The popular Apple TV show, Ted Lasso, took the lighthearted comedy genre by storm in 2020 with its lovable characters and underdog story. After having the show recommended to me so many times, I sat down to watch the first season. While I am perhaps not the biggest fan of the show (its constant building to wholesome moments made the plot feel a bit formulaic for my taste), I did find one scene particularly compelling. While participating in a high stakes darts game with a rival, the main character offers some free life advice that gives the audience a peek into his true thoughtful and insightful nature, an apparent contradiction to his bumbling, “aw shucks”, Texas demeanor. He utters the phrase “be curious, not judgmental” to highlight why those around him often underestimate his abilities. Lasso misattributes the quote to Walt Wittman, but the true author is not important. Like many big thoughts, this one seemed unremarkable at first listen, but took up residence in my skull for longer than expected. Be curious, not judgmental.
I believe most people would agree with the sentiment that being judgmental is an un-admirable trait, but perhaps fewer would consider curiosity to be its antithesis. However, the more I observe curiosity and judgment in those around me, the more I see their connection. I have been fortunate to be surrounded by many intelligent people, to the point that I thankfully can say I almost always live the axiom “never be the smartest person in the room”. A consistent trait of intelligence is a curiosity towards new ideas. In fact, those who are quick to offer their opinion on any topic without first exploring its nature and boundaries are likely more interested in appearing intelligent than seeking knowledge. I hope that I am in the process of changing from the second type of person to the first. Like many others, I have a desire to be seen as smart to those around me. The obvious strategy is to share knowledge that I know with them, to put my knowledge on display as proof of my intellect. In my increasing maturity, the prideful foolishness of this strategy has become apparent. By posing my ideas first, I close myself off to learning more.
Of course the connection between curiosity and intelligence should come as no surprise; isn’t curiosity the foundation of all knowledge? The basis for every discovery, experimental or theoretical, is a question to be answered. Why would we suppose that once a certain level of intelligence is obtained, we should stop asking questions? My hypothesis is that often curiosity among the highly educated can be conditional. We ask questions to those who we believe have more information than us but are quick to share what we have learned with the ignorant. Such a misjudgment stems from two errors: the overestimation of our expertise and the undervaluing of perspective.
Like many others, I have worked hard to achieve an advanced education. Degrees from reputable universities, high grades, membership in exclusive organizations, and employment at sought-after companies have all served as proof of my own intelligence, a veritable trophy wall to humbly (or not so humbly) show off my intellect. At least, that is what I like to think. In truth, these accolades are only indicative of proficiency or success in a small discipline. As depth of knowledge increases, its breadth decreases. We can be a jack but not master of all trades. Outside of the small niche I have studied in depth, my knowledge drops off considerably. Still, I have a tendency to overestimate my knowledge of related, but separate disciplines. I rationalize this trait by telling myself that my degrees and experience demonstrate not just learned information, but also an increased capacity for reason. While a logical concussion, this theory ignores the fact that capacity for reason is just one of the factors that led to my success, and many other people possess the same capacity without the same result. My upbringing, my early education, and my family all contributed to my success, and without all the necessary pieces I would have the mental capability for those achievements without ever attaining them. This is not to mention that great multitude of brilliant scholars who were deprived of formal education by either choice or circumstance yet still put their minds to good use without worldly measures of intellectual success. The beautiful and tragic truth about many of these people, is that they seem to feel no need to prove their intelligence. The inevitable result being the concealment of their genius to those who never ask. In this way, the un-curious limit themselves to the wisdom of others.
Still, there are some who are less informed on virtually every matter of concern to a particular scholar, but still these apparent ignorami are not useless. The very existence of a different perspective, a native to another land, a mind in another body, offers something of value. Every created being possesses within it some rare truth about the world, creation, or God, that might otherwise be undiscovered. Are we willing to leave these treasures unburied? A curious mind is not. I hope that I am not. I have previously mentioned the added advantage of humility that this adds. By seeing the value in others, all others, we can stop seeing ourselves as inherently superior.
When we see curiosity and humility as two close concepts, the curiosity/judgment connection becomes more clear. Judgment is a helpful, possibly essential tool. We judge the intentions or desires of other people for our safety and benefit, but the judgment that Lasso mentions, being judgmental, is beyond this active definition. Being judgmental reads more like an identity. When judgment stops becoming a tool and instead becomes the only tool, we fool ourselves into thinking we are learning when we are actually projecting recycled opinions that we already have. Judgment starts to cloud our curiosity while making us feel superior to others. So, in cultivating curiosity, we necessarily must fight against judgment, judgment of others and ourselves.
Of course, we can find ways to continue along with our judgment while convincing ourselves that we are being curious. Asking questions we already know the answers to, or asking loaded questions to use as social or intellectual status ammunition. True curiosity does not count on a particular answer. When new or unexpected information is revealed it is met with excitement, not resentment, that the hypothesis was wrong. So, in the effort to continue my education, formal and informal, I seek to become more curious and less judgmental, to become a little more like Ted and a little less like myself.
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