“Let us build ourselves a city and a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves...”
(Genesis 11:4)
In the golden era of information, one might expect humanity to be wiser than ever. Knowledge is available at our fingertips 24/7; answers to almost any question can be pulled up in seconds. Yet there is a deep irony in this modern age of hyper-connectivity and data abundance. Rather than cultivating enlightenment and humility, the deluge of information often fuels arrogance and overconfidence.
Surrounded by facts and figures, we have begun to feel informed without truly understanding, confusing the presence of information with the presence of wisdom. The result is intellectual arrogance – a confidence in our own knowledge that is far out of proportion to what we actually know – paired with a loss of the childlike wonder that once drove us to seek truth earnestly.
Today, many people no longer say “I don’t know.” Instead, we reflexively turn to Google or Alexa for an instant answer. The vast databases of knowledge at our disposal give us the comforting illusion of being informed. We assume that because information is accessible, we personally must be knowledgeable. This mindset breeds a subtle pride; after all, if any fact can be checked or any term defined in moments, who needs uncertainty? But as we shall explore, knowing many facts is not the same as true wisdom. In fact, *the ease of access to information can trick us into overestimating our understanding (Online illusion: Unplugged, we really aren’t that smart | Yale News). The ancient virtues of humility and wonder – acknowledging what we don’t know and marveling at the mysteries of life – are increasingly scarce. In their place has arisen a skepticism toward awe and a confidence that we have it all figured out.
The Paradox of the Information Age
We live in an age of informational paradox. Never before have humans had such immediate access to knowledge, yet many would argue we have not become proportionally wiser. On the contrary, easy access to endless information can engender a false confidence. A Yale University study found that using the Internet to get answers makes people “feel a lot smarter than they really are” (Online illusion: Unplugged, we really aren’t that smart | Yale News), because they subconsciously equate instant access with personal understanding. In other words, when every answer is a click away, we stop distinguishing between what we know and what we just looked up. This effect creates an illusion of competence: we think we understand the world much more than we truly do.
This phenomenon is visible in everyday life. Read any online discussion and you will find no shortage of self-assured “experts” on every topic, bolstered by a quick scan of a Wikipedia article or a news headline. Armed with bits of information, people speak with great certitude – often without any deep study or firsthand experience. In the professional realm, decisions may be driven by data dashboards and Google searches, sometimes with overconfidence that the numbers tell the whole story. In social settings, humility to admit “I haven’t heard of that” or “I’m not sure” has dwindled; after all, one can always double-check on a smartphone and then opine. The modern individual, feeling informed, is often blind to the shallowness of his understanding.
The overabundance of information also contributes to this arrogance. We are inundated with facts, statistics, and opinions 24 hours a day. Paradoxically, the more information we consume, the more we might inflate our sense of knowledge while losing sight of how much we still don’t know. Biologist **E. O. Wilson memorably captured this paradox:
“We are drowning in information, while starving for wisdom.” — Edward O. Wilson (E. O. Wilson - Wikiquote)
Indeed, being informed is not the same as being wise. Wisdom requires depth, reflection, and context, whereas information by itself is often just noise. As Wilson notes, our world has plenty of data but comparatively little insight. We accumulate facts but fail to synthesize meaning. The **resulting mindset is one that celebrates quantity of knowledge over quality of understanding, leaving us with what can be called intellectual gluttony – engorged on information but spiritually malnourished in wisdom.
The information age’s greatest irony, then, is that while we have unprecedented access to knowledge, we have perhaps never been more at risk of thinking we know it all. This is not a new human foible – pride in one’s knowledge is an ancient temptation – but technology has amplified it to a societal scale. To find remedies for this arrogance, it is instructive to look backward at what classical thinkers and spiritual teachings have long said about the relationship between knowledge, humility, and wisdom.
Knowledge and Humility
Thousands of years ago, philosophers in ancient Greece grappled with the nature of knowledge and the importance of recognizing one’s ignorance. The most famous example comes from Socrates, who was deemed the wisest man in Athens by the Oracle of Delphi. Socrates was baffled by this proclamation, since he did not consider himself wise at all. Upon investigating others who had reputations for wisdom, Socrates discovered that many believed they knew much but in reality knew little. His conclusion was profound: perhaps he was “wisest” simply because he recognized his own ignorance whereas others did not (I know that I know nothing - Wikipedia). In Plato’s Apology, Socrates explains that he is wiser than another man **only in that he does not pretend to know what he does not know ( Plato, Apology, page 21
). This humble stance — “I know one thing: that I know nothing”, as the Socratic paradox is often paraphrased — stands in stark contrast to the blustery certainty of many modern pundits and internet commentors.
Socrates understood that acknowledging the limits of one’s knowledge is the beginning of genuine wisdom. His relentless questioning (the Socratic method) was driven by wonder and the recognition that truth is elusive and precious. Rather than boasting of what he knew, Socrates spent his life exposing how little either he or others actually understood. This classical lesson is painfully relevant today: true wisdom is marked by humility, not arrogance. The person who thinks himself knowledgeable is often the most ignorant, while the one who knows the depth of his ignorance is on the path to knowledge. As the account of Socrates shows, intellectual arrogance is not new – human beings have long been tempted to appear wise. But the antidote, as Socrates modeled, is an earnest humility and a thirst to genuinely learn rather than to pronounce.
Another ancient voice, Aristotle, emphasized the importance of wonder in the pursuit of wisdom. In Metaphysics, Aristotle writes that “it is owing to their wonder that men both now begin and at first began to philosophize” (The Internet Classics Archive | Metaphysics by Aristotle). Wonder – a sense of awe and puzzlement about the world – prompts us to ask questions and admit what we don’t know. Aristotle further observed that “a man who is puzzled and wonders thinks himself ignorant” (The Internet Classics Archive | Metaphysics by Aristotle), meaning that to feel wonder is to recognize a gap between what we see and what we understand. This humble realization of ignorance was, for the classical philosophers, the very engine of learning. They “philosophized in order to escape from ignorance” (The Internet Classics Archive | Metaphysics by Aristotle), seeking knowledge not to boast or gain advantage, but to satisfy a genuine curiosity about the mysteries of life.
From the classical perspective, arrogance is the enemy of wisdom. Socrates and Aristotle would warn us that when we think we already know, we close ourselves off to further understanding. Humility and wonder keep the mind open. They remind us that no matter how many facts we accumulate, the universe is far more complex and profound than our current comprehension. This lesson from antiquity speaks directly to our current age: we need to reclaim humility as a virtue. The ancients, with far less information at their disposal, navigated the pursuit of truth with reverence and awe. How much more, then, should we — drowning as we are in information — adopt a stance of humility, lest our knowledge turn shallow and self-deceptive?
Information vs. Wisdom
Modern thinkers and researchers have also noticed the growing gap between information and wisdom. As mentioned, psychologists have identified phenomena like the “illusion of explanatory depth” – where people believe they understand complex processes until they are asked to explain them – and the effect of Internet searches inflating self-assessed knowledge (Online illusion: Unplugged, we really aren’t that smart | Yale News). The term “Google-knowing” has even been coined to describe the way people assume that knowing how to find information is equivalent to actually knowing the information. It turns out that being able to fetch a fact at will can make us overconfident in domains far beyond our actual expertise. This overconfidence breeds intellectual arrogance: people may assert strong opinions or make decisions with unwarranted certainty simply because some information underpins them, however fragmentary or context-free it might be.
Social critics have pointed out that the digital age, while empowering in some ways, has a dark side of shallowness. In his essay “The Age of the Essay,” author John Thayer (to use a hypothetical voice) might lament how the internet has encouraged everyone to have an opinion, but few to deeply contemplate. Nicholas Carr, in The Shallows, argues that the Internet is literally reshaping our brains to be skimmers of information rather than deep thinkers – we become adept at browsing and clicking, but perhaps less so at sustained focus and reflection. This milieu can lead to confidence without comprehension. For example, someone might read a few articles on climate change or monetary policy and then speak as if they were an expert, not realizing how surface-level their knowledge really is. The modern critique is clear: information overload can produce an illusion of knowledge that is as dangerous as outright ignorance.
Meanwhile, critical voices in media and science highlight that data alone cannot solve human problems without wisdom. We have countless studies, reports, and analytics, yet societal and spiritual challenges persist. The overconfidence that technology and data foster can lead to poor judgment. We trust algorithms and quick answers, sometimes at the cost of critical thinking and humility. The trend of “overvaluing confidence” has been noted in essays and articles (Overvaluing confidence, we've forgotten the power of humility - Aeon); we often prefer a confident answer to a nuanced one. Thus, the loud certainty of the uninformed can drown out the softer voice of true wisdom, which often speaks in shades of uncertainty and openness.
It is not that information itself is bad – indeed, knowledge is power – but knowledge without wisdom is dangerous. A little knowledge can mislead, as the adage “a little learning is a dangerous thing” suggests. Modern society provides daily evidence that people with fragmentary knowledge can cause great harm when combined with unbending confidence. Whether in spreading misinformation, making policy blunders, or simply failing to listen to others, intellectual arrogance built on shallow understanding undermines constructive discourse and progress. The modern age has, in a sense, trained us to be know-it-alls, each of us curating our personal echo chambers of “facts” that reinforce our assumptions. To counteract this, we require a return to intellectual humility – a willingness to say “I might be wrong” or “I have more to learn.”
One potent modern illustration of humility’s absence is the decline of wonder and curiosity, which we will examine next. For it is not only how much we know that matters, but how we relate to the unknown.
The Loss of Awe in an Age of Answers
Alongside rising intellectual pride, our age suffers from a deficit of wonder. Wonder can be described as that profound feeling of awe, curiosity, and admiration for something grand or mysterious. It is the spark that drives exploration and spiritual reflection. Historically, humans have looked up at the night sky or into the pages of a holy book and felt a sense of mystery and reverence – a recognition that there is much that surpasses our understanding. This wonder has often led to humility, as we appreciate how small our knowledge is in the face of the cosmos or the divine.
Tragically, the modern world often forgets to wonder. When almost any question can be answered (or at least addressed) by a quick online search, the unknown loses some of its mystique. Children who once might have spent hours marveling at how butterflies fly or why the stars shine can now watch a two-minute YouTube explainer that leaves no room for imagination. Adults, bombarded by “explanations” and scientific breakthroughs in the news, can fall into a prosaic mindset where everything seems explainable, definable, and controllable. We risk developing what might be called “wonder fatigue”, where nothing surprises us anymore. Miracles are dismissed, mysteries are demystified, and what we cannot explain we often ignore rather than ponder.
The loss of wonder is not just a cultural or emotional issue; it is spiritual at its core. To be without wonder is to live without a sense of transcendence or deeper meaning. It reduces reality to only what is understood and measured, implicitly denying the value of anything beyond our grasp. In earlier times, even the greatest scientists like Newton or Einstein spoke of a religious or cosmic awe in the face of nature’s complexity. Einstein famously said, “He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe is as good as dead.” Such sentiments reflect the idea that wonder keeps our souls alive to truth and beauty. When we forget how to wonder, we also forget how to be humble in the face of creation. Everything becomes an object to dissect, not a mystery to honor.
Moreover, wonder and humility are intertwined. When we experience awe – say, gazing at a galaxy through a telescope or contemplating the intricacies of a living cell – we are reminded of our limits. The effect can be humbling: the universe is vast, time is deep, life is intricate, and our knowledge, though growing, is still infinitesimal relative to what could be known. For all our databases and algorithms, we cannot create a single star, nor fully predict tomorrow’s twists of fate. Recognizing this reality should naturally instill humility. Unfortunately, in the hustle of modern life, we seldom pause long enough to let awe sink in. The news cycle rushes from one discovery to the next without reflection; technology gives us a false sense of mastery over nature (until, say, a natural disaster or a pandemic reminds us starkly of how little control we truly have). We have, in a sense, banished mystery – and with it, banished the reverence and modesty that mystery evokes.
Reclaiming wonder is thus essential to curing our intellectual arrogance. By cultivating awe, we become more receptive to wisdom. We begin to see ourselves not as little gods who know and control everything, but as participants in a vast, unfathomable reality that continually invites us to learn. This sets the stage for a return to spiritual perspectives that emphasize humility, to which we turn now.
Humility Before the Divine
Long before search engines and smartphones, biblical scripture addressed the dangers of pride in one's knowledge and the virtue of humility. The Bible consistently teaches that true wisdom is inseparable from humility and the fear of God. In an age of information arrogance, these ancient lessons are strikingly relevant.
Proverbs, a book of wisdom sayings, pointedly declares: “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom” (Proverbs 11:2, NIV). This succinctly contrasts arrogance and authentic wisdom. Knowledge that breeds pride ultimately leads to folly and downfall, whereas humility opens the door to insight. Another proverb warns, “Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil” (Proverbs 3:7). To be "wise in our own eyes" is exactly the state of the intellectually arrogant know-it-all — a state the Bible advises us to avoid at all costs.
Perhaps the clearest biblical statement on the origin of wisdom is this famous verse:
“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” (Proverbs 9:10) (Proverbs 9:10 The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.)
In biblical language, "fear of the Lord" means a deep reverence and awe for God – a recognition of something infinitely greater than oneself. In other words, the foundation of wisdom is a humble posture before the unknown and the divine. Wisdom starts not with data or information, but with awe and respect. This mirrors the classical idea that philosophy begins in wonder, but takes it further: reverence toward God or the transcendent is the starting point for becoming truly wise. Implicit in this teaching is that apart from humility and reverence, human “wisdom” is fundamentally flawed. Piling up facts without reverence leads to a knowledge that is cold and prone to error.
The New Testament echoes this theme. The Apostle Paul, dealing with a knowledge-proud culture in Corinth, wrote: “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know” (1 Corinthians 8:1-2). Here "puffs up" is a vivid image of pride — knowledge can inflate the ego like air into a balloon (What does 1 Corinthians 8:1 mean? | BibleRef.com) (What does 1 Corinthians 8:1 mean? | BibleRef.com). Paul insists that if knowledge is making you arrogant, you’ve missed the point entirely. True understanding must be paired with love (which requires humility) to be of any value. Moreover, if you assume you have mastered knowledge, it’s a sure sign you have much more to learn. This dovetails with the Socratic insight: the wise person knows he does not know everything. The Bible puts a spiritual spin on it — if you think you have all the answers, you haven’t even begun to grasp the real truth.
We also find warnings in Scripture about those who “are ever learning but never able to come to the knowledge of the truth” (2 Timothy 3:7). This could be a description of our times: always consuming new information, yet missing the Truth — the deeper, saving knowledge that involves the heart as well as the mind. The Pharisees of Jesus’ day were learned men, experts in scripture, yet many were blind to wisdom incarnate standing before them because of their pride and rigid thinking. Jesus rejoiced that God “hid these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children” (Matthew 11:25), underscoring that a childlike sense of openness and humility is key to receiving truth.
Another powerful biblical narrative addressing human arrogance is the story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11). In this story, humanity, united by one language, decides to build a towering city and a tower "that reaches to the heavens" to make a name for themselves. The endeavor is halted by God, who confuses their language and scatters them. One interpretation is that the people’s technological and organizational advancement led to hubris – they thought nothing was beyond their grasp, literally reaching for heaven by their own ingenuity. The downfall of Babel serves as a caution that no matter how advanced human knowledge becomes, pride can bring it all to naught. Without humility, our greatest projects and civilizations can crumble, much like a confused tower.
Finally, consider the dramatic encounter in the Book of Job. Job, a righteous man, finds himself questioning God about the suffering he endures. God responds not with a tidy explanation, but with a series of unanswerable questions from the whirlwind: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? … Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place? … Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades?…” (Job 38). Confronted with the vast mysteries of creation that he cannot begin to answer, Job is humbled. “Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know,” he admits (Job 42:3). The lesson for Job — and for us — is that humility and awe in the face of the divine plan are the only reasonable response for limited minds. We simply do not know as much as we think we do, and recognizing that is essential for aligning ourselves rightly with God and reality.
In sum, the biblical worldview exalts humility as a precondition for wisdom. It teaches that pride – including intellectual pride – separates us from truth, while humility and reverence draw us closer to it. Whether through direct instruction (“lean not on your own understanding,” Proverbs 3:5) or narrative example, Scripture consistently drives home the point that an attitude of self-assured knowledge is spiritually dangerous. In contrast, a posture of humility, a willingness to learn, and a heart that can still be awed are precious in God’s sight and lead to true understanding. These timeless truths resonate strongly in our context, calling us back from the brink of arrogance to a saner, holier perspective.
Rediscovering Humility
We began by observing the irony of the modern information age: having more knowledge at our disposal has not necessarily made us wiser or better. Instead, it has often made us prouder, more impatient with mystery, and less attuned to the depths of wisdom that lie beyond mere data. The illusion of being informed is seductive – it tempts us to believe that with enough information, we have figured it all out. But as we have seen through classical philosophy, modern critique, and biblical wisdom, this sense of certainty is a mirage. True wisdom requires an ongoing recognition of our limitations, a capacity for wonder, and a spirit of humility before the vast unknown.
What can we do in practical terms to resist intellectual arrogance and rekindle a sense of wonder? The insights gathered in this essay suggest a few guiding principles:
- Practice Intellectual Humility: Deliberately remind oneself that having information is not the same as understanding. We can emulate Socrates by admitting what we don’t know and by questioning even our own conclusions. In conversation, this means listening more and asserting less, being open to learn from others. Humility is not weakness; it is the honesty that precedes growth.
- Cultivate Wonder: Make time to pause and marvel at things we usually take for granted. Watch a sunset without needing to explain it; stare at the stars and consider the billions of galaxies beyond; read a poem or a psalm and let its mystery wash over you. Intentional moments of awe can soften our hearts and remind us of the beauty and complexity that can’t be captured by Google. As Aristotle noted, philosophy (and by extension, wisdom) begins in wonder – we should nurture that starting point daily.
- Seek Depth over Breadth: In a world of infinite articles and posts, it’s easy to skim the surface of many topics and feel knowledgeable. Instead, choose some areas to truly delve into. Read entire books, engage with opposing viewpoints, and learn the why, not just the what. This deeper study often reveals how much more there is to know, counterintuitively increasing humility even as knowledge grows. Depth brings a healthy respect for complexity.
- Balance Knowledge with Love and Reverence: The biblical admonition that "knowledge puffs up" reminds us that information must be coupled with love to be constructive. Wisdom isn’t merely knowing facts; it’s knowing how to use knowledge for good, guided by ethics, empathy, and reverence for truth. Approaching learning as a service – how can I use what I learn to help others? – keeps our pursuit of knowledge oriented by humility and love, rather than ego.
- Acknowledge the Divine or the Transcendent: Whether one is religious or not, there is value in recognizing a higher order or larger context in which our knowledge sits. For people of faith, this means actively submitting one’s understanding to God – studying scripture, praying for wisdom, and remembering that God’s wisdom far exceeds our own. For others, it might mean simply recognizing the majesty of nature or the universe and our place within it. In both cases, the key is to maintain a sense of reverence – an appreciation that there are truths beyond our grasp and perhaps Always will be. This outlook guards against the hubris that the modern age can instill.
In embracing these principles, we push back against the cultural currents of pride and superficiality. We become more like the “little children” who are open to wonder and truth, and less like the scoffers who miss the sacred because they think they have all the answers.
The title of this essay speaks of “A Modern Age of Intellectual Arrogance and Forgotten Wonder.” But it doesn’t have to remain so. As individuals and societies, we can choose a different path. We can admire the achievements of this information age – the breadth of human knowledge – yet still bow in humility before the mysteries that remain. We can leverage our access to information not to vaunt our ego, but to learn more humbly and serve more faithfully. We can recover the sense of awe and enchantment in life, seeing with fresh eyes like those who came before us, who found reason to worship under starry skies or in the face of great questions.
In doing so, we reconnect with a timeless truth: wisdom thrives in the soil of humility, and wonder is the seed of knowledge. The truly wise person is not the one who can boast of knowing everything, but the one who, even after gaining great learning, remains aware of how little he ultimately knows – and remains amazed by the journey of discovery. In the end, the cure for the illusion of being informed is a dose of humility and wonder. These virtues remind us that being informed is not an end in itself; being wise and good is. And wisdom, as all the great voices of history remind us, begins when we set aside arrogance and bow before the unknown with reverent curiosity.
Let us therefore move forward in this modern world not as know-it-alls, but as seekers – lifelong students of wisdom, grateful for knowledge yet humble in its application, always ready to be surprised by truth in whatever form it may come. In reclaiming that stance, we may find not only greater understanding, but also a richer, more meaningful life – one graced by the very wonder we thought we had lost.
Sources: Yale, M.I.T., The Holy Bible (King James Version), Apology (Plato)
- Written by Jarrod Reque under the Psuedonym Chad G. Petee