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Dinah Megibow-Taylor is a rising second-year at the University of Chicago while Eli Kronenberg is a rising junior at Northwestern University. Both are former FIREsummer interns.

How sure are you of your own consciousness? Of the accuracy of your memory? Of the solar system’s shape?

However well you think you know these things, there’s a chance you could be wrong, and learning to keep this in mind is crucial to maintaining a culture of civil discourse and free speech. How, you ask?

This year, the FIREsummer interns took a poll, rating our certainty of God’s existence on a scale of 0 to 100%, and found that our responses averaged out to 49%.

Early in our 10-week program, we had heard countless stories of previous intern classes embroiling themselves in heated political debates in the Tinker Room at the office of FIREin Philadelphia, broadcasting their disagreements to the rest of the office. Yet from the get-go, our cohort took on a less confrontational dynamic, exemplified by one Friday when we decided to explore our religious beliefs. 

As each intern expressed a level of certainty in the existence of God, something interesting happened: our conversation turned into an exercise of epistemic humility. The next Monday, one intern said she wanted to change her answer — from 100% certainty to 99%. This was a crucial reminder that even our most cherished beliefs should remain open to debate, for that simple 1% shift opened the door to a rich, good-faith ideological exchange. And it reminded us that even for basic factual matters, such as the earth being round or that one plus one makes two, there can be a dangerous element of outsourcing one’s knowledge to second-hand sources and centuries-old conclusions.

After all, no less than the math gods Alfred North Whitehead and Bertrand Russell once tried to prove that one plus one makes two — and the result, their magnum opus Principia Mathematica, ended up being 379 pages long. The point is, even seemingly self-evident truths can be painfully difficult to actually prove, and many if not most of the things we assume to be true have never gone through such a rigorous process. As Russell once put it, “In all affairs, it’s a healthy thing now and then to hang a question mark on the things you have long taken for granted.”

Similarly, in Plato’s Apology, Socrates famously declares himself wiser than a certain unnamed statesman because unlike the statesman, Socrates knew better than to be too sure of things. And, in J.S. Mill’s On Liberty, we find the line, “The beliefs which we have most warrant for, have no safeguard to rest on, but a standing invitation to the whole world to prove them unfounded.”

That’s how safeguarding a touch of uncertainty, even when it comes to your most tightly held beliefs, can help promote a culture of free speech. Because people only become censorial when they are sure of themselves. But if you keep open the possibility that you might be wrong, and that the other person might be right, you are more likely to want to hear what they have to say.

In his book Kindly Inquisitors, journalist Jonathan Rauch reminds us that nobody has perfect access to the truth. He refers to the refusal to seriously consider that you are wrong as intellectual fundamentalism. To avoid this trap, we look to FIREPresident and CEO Greg Lukianoff’s summation of Mill’s argument for free speech. Mill says there are only three possibilities for any given belief, each of which lends itself to open and vigorous debate: you are totally right, you are totally wrong, you are partially right.

If you are not entirely correct, it benefits you to hear from others who may have the puzzle pieces you are missing, and if you are entirely correct, hearing from critics may sharpen your argument and help you better spread the truth.

Consider the case of Megan Phelps-Roper, who was raised in the Westboro Baptist Church, the granddaughter of the group’s founder. From the age of 5, Phelps-Roper held up crude signs declaring gay people worthy of death at the church’s notorious pickets, including at military funerals.

“I believed what I was taught with all my heart,” Phelps-Roper  in a 2017 TED talk, “and I pursued Westboro’s agenda with a special sort of zeal.”

Yet, over time, she began to interact with ideological opponents on the internet, and slowly came to question the church’s doctrine. She is now an outspoken critic, and speaks movingly about the importance of civil discourse and holding empathy for even those whose views we consider extreme. Her uplifting story demonstrates that it’s possible to be completely certain in one’s worldview, and then to have those beliefs flipped on their heads.

Ask yourself, the last time you realized you were wrong about something, did you feel that you were wrong beforehand? Probably not, or you wouldn’t have held that belief. Yet you felt sure, all the same. What this teaches us is that our feeling of certainty is an unreliable counselor at best.

One of our first tasks as interns was to familiarize ourselves with Judge Learned Hand’s “The Spirit of Liberty” speech. “The spirit of liberty is the spirit which is not too sure that it is right,” he professed. To be free is to be humble, to recognize our limitations, and to ceaselessly interrogate ourselves and each other.

That spirit is alive and well in the Tinker Room.