
People call the Information Desk for all kinds of questions. Sometimes I respond with “I think” or “I believe,” because the information I gather may come from a variety of sources and patrons are not always willing to provide further details that would be helpful to flesh out the research. But my uncertainty doesn’t always sit well with patrons. They will say, “Well, can you find out for sure?” So I ask more questions and dig deeper to provide them with the most reliable answer I can find.
Lately, this has made me think about a philosophy class I took in college: Theory of Knowledge. One day, my professor spoke about how people try to justify their beliefs. People claim, “My book says I am right.” It sounds silly at first until you realize how common this mindset is. It is confirmation bias: when we search for answers that support what we already believe. For example, there are studies that say people with pets are happier. There are also studies that say people with pets are more depressed. Which one should I believe?
Being wrong at a library might not seem like a big deal compared to being wrong in professions like medicine or law, where a mistake can deeply affect someone’s life. But even in my work, misinformation can lead to confusion, frustration, or a loss of trust.
Recently, I have been obsessed with the O.J. Simpson’s murder trial. There’s so much evidence that points in a clear direction. But the jury’s decision in 1995 shows that evidence does not always change people’s beliefs or desires. It reminds me of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” another example of how facts don’t always win against bias.
A great example from literature is in “Wuthering Heights,” when Heathcliff overhears Catherine saying cruel things about him. What he doesn’t hear is the beginning of her speech, where she talks about how deeply she loves him. Missing that context leads him to run away, and their lives unravel from that one misunderstanding. It’s a powerful reminder that not knowing the full story can be just as damaging.
I will always remember when one of my philosophy professors asked, “How often do politicians say, ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I was wrong’?” I thought about it and realized that I have never heard a politician say either. Maybe it is not their fault as our society expects people in power to be overly confident, so much so that expressing any uncertainty could cost them an election. But they are not alone; how often do the rest of us admit when we’re wrong?
“The Matrix” series does a great job of reminding us that our sense of reality might not be as reliable as we think. If that idea intrigues you, I also recommend the book “Being Wrong,” which offers a look at the consequences of certainty in the face of uncertainty.
I will leave you with this: a patron once approached me at the desk with a technology question. I told her I’d do my best to help. She smiled and said, “I thought you knew everything.” I replied, “Life would be so boring if I did.”