Constructive Epistemology: Building Knowledge Together

In the 1980s, the medical establishment knew with absolute certainty what caused peptic ulcers. Stress. Spicy food. Irregular eating habits. The evidence was clear, the textbooks were written, and doctors prescribed antacids and lifestyle changes with complete confidence. Then came two Australian researchers, Barry Marshall and Robin Warren, who suggested something radical: what if bacteria were the culprit?

The Ulcer Breakthrough:

Barry Marshall and Robin Warren’s discovery that the bacterium Helicobacter pylori was the primary cause of most peptic ulcers was initially met with intense skepticism. To prove his theory, Marshall famously drank a culture of the bacteria, developed gastritis, and then cured himself with antibiotics. Their work, which won them the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 2005, revolutionized the treatment of ulcers from a chronic condition to a curable one.

The response wasn’t curiosity—it was dismissal. The idea was so contrary to established medical doctrine that Marshall literally had to infect himself with H. pylori bacteria to prove his point. Even then, it took years for the medical community to accept what we now know to be true: most peptic ulcers are caused by bacterial infection, not stress.

This wasn’t a story of corrupt institutions or lazy thinking. It was a story of well-meaning experts trapped in what I call “institutional certainty”—the tendency of trusted authorities to present provisional understanding as absolute truth. And it reveals a fundamental problem with how we approach knowledge in modern society.

Defining “Institutional Certainty”:

This is a term for the phenomenon where an established group (like a scientific body, university, or government agency) projects total confidence in its current knowledge. This is often done to maintain public trust and authority, but it can make the institution resistant to new, contradictory evidence, as changing a “certain” position can be seen as a failure.

We’re obsessed with finishing the painting when we should be inventorying the colors.

The Trust-Certainty Paradox

Here’s the trap we’ve created: Society needs trusted institutions because none of us can verify every piece of information ourselves. I can’t personally confirm that vaccines work, that climate change is real, or that the economy functions according to certain principles. So we delegate this cognitive labor to experts and institutions that have earned our trust through consistent track records.

But once these institutions have that trust, they face enormous pressure to maintain it by appearing certain. Admitting uncertainty feels like admitting incompetence. Over time, this creates what I call “epistemic immunity”—a resistance to revising established positions even when new evidence emerges. While these fields contain internal dissenters and self-correcting mechanisms, the center of gravity often defaults to certainty, making the process of revision painfully slow.

The very trust that makes institutions valuable also makes them epistemically dangerous.

Consider the story of continental drift. When Alfred Wegener proposed in 1912 that continents moved across the Earth’s surface, he had compelling evidence: similar fossils on different continents, matching rock formations, and geological structures that seemed to connect across oceans. But the geological establishment rejected his theory for fifty years. Why? Because they couldn’t imagine a mechanism that would move entire continents.

The Rejection of Continental Drift:

Alfred Wegener, a meteorologist and geophysicist, presented a wealth of evidence for his theory. However, the geology community of his time dismissed it because he could not provide a convincing physical mechanism for how massive continents could plow through the Earth’s crust. It wasn’t until the discovery of plate tectonics and seafloor spreading in the 1950s and 60s that a mechanism was found, finally vindicating his theory.

The institutional response wasn’t “let’s figure out how this might work”—it was “this is impossible because we don’t understand how it could happen.” It took until the 1960s, with the discovery of seafloor spreading and plate tectonics, for the scientific community to accept what the evidence had been suggesting all along.

This isn’t a story about stupid scientists. It’s a story about how institutional certainty can blind us to possibilities that don’t fit our current frameworks. And it’s happening right now, in fields across the spectrum of human knowledge.

The Cost of False Certainty

When we teach students that “science has proven” or “research shows” without acknowledging the provisional nature of these claims, we’re not just misleading them about how knowledge works—we’re actively hindering their ability to think critically and contribute meaningfully to human understanding.

Think about how we typically learn about scientific discoveries. We’re told that Darwin discovered evolution, Newton discovered gravity, and Einstein discovered relativity. But this isn’t how any of these breakthroughs actually happened. These were examples of people noticing gaps in current understanding and proposing better explanations. But when we teach them as finished discoveries rather than ongoing investigations, we create what I call “epistemic learned helplessness.”

Defining “Epistemic Learned Helplessness”:

This term describes a cognitive state where individuals come to believe they are incapable of contributing to knowledge or critically evaluating expert claims. By consistently presenting knowledge as a finished product delivered by authorities, our educational and media systems can discourage people from engaging in the process of inquiry themselves, making them passive consumers of information rather than active participants.

Students learn to see themselves as passive consumers of expert knowledge rather than active participants in the ongoing project of understanding reality. This has profound consequences for how we approach complex problems as a society. When everything is presented as either “proven” or “disproven,” we lose the ability to work productively with uncertainty.

When Trust Becomes a Weapon

But the problem runs deeper than innocent institutional behavior. When institutions realize that their credibility is their most valuable asset, they face a dangerous temptation: protecting that credibility at all costs, even when it means deceiving the public they’re supposed to serve.

Consider Harvard University’s recent admission about its historical ties to slavery. For decades, the institution maintained its pristine reputation while knowing full well about its deep connections to the slave trade. This wasn’t passive oversight; it was strategic reputation management that prioritized institutional credibility over historical truth.

Harvard’s Legacy of Slavery Report:

In 2022, Harvard University released a detailed report acknowledging its extensive historical ties to slavery. The report revealed that Harvard presidents, faculty, and staff had enslaved more than 70 individuals, and that the university’s wealth and growth were significantly supported by donors who profited from the slave trade. The admission came after decades of institutional silence on the issue.

Harvard’s case reveals what I call the “credibility arms race”—a competition among high-profile institutions to appear infallible. In this race, admitting uncertainty or past mistakes becomes a competitive disadvantage. The result is that institutions double down on false claims rather than lose face, creating a dynamic where cover-ups become worse than the original problems.

The opioid crisis provides a particularly devastating example. Pharmaceutical companies didn’t just make mistakes about addiction risk—they actively exploited medicine’s institutional certainty about pain management. “Trust the science” became a weapon used against both medical professionals and patients who questioned the safety of these drugs.

The 2008 financial crisis followed a similar pattern. Rating agencies like Moody’s and Standard & Poor’s gave AAA ratings to mortgage securities they knew were toxic. Banks exploited the public’s trust in these “objective” assessments, knowing that most people couldn’t evaluate complex financial instruments themselves.

Ratings Agencies in the 2008 Crisis:

Credit Rating Agencies (CRAs) are companies that assign risk ratings to financial products. During the lead-up to the 2008 crisis, they gave their highest “AAA” rating to complex bundles of mortgages (Mortgage-Backed Securities) that were, in reality, extremely high-risk. Because the entire financial system trusted these ratings as a sign of safety, their failure to accurately assess risk was a primary catalyst for the global financial meltdown.

Perhaps most concerning is how this dynamic has eroded trust in journalism itself. The result is a massive erosion of public trust in journalism precisely when we need reliable information most. People don’t just question specific claims—they question the entire enterprise of professional journalism.

A Different Approach: Constructive Epistemology

What if we approached knowledge differently? What if instead of rushing to complete the picture, we focused on understanding our palette first?

I call this approach “constructive epistemology”—a framework for building knowledge that prioritizes transparency about what we actually understand versus what we’re still figuring out.

Defining “Constructive Epistemology”:

This is a proposed framework for how we should approach knowledge. Instead of seeking final, absolute truths, it focuses on building useful, transparent, and constantly improving models of understanding. It values acknowledging uncertainty, showing the “version history” of an idea, and making knowledge-building a more collaborative and accessible process.

The core principles are straightforward:

• Lexicon-building over truth-claiming: Focus on developing better tools for thinking about problems.
• Gaps as strengths: Acknowledging uncertainty isn’t a weakness—it’s evidence of honest inquiry.
• Iterative truth: Judge our understanding by its usefulness and flexibility, not its claim to perfection.

This isn’t about abandoning expertise. It’s about recognizing that the most valuable thing experts can offer isn’t certainty—it’s sophisticated uncertainty.

When a climate scientist says “we’re 95% confident in these projections based on current models,” that’s infinitely more useful than “the science is settled.”

Making Knowledge Accessible

One of the most powerful aspects of constructive epistemology is how it transforms the relationship between experts and citizens. When we’re transparent about knowledge gaps, these gaps become approachable for people to contribute to.

This matters because “average minds” often notice patterns that experts miss. The mother who systematically documents her child’s behavioral patterns might provide crucial insights. The worker who notices how different management styles affect team dynamics might contribute to our understanding of organizational psychology.

But this only works if we’re honest about what we don’t know. When everything is presented as already figured out, there’s no space for these contributions.

Practical Applications

So how do we actually implement constructive epistemology in our daily lives and institutions?

• In education: Instead of teaching “here’s what we know,” we teach “here’s how we came to know it and here’s what we’re still figuring out.”
• In media consumption: We develop the habit of asking not just “what do the experts say?” but “what evidence are they working from, what are they uncertain about, and how might this understanding change?”
• In public discourse: We replace language like “studies prove” with “current research suggests” and “you’re wrong” with “my understanding is different—what evidence are you working from?”
• In personal decision-making: We acknowledge that our choices are based on incomplete information and remain open to adjusting course as we learn more.

None of this requires becoming a professional researcher. It’s about consuming and contributing to knowledge like thoughtful adults rather than passive recipients.

Beyond the Culture Wars

Perhaps most importantly, constructive epistemology offers a path beyond the exhausting culture wars that dominate so much of our public discourse. When we acknowledge the provisional nature of our understanding, conversations become collaborative rather than competitive.

The goal isn’t to eliminate disagreement—it’s to make disagreement productive. When we’re all working from the premise that our understanding is provisional and could be improved, we can focus on building better explanations together rather than defending our existing positions.

The Work Ahead

The ideas in this article aren’t revolutionary insights—they’re common sense observations about how knowledge and society intersect. But knowing these things and acting on them are different challenges entirely.

The gravity of our situation is this: there is no such thing as a “passive society.” The more complex our world becomes, the more actively engaged we must be in the systems that govern our lives. We cannot delegate our cognitive responsibility to institutions and then act surprised when those institutions fail us.

This isn’t about becoming experts in every field—it’s about becoming responsible adults in a complex world. The alternative isn’t just institutional failure—it’s democratic collapse. Citizens who can’t engage thoughtfully with uncertainty become either passive consumers or paranoid skeptics. Neither option serves a functioning society.

We don’t need to wait for institutions to change their behavior. We can start practicing constructive epistemology right now. These aren’t academic exercises—they’re the basic skills of democratic citizenship in a complex world.

The problems we face—climate change, technological disruption, social inequality, institutional trust—won’t be solved by experts in isolation or by passive citizens waiting for solutions. They require all of us to become active participants in humanity’s ongoing investigation of reality.

The painting will never be finished. But if we inventory our colors carefully and share our palettes generously, we might create something more beautiful than any of us could imagine alone.