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Wisdom begins with knowing the right questions to askArchbishop Charles J. Chaput, O.F.M. Cap. This address was given at the Thomas Aquinas College 30th Anniversary Gala Dinner in Santa Paula, Calif., on Sept. 29, 2001.
I
believe it was Henry Ford who said that, "2 percent of the people
think; 3 percent think they think; and 95 percent would rather die than
think. That always struck me as a pretty funny but
pretty cynical comment on human nature.
Or it did until about a year ago.
Last
spring -- I mean spring 2000 -- I was browsing through the newspapers,
and I came across a story from The New York Times.
The headline read: "Why
the ignorant are blissful: Inept individuals ooze confidence, study shows."
It turns out that David Dunning, a professor at Cornell, did a
study of incompetence. And what he discovered is that most incompetent
people don't know they're incompetent. In fact, he determined that people who do things
badly tend to be very confident about their ability. They're often more confident than the
people who do things well.
Dr.
Dunning went on to find that the ignorant overestimate their abilities for a
good reason. The skills they lack for competence are usually the same
skills they need to recognize incompetence. In fact, according to one of
Dunning's colleagues, "not only do [incompetent people] reach erroneous
conclusions and make unfortunate choices, but their incompetence robs them of
the ability to realize it." By the way, as a result of his study, Dr. Dunning
now worries about his own competence.
Now
that's a true story, and we can smile at it. But the lesson I want to draw from
it tonight is a serious one. As a nation and as individuals, we're not as smart
as we think. If we learned anything on September 11, it's that we bleed just
like everybody else. We pay for our overconfidence and self-absorption just
like everybody else. Fools with tools are still fools. Technology, wealth and
power are not the same as wisdom, purpose and character. And they don't give us
any security, because only God can do that.
Like
all of us here tonight, I love my country. I believe that Americans are a great
people, a good people. I believe that America remains a great experiment
in human dignity. But it's an experiment that depends on certain assumptions --
and first among them is the sanctity of the human person. "Sanctity" is an idea
that makes no sense without God. The historian Gertrude Himmelfarb put it this
way: America today is "living off the religious capital of a previous
generation, and [that] capital is being perilously depleted." The more we
remove God from our public life, the more we remove the moral vocabulary that
gives our public institutions meaning. The more secular we become, the more we
feed four problems that are killing us as a community.
Here’s the first problem: our inability to think clearly.
Reasoning requires time. It needs a reverence for ideas. It involves the
testing and comparison of arguments. But the America we have today is a culture
built on marketing -- and marketing works in exactly the opposite way.
Marketing appeals to desire and emotion. It depends on the suppression of
critical thought, because thinking can get in the way of buying the product or
the message. That explains why marketing is tied so tightly to images. Images
operate underneath the radar of critical thought. That's why car dealers
usually put an attractive young woman in front of their latest sports car,
instead of a stack of performance statistics.
Here’s the second problem: our inability to remember. Christopher
Lasch once observed that Americans have a kind of addiction to the new. We’re a
people of the “now." We enjoy nostalgia, because it’s a kind of entertainment.
But we don’t really like history because the past -- as it really
happened -- burdens us with memories and unfinished business. It imposes
obligations on the present. Americans like to think that we can invent and
reinvent ourselves. But the cost of that illusion is that we tend to have a
very poor grasp of history. We learn too little from the lessons of the past.
Here’s problem three: our inability to imagine and hope.
Americans have never been ideologues. We’re pragmatists and toolmakers. We
believe in results. So it’s really no surprise that we have the strongest
economic machine in the world; or that we excel at science and technology; or
that these disciplines enjoy such esteem in our culture.
But
technology always carries with it a “revenge of unintended consequences." And
one of the unintended consequences of our science is that we've become its
objects and its victims. The price tag for our science has been a decline in
our vocabulary of the soul, a rise in the materialist view of the world, and a
collapse in our confidence that humanity is somehow unique in creation. Hope
and imagination flow out of a belief in a higher purpose to our lives. If all
we are is very intelligent carbon -- well, then hope and imagination are just
quirks of the species. And so is any talk about the sanctity of the human
person.
Here's problem four: our inability to recognize and live real freedom.
Freedom is not an endless supply of choices. Choice for its own sake is just
another form of idolatry. Freedom is the ability to see -- and the courage to
do -- what is right. But if Americans stop believing that absolute principles
of right and wrong exist, then how can we even begin to discuss things like
freedom, truth and the dignity of the human person in a common vocabulary? How
can we agree on which rights take precedence, or who has responsibility for
what?
What we get in place of freedom is a kind of anarchy of conflicting
pressure groups and personal agendas held together by just one fragile thing:
the economy we all share . . . and that’s not the basis of a community. In fact
our economy, more than anything else in American life, teaches us to see
almost everything as a commodity to be bought or sold. This is what Jeremy
Rifkin means when he describes American culture as increasingly a “paid-for
experience” based on the commodification of passion, ideals, relationships and
even time. If we want freedom, we buy it by purchasing this car or that
computer. If we want romance, we buy it by purchasing this cruise or
that hotel package.
The trouble is, the more our advertising misuses the language of our
dreams and ideals to sell consumer goods . . . the more mixed up our dreams and
ideals become. We confuse ourselves to the point where we no longer recognize
what real love, honest work, freedom, family, patriotism -- and even life itself
-- look like.
So
those are the problems. What do we do about them?
Well,
the only thing we can do about them is fix them one heart, one intellect,
one potential leader at a time. That's why the vocation of a college like
Thomas Aquinas is even more important today than it was 30 years ago. It's easy
to praise the obvious successes of any school. More than 30 young men have
graduated from TAC and gone on to be priests. More than 20 young women have
graduated and entered religious life. Many, many others have formed strong
Catholic families, developed fruitful careers, and now live an active and
faithful lay life. These are tremendous gifts not just to the Church, but to
wider society, because men and women who live lives of virtue have a ripple
effect. They ennoble the whole community. And that's the kind of "good
infection" that little by little can heal the whole body.
But I
think the real greatness of this college is written into its gene code. Neil
Postman once said that "Any fool can have an opinion; [but] to know what one
needs to know in order to have an opinion is wisdom -- which is
another way of saying that wisdom means knowing what questions to ask about
knowledge."
As I
worked on my thoughts for this evening, I paged through the curriculum. I read
about the seminars. I reviewed the syllabus. And I was reminded why the old so
often envy the young. What a priceless education this college offers. Homer,
Aquinas, Plato, Tocqueville, Marx, Sacred Scripture: These are the real
teachers and challengers of every TAC student. It's not a bad list of tutors.
The genius of Thomas Aquinas College is that it teaches wisdom first -- the
things one needs to know in order to have an opinion . . .and the
questions one needs to ask about knowledge. Nobody can give or get a better
gift.
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