Who Decides What Counts as Knowledge On hierarchy, truth, expertise, artificial intelligence, and the expulsion from the Garden of Eden of information

Today, our main challenge is not a lack of information, but an overwhelming surplus. Anyone can instantly access articles, videos, studies, and opinions. While this seems like a golden age of knowledge, it has actually become more difficult to distinguish between knowledge, opinion, truth, expertise, and content that only appears convincing.

The key question is not just how we access information, but who or what establishes the hierarchy of knowledge. By what criteria do we judge reliability, credibility, and trustworthiness? In an age of universal access, this judgment is essential. Without a clear hierarchy, all information can appear equally valid.

In the past, the hierarchy of knowledge was largely determined by institutions. Universities, academic journals, publishing houses, newspapers, editors, experts, institutions such as universities, journals, publishers, and experts shaped the hierarchy of knowledge. While imperfect and sometimes resistant to change, these bodies provided mechanisms for filtering, review, and context. They not only distributed knowledge but also indicated what had been scrutinised. a great blessing in this. A person can learn independently, be exposed to experts from around the world, bypass closed institutions, and find knowledge that would never have reached them before. But alongside the democratisation of access to knowledge, a new problem emerged: access to knowledge is not the same as expertise in knowledge.

The fact that a person can read a medical study does not make them a doctor. The fact that they can watch an economics lecture does not make them an economist. The fact that they can ask artificial questions does not make someone a doctor, nor does watching an economics lecture make them an economist. Asking artificial intelligence about complex fields does not guarantee authoritative answers. Access is valuable, but it cannot replace training, experience, critical thinking, and contextual understanding. It can be very powerful socially. It can become a norm, a trend, a professional slogan, or a spoken truth. But the fact that certain knowledge is accepted does not mean that it is accurate. Sometimes it is simply convenient, easy to digest, aligned with existing interests, or repeated often enough that it begins to sound true.

Accurate knowledge is defined by its alignment with reality, the quality of the evidence, and its ability to withstand criticism, not by popularity. It may be complex or unpopular, and often does not fit the rapid pace of online formats.

This distinction matters because the internet and artificial intelligence often present information in a persuasive and polished manner. However, persuasive language does not guarantee truth. There is a risk of confusing eloquence with genuine expertise, mistaking confident answers for accurate ones.

Artificial intelligence amplifies this issue by serving as a perceived authority rather than just an information source. Many rely on it for decisions, summaries, and recommendations, sometimes at the expense of professional judgment. Its confident tone can be misleading, as it may provide incorrect, fabricated, or oversimplified answers, or present disagreement as consensus.

The key issue is not just accuracy, but the status of the information: is it a fact, an interpretation, a hypothesis, an opinion, or a recommendation? Modern information culture often blurs these distinctions. When diverse sources appear similar, it is easy to overlook differences in validity and reliability.

This leads to the distinction between truth and opinion. An opinion reflects a personal stance and may be compelling, but it is not the truth simply because it is well expressed. Truth requires evidence, scrutiny, and the possibility of refutation. Opinion asks what I think; truth asks what can be justified.

Truth is not always straightforward. In many fields, especially the social sciences and management, knowledge is context-dependent. What is true in one situation may not apply in another, highlighting the need to distinguish between knowledge and applied knowledge.

Knowledge consists of understanding, concepts, and data. Applied knowledge is the ability to use this effectively in specific situations. The gap is significant: knowing theory does not guarantee successful practice. Practical application requires more than familiarity with principles.

Applied knowledge depends on context, including people, culture, resources, and constraints. It requires judgment, experience, and sometimes intuition. Information may be general, but effective application is always specific. Possessing information does not guarantee wise action.

This gap is risky when people treat knowledge as a simple recipe. The internet and artificial intelligence often offer lists and formulas for complex issues, but real-life situations rarely fit such structures. The more human the problem, the more critical the context becomes.

The hierarchy of knowledge should consider not only who made the claim, but also the context, evidence, purpose, audience, and the responsibilities involved. Researchers, consultants, managers, and online commentators all contribute, but their knowledge and accountability differ.

Here lies one of the deeper problems of the democratisation of knowledge. It has expanded participation but blurred the distinction between participation and expertise. It is important that every person be able to ask, learn, challenge, criticise, and propose. But openness does not mean that every claim is equivalent to every other claim. Democracy of access is not democracy of validity. The fact that everyone has the right to speak does not mean that everything said carries the same weight.

The solution is not to restrict discourse to credentialed experts, but to develop better tools for distinguishing between sources. We need a new hierarchy of knowledge that values evidence, context, and critical questions over popularity or eloquence.

A deeper shift is that both knowledge and its users have changed. Our relationship to knowledge depends on its availability. Those with constant access to knowledge relate to it differently from those who must seek it out.

In a world where knowledge is scarce, a person must act from within scarcity. They rely on experience, tradition, local authority, nearby experts, intuition, trial and error, memory, observation, and judgment. Knowledge is not taken for granted. It is something that must be obtained, preserved, respected, and tested through life itself. In such a reality, a more natural hierarchy of knowledge is built, even if it is not perfect. Someone who has seen, done, learned, failed, corrected, and accumulated experience carries a different weight than someone who has merely heard or read. Knowledge is connected to labour, time, the body, and the encounter with reality.

Such individuals see knowledge as both content and orientation. Knowing involves discerning what is essential, distinguishing experience from hearsay, and valuing practical solutions over attractive ideas. Limited access fosters a careful and respectful approach to knowledge.

In contrast, contemporary individuals have immediate access to vast knowledge. They can quickly move between diverse sources, but this abundance often leads to superficial understanding. When everything is available, the significance of knowledge can be diminished.

These represent two distinct environments: one of scarcity, where knowledge is earned through effort and experience, and one of excess, where knowledge is abundant and unfiltered. In scarcity, knowledge is valued; in excess, the challenge is discerning what truly counts as knowledge.

The availability of absolute knowledge is more than a technological shift; it is an existential change. It alters our understanding of authority, expertise, and responsibility. When answers are always available, we risk losing humility and the appreciation for experience and careful judgment.

Here we can use the biblical image of the Garden of Eden, not necessarily in a religious sense, but as a deep cultural metaphor. Eating from the Tree of Knowledge is not only a moment of gaining knowledge. It is a moment of losing innocence. The human being receives knowledge, but along with it receives responsibility, shame, awareness, distinction, anxiety, and the necessity of acting in an imperfect world. They can no longer live within protected innocence. Knowledge expels them from Eden.

We have, in effect, eaten from the digital Tree of Knowledge, granting ourselves nearly limitless access to information. With this comes the responsibility to sort, judge, and distinguish truth from noise.

Previously, people laboured physically for sustenance; today, we labour mentally and morally to process information. We must actively separate fact from opinion, expertise from confidence, and reliability from popularity.

Technology provides access to knowledge, but not necessarily the wisdom to use it. It offers answers without teaching discernment. As knowledge becomes more available, the effort required to evaluate it increases.

The expulsion from Eden symbolises not just loss, but the start of responsibility. In scarcity, we seek knowledge; in excess, we must avoid being overwhelmed. This shift requires moving from searching to exercising judgment about what deserves our trust and action.

A paradox arises: as knowledge becomes more accessible, true understanding becomes more difficult due to information overload and lack of context. We need tools not just for gathering information, but for building meaning and distinguishing expertise from mere answers.

Artificial intelligence is a valuable tool for gathering and processing information, but it should not be the ultimate arbiter of truth. As answers become more accessible, our responsibility to exercise discernment increases.

The real danger is not ignorance, but the illusion of knowledge created by exposure to information. When information replaces understanding and confidence replaces accuracy, people may mistake opinion for truth and remain distant from true wisdom.

The central educational and professional challenge is teaching people to build a critical, flexible, and responsible hierarchy of knowledge. This approach values access and expertise, distinguishes opinion from truth, and recognises that effective application requires context.

In a world where anyone can publish, and systems generate answers, the key skill is judgment. It is not enough to find information; we must assess its source, context, and practical value.

Ultimately, information overload compels us to revisit the fundamental question: what qualifies as worthy knowledge? Today, this question arises in every search, feed, and professional decision, requiring us to pause and critically assess each claim.