Elke Wiss - How to Know Everything: Ask better questions, get better answers

Elke Wiss is a practical philosopher and internationally bestselling author. She leads workshops in practical philosophy and the art of asking questions, teaching Socratic dialogue within organisations and offering individual philosophic consultations. Wiss is also a producer, writer and director of podcasts, theatre productions, numerous articles, short stories, monologues and narrative philosophical poetry. How to Know Everything is her first book.

A great book for anyone who wants to better understand themselves and others!

A ray of hope in a time of dispute and polarisation.

I found this book so valuable! A real enrichment for my daily life.

Everyone should read this. What fascinating conversations we would have then!

What a gem this book is!

Highly recommended for anyone who usually gets bogged down in discussions, quarrels, disagreements that lead to nothing.

Elke Wiss makes practical philosophy manageable for everyone. A must read!

Its powerful message urges us to connect more with each other and with ourselves.

A cheerful, unconventional book.

An inspiring, easy-to-read book, full of practical exercises to get yourself started right away. For me its a must read!

A clear and practical book for brave thinkers who want to start having better, deeper conversations.

A disarming and urgent book in todays world!

Some books can actually change your worldview or your daily actions, and as far as Im concerned this is one of them. I recommend it to everyone.

Read this book, it will enrich your life!

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First published in the United Kingdom by Arrow Books in 2021
(First published as Socrates Op Sneakers in the Netherlands by Ambo|Anthos in 2020)

This publication has been made possible with financial support from the Dutch Foundation for Literature.

Copyright Elke Wiss 2020

English Translation David Doherty 2021

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Cover image: Shutterstock

Wedding photo Michel Klooster Photography The author and publishers have made all reasonable efforts to contact copyright holders for permission, and apologise for any omissions or errors in the form of credit given. Corrections may be made in future reprints.

The author and publishers disclaim, as far as the law allows, any liability arising directly or indirectly from the use or misuse of the information contained in this book.

ISBN: 978-1-473-59145-5

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. Ill meet you there.

Rumi, Persian Sufi poet and mystic

GO ON, ASK your question, Socrates said over my shoulder. Just do it. Youve got every reason to.

I blinked. Look, Socrates, I explained, I know youre from about two thousand five hundred years ago, so maybe youve missed a trick or two, but these days thats not something you can just go ahead and ask

This was a good few years ago. I had signed up for a course in Practical Philosophy, my introduction to the concept. I was hoping to gain some theory and practical know-how about holding philosophical conversations and clarifying my thinking. As a writer and director of stage plays, I also wanted to get a clearer handle on my own thinking during the creative process of putting a performance together. Perhaps, more to the point, I wanted to be more precise in the questions I asked my actors. So there I was, trying to get to grips with the practical side of philosophy.

On the first day of the course we broke for lunch and I found myself sharing a table with five classmates: four women and one man. Before long, the conversation turned to the topic of children. We went round the table. Do you have children? Yeah, one son. What about you? Two daughters, quite a handful! Everyone was asked a few follow-up questions: How old are they? Are they already at school? Does yours have an iPad yet?

It was the kind of chit-chat I knew well. I was in my late twenties and Id already had a bunch of conversations just like it. As soon as someone says, No, I dont have kids, theres either an awkward silence or the Q&A quickly moves on to the next person. It never failed to surprise me: people with children love talking about having children, but it seems that we prefer to leave the stories of childless people untold. Even then I used to think: hang on a sec, everyone has a story to tell. What makes us decide on someone elses behalf, by not asking them a single question, that their story doesnt need to be heard?

Soon it was my turn and I duly said that I didnt have children. I took a breath, all set to say a bit more about myself. At the time I taught a lot of theatre classes in schools and I was brimming over with great stories about kids. Stories I was more than happy to share.

I was also eager to hear about other peoples experiences and what motivated them in life. And to share my doubts about whether or not I should have children. I mean, how do you know if its what you really want? It seems like such a big step. A defining moment. Something you really have to think about. How do you arrive at a decision like that?

But before I could open my mouth, the words And what about you? had hastily been directed at the next participant. Everyone switched their focus to the woman next to me, who was soon chatting enthusiastically about her seven-year-old. Everyone studiously avoided catching my eye: apparently my story had no place in this conversation.

I found that strange. After all, we were more or less the same age and shared at least one interest, given that we had all signed up for the same course. Surely this was an ideal opportunity for more in-depth discussion, in a setting where you neednt be hemmed in by the standard tropes and habits of conversation.

A kind of indignation began bubbling up inside me. Why start a conversation about children and then only include a select few? Why would you tacitly determine whose stories are told and whose stories are passed over? Why not let each person decide for themselves whether or not they have something to share?