science E.O. Wilson suggests this as being the best methodology of uncovering reality:
Only fluency across the [disciplinary] boundaries will provide a clear view of the world as it really is, not as seen through the lens of ideologies and religious dogmas or commanded by myopic response to immediate need. . . . A balanced perspective cannot be acquired by studying disciplines in pieces but through pursuit of the consilience among them.
The more areas of knowledge and experience we can accumulate and add to our repertoire, the more perspectives we can unveil and synthesise to form (or at least inform) our own more rounded, richer perspective of the world. It is this epistemological unity that allows one’s position be elevated to a higher status of objectivity. It not only increases the propensity for genuine empathy and understanding (much needed in today’s pluralistic, interconnected, global society) but also for a kind of social and intellectual freedom. It is a method of acquiring a more holistic understanding of the human condition, or in short, getting a real education.
This sounds obvious, but surprisingly very few practice it — except for those few with genuinely polymathic minds. It is where even (or dare I say, especiall
y) the greatest intellectuals fall short. Yet it was understood in Ancient India where Jainist philosophers developed a mode of thinking referred to as Anekantaveda, which taught the existence, appreciation and potential validity of different perspectives. The famous ‘elephant and the blind men’ analogy is often given to demonstrate this, but we can use another that may resonate with our times: the ‘city’ and its ‘inhabitants.’
Consider a dynamic, multi-dimensional city such as twenty-first-century London. Its inhabitants vary in terms of their social, ethnic, professional, geographic and educational background. Depending on these factors, each inhabitant has their own experience of the city. London itself has a definite reality, but people’s perception of it varies depending on their unique experiences of it. A more diversified experience of the city would therefore bring the inhabitant closer to its reality, whereas a one-dimensional experience cannot claim any objectivity at all.
As knowledge is so infinitely vast, any remotely intelligent and savvy mind is capable of constructing a compelling argument in favour of his hypothesis. However ‘knowledgeable,’ one is able skilfully to cherry-pick a handful of ‘facts’ or opinions — always a drop in the immense ocean that is human knowledge — and aided by the necessarily partial, limited rationality of the human brain (rationality itself is grounded in a leap of personal intuition) present them in remarkably convincing fashion.
But life is nuanced — most opinions and decisions would be nearly impossible to reach if all things were truly considered. And as life is so short, man feels compelled (by the ego and the survival instinct) to simplify, stereotype, categorise, assume and judge people, situations and knowledge in general. We have strict time limits to make our decisions and formulate our opinions. It is a difficult predicament. This is why Leonardo said ‘the greatest deception men suffer from is their own opinions.’ Many, if not most, polymaths thus took what philosopher David E. Cooper highlights as the ‘syncretic’ attitude: the belief that ‘the way to truth is to gather together many, many perspectives, from which will emerge a common core, which is where “truth” lies.’
With this in mind, it is important to stay well-rounded for as long as possible, before the inevitable settling into comfort zones. As with opinions, it is important to stay as open-minded for as long as possible before you make a firm judgement on a matter. Just as your decisions are better informed (and therefore closer to the truth) if made with an open mind and the knowledge, consideration and effective use of multiple factors, your ultimate existence will have more substance and your opinions will be more insightful if your life experiences (and therefore knowledge) have been sufficiently diverse. In this way, the pursuit of polymathy is possibly the most effective method of reducing our cognitive biases.
This is why a debate between two humble polymaths is likely to be more fruitful than one between two ego-driven specialists. For example, today’s big debates on science vs. religion, capitalism vs. socialism, liberalism vs. conservativism and so on make little progress toward a mutual understanding because each contestant relies upon his or her speciality in their own field to accuse the opponent of a lack of understanding of it. This is why Marilyn vos Savant, regarded as one of the world’s most intelligent minds, suggests: ‘without polymathy, we are doomed to accept the persuasions, judgments and beliefs of others without adequate means of evaluation.’ The debaters are thus engaging on two completely different wavelengths, as they have an interest in sustaining their position rather than challenging it (indeed the easiest living in the current paradigm is made out of defending rather than exploring perspectives). It compels them to think differently.
This is why Edward de Bono’s Parallel Thinking method (popularised through his bestselling book Six Thinking Hats), which encourages a group of people to collectively inhabit multiple perspectives, has been so effective in matters of creative problem solving and dispute resolution. Like Socrates’ dialectic method, it extracts egos from the process of collective inquiry.
Open-Mindedness
Learning expands great souls.
— Namibian proverb
A truly curious mind is always an open one. Most people form a particular opinion or take certain decisions early on in life, in which for some reason (more often emotional than rational) they develop a strong conviction. This ‘take’ may have led to success or a particular standing or reputation, and to do a U-turn or even a 90° turn on this could often mean professional suicide or, at worst, a blow to the ego. This tendency explains at least partially why professional and intellectual specialisation remains the status quo.
Such closed-mindedness, or an unwillingness to consider new ideas, originates in the brain’s natural dislike for ambiguity, which it often seeks to blindly eliminate rather than explore. Ambiguity can for some spark a curiosity but others who prefer immediate certainty block the investigative process altogether. Most people urgently demand an answer in order to end further information processing and judgement, even if that answer is not the correct or best answer. To cognitive scientists this process is known as the Need for Cognitive Closure (NFCC).
Moreover, the brain has evolved to ensure psychological compartmentalisation through an automatic cognitive procedure known as schematic organisation. It is an efficient way of moving quickly from analysis to action by grouping concepts together in order to find structure in the environment surrounding it. While these schemata were at one point important for basic survival, they inhibit one’s ability to think broadly and creatively in the modern world. We do not question assumptions as readily; we jump to conclusions faster and create barriers to alternate ways of thinking about a particular situation.
Desmond Morris, the observer of human and animal behaviour, noted that humans can be separated into neophilic and neophobic personalities. The former loves the new and the latter fears it. It is the most open-minded, neophilic thinkers who develop into polymaths because it is they who feel compelled to fully explore an unexplored question before making a rash, uninformed judgement on it. Psychologists analysing the polymath’s personality would see a high score on the ‘openness’ facet of the Five Factor Model.
Open-mindedness is all too often dismissed as indecisiveness. People habitually assume that open-mindedness implies reluctance or abstinence from drawing emphatic conclusions. But for the truly curious mind, open-mindedness is simply a disposition, a systematic method of enquiry, an intellectual approach to life rather than a state of inevitable confusion and inconclusiveness. In fact, open-mindedness can often provide more clarity if one is only willing to patiently pursue truth. This approach was most eloquently articulated by eleventh-century Persian polymath Al Ghazali as he charted his intellectual (and spiritual) odyssey:
I knew for sure that one cannot recognize what is unsound in any of the sciences unless he has such a grasp of the farthest reaches of that science that he is the equal of the most learned of those versed in the principles of that science; then he must even excel him and attain even greater eminence so that he becomes cognizant of the intricate profundities which have remained beyond the ken of the acknowledged master of the science. Then, and then only will it be possible that the unsoundness he alleges will be seen really as such.
In a similar vein, the basis of the Socratic Dialogues was that neither he nor his interlocutor presumed they knew anything — it was necessarily an open-minded, ego-free intellectual dialectic which transcended all topics of discussion, and in doing so, reached the levels of understanding others could not. ‘The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing,’ he insisted.
But it is not easy to remain open-minded. As French Renaissance essayist and polymath Michel de Montaigne said: ‘In truth it is far easier to talk like Aristotle and to live like Caesar than both to talk like Socrates and live like Socrates.’ It is far easier, that is, to rest content in the smug satisfaction that one is in possession of the truth than it is to unremittingly persevere in the quest for truth, recognising tha
t one is and will indefinitely remain a seeker.
Knowledge for Life
A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, design a building, conn a ship, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve an equation, analyse a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
— Robert A. Heinlein
Different societies, depending on what they felt the aim of life essentially was, have had a different conception of what ‘useful’ knowledge is. Confucians saw acquiring knowledge as a means to improving moral character; Hindus and Muslims traditionally saw it as means to know the Divine; prehistoric hunter-gatherers saw it as a means to survive in a hostile, adverse climate. For the modern human, knowledge can be divided into strategic and operational. The former is knowledge required to advance best toward the ultimate objective, whatever that might be. It is understanding the big picture and contextualising our lives — our place in the cosmos, the effect of macro-level decisions and policies on our lives, our spiritual and moral existence, our career objectives, family planning and so on. For polymaths, it will be many of these together.
The latter (operational) refers to the knowledge required to live a well-considered life on a practical, day-to-day level. It is a. functional knowledge, something usually possessed or pursued by the ‘practical generalist,’ who identifies all the fundamental factors that will be affecting his or her life, however wide-ranging, and educates himself accordingly to be able to deal with them. It is the type highlighted in books such as The Knowledge: How to Rebuild our World from Scratch and The New York Times Practical Guide to Practically Everything.
