Socrates spent his life emphasizing the importance of knowledge. Yet what he meant was not propositional knowledge or mere information, but the knowledge of “being good” — the knowledge of virtue, morality, and ethical living. When people around him asked how they could attain such knowledge, he would not give them direct answers. To him, truth was not something to be memorized from the outside; it was a kind of awareness that had to be born within a person. By asking questions, he encouraged others to recognize things for themselves and gradually transform through the process. He called this method “midwifery” — the art of helping truth emerge from within another person. Through long companionship and dialogue, people slowly became accustomed to the knowledge of what it meant to be a good person.
“Prosperity is the most suitable environment for man to lose himself.”
— Søren Kierkegaard
Today, in an age of instant access to information and “short” attention spans, this process has become far more difficult. In a time where everything immediately appears before us, dedicating time to what truly matters has become almost impossible. Humanity has never before had access to so much information at such speed. Communication and transportation have become instantaneous matters. Yet the paradox reveals itself precisely here: this age, surrounded by more information than ever before, may also be the age in which we are most profoundly ignorant.
“Every new product is a new potential force for mutual swindling and mutual plundering. Every new need forces man into a new dependence and a new sacrifice, alienating him from his own essence (and from his fellow man)… The production of too many useful things results in too many useless people. (…) While the system refines human needs and the means of satisfying them, it simultaneously reduces man to a state of complete mental and physical simplicity — a primitive dullness.”
— Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844
Vanity exists because there is nothing real to display. Luxury consumption arises not from wealth, but from deprivation. The desire to be famous comes not from truly being known, but from not being known at all. In this sense, the information age is also a kind of age of ignorance. Because unless we develop our character alongside our bodies and our world, all our efforts become futile; after all, it is our character that ultimately perceives the world. Wherever there is easy fame or inherited comfort, there is often hidden torment. What matters in life is not merely possessing things, but striving for and earning them.
Just as we do not listen to music merely for its final note, nor watch a film only for its last minute, reducing life to outcomes alone empties it of meaning. Carrying the world’s greatest story in our pocket is not important; what matters is possessing the mind capable of understanding it and experiencing the fullness of its process. In the information age, propositional knowledge itself loses significance. Since knowledge is entrusted to character — since the knowing subject is the one who will ultimately use knowledge — becoming a “good person” matters far more. When starting a video game, we do not truly wish to finish everything instantly with a cheat code. Living is, beyond material existence, a mental activity.
“When the wrong man uses the right means, the right means work in the wrong way.”
— The Secret of the Golden Flower
It feels as though we are paying the price for everything. In the age of comfort: boredom. In the age of abundance: status anxiety. In the age of information: the loss of meaningful knowledge. Humanity now produces every two days as much information as existed up until 2008. Yet a mountain of data does not give birth to wisdom. To perceive that everything exists within transformation, that reality contains a balance, and that every action creates an echo, one needs silence — precisely the kind of silence the flood of information never grants us. We are confronted with the most sophisticated form of distraction imaginable: an intelligent-looking numbness.
“To know that you do not know is the beginning of wisdom.”
“The unexamined life is not worth living.”
— Socrates, Apology
The information age may therefore actually be an age of distracting information. It could equally be called the age of amusement and diversion. Those who never experience discomfort may never recognize the knowledge of virtue. We are immersed in such intense distraction that we no longer have time to pause, reflect, and genuinely discuss. In this era, dialectics, introspection, and analysis are becoming increasingly difficult.
One possible solution may be to establish technology-free spaces among close friends and hold discussion sessions. If no one else is available, conversing with artificial intelligence may become an alternative. What matters is that the knowledge of what is truly important is not propositional; it is an endless process of giving birth, an unrelenting process of analysis. It resembles a limit approached through ongoing dialogue, sincere conversations, and intellectual honesty. It is a process in which one learns to leave things unresolved, to remain uncertain, and to avoid becoming trapped by labels — both for oneself and for others.
The knowledge of what truly matters does not come from somewhere external; it is a transformation emerging from within. It is characterized by a disposition toward honesty, sincerity, and clarity in speech.
“No wind is favorable to the sailor who does not know to which port he sails.”
— Seneca the Younger
