Hit me with a little more Socrates

There is a fine line between the moment we are willing to admit that we don’t know something and ask for more information, and the moment we choose not to ask and refrain from seeking it. Western society glorifies knowledge and frames ignorance as an enemy to be repelled, conquered, or denied. Overcoming ignorance requires acquiring knowledge, making new discoveries, or outright rejecting the existence of our knowledge gaps. Even if we are on the path to filling those gaps, merely being exposed as ignorant creates discomfort.

[Sometimes we (i.e., Bibi) realize that our ignorance signals incompetence and casts doubt on our abilities, leaving us with no choice but to step aside or blame others for not bringing information to our attention. Sorry, I had to—but that’s a topic for another discussion.]

A fascinating opportunity, in my view, lies in exploring how language reflects our attitudes toward ignorance versus knowledge. What do our metaphors reveal about our perception? And where do they lead us? It seems that the expressions at our disposal do us no favors when we admit (guiltily) to our ignorance. More often than not, they cast us in a negative light, making us feel vulnerable or unworthy in our own eyes or those of others.

We think of ignorance in terms of our senses: sensation or vision. Ignorance and lack of knowledge can be felt. Incomplete ideas are rough. Complete or well-formed ideas are polished and smooth. When we are ignorant, we are blind. To know is to see. Ignorance leaves us in the dark. Vague ideas are blurred, hazy, unclear, obscured. When dealing with a lack of knowledge, we often find ourselves groping in the darkness.

We can think of ignorance in terms of journey and discovery. When learning is a journey, prior knowledge illuminates our path, while ignorance clouds it. Lack of knowledge is perceived as a burden that weighs us down, making it harder to progress. Knowledge, or truth, is elusive—it can slip through our fingers, escape our attention, or simply remain undiscovered. In contrast, mistakes or bad ideas are inaccurate or lead us away from our goal.

Ignorance and knowledge also have their own geography. There is a border between the known and the unknown. Ignorance is uncharted territory. Learning and discovery push the boundary, conquer new areas, and shrink the domain of ignorance. Ignorance is sometimes a barrier—"we hit a wall of ignorance." The unknown is an ocean, while knowledge is an island within that vast sea of ignorance.

We often describe ignorance as holes or gaps in our knowledge, much like Swiss cheese—"this idea is full of holes." Sometimes, we even compare ignorance to disease, intellectual disability, or incompetence—"if you don’t know, stay out of it."

How did ignorance come to be seen in such overwhelmingly negative terms? And what effect do these linguistic structures have on our willingness to admit that there are things we are simply ignorant about? Who wants to feel lost in the dark, unpolished, off track, or full of holes like Swiss cheese? What chance do we have of overcoming our lack of knowledge when we’re drowning in a vast and daunting ocean?

Plato famously declared, "Ignorance, the root and stem of all evil." After such a proclamation, is there anyone left in the audience willing to admit their own ignorance?

But the truth is that not all sentiments about ignorance are negative. Freedom is a positive metaphor for the unknown. "The sky's the limit," "free as a bird"—such expressions liberate us from routine and convention, allowing us to see the world in new ways. But they are not enough. What if, instead of defining ignorance as a deficiency, we saw it as an invitation to turn on the light, an unexplored continent waiting to be discovered, or new spaces yet to be explored?

Socrates may have paid a high price for daring to ask questions, but he bravely and humbly declared, "I know that I know nothing," or "The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing." Acknowledging our lack of knowledge is the first step toward wisdom. Perhaps we need to learn to embrace not knowing and see ignorance as an opportunity—for awareness, acceptance, and learning. In short, please hit me with a little more Socrates.

A few cents from the coaching room:

🔹 Separate ignorance from identity—not knowing something does not mean you are not good enough.

🔹 Embrace a growth mindset—see ignorance as an opportunity to learn, not proof of failure.

🔹 Talk about it—the more people in your workplace acknowledge this phenomenon, the less fear there will be around exposing ignorance.

🔹 Remember, no one expects us to know everything—the way we handle not knowing is far more important than the fact that we don’t know.