Just How Wishy-Washy is Andy Schmookler?
by
Andrew Bard Schmookler

Some people out there, I hear tell, think that I'm wishy-washy. "What's wrong with this guy? Isn't he sure of anything? All questions and no answers-- can he ever make up his mind? Can the poor fellow make a decision, or does he stand there in front of his closet all morning trying to weigh the pros and cons of one pair of trousers over another?" So, I gather, some folks see me.

I suppose I should be glad. Since my worldview is rather different from that of a large proportion of our listeners, I suppose it's better that I come across as lacking in a clear position than as trying to force my heretical beliefs on other people. But I would maintain that the perception of me as "wishy-washy" is mistaken, that what is interpreted as indecisiveness is really something rather different.

There are two directions I would like to open up for us to go with this question, "Just how wishy-washy is Andy Schmookler?" First, for anyone out there who would like to get me to state more straight-forwardly my own beliefs about the various questions we have discussed here over the past two and a half years, I am open to your calling in to ask me whatever you'd like me to address: instead of my being the one to ask the questions, I'm willing to have you interview me, and I'll answer as well and honestly as I can.

But the second direction I'd like to open up is, in my view, the more important one: that is a more general question about the value we place on settling on Answers, versus the value we place on knowing how to seek for Answers.

Look at the domain in our civilization where we have most unarguably made genuine --even astonishing-- progress over the past two hundred years. Science. Science is the one area where "truth" is never regarded as having a capital "T." Instead, every "answer" is seen as a "hypothesis," a tentative answer that is always subject to being revised, or discarded altogether, as new information comes along that doesn't fit with the current understanding. Because the questions are always open, the answers get better and better, our understanding of the universe grows deeper and richer and more elaborate with every passing year.

But that's not how we educate our children, for the most part. Teachers rarely teach how to ask questions and seek deeper understanding. Instead, too often, the only questions posed in our classrooms are those to which the teacher already knows what answer the students should give. A test in our schools looks to see if the students are able to repeat back the Answers that have been handed down from above. And what do the students learn from this? They learn those answers, of course: the capital of Kansas is Topeka, the circumference of a circle is pi times the diamete things that are certainly worth knowing. But more fundamentally they learn to regard knowledge as something that is fixed and given rather than as the fruit of ongoing exploration.

What happens when one goes in to teach a classroom full of students so educated, say when they've reached college? If one asks important human questions and refuses to provide quick and firm answers, as I do, many of the students get frustrated? What's the point of a question without an Answer to resolve the issue (and the tension produced by the question)? And I reply, "Haven't you already heard lots of "answers" in your life? How much good will one more do you? It is said, If you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. If you teach him how to fish, he can feed himself for a lifetime."

Then there's the whole question of whether we even understand what an "answer" would look like. It's one thing to have an answer to a question like "What's the capital of Kansas?" But it's altogether different to attempt a question like, "What's the best way to deal with America's problem with race relations?" or "What's the wisest and most effective way to deal with the problem of poverty?" or "How can we make progress toward a world at peace?" Do you really think that anyone knows the answer to questions like these? Yet when we are choosing our political leaders, it seems we are drawn to those who can persuade us that they do already know such answers, and are only waiting a chance to execute their blueprints for our wonderful future.

"And I know the way!" Senator Dole declared in his speech announcing his candidacy, reflecting that he does at least know that we want our leaders to act as if certainty is their stock in trade. Leaving aside the question of whether Senator Dole even has a clear idea of a destination, what I would like to ask is, "What could it possibly mean to know the way, when it comes to the really important challenges that face us as a people?" On the important problems we face, I would suggest, an "Answer" would consist less of a firm plan or a map or a blueprint. But more, rather, of a way of proceeding.

I'd feel better voting for a president who impresses me with how he goes about approaching a problem, seeing how things unfold, learning at each point, making small choices that add up to long journeys, than I am with our usual pantheon of would-be leaders who strut their certainties before us. But I understand that our present leaders are merely reflecting the pressures that we citizens place on them, that they have learned that we have more admiration for someone who is certain even if wrong than for someone who is uncertain but knows how to move through a problem toward real understanding. We Americans don't want to see how a leader works toward a decision, we want him to be decisive.

As with politics, so also in the questions we face in our personal lives: how should we bring up our children? how do we reconcile liberty and discipline? how can one make a happy marriage? If I were to turn to a friend for counsel, I'd not look for someone who "knows the answers" so much as someone who knows what questions need to be asked.

I believe that the big questions should always remain at least somewhat open in our minds. Unlike many, I do not believe that we are ever in possession of God's pure truth.

When it's necessary to make a decision, it's important of course that we're able to do so --based on the best knowledge and understanding available at that moment. But it makes a difference if one knows that one may be wrong. We all so often are. But if our minds are no longer open, we recognize our errors only very slowly, if at all, and meanwhile we compound our mistakes.

The open mind ought not be misunderstood as wishy-washiness. Most of certainties, I suggest, are false certainties. And while feeling sure of one's rightness may be in itself a wonderful and comforting feeling, the discomforts into which we stumble with our false certainties are too high a price to pay for it. I would say, with Socrates, that we are wiser to know that we do not know.

So, you are invited now to explore or challenge my position about the value of openmindedness and the spirit of inquiry. And if you would like to probe my thinking on the kinds of issues on which I've been asking the question on previous programs here, you are welcome to call to do the asking.