WHY IS IT SO HARD TO SAY "I DON’T KNOW" IN NEPAL?

 

In many societies, especially those rooted in collectivist and honor-based cultures, admitting ignorance can be more than a simple confession of knowledge—it can be interpreted as a moral failure, a social embarrassment, or a challenge to one’s identity. In Nepal, saying "I don’t know" is often difficult not just because of personal pride, but due to deeply embedded cultural, educational, and social factors that discourage intellectual humility. This hesitancy is rarely recognized directly, yet it is visible in daily conversations, public discourse, classrooms, bureaucratic offices, and even among professionals. Understanding why such a simple phrase is so difficult to utter opens up a larger conversation about how knowledge, authority, and face-saving operate within Nepali society.

Culturally, Nepali society is still heavily influenced by hierarchical structures—whether within the family, education system, politics, or religious institutions. In such settings, authority is often equated with certainty. Elders, teachers, religious leaders, and government officials are expected to know things, to provide answers, and to not be questioned. To say “I don’t know” in these roles is not only rare but often viewed as an admission of weakness. This creates a dangerous illusion of competence where people are compelled to answer even when they are unsure, rather than risk diminishing their authority. The same extends to everyday social dynamics, where offering an opinion—even if uninformed—is often preferred over appearing uninvolved or uninformed. In such an environment, not knowing becomes a source of shame rather than a doorway to learning.

The educational system in Nepal has also contributed to this discomfort. Schools in Nepal have historically emphasized rote learning over critical thinking. Students are trained to memorize, recite, and reproduce facts rather than to question, explore, or admit gaps in their understanding. In classrooms, teachers rarely encourage students to say “I don’t know” as a starting point for curiosity. Instead, there is a high value placed on giving the “correct” answer, even if that answer is rehearsed or superficial. Over time, this instills in individuals a fear of being wrong or being seen as ignorant, which results in a performative confidence that suppresses genuine inquiry. The stigma attached to uncertainty prevents intellectual risk-taking and reinforces a shallow culture of “knowing” where deeper understanding is often absent.

Another factor is the social weight of face-saving in Nepali culture. Preserving dignity, especially in public, is paramount. To admit not knowing something in front of others—be it friends, relatives, or strangers—can be seen as an embarrassment or a sign of incompetence. In professional settings, particularly within government or corporate offices, individuals may avoid saying "I don’t know" to maintain an image of authority or avoid accountability. This can lead to miscommunication, misinformation, and inefficiency, as people offer vague or incorrect information instead of simply acknowledging a lack of knowledge and seeking clarification or help. The result is a cycle of pretense that can stall progress and diminish trust.

There is also a gendered dimension to this issue. In many traditional Nepali households and communities, men are socially conditioned to project confidence and decisiveness, often discouraging expressions of vulnerability or doubt. For women, the dynamics are more complex: admitting "I don’t know" can either reinforce stereotypes of inadequacy or risk social dismissal. In both cases, the cultural scripts discourage authentic self-expression and reinforce a binary between knowing and not knowing, instead of embracing knowledge as a continuous, collaborative process.

Religious and philosophical influences also play a role. Nepal’s diverse spiritual traditions often elevate gurus, elders, and religious texts as sources of ultimate wisdom. While this reverence has value, it can also create an environment where questioning, doubting, or admitting lack of understanding is discouraged. In such settings, knowledge is often seen as something fixed and handed down, rather than as evolving and open-ended. This worldview can subtly condition people to seek certainty at all costs, rather than be comfortable in ambiguity.

Despite these challenges, there are encouraging signs of change. A younger generation exposed to global education, open-source knowledge, and critical thinking is gradually reshaping this mindset. In academic spaces, online platforms, and professional development circles, the idea of “not knowing” is being reinterpreted as a sign of honesty and learning potential rather than failure. However, these shifts remain limited to urban, educated, and often privileged spheres. In order for the broader culture to evolve, institutions—especially schools, universities, and public service sectors—must normalize intellectual humility and cultivate environments where saying “I don’t know” is not penalized but encouraged as the first step in meaningful understanding.

In conclusion, the reluctance to say "I don’t know" in Nepal is deeply tied to cultural expectations, institutional structures, and inherited social behaviors that conflate knowledge with honor and ignorance with shame. Until this mindset is collectively unlearned, the society risks reinforcing a culture of surface-level confidence that resists deeper truth and dialogue. Embracing the vulnerability of not knowing is not a weakness—it is the foundation of wisdom. And perhaps, it is only when more Nepalis feel free to say “I don’t know” that the country can truly nurture a culture of curiosity, learning, and intellectual honesty.