The Northern Lights inspire awe and open our minds to the universe of possibilities around us.
This summer, I found myself inspired by a class I attended, taught by Professor Natale Cipollina—a session that even caught the attention of the New York Times. The course, Politics 3316, focuses on presidents and the presidency. During the lecture, Professor Cipollina discussed the contrasting public perceptions of several U.S. presidents, including Franklin D. Roosevelt and Harry Truman, noting how historical opinions of these leaders have evolved over time.
What struck me, however, was not just the content but the approach. Cipollina deliberately avoided any mention of the current political landscape, including the recent Supreme Court ruling on presidential immunity. When students asked for more current references, he gently reminded them, “If you want a class in current events, go find it.”
Cipollina’s method wasn’t about sidestepping the issues of the day; it was about equipping students with the tools to think for themselves. He provided them with the fundamental knowledge necessary to interpret current events independently, to form their own conclusions rather than being swayed by the immediacy of headlines or the allure of social media.
One student in the class lamented the role of social media in shaping their generation’s engagement with the world. “My generation, we just know the title of an article,” she said. “We hear one thing on TikTok and run with it.” This reflection highlights a growing concern: In an age of information overload, how do we ensure that our students not only think critically but also respect the views of others who may arrive at different conclusions?
Building a Foundation for Intellectual Curiosity
As a community of learners, scholars, and educators, our role is to cultivate the mindset and skills necessary to appreciate the full complexity of the world around us, rather than to persuade one another to adopt a particular worldview or political stance. True education doesn’t impose a uniform set of beliefs but empowers each of us to explore different perspectives, equipping us with the tools to navigate life’s ambiguities with curiosity and open-mindedness.
Embracing this complexity doesn’t mean accepting all perspectives as equally valid or morally equivalent. Instead, it begins with shared human values—principles such as compassion, fairness, and respect for human dignity. Independent thinking is not about diluting every belief or falling into moral relativism. It’s about carefully evaluating ideas through the lens of these shared values and trying our best to promote the common good.
Of course, this balance between intellectual curiosity and moral clarity is easier said than done. How do we reconcile open-minded exploration with deeply held beliefs and principles? Let me share some of my own experiences.
When Crisis Calls for Common Ground
Several years ago, I was part of a multidisciplinary team of city planners, economists, and systems engineers invited to help a major city in crisis. The city had long thrived as a continental transport hub, but the widening of the Panama Canal was making its locational advantage obsolete. Shipping companies could now completely bypass the city—severely weakening its economic foundation.
In our meetings with city officials and business leaders, it became clear that there were stark divisions. Some argued for massive infrastructure projects to retain the city’s transportation and distribution edge. Others pushed for a pivot to tourism or tech, abandoning the city’s historic role. The atmosphere was tense, with each side convinced that the other’s plan would lead to disaster.
The team saw an opportunity to break through this deadlock by shifting the conversation. Instead of framing the issue as a choice between competing sides, we reframed the debate around shared goals: preventing economic collapse, protecting jobs, and ensuring a viable future for the city. This common ground allowed us to move from a zero-sum argument toward collaboration.
In the end, the solution was a balanced one—preserving some of the city’s historic capabilities and human capital stemming from shipping and transport, while leveraging these assets as a competitive advantage for strategic investments in tourism, tech, and other new industries. This allowed the city to stabilize and transform its labor force while adapting to new economic realities.
The process taught me that resolving challenges can’t be about choosing sides, but about thoughtfully evaluating all options with shared values in mind—aiming to find a ‘win-win’ that serves the greater good, even if it’s not always fully achievable.
How Our Brains Shape Our Thinking
Cognitive science reveals that our brains operate with two interconnected systems: a “mental map” built from past experiences and sensory input that updates this map with new information. The mental map allows us to navigate familiar situations efficiently, often on autopilot, while sensory input helps us adjust to new or unfamiliar experiences.
However, overreliance on the mental map can lead to closed-mindedness, causing us to dismiss new insights that challenge our existing beliefs. Sensory input acts as a self-correction mechanism that updates our mental map with new insights and perspectives we learned over time.
Nobel laureate Daniel Kahneman, in Thinking, Fast and Slow, popularized this idea through the Dual Process Theory. He describes how fast, automatic thinking (System 1) uses the mental map for quick decisions, while slow, deliberate thinking (System 2) engages when we encounter new or complex situations. Together, these systems allow us to make decisions efficiently while remaining flexible enough to adapt to new information. And that new information can open up an entirely new perspective, allowing us to see what was previously shrouded by our narrower opinions and beliefs.
Seeing in Full Spectrum
The idea of seeing the world in its full spectrum strikes a personal chord with me, transporting me back to my arrival in New York City as a young man over 40 years ago. At that time, the city felt overwhelming in the best possible way. I was filled with awe and curiosity as I looked up at the towering buildings and walked through the bustling streets. Coming from the noise and chaos of Taipei, I found that the energy of New York was something else entirely—gritty, vibrant, and brimming with potential. Back then, I saw the world in stark contrasts: opportunity versus challenge, success versus failure, with little room for the shades of gray that now seem so essential. I was young, ambitious, and eager to take on whatever came my way.
Now, as I walk those same streets, I see the city through a more nuanced lens. What has changed is not simply the passage of time but the way I perceive the world around me. New York remains as dynamic as ever, full of both challenges and opportunities, but I’ve come to appreciate the subtleties I once overlooked—the moments of quiet amid the chaos, the small acts of kindness that punctuate the city’s fast pace, the layered complexities of human interactions. It’s no longer just about success or failure; it’s about the journey in between and the richness that comes from embracing the multiplicity of experiences that surround me.
What I’ve realized over the years is that the city itself hasn’t changed so much as my ability to see it more clearly, in a fuller spectrum. The vivid colors of the city are no longer just in the bright lights and towering skyscrapers; they’re in the people, the cultures, the stories that intersect, making this city more than just a setting—it’s a living, breathing mosaic of ideas and experiences, constantly evolving, much like our perceptions.
Knowing That I Know Nothing
As I reflect on these moments, I am reminded of Socrates’ words, “I know that I know nothing.” To me, this means that the more we learn, the more we understand how much we don’t know. Seeing the world in full spectrum means recognizing that our initial perceptions are often incomplete. It demands openness to the possibility that the truth lies somewhere in the space between bright hues and subtle shades.
The principles of openness and understanding are not just theoretical; we must actively cultivate them at Baruch through initiatives like the Respectful Dialogue Series—a key part of the Baruch Connects initiative. Beginning this fall, this series will create a platform for students, faculty, and staff to engage in thoughtful, constructive discourse on complex and sometimes contentious issues. It’s about encouraging all of us to move beyond our intellectual comfort zones and see the world not in binary terms, but in a fuller spectrum of ideas and perspectives.
Much like the student who voiced her concerns about social media’s influence on her generation, the Respectful Dialogue Series aims to address the tendency to rush to conclusions in a world dominated by soundbites. By exploring such themes as civil discourse, intellectual pluralism, and interfaith understanding, we will have the opportunity to listen more deeply, engage more thoughtfully, and appreciate the complexities of the world around us.
If there’s one lesson I hope to impart, it’s this: Embrace complexity, listen intently, and appreciate the full spectrum of ideas around you. The world is far more nuanced and interconnected than it appears at first glance, and it is only by seeing it in all its colors that we can truly understand and appreciate it.
As my late father often reminded me, “The greatest gift we can give ourselves is the patience to see things as they are, not just as we wish them to be.”
16 Comments
I am heartened by this post, President Wu. The units least likely to register as valuable by incentive-based budgeting metrics (as least as I understood them from last month’s presentation) are the ones where embracing complexity is central. I hope that under your leadership, Baruch will invest in robust support of the Humanities and Social Sciences at Weissman, even though these units do not attract large numbers of majors at Baruch or generate significant grant- or program-driven revenue.
As a student in accountancy at Baruch many decades ago, I truly value the humanity and social science courses I took as a young immigrant. They open minds and broaden horizons. Business courses may bring better opportunities, social science and humanity fight mediocrity.
Carla and Joseph – I echo your thoughts. My accounting courses at Baruch in the early 80’s helped to launch and define a career – but the courses that I look back on and recall the most were those in the humanities and social sciences: Philosophy with Marx Wartofsky, History with Edward Pessen and Carol Berkin, Political Science with Doug Muzzio, Psychology with Susan Locke, Economics with Norman Kleinberg. These were the courses and professors which cultivated and influenced a lifetime of reading and learning. Thank you.
Carla, your point about supporting the Humanities and Social Sciences at Weissman highlights a critical aspect of embracing complexity. These disciplines, as Joseph Ng and Robin Bauerle so eloquently noted, open minds, broaden horizons, and cultivate a lifetime of intellectual engagement. Robin, your reflections on specific professors and courses from decades ago remind us of the lasting impact of education that goes beyond vocational training. These are all critical components of a Baruch education that I fully embrace.
Thank you for your expansion on some ideas that I only briefly touched upon during my class in the Summer! Your expansion brings us to a greater level of cognitive context and helps us to move forward to a greater extent than my humble lesson. Clearly your expansion helps to remind us that questions and respectful dialogue are so important to create community as well as refine our civilization, all while seeking knowledge and hopefully improving our shared challenges.
Natale: Your comments beautifully illustrate how respectful dialogue and openness to diverse perspectives create the foundation for intellectual and personal growth. Thank you!
I believe in this so much of what you are saying of the full spectrum of life. To see and be free to share and not feel alone to others and be connected through all aspects of communication and community. By being there with open arms and showing empathy and love we will grow together with compassion. It’s about overcoming the power of loving power and just be kind to yourself and others with respect and honesty. A respect of a person who wants to learn, live and love. And be successful human and share thoughts of other time’s memories of changes and experiences. Remember to learn live love, we only have one life once and we must live it to the best like a voyage to the moon and stars to be able to be alive and you can hear me my voice. Friends, to remember to never forget forever.
-emi
Thank you so much for your heartfelt and poetic response!
What an inspiring article! I’ve strived to be as open-minded as possible, since I realized during my second year of college that I was quite a closed-minded person who always assumed I’m correct at anything and ignored other people’s perspectives. After reading several great books such as Principles by Ray Dalio and Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman, I gradually found out the significance of being open to diverse point of views and also knowing that I know nothing and being humble. Though I’m still not good at being a critical thinker and seeing the world in full spectrum, I believe through small cognitive change I could be a good independent thinker one day. Thanks for your sharing!
Ruonan, your journey toward becoming an independent thinker is inspiring, and it is a reminder of the transformative power of curiosity and humility. Thank you so much for sharing that with us.
Thank you for this wonderfully thoughtful post, David. It makes me think of what I’ve long seen as one of the central conundrums of teaching. I want to be able to see all sides of a question, understand why others see things the way they do, and teach this approach to my students. At the same time, however, I know that much of my success as a classroom teacher draws on the passion with which I address things, and that comes from respecting the things I believe in. I’ve never really figured out how to both of these simultaneously. But I try.
A key aspect of this is what we anthropologists call “cultural relativism,” which means to understand what others are doing, and why they do it, in their own terms. But, I point out to students, this doesn’t preclude retaining and acting on our own carefully considered moral precepts. I think this is much the same as what you speak of when you write “How do we reconcile open-minded exploration with deeply held beliefs and principles?”
And I, like you, I draw on Daniel Kahneman’s notion of two quite different systems of thinking in order to talk about letting the old, quick brain speak before engaging the newer, slower brain to sort through these spontaneous thoughts as we put them into action.
I’m glad to hear we’re on the same page, and I’m looking forward to participating in the Respectful Dialogue series.
Glenn, the way I handle the conundrum is by never explicitly stating my opinion on topics. It is often easy to infer to which side of a question I lean, and sometimes I am asked to explicitly state my opinion, to which I reply, “This is your time to express yours. If you are interested in mine, I will be happy to do that after class.” And often a few remain after to continue the discussion. Regarding the two types of mind, that’s sort of like the difference between reflex and thoughtful action. BTW there seems to be no sharp line between the two only a spectrum going from fully automatic to fully reflexive. And perhaps its the same think here as well.
but I encourage dialog from all points of view.
I don’t understand. Are you saying that one should not express the opinion that William Shakespeare wrote the plays attributed to him, rather than the Earl of Oxford? Or that natural selection theory better explains human origins than creationism? Or that the imperative to end slavery was one of the major causes of the Civil War?
Glenn, regarding who wrote Shakespeare’s plays is sort of like asking who was Homer? I’ve heard it said it could have been Francis Bacon. All I know is that there is some doubt that a man of his standing could have written all those plays by himself. Natural selection makes more sense to me than Creationism. But then again what about the missing link(s)? As for whether or not “the imperative to end slavery was one of the major causes of the Civil War,” who can argue with that. “Major” is the operative word. The debate is over whether or not it was the main reason. But bottom line what I was saying in my comment is that my primary goal is to generate dialog and debate in the class. I encourage students to even play Devil’s Advocate, if necessary, to get the discussion going. And if most are of the same opinion as me on a question, I ask probing questions to sow doubt. But very often from the tone and direction of my comments the students can sort of figure out where I stand. But I am careful not to any way shape or form to give off even the whiff of pontification. And when students ask me point blank, “Professor, what do you think?” I tell them to wait after class and I will fully and completely give my opinion. Make sense?
Regarding Shakespeare, I understand there is a lot of debate over whether, or not, the person described as Shakespeare had the erudition to write all of those plays by himself. As for the theory of Natural Selection being better than Creationism, I would simply make sure that the logic behind each is fully understood, and I would also point out that there is a huge gap, a missing link, in the theory of evolution. And obviously no one doubts the imperative to end slavery was “one of the MAJOR causes of the Civil War.” But there is a raging debate over whether or not it was the MAIN cause. And I would tease out that the issue of States Rights, often given as the MAJOR cause, is inextricably linked to the right of States to permit slavery.
Glenn and Arthur: Your thoughtful reflections on balancing respect for one’s beliefs with fostering open-minded exploration deeply resonate with me. As you pointed out, reconciling these dimensions requires both intentionality and effort. This underscores the importance of generating meaningful dialogue—even when it challenges our assumptions.