23rd December 2024 – (Hong Kong) In the peculiar theatre of human existence, perhaps nothing is more paradoxical than our relationship with infancy. Though every one of us emerged from this primordial state, we seem perpetually astounded by what babies can teach us about being human. This philosophical blind spot – our collective amnesia about our own beginnings – merits deeper examination.
We were all once these tiny philosophers, these untainted observers of reality, yet we spend countless hours studying babies as if they were alien beings. In truth, they are our most authentic selves, stripped of societal conditioning and cultural programming that later shapes our consciousness.
The newborn state represents what Zen Buddhists might call “beginner’s mind” in its purest form. Their consciousness, uncluttered by preconceptions, exemplifies what phenomenologists term “pure perception.” Every sensation, every experience, arrives fresh and unfiltered by the accumulated debris of expectation and memory.
This state of being holds profound lessons for our understanding of consciousness itself. Babies embody what philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty described as the “pre-reflective cogito” – a form of awareness that precedes language and conceptual thought. Their existence challenges our adult presumptions about the nature of consciousness and experience.
Take, for instance, their relationship with time. A newborn exists purely in the present moment, free from our adult anxieties about the future or regrets about the past. This temporal purity offers a stark contrast to our constantly distracted modern mindset, forever oscillating between what was and what might be.
The infant’s approach to learning presents a masterclass in pure empiricism that would have impressed even David Hume. Every interaction is an experiment, every response a data point in their growing understanding of reality. Unlike adults, who often approach learning with preconceived notions and fear of failure, babies embody what philosopher Martin Heidegger termed “authentic being” – existing in a state of pure engagement with the world.
Consider their relationship with failure. A baby attempting to walk will fall countless times, yet never develops the self-consciousness that later paralyses adult learning. This fearless persistence reveals something profound about human potential and the artificial limitations we impose upon ourselves through social conditioning. The way infants process emotion offers another striking lesson. Their emotional expressions are pure, unmediated by social conventions or learned inhibitions. When a baby cries, laughs, or shows curiosity, we witness emotion in its most authentic form. This emotional authenticity challenges our adult tendency to suppress, rationalise, or disguise our feelings behind social masks.
Perhaps most remarkably, babies demonstrate an innate capacity for intersubjectivity – the ability to engage in shared experiences and emotional states with others. Their natural inclination toward social connection, evident in phenomena like mutual gazing and proto-conversations, suggests that human beings are fundamentally social creatures, wired for empathy and understanding.
The philosophical implications are profound. The infant’s state of being challenges our conventional notions of consciousness, learning, and social interaction. Their existence suggests that many of our adult limitations are not innate but acquired – products of social conditioning rather than natural constraints.
Moreover, babies exhibit what philosopher Emmanuel Levinas might recognise as “radical alterity” – they are simultaneously utterly familiar and completely other. This paradox forces us to confront our assumptions about human nature and development. Their presence in our lives serves as a mirror, reflecting both what we’ve gained and what we’ve lost in our journey to adulthood.
The transformation from infant to adult consciousness raises fundamental questions about the nature of personal identity. If we were once these pure observers of reality, at what point did we become the complex, often contradictory beings we are today? This transition challenges our understanding of self-continuity and personal identity. Yet perhaps the most significant lesson babies offer is about the nature of potential itself. Their rapid development from helpless newborns to walking, talking human beings demonstrates the remarkable plasticity of human consciousness and capability. This natural unfolding of potential raises questions about the artificial limitations we place on our own development as adults.
The implications for education and personal development are significant. The infant’s approach to learning – characterised by fearless experimentation, persistent effort, and pure curiosity – offers a model that could revolutionise our understanding of adult learning and development.
As we observe babies, we’re not merely studying an earlier stage of human development; we’re witnessing a different mode of being in the world. Their existence challenges our assumptions about consciousness, learning, and human potential. In their unmediated engagement with reality, they offer a glimpse of what philosopher Martin Buber might call the “I-Thou” relationship – a direct, unfiltered connection with existence itself.
We were all once these pure observers of reality, yet we struggle to access or even remember this state of being. Perhaps this amnesia serves a purpose, allowing us to function in the complex social world we’ve created. Yet the presence of babies in our lives serves as a constant reminder of this lost state of consciousness, challenging us to reconsider our assumptions about human nature and potential.
In conclusion, the study of infants reveals not just how humans develop, but what we might become if we could maintain some measure of their openness, persistence, and authentic engagement with the world. Their existence poses fundamental questions about consciousness, learning, and human potential that merit continued philosophical investigation.
The ultimate irony may be that in studying babies, we’re really studying ourselves – not just as we were, but as we might be again if we could recapture some measure of their wisdom. In this light, perhaps the real question isn’t what we can learn from babies, but rather what we’ve forgotten that they still remember.
