Autumn in Singapore is slightly humid and is often accompanied by rain. Just as the market fluctuates unpredictably like the weather, I find myself feeling slightly unwell, inevitably carrying a hint of melancholy. However, after resting for a few days, I sat by still water and suddenly realized that the water remains the same; it neither gets better nor worse. Our internal perceptions often intensify the darks and brighten the whites, emphasizing the contrast.
When a friend visited for a chat, our conversation drifted to the idea of aligning knowledge with action. The waiter happened to serve us a glass of plain water, leading to a simple question: If you knew the water was poisoned, would you drink it?
Clearly, any rational person wouldn’t drink the poisoned water.
Meaning, if we know the water is poisoned, our actions are straightforward: we wouldn’t drink it. So, the challenge often mentioned of "easy to know but hard to act" is essentially rooted in either not really knowing or merely thinking we know.
The real question then is, do we truly know or not? Especially in this age of information overload.
In our past, it was evident that we were inundated with information. At various points, we have been overloaded, allocating most of our energy to storing and transferring vast amounts of information, rarely concerning ourselves with the value or truth of the transmitted knowledge. This endless barrage of information, rather than helping, often makes it harder to genuinely understand or discern a situation. Just like the water—whether it's poisoned or not should be simple, but with excessive information, it becomes complicated, casting doubts and increasing our skepticism.
For instance, regarding the recent FTX incident, I frequently question whether I truly understand or not. Concluding that true understanding is far harder than we imagine.
In recalling a story once told by Buddha, there are four types of horses in the world. The first type, the best kind, understands the master's intention merely by the shadow of the whip. The second type reacts when the whip touches its tail. The third type only moves when hit by the whip, and the fourth type, the worst, only realizes when it's painfully injured.
Everyone has different thresholds for realization. How many of us can truly claim to foresee impending consequences, like the top-tier horse sensing the whip's shadow? How can we discern the hidden dangers and avoid repeatedly making the same mistakes?
If we drink the poisoned water, it doesn't necessarily mean our actions were flawed. It emphasizes our lack of genuine knowledge. Most of us, when faced with poison, might inadvertently consume it. The significant cognitive error isn't in the act of drinking the poison, but in wrongly attributing the resulting discomfort to our actions.
If we experience pain after drinking the poisoned water, it's most likely because we didn't truly know. This can be said for many situations, like with Luna or FTX, where people repeatedly fall into the same traps due to a lack of true understanding.
One approach might be to cherish each painful lesson as a gift, an opportunity to refine our understanding, shedding biases, and clarifying misconceptions. Recognizing one's ignorance is in itself a challenging step, yet it provides a path forward.
Perhaps we should introduce the term "non-knowing" to differentiate from traditional knowledge, highlighting that what we often consider "knowledge" might be just hearsay or external information. The true challenge is discerning genuine understanding from the overwhelming noise of information.
Nevertheless, there's reason for optimism.
We are on the verge of a more enlightened era, as compared to the past which was clouded in misconceptions and uncertainty.
I extend my deepest respect to the still underappreciated pioneers of this age, as I see it.
Satoshi Nakamoto, may your vision come true.