April Fools' Day Special | Celebrating "I Don't Know"
April Fools' Day Special
By Liangzhi (良之)
Today is April 1st. In social media circles, some are telling half-serious jokes, some are cautiously asking "are you lying to me," some wrap lies in sugar coating and hand them out, and some hide their true feelings under the banner of April Fools' Day. We laugh and play, yet few ask: what is this holiday really celebrating?
The answer may be surprising: it is celebrating "I don't know."
One: The Origins of April Fools' Day: A Carnival of Reversal
Accounts of the origins of April Fools' Day vary. The most widespread story relates to the calendar reform in France in 1582. The Gregorian calendar moved New Year's Day from April 1st to January 1st, and those who still celebrated New Year on April 1st were given fake gifts, invited to nonexistent gatherings, and became "April fools" (Poisson d'avril, literally "April fish," supposedly because fish spawn in April and are easiest to catch).
But its roots can reach even deeper. Ancient Rome had the festival of "Hilaria," on March 25th each year, when people honored the goddess Cybele (西布莉) and celebrated rebirth after the spring equinox. It was a day of reversed order: slaves and masters swapped identities, people wore masks and pretended to be others. In the revelry, everyday authority was temporarily suspended, and the boundary between truth and falsehood blurred.
Medieval Europe also had the "Feast of Fools," where lower-ranking clergy played bishops and mockingly imitated sacred rites. The Church repeatedly banned it without success, precisely demonstrating that this "reversal" is rooted deep in human nature — we so deeply need a day when we can legitimately "not know."
"Fool" in Latin is fatuus, not merely meaning stupid, but a state of innocence, credulity, and temporarily letting go of conventional order. The core spirit of April Fools' Day is precisely making "foolishness" into a mirror that reflects how limited our everyday so-called "wisdom" truly is.
Two: 愚, 蠢, 笨, 傻, 呆, 痴: An Archaeology in Chinese Characters
Chinese has a particularly large number of words for "not smart." This itself is intriguing — we are always eager to divide people into smart and not smart, yet rarely consider what these characters originally meant.
愚 (yú)
The Shuowen Jiezi (说文解字): "愚, 戆也. From 心 (heart) and 禺. 禺, monkey-like, the foolish among beasts." Duan Yucai's annotation: "禺, monkey-like, its nature is stubborn and dull." The original meaning of 愚 is a heart-nature like a monkey — stubborn, opaque, obstinate. But it is not entirely pejorative. Confucius said: "His wisdom may be attainable, but his foolishness cannot be attained." The 愚 here is the foolishness of great wisdom appearing as folly — the stubborn persistence of "doing what one knows cannot be done." Yugong (愚公, the Foolish Old Man) moving mountains — the foolishness is a determination of spirit, not a lack of intelligence.
蠢 (chǔn)
The Shuowen: "蠢, insects moving." The original meaning is insects awakening and wriggling in spring. From insects crawling blindly, it derived the sense of rashness and clumsiness. But 蠢 harbors the earliest stirrings of life — though unrefined, it is full of vitality.
笨 (bèn)
The Shuowen: "笨, bamboo strips." Originally the white inner skin of bamboo, coarse in texture, later extended to mean clumsy and inflexible. 笨 describes the texture of a material, not the nature of a person.
傻 (shǎ)
The character 傻 appeared late, originally meaning stupid and muddled. The Guangyun (广韵) says: "傻, 傻俏, without humanity." But in everyday speech, 傻 often carries affection — "silly child," "silly in a cute way." 傻 is a state without guile.
呆 (dāi)
呆 was originally written as 騃, like wood, inflexible. 呆 carries the meaning of "stillness." We often say "spacing out" (发呆) — that is the brain temporarily emptying, not truly being stupid. 呆 is a pause, a tranquility untouched by the bombardment of external information.
痴 (chī)
The Shuowen: "痴, not wise." 痴 has the illness radical, indicating a pathological condition. But 痴 is also the 痴 of "痴情" (infatuation) — too deeply invested, forgetting gain and loss. Li Shangyin (李商隐) wrote "the spring silkworm spins silk until death" — that is 痴; Du Liniang (杜丽娘) dying for a dream — that too is 痴. 痴 is love taken to its extreme.
Each of these characters is not merely "not smart." They point to different states of the human heart: stubbornness, stirring, roughness, innocence, stillness, devotion. In a certain sense, they are precisely the opposite of "knowing" — when we are too convinced that we know everything, we lose precisely what is precious in these states.
Three: I Don't Know That I Know: Socrates' Wisdom
Over two thousand years ago, the Delphic temple bore an inscription: "Know yourself." Socrates took this as his starting point, yet arrived at another conclusion: the only thing I know is that I know nothing.
This is not modesty. In the Apology, Socrates says that the god considered him the wisest precisely because he admitted his ignorance, while others did not even know this. He conversed with people everywhere and discovered that poets did not understand their own poems, politicians did not understand justice, craftsmen understood their craft but mistakenly believed they understood everything.
"I don't know" is not abandoning inquiry, but opening the gateway to curiosity. Precisely because one knows one does not know, one asks; precisely because one knows one does not know, one listens; precisely because one knows one does not know, one does not treat one's prejudices as truth.
The spirit of April Fools' Day inherits directly from Socrates. On this day, we set aside the posture of "I know everything" and put on the fool's cap. We pretend to be deceived, and pretend to deceive. We deliberately make mistakes, and forgive others' mistakes. Because we understand in our hearts: the everyday order is only one of many possibilities, and what we consider "smart" may be just another form of foolishness.
Four: The Universal Love of Boundless Ignorance
Zhuangzi (庄子) said: "My life has a limit, but knowledge has no limit. To pursue the limitless with the limited is dangerous." Using finite life to chase infinite knowledge is perilous. But Zhuangzi is not urging us to abandon the pursuit of knowledge — he is reminding us: beyond knowledge, there is something even more vast.
When a person truly realizes the infinitude of "I don't know," they no longer rush to judge others. They know that their own "knowing" is merely a glimpse from a finite perspective, and that others' "not knowing" may conceal another kind of profound truth. There is an old Chinese saying: "A full pot makes no sound, a half-full pot clangs loudly." Those who know much speak less, because they know that every utterance may expose their own ignorance.
"I don't know" gives rise to a particular kind of love — universal love (博爱). It is not based on blood ties or interests, but on respect for the unknown in others. Precisely because I do not know all of you, I truly listen to what you say; precisely because I do not know your future, I will not arrange your life for you; precisely because I do not know your pain, I approach carefully rather than offering advice rashly.
There is a simple truth in relationships: you think you know what the other person is thinking, but you don't. You think you know how this relationship will turn out, but you don't. Yet precisely this "not knowing" keeps the relationship alive, continuously growing, always holding surprises.
If everything were "known" from the start, the relationship would have reached its end. Socrates never gave answers; he only asked questions. Because answers close the door of dialogue, while questions open it.
Five: On April Fools' Day, Be a Fool for a Day
There is a Chinese idiom: "愚不可及" (foolishness beyond reach). Today, we all use it to insult people. But its original meaning was: great wisdom appearing as folly — that realm of "foolishness" is one that ordinary people cannot attain.
April Fools' Day reminds us: there is a kind of wisdom that恰恰 presents itself as "foolishness." Not rushing to conclusions, not rushing to label, not rushing to defend one's correctness. Admitting ignorance is admitting one still has room to grow; admitting ignorance is admitting others may possess depths we cannot see; admitting ignorance is admitting this world is always more complex than we imagine.
There is another old Chinese saying: "Great wisdom appears as folly" (大智若愚). Those who think themselves clever are the truly muddled ones.
So today,不妨 be a fool for once. Admit you don't know how much truth lies behind that joke, admit you don't know the reason for your loved one's frown, admit you don't know which path to take tomorrow. Then, within "not knowing," preserve wonder; within wonder, see again.
Conclusion: Celebrating Not-Knowing
April Fools' Day is not about mocking stupidity, but celebrating "not knowing." It lets us temporarily remove the mask of the "smart person" and return to that child who is curious, who makes mistakes, who is delighted by a single true word.
I don't know that I know — these six words, unpacked: I — a finite individual don't know — acknowledging boundaries I know — still believing in the possibility of exploration
It is neither arrogant "omniscience" nor nihilistic "unknowability," but humility and courage walking between the two.
When you say to your loved one "I thought I understood you, but perhaps I do not," you are not negating the past, but leaving room for wonder in the future. When you say to a friend "I don't know what you think, but I am willing to listen," you are not displaying ignorance, but offering the deepest respect.
Today, may we all learn to say: I don't know. Then, within not knowing, rediscover each other.
Happy April Fools' Day! May you live more abundantly within not knowing.
Copyright Notice: This is a preview translation — Chinese original is the authoritative version. Copyright belongs to Guangzhou Phaenarete AI Technology Co., Ltd. Unauthorized reproduction, citation, or distribution is prohibited.