“In Hoc Signo Vincible”

Of course, the title of this post is a misquotation of in hoc signo vinces, a motto dating back to Roman times, to an advisor to the Emperor Constantine, and a phrase which has–over the years–been attributed as the source of numerous miraculous visions prior to important battles, usually with Christians on the one side and…ummm…those following a different path on the other.

In this sign [that of the Cross], you will conquer.  

Over time, the motto, and the “red cross” symbol that accompanied it, began to be associated with it the Knights Templar, and eventually they became the unofficial designation for Christian Crusaders the world over, as well as the official Cross of England and St. George.

All of which is fascinating, but none of which has anything to do with my ruminations on the topic of this post. 

Which are these:

I like words.  I like history.  I like digging into history, and finding common threads and ideas that can be applied to our time. I think those old-timers we read about in high school and college had much to teach us.  I think it’s a grievous sin to cancel them, to misinterpret them to suit our own agenda, or to misrepresent them to modern audiences in the form of what’s known as “presentism”; namely, that if they don’t exactly speak to or represent our own twenty-first century attitudes, then there must be something defective about them which nullifies their legitimacy, and makes them pointless to study.

Which brings me to the phrase–one I hear bandied about incessantly these days on podcasts, on blogs, in the TwitterVerse and elsewhere–“invincible ignorance.”

Most people, when they use the term today, are trying to score points and generate clicks, using it to refer to, insult, and demean people on the “other side,” people who–despite having the opportunity to learn from and understand what some regard as the avalanche of facts and information that’s readily available–stubbornly close their minds and refuse to listen to any of it.  Usually, there’s some opprobrium attached to the term, as if the people referenced as “invincibly ignorant” are simply too pigheaded and/or stupid, or morally at fault, to engage with what’s held to be common knowledge by the cognoscenti.  (Yes, of course, it’s a form of elitism.)

Quite often–to show their Latinate and classical chops, people who use the term “invincible ignorance” that way, reference St. Thomas Aquinas as its source.

But that’s not what St. Thomas meant by “invincible ignorance” at all.  In his Summa Theologica (c.1270), he explains that “invincible ignorance” refers to ideas formed by a person who cannot overcome his ignorance about a particular subject because he couldn’t have been, and has never been, exposed to the concepts or ideas that might allow him to do so. A typical example is that of the pagan who’s never been exposed to the Bible or the Gospel, or had the opportunity to learn from missionaries.  He simply lacks–through no fault of his own–the information he needs to have, or make, any sort of opinion about Christianity.

St. Thomas finds no moral fault with these folks.  They know not what they do, and they have no means of conquering their ignorance, because they know no better.  Their ignorance is unconquerable, invincible. (The clue is in the adjective).

St. Thomas then turns his attention to matters of “vincible ignorance.”  This is ignorance that arises from a deliberate decision to ignore or suppress information that is readily available to the subject.  It is ignorance that it is within the power of the subject to conquer, ignorance which is vincible. (Again, the clue is in the adjective.)  It is the form of ignorance that describes people who’ve been shown, who’ve been told, who’ve been given, every bit of information they might need to make an informed decision, but who–nevertheless–still stubbornly and pigheadedly  refuse to apply it.

My “grammar lady” credentials aren’t so rigid that they can’t recognize that language changes over time.  And if a person wants to use the term “invincible ignorance” to describe whatever it is he wants it to describe, then fine.  Just don’t use the “appeal to authority” (in this case, St. Thomas Aquinas) to try to make yourself look good, when you’ve completely jumped the shark by misrepresenting the good man to the tune of about one-hundred-eighty degrees. If you still think you’re a classicist, and if you still insist on doing so, then you’re guilty of vincible ignorance yourself, if for no other reason that you should bloody well know better.

The late Mr. Right was fond of pointing out the irony of the fact that we are among the first generations to have an accurate and complete audio and visual history of the last 100 years of  life on this planet earth, and to be able to see, as recorded in real time, both the good and the bad, the exemplary and the mistaken, actions we’ve taken along the way.

The fact that we often seem to have learned nothing from the lessons so easily obtainable before our eyes is an example of vincible ignorance. As is reading this post, checking what I’ve said about St. Thomas Aquinas (I hope you do check), and yet still misrepresenting his ideas, also an example of vincible ignorance.

The opportunities for invincible ignorance, in this globalist and interconnected day and age, are almost nil. Almost all ignorance, in all corners of the world, can be overcome in modern terms via day to day interactions, or via a modicum of study of available information, and are therefore vincible. At least as both terms are defined by St. Thomas.

I hope that’s all clear.

Palette cleanser: Of course the words come from the Latin root “vincere,” to conquer.  Here’s Andrea Boccelli: