The systems of education and the belief in meritocratic values internationally has devalued the power of the words, “I don’t know” or, at least it has for me. On tests, not knowing could be the difference between a pass or a fail. At work, not knowing may mean holding up an important project. Not knowing is seen as a sign of weakness in a world that prides itself on being first place, or the best among your peers. This week at CAUSE, the cohort was placed in a situation where we didn’t know all of the answers or have all of the solutions: a mock endorsement panel with real endorsers. Coming from an art and research background, I did not have experience speaking to political clubs or endorsement groups. Certainly for me, I was far out of my element, and I could feel a similar sentiment from other members of the cohort as well.
The morning of the endorsement panel was stressful, coming in two parts: the questionnaire and the in person Q&A. The whole cohort was given a questionnaire the morning of, with various topics like finances, policy positions, voter bases, and more. I did not know most of the answers, but being part of a team gave all of us the room to organize ourselves based on topic and fill out the form to the best of our abilities, while trusting others to do the same. In the panel itself, the candidates, who were speaking on the whole team's behalf, were asked questions on niche topics that we all did not research. The Nicoles said the words, “We do not know, but thank you for letting us know about this important issue, our team will research this and make the appropriate changes.” They understood that being honest about not knowing the answer is better than stumbling to an uninformed one. I think that the mechanics of the way the Nicoles answered the question benefitted us in three distinct but interconnected ways: it showed honesty to our faults, it acknowledged policy areas we need to explore without dismissing their importance, and demonstrated that candidacy is a team effort instead of an individual endeavor. Beforehand, I knew that acknowledging shortcomings should be more common, but I did not understand how strategic and powerful this response was until I saw it being used professionally.
Nicole Iwamasa (left) and Nicole Lu (right) professionally answering a myriad of questions during the mock endorsement panel.
After the event, the panelists told us that the words "I don't know" are woefully underutilized in favor of half-baked opinions within real political endorsement events. I think this highlights the important notion that people may have unrealistic standards of what being a politician is. Although our elected officials ought to represent the best qualities of their constituents, it is impractical to believe that they will be perfect. Officials will not know everything about every policy issue, and we should not assume that. Representatives trying to look strong in front of their constituents using under-researched responses may end up being wrong, as well as neglect the value of looking human.
It is a little jarring to be in the position where I did not have to be under the constant pressure of knowing. To have a cohort to bounce ideas off of as well as professionals who understand that we are there to learn about politics is refreshingly new in an individualistic society. I think I have not understood this luxury until recently: real life endorsement panels are so rigorous, but the panelists for the mock event were very kind. Being granted the space to ask questions, to try, and to fail has given me the room to understand that being a part of a team and a support system can truly make up for not knowing. Having the ability to ask questions and practice these skills in this environment has not only taught me what politics is like in the real world, but also the importance of saying “I don’t know.”