Most books aim to teach us something. Montaigne spent a lifetime trying to understand himself better. That may be one reason his essays still feel remarkably alive. Today, that may not sound remarkable, but in the sixteenth century it was near‑revolutionary.
Rather than presenting himself as a wise man with answers, he made himself the subject of his own investigation.
When was the last time you changed your mind about something meaningful?
We tend to equate wisdom with having answers. The more certain someone sounds, the more credible they appear. Montaigne suspected the opposite might be true. He believed certainty often reveals more about our confidence than about reality.
His famous question was simple:
“What do I know?”
Not because he believed knowledge was impossible, but because he believed honest thinking begins with recognizing the limits of our understanding.
Montaigne observed something that hasn’t changed in more than four hundred years. Human beings are skilled at convincing themselves they are right.
We inherit beliefs from family, culture and education; then, we start treating those beliefs as unquestionable facts. Eventually we stop asking where those beliefs came from. The greatest obstacle to good judgment is often not ignorance but the illusion that we already know enough.
One of Montaigne’s key contributions is the idea that our opinions are not our identity. A belief is something we hold, not something we are. When we confuse the two, every conversation can become a battle. That distinction changes everything.
When every disagreement feels personal, learning becomes harder.
Changing our minds starts to feel like losing a part of ourselves.
But if our identity is built on curiosity rather than certainty, changing our minds becomes a sign of growth, not weakness.
In many ways, Montaigne wrote for a world that feels surprisingly familiar. Today, we’re expected to have immediate opinions about politics, technology, economics, culture, and events happening on the other side of the world. Social media rewards certainty. Algorithms amplify it.
Doubt rarely goes viral. The loudest voices often sound like the wisest. Montaigne would probably have acted differently. He would probably have slowed down. Then asked another question.
He would have been comfortable saying,
“I am not sure.”
Where I Agree
Intellectual humility may be one of the rarest virtues today. Not because information is scarce, but because certainty has become a form of social currency. The willingness to reconsider our views is not weakness, but one of the strongest signs that our thinking is still alive. Every time reality persuades us to revise a belief, our understanding becomes less comfortable, but more accurate.
Where I Disagree
There is, however, another danger. Endless skepticism can become an excuse for inaction. Life constantly demands decisions made without perfect information. We choose careers, build relationships, invest, and move. We cannot wait for complete certainty before acting.
Good judgment does not require perfect knowledge. It requires enough understanding to make the next reasonable decision, while remaining willing to adjust when new evidence appears. The goal isn’t certainty before acting but humility after acting.
The next time you feel absolutely certain about something, pause and ask yourself one question:
“What evidence would make me change my mind?”
If your answer is “nothing,” you’re no longer defending an idea, but the belief has become part of who you think you are. That is often the moment curiosity gives way to certainty.
Question to Consider
Which belief have you held for years without ever asking whether it still deserves your confidence?
Continue the Journey
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