We are fact, or are we

I present a short sentence, analogous to Bacon’s adage: “A factory is but what it produces.” Now, there is an argument to be made that this is self-evidently true. After all, a factory that produces cars is a car factory. A factory that produces pins is a pin factory. A factory that produces iPhones is a gussied-up gulag, but that is an aside. To return to the adage, a man is a lot like a knowledge factory. He is provided inputs of information, which are then sorted, assembled, and interpreted into forms of finished, actionable cognition that we call knowledge. Through the many forms of dialogue, this knowledge then becomes the informational input for a different human knowledge factory, representing the endless production chain of learning. There have been many famous knowledge factories, such as the Newtonian Physics Plant, or the Hobbesian Political Science Manufacturing Centre. Newton and Hobbes were renowned in their times and are remembered in history for the unique knowledge they imparted to the world. And yet, defining a man solely by the final knowledge he holds is as misleading as defining a factory by its final goods.

Production of knowledge, like production of cars, pins, and iPhones, is procedural. In the production of goods, manufacturing processes can be efficient or wasteful, complex or simple, arduous and costly, or easy and cheap. Likewise, there are many ways to produce knowledge, and different men and women pursue different routes. Some learn collaboratively in social institutions such as universities, darting to classrooms and libraries in concert with their similarly minded peers. Others learn in solitude at Walden Pond, monkish in their pursuits. Some learn through a rigorous curriculum, intently imbibing the knowledge prioritized by the institution. Others choose the path of least resistance, letting a wandering mind choose what knowledge to privilege. The many ways to gather information and produce knowledge are as diverse as the people who conceive of them.

To return to the analogy, consider two factories that produce women’s shoes—let’s say, black pumps. One factory is in Indonesia—it is massive, the buzzing of machines deafening, the laborers working at an incredible pace. The other is in Italy—small and peaceful, a handful of craftsmen using simple tools to gingerly assemble the shoes. The shoes from Indonesia will end up at Payless or Kmart. The shoes from Italy will end up at Barneys or Bergdorf Goodman. To an untrained eye, the two pairs of shoes are indistinguishable—they accomplish the same task, in the same way, allowing tasteful women to not-so-gracefully teeter along cobblestones. However, if we were made aware of how the shoes were made, we wouldn’t say they are the same. A pair of black pumps is more than just a pair of women’s footwear—it is the culmination of the pedigree that produced it.

By extension, two men may both have the same knowledge of a language, a craft, a mathematical concept, or a literary work. But the processes by which they procured that knowledge are what speak to their characters as men. It is the process that determines how they interact with the knowledge they encounter, how they wield the new knowledge they produce, and how they impart what they know to others. These two men may be able to explain why Shakespeare’s tragedies are so enduring with equal competence, but the manner in which they choose to do so speaks to the pedigree of their knowledge. The man who reads Shakespeare under an oak tree is going to have a very different approach than he who reads Shakespeare at Oakland Community College. These two men may both be able to eloquently explain why war is morally reprehensible. But the one who reads “Slaughterhouse-Five” will do so in a very different way than the one who witnesses a civilian slaughter in a house.

Bacon is correct in saying that man is defined by what he knows. Yet without being pedantic, we must realize that he leaves the verb in its active form. It is how we actively engage knowledge that defines us to the world and constitutes our identities, our characters, our mettle. How we deal with knowledge is what makes us optimists or pessimists, Democrats or Republicans, believers or atheists. By being afforded the privilege to attend Columbia, we have been given the chance to produce knowledge through a particularly esteemed process. We emerge as Columbians, our knowledge no greater than that of most college graduates, but our process integral to who we become.

Esfandyar Batmanghelidj is a Columbia College sophomore. He contributes regularly to The Canon.