Copernicus’ book De revolutionibus orbium coelestium asserted an understanding of the universe which more closely aligned with reality than did the established dictums of the sixteenth century. Among his paradigm-shattering assertions was, as you know, that the earth revolves around the sun. This explanation of the heavens did not jibe with popular understanding. It ushered an entire civilization into a clash between pre-existing beliefs and a new perspective. The people of Copernicus’ era needed to choose whether to subject their presuppositions to refinement, or preserve the old, cherished beliefs at all cost. Those in authority chose the latter option in a desperate effort to ward off change.

We all have pre-existing beliefs. Many of these assumptions are tacit, hidden in the recesses of our mind. Relationships, conflict, and myriad life experiences can flush these beliefs from hiding. Released into the open, they then provide us with the opportunity to refine them, change them—even kill them if they prove insufficient. Beliefs are like pieces of pottery placed in a kiln. The heat destroys those pieces containing air pockets and cracks. Pieces that are structurally sound survive.

I was in a group conversation not long ago in which we were discussing some weighty issues. I held fast to one perspective on the topic. Many in the group held a different opinion. I dug in and defended my ground. Fortunately, the others were patient with me. They asked good, difficult questions, tried to understand me, and elucidated their viewpoint. A dim light within me grew brighter, and I began to see how they understood the issue. I began to see fissures in my own ideas. I had to choose whether to cling to my existing fractured idea, or seriously consider killing it in favor of an idea that cohered. Our natural tendency is to do the former. In this instance I chose the latter. I wish I could say this is always the case.

Our ideas and beliefs help us make sense of the world. They possess tremendous governing authority, informing our choices. If their veracity is threatened, even for a moment, we can feel as though the ground upon which we stand has become unstable. So we’re prone to protect them, at times with breathtaking ferocity—even if they lack integrity. But this stance fosters a climate resistant to learning and growth. If we are to help others learn, we must first cultivate within ourselves a commitment to honest inquiry and intellectual integrity, and be willing to follow where this commitment leads.

Tags: education, effective learning, honest inquiry