What is curiosity?
This revised and updated article appeared in Mars Hill Review 3 Fall 1995: pages 42-49. It is the second in a series of essays considering curiosity as an antidote to the narcissism that increasingly plagues our nation, communities, and families.
In my last article, I told a story about being stuck in an airplane with about 350 other passengers in a foreign country for a whole day while the mechanics worked on the engine. Basically, we had plenty of time to get to know one another, or rather, I had plenty of time to interview fellow passengers and exercise my curiosity. The point was that I felt lonely, and no one seemed interested in my life, but when I got home, I realized I got a taste of my own medicine. I am rarely curious about others and devote much more energy to ensuring people know about me. This epiphany amounted to something like The Golden Rule of Curiosity: I realized that if we want people to be interested in us, we should be interested and present for them. But isn’t this a contradiction, or at least wrong advice? After all, where did curiosity get me on that airplane? Lonely.
Lack of Curiosity
I wondered why he hadn’t even thought to ask what the panelist meant when she called him stiff and machine-like. Was he not interested in how we experienced him? Since it was our job to offer honest feedback and fill the position, our observations presented a rare opportunity for him to see himself as others saw him.
But bear with me. As I thought about the airplane, I realized that while curiosity seemed absent in my fellow passengers, my curiosity was somehow all wrong. And guess what--and you probably are way ahead of me on this--there are illegitimate curiosities. I suspect that the notion of curiosity suffers from a bad reputation. In fact, I know from talking about this for over thirty years that at least some people haven’t thought of curiosity as a virtue.
Differing kinds of curiosity
“Curiosity killed the cat,” according to the old saw. Still, I suspect this timeworn phrase does not influence our lack of curiosity about others. I have chosen to use the word curious to describe an attitude that accompanies meaningful engagement in the lives of others. To understand this, we must consider definitions of curiosity.
Curiosity is a subjective quality of persons whereby they are eager to learn. As with the proverbial cat, this eagerness can have the wrong connotation of putting our noses into a matter for which we have no invitation. It is none of our business; entering it imposes ourselves violently upon others. In this case, curiosity is more akin to voyeurism. This pushy inquisitiveness is the enjoyment of something best left a secret to the one seeking information. I can illustrate improper inquisitiveness using another conversation during the flight delay: I had asked one of my fellow passengers some long-forgotten mundane question. In answering, he mentioned in passing that he had gone through a divorce. The comment was not an invitation for me to probe but rather represented information that helped him to answer my question. The events leading to his divorce are essential to deeply understanding this man’s life. Still, he did not invite me to engage with him at that level. I did not even know his name. We both understood that this was not fair game for discussion. When we talked, I felt no natural curiosity, and there was no reason to probe further at this incipient and probably final stage of our brief relationship. His straightforward answer to an innocent question served my limited curiosity.
Further, there can be a curiosity about oneself that is unhealthy. People are so curious about themselves that their obsessions make them narcissistic and overly dependent. I am sure some narcissists on that plane reveled in the attention. I encountered some people that day who were outwardly arrogant and dismissive, who acted as if they were entitled to attention and in a special category in which the rules of propriety did not apply to them. You’ll recognize a narcissist because they will not let you have your own story. They see people as inconvenient and ghostly characters in their story.
There is a curiosity that displays good qualities. Curiosity about natural laws has characterized great scientists and inventors. Curiosity about God has captured seekers of all kinds throughout the centuries. It is this kind of curiosity that I wish to display, mainly as it is directed healthily toward others. I did not mention curiosity toward myself first because I believe we will ask the appropriate questions about ourselves when we begin with a healthy curiosity about God and others.
Curiosity in the moment of creative tension
A mission agency director once asked me to help decide on a personnel matter for a Christian organization. A man was under consideration for a people-oriented position in the mission, and it was my task to meet with him and several other people on a panel to determine if he was suitable for the job. The man applying for the opening began our meeting with a polite but lengthy speech about his qualifications. After he finished talking, one of my fellow panelists commented to the man that he seemed very “stiff and machine-like” in presenting his accomplishments and that this was not appropriate for the position he sought. She pointed out that the applicant was a good man, but based on his presentation, he did not seem to be the kind of individual who could work well with people. With a surprised look, the man said he thought the panelist was wrong and proceeded to make another speech about his qualifications. He had not calculated this kind of interruption.
I brought him back to the original question when he finished his second speech. I told him that his lack of curiosity about the other panelist’s comment may have revealed something about his qualifications for the job. I wondered why he hadn’t even thought to ask what the panelist meant when she called him stiff and machine-like. Was he not interested in how we experienced him? Since it was our job to offer honest feedback and fill the position, our observations presented a rare opportunity for him to see himself as others saw him.
The applicant now showed a late interest in his robotic performance. Whether he was genuinely interested in feedback for future reference or “playing the interview game” by giving the answer he thought we wanted to hear, I do not know. But he had the opportunity to be healthily curious about himself by being curious about the perception of others. No matter how he chose to capitalize on his uncomfortable experience, I think it was very instructive because it brought about a moment of tension--some call this a teachable moment or the moment of truth that must be reckoned with. Yogi Berra said, “when you come to a fork in the road, take it.” The moment of tension is the fork in the road that I must take, given the opportunity, if I want my life to be better than it is. I could go the wrong way. But I can’t avoid or deny the moment.
The panelist’s observation of the applicant’s stiffness provided an opportunity for his personal growth by introducing creative tension. Moments of creative tension are often accompanied by silence. If we aren’t afraid of silence, it can serve as a backdrop against which personal issues become apparent. In this case, the applicant must have felt he had lost control of the interview when a panelist raised a disruptive observation about his stiffness. Silence followed momentarily because the applicant encountered a vacuum he felt constrained to fill. He should have replaced the void of silence with curiosity that further engaged the observer for the applicant’s benefit. For example, he could have demonstrated curiosity by asking what the panelist meant. Instead, he filled the vacuum with defensive chatter. The moment of opportunity was lost because he stuffed the crack of silence with the putty of droned self-explanation, a defensive self-justification. This defense included the cavalier undervaluing of the panelist’s feelings, which the applicant inappropriately judged “wrong.” The dismissal of the panelist’s feelings exposed a defensive attitude on the part of the applicant.
But I need to be prepared for a moment like this. It’s like you won’t see angels if you are not looking for them. I mention angels here because I happen to believe in angels. I know many people who believe in angels but don’t expect to see them. They aren’t prepared with the needed category when an encouraging and life-changing moment occurs. So, I think believers should expect to be served by angels, and in the same way, all of us should expect to have moments to employ curiosity. [SILENCE] I hope you can feel a moment of silence after that last sentence. This is a chance to be curious about this history professor who believes in angels! Don’t dismiss me as crazy, but you may ask about it.
Next time: We will conclude this brief series on curiosity by talking about its opposite: “chatter.” Yes, chatter! We’ll hear from a Danish philosopher about chatter, the bane of curiosity, and a French philosopher about presence, the lubricant of curiosity. But read on because it may not be what you think. Our Gallic friend doesn’t go for the current hipster notion of “mindfulness.” We need to use curiosity to be available to others.
Do you want to become more of a good kind of curious? Do you want to be ready when you reach the fork in the road? I sure do. Join me next time.
