"I have found it!"
In a captivating scene, Archimedes swiftly emerges from his tub, water droplets still clinging to him, as he dashes through the ancient streets of Syracuse. Propelled by the sheer weight of his compelling revelation, the authenticity of the golden crown seems inconsequential in comparison to the triumph of timely knowledge. It was a breakthrough of such magnitude that he couldn’t keep it to himself for even a moment longer. And, of course, a more precise explanation for the intricacies in fluid dynamics was ample justification to dismiss any ridicule directed at his vivacity at that moment.
Fact or tale, this narrative of the exuberant mathematician’s story is one that has dealt me an enduring impression since childhood. In those days when I wholeheartedly embraced the belief that "if you can think it, you can be 'it,'" I was captivated by the idea that I, too, could alter the course of history, much like the inspiring figure in this remarkable story.
Fun times.
My husband and I occasionally share a pastime—recounting inventions from centuries ago that are still profoundly relevant today. This usually ends with him wondering if there are any new inventions in our generation, while I secretly rack my brain to recall the most recent ingenious, freshest discovery I've stumbled upon.
In the present era, I figure it is a tad more difficult for scientists to make entirely novel discoveries in science and technology. Many breakthroughs in recent times have depended upon previous explorations in their respective fields of endeavour. The development of the modern computer, for example, has evolved from the days of Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace to the emergence of artificial intelligence (AI) and quantum computing.
In healthcare, gamuts and more rounds of research have generated itchy spots begging for answers, uncovering fresh perspectives, subtleties, and limitations; in turn, necessitating further research. Yet, no matter how innovative, much is mostly recycled gist, at best oiling an already spinning wheel. In my budding scholarly ambition, I've frequently delved into numerous studies that build upon previous research. However, I've noticed that the new themes proffered often represent a single nuance, or revolve around matters of semantics. It bugs me because I don't typically enjoy soft, subtle changes.
Now my curious frustration.
Invention, innovation, or neither, it occurs to me that humans, myself included, possess an insatiable need to share information, gossip, and newly acquired knowledge. We tend to add an extra flair to sweeten the recycled gist to give ourselves an extra appeal, so much so that it is now okay to embellish and even falsify information. Call it memory distortion, confirmation bias, or just plain attention seeking, social psychology presents it better.
What I'm trying to express is that, despite feeling easily overwhelmed by public interactions, there is certainly a part of me that yearns to share a piece of me with the world. Simultaneously, there's a recognition that external validation, even from strangers isn't entirely unwelcome. Right? Take, for instance, the inception of this blog-initially created as a personal repository of my reflections, indifferent to whether anyone would be interested in them. My plan was to allow the tide of coincidence to carry my entries to anyone who happens to stumble upon them. However, as fates would have it, I began actively sharing the link across my social media platforms and enabling comments from the very first post. The same pattern emerged years ago with some of the poems I've shared on Instagram. Despite any pretence, the likes and comments undeniably contribute to a genuine sense of satisfaction and self-worth.
I thoroughly enjoy immersing myself in the gazillion possibilities on the internet and in books, and one of my chief hobbies is reading about people. In our sweet digital age, with each blue or airglow sky, a new story or piece of information online unfolds. It's truly fantastic. I guiltily imagine my life in the spotlight, swooning in the ocean of a million validations. Nah. That's a joke.
Fortunately, we no longer have to run through the streets of Syracuse to announce our 'eurekas'. While books may be gradually phasing out, we've never run out of ways to declare our tipping points. Social media has significantly lowered the communication threshold and brought us closer than ever before. Yet, the baggage and price we have to pay for this convenience are a gift that keeps on giving.
New idea. Fresh story. Innovative tactic. Novel perspective. The good. The irksome. Glory, glory! I love new things! Unfortunately for me, the manner in which this 'new knowledge' is disseminated these days bothers me.
I find it profoundly unsettling when individuals adopt a smug approach in conveying messages to an uninformed or under-informed audience. The arrogance is unwarranted and inexcusable, I suppose. It becomes even more infuriating when this flawed communicative tone is perpetuated by individuals who are still in the growth curve, yet to find their footing in their respective fields. Isn't it concerning that someone who has recently learnt a new technique, perhaps from watching a vlog, attending a masterclass, or reading a book, can be so condescending simply because they are one or two steps ahead of others?
Let’s consider it a newfound conviction, a shift in mindset, or a fresh perspective on an issue. Why must we resort to snide or sarcastic remarks when sharing our discoveries, as if implying we were born with the knowledge? I believe the foundation, permutations, and the like, behind convictions require time to fully accumulate and consolidate. So, why is it challenging to extend the same grace to others, allowing them to attain our level of enlightenment, a commodity we freely afforded ourselves while learning about those new concepts?
Health education.
On health education, I have often wondered: Is there a way to convey important health messages on social media, particularly on X and Instagram, without inadvertently resorting to snide remarks, reverse psychology, and sarcasm? Humour is great, but being an expert (sometimes not) on a subject matter doesn't justify ridiculing others for their limited knowledge. With over six years spent in medical school, it's unrealistic to expect non-doctors or my patients to possess the same depth of knowledge. At the same time, I shouldn't underestimate them or dismiss their sensibilities when attempting to impart valuable information.
Furthermore, what I know is merely a fraction compared to the vast knowledge I'm yet to acquire, even within my field. If I can't offer a service or provide informal consultation, I should be able to respectfully articulate my reasons and guide people to the appropriate resources for assistance.
What puzzles me is the feigned shock or genuine horror on people's faces when "you guys" don't know what they know.
Same story everywhere.
About 5-6 years ago, an old acquaintance of mine became obsessed with cryptocurrency. He boldly declared on social media that he was determined to sever ties with friends who refused to embrace buying bitcoins, as he believed that anyone not on board with the trend would undermine his identity as an intelligent person. He firmly believed that cryptocurrency was the future, destined to replace fiat in an impending apocalypse. Sadly, he stayed true to his word, and what could have blossomed into a meaningful friendship deteriorated - all because of a trend he was fortunate enough to have caught onto before others.
Part of what I’m saying is that we shouldn’t have to vilify ignorance or make everyone else uncomfortable while conveying a message. Education or information should be a solution to ignorance, and recognising that others may genuinely face barriers in attaining our 'wealth' of knowledge is another solution. Being insensitive to this is another kind of ignorance. The fact that we have stumbled upon new information doesn’t mean others haven’t, neither does it pause their journey towards it. Since we need to share our knowledge and experiences, it’s feasible to tone down the haughtiness and presumption and simply dispatch the memo. After all, there's only so much information humans can swallow at a time.