The Difference Between Information and Knowledge; OR: How to Learn
Remember technorealism? I do. I was there for its very brief moment in the sun and subsequent fall. That would be the kickoff roundtable/whatever, held at HLS, under the auspices of the Berkman Center, back, oooh, it must've been early-mid 1998ish, because I think it was toward the end of my first year of law school.
It looked like it was headed for a rise, then Charlie Nesson et al got hands on it, and, well, tore it to shreds. I don't know that it's actually Charlie's fault -- but I know a number of the "technorealists" blamed him for it, possibly due to the infamous "pile of shit" question.
I suppose, taking a very broad view of things, I participated in its downfall. My million-dollar quote was "I'm just an innocent first year law student, so don't bother with me" -- which I immediately followed up with some deconstructionist bullshit that didn't get answered, probably because it was unanswerable deconstructionist bullshit, complete with accusations of ethnocentrism. I hadn't even reached my 19th birthday at the time, if that's any defense. Though it did get me compliments later, and into the cool crowd of anti-technorealists at the party afterward, which was the real motive.
So, anyway, I'm retracting my previous position. Not all of it. I still agree that yes, indeed, technorealism is a giagantic steaming crock of shit. But I'm going to retract my primary complaint against principle #4, "information is not knowledge." I remember having a complete fucking COW when I first heard that. "What you talkin' about, David? Of course information is knowledge! Look at a dictionary for chrissakes!" ("David" being, of course, David Shenk, probably my least favorite technorealist, and the author of "Data Smog.")
Anyway, this is a long introduction to the statement that, yes, indeed, information is NOT knowledge. Although not for the nonsensensical babble reasons that the technofluffbunnyrealists excreted onto the net.
Here's the hierarchy I'd like to propose:
- Information: something someone tells you;
- Knowledge: something you experience;
- Wisdom: something you've experienced enough times that you've framed a workable reaction to it.
I say this because I've observed, both in myself and in other people, that giving people information does not teach them. You don't learn anything just by being told it. You can't learn something until you experience it, until you feel it in your bones, your teeth, your blood, your stomach.
The easiest place to see this is in working with victims of domestic violence. Everyone should work with victims of domestic violence for some period in their lives. Even men like me have the opportunity, albeit not quite as extensive a one, for obvious reasons. (If those reasons are not obvious to you, you really need to work with victims of domestic violence.) You learn a lot about humanity there.
For the purposes of this essay, the virtue of working with victims of domestic violence is that you really see the gap between information and knowledge, because the skewed power dynamic in the abusive relationship creates blatantly false "knowledge." Often, the DV victim will experience their abuser as all-knowing and all-powerful, and this will really skew their choices. They will believe the abuser's threats, over the true information that the person trying to give them some support provides. For example, the abuser will claim that he can have her (usually her) arrested if she uses the joint credit card to try and escape. (For those who are concerned about my clients' confidentiality -- this isn't a real example. I'm making it up. But it's conceptually similar to examples I have seen in real life, in my own clients.) The advocate who is trying to help could say, over and over again, "that's not true, the bastard is lying to you, he doesn't have that kind of power." But the victim often won't believe it. No matter how much you know. No matter if you're an actual lawyer and know far more about what she can be arrested for, and what she can't be arrested for, than the abuser does, you can say "that's not true, he doesn't know what he's talking about, trust me and use the credit card to get out" until you run out of breath. And it just won't work. It's not an effective strategy.
Once, in extreme frustration, I finally did the sensible thing and called a very experienced counselor at the local shelter to discuss this conundrum. She told me that one effective strategy is, indeed, to tie it into their experience. Get them to think of a time when, indeed, the abuser was wrong about something. Then, once they acknowledge the possiblity that the abuser can be wrong, because they've experienced it, they can hear the information that the abuser may be wrong in the present case. Put a different way, using funky method acting terminology, in order for the victim to act as if the abuser is wrong in this case, she has to use the sense memory of when the abuser was wrong before -- she has to feel it again.
Stepping out one level:
People whose experience is one of powerless won't be or feel powerful, no matter how many times you tell them they're powerful, until it's experienced. This is an old piece of wisdom from community organizing, expressed as follows: your actions should be within the experience of your members (somewhere where they'll feel powerful) and outside the experience of your targets. Learn from this, activists.
Stepping out another level:
This is why stories, novels, theatre, dance, music, painting, photography, television, and other forms of non-discursive communication are so powerful. By creating emotions to match their ideas, they simulate experience, which also comes with emotion. Simple information does not create emotion.
(c) Paul Gowder, 2-7-03. May be redistributed, excerpted, printed, or otherwise copied freely so long as this copyright notice is included, and no words that are not mine are identified as mine. Errors forgiven. This text will enter the public domain on 2-7-04.
