Even knowledge has to be in the fashion, and where it is not, it

Hear now the words of the Spanish sage, Baltasar Gracián: “Even knowledge has to be in the fashion, and where it is not, it is wise to affect ignorance.” This saying is subtle and sharp, like a blade hidden in silk. It warns us that truth, though eternal, is not always welcome in the courts of men. At times, to speak what one knows is to invite scorn, envy, or peril. Thus, Gracián, master of worldly wisdom, teaches that wisdom is not only in possessing knowledge, but in discerning when to reveal it—and when to cloak it in silence.

The ancients knew this well. In Athens, Socrates drank the hemlock not because he lacked knowledge, but because he dared to speak truths that the fashion of the day rejected. His honesty was a light too bright for those who preferred shadows. Gracián, writing in the intrigues of the Spanish Baroque age, where courtiers schemed and kings ruled with suspicion, understood that knowledge could be both treasure and trap. He counsels not cowardice, but prudence: to walk wisely in a world where power often punishes those who speak against its whims.

Consider the tale of Galileo Galilei. He gazed through his telescope and saw moons circling Jupiter, proof that not all heavenly bodies revolved around the Earth. This was knowledge, luminous and true. Yet it was not in fashion; it threatened the authority of the Church. For daring to proclaim it, Galileo was condemned. Perhaps, had he “affected ignorance” until the season was ripe, his discoveries might have spread with less suffering. His fate is a testament to Gracián’s warning: wisdom is not only in knowing the truth, but in knowing when truth can safely be spoken.

Yet we must not mistake this for a call to falsehood or deceit. Gracián does not command us to betray truth, but to guard it as one guards a precious jewel. Not every ear is ready to hear, not every time is ready to receive. Sometimes silence is strength, and restraint is the highest form of wisdom. For the wise man knows that to throw pearls before swine is to see them trampled. He waits, he watches, and he chooses his moment, so that knowledge may bear fruit rather than be destroyed.

There is also another meaning in these words: that the world often esteems novelty more than depth. Ideas, like garments, pass through fashions. What is praised in one generation may be despised in the next. The wise man does not cling desperately to appearances, nor flaunt what the world rejects; he moves with grace, concealing his knowledge when it would bring only ridicule, but never ceasing to keep the truth alive in his heart. In this way, he survives the tempests of fashion, until the world is ready to receive what he has long known.

The lesson is this: walk with discernment. Do not speak every truth you know, nor display every treasure you hold. Let your knowledge serve, not endanger. Speak when words will heal or build; be silent when speech would only destroy. Guard your wisdom as a seed, waiting for the right season to plant it. For truth spoken out of season may perish, but truth sown at the right time may flourish into a mighty tree.

What then must you do? Cultivate both courage and prudence. Be bold in seeking truth, yet humble in revealing it. Learn to read the times, to know when the world’s fashion blinds men to reality. In those moments, wear the cloak of silence, not out of fear, but out of wisdom. And when the season changes, let your knowledge shine forth like the sun, warming all who are ready to receive it.

Thus remember Gracián’s counsel: “Even knowledge has to be in the fashion, and where it is not, it is wise to affect ignorance.” Let it remind you that wisdom is not only the pursuit of truth, but the art of guiding it through the world with patience, humility, and strength. For truth is eternal, but its unveiling must be timed with care, lest the world crush the gift it is not yet ready to receive.