I am an opinionated person. And yet the more I learn and grow, the more I realize how important it is to counterbalance strong opinions with humility and an understanding that in another context, or another period of my life, I would see or have seen things differently.
In high school, my opinions were at best about trivial matters, like when I argued with friends profusely that the Cincinnati Reds should resign hometown hero Barry Larkin to a 19th season. Eventually, as my sphere of concern widened and I became more aware of issues of greater societal importance, my opinions about those matters became equally adamant. To this day, I remain firmly committed to certain ideologies and worldviews, spend lots of time researching and questioning them, and can make decent arguments with relevant evidence to support them.
But what I've begun to realize is that if we are open-minded, and are blessed with the opportunity--or are forced without choice-- to remove ourselves occasionally from the particular context in which we're living, our ideas will naturally shift. Humans are social animals, and we're so incredibly adaptable. Our views are never objective, but an ever-changing amalgam produced by our individual brains processing, synthesizing, and evaluating the millions and millions of stimuli we receive each day. This is obvious, and yet we lose sight of it. Or we subconsciously think that somehow WE were the chosen ones, and were blessed with the exact environmental circumstances needed to show us the RIGHT way of looking at things.
I did quite a bit of traveling in my twenties because I was so eager to see, learn about, and participate in lifestyles that were completely different from what I was used to. Maybe it has been the time I spent immersed in other countries and languages that has led me to the perspective I'm sharing here. And yet when I got back from Rome, after an entire year of living in an academy in which the only permitted languages of communication were Latin and Ancient Greek (no joke), I was so confident that I had figured out the meaning of life and had all the answers about what the world needs to right itself. It went something like this: Everyone just needs to study the texts of ancient thinkers and writers who spent their entire existence pondering life's big questions. We study the texts, apply the principles to our own lives, and thereby make ourselves better people, and influence the people around us for the better. Simple as that!
Ha! Eight years later, I see how off I was, first and foremost because these all-knowing authors were all men and rooted in western culture, but also because the approach itself favors the intellectual at the expense of other ways of knowing and being valued in many other parts of the world. It also ignored material conditions of people, i.e. social class, and assumed everyone has equal access to pursue that type of lifestyle. In emphasizing the inner-life of the mind, it pretended politics and systems of oppression don't exist.
Don't get me wrong: I benefited greatly from my time in Rome and the worldviews I developed as a result. I changed from a young man whose goals and aspirations were centered around his own personal fulfillment and happiness, to someone who has since then dedicated his life to at least attempting to make himself and the world better. In addition, spending a whole year in such an insular community with very little access to the outside world gave me a critical eye that helps me resist conforming to the unhealthy norms of our capitalist, consumerist, individualistic society, which I am extremely grateful for. But I would cringe if I were ever forced to listen to conversations I had with people shortly after returning home, when I was so dogmatically tied to my ideas that anytime someone brought up an alternate one, I would receive it with intense judgment*. This isn't to say I did no good by expounding my ideas at the time. I know that I've influenced many in a positive way by doing so, and also by living out (mostly) what I preach. But I could have done it with more humility and less judgment, and the world would be better for it.
Though my views have evolved tremendously--and I can credit myself for being open-minded enough to allow that to happen-- I know that I still sometimes approach conversations with the same dogmatic certainty. I may have convinced some folks to view things differently, but also damaged some of my relationships and my ability to be more intimate with people I love, which I deeply regret.
Over the past year, due to both COVID and my own personal crises, I've had to do some serious self-reflection. I've recognized that many of the political and other debates I get in, which on the surface seem to be about ideas and viewpoints, are actually rooted in much deeper emotional or even physiological drives. Why is it that I am so intent on getting others to see the world how I do? At its core, I think it has to do with a need for belonging. I dream of a better world, and when I run up against people telling me either they don't share that dream, or think it's unrealistic, (or share the dream but think it will be achieved simply by electing the right person/people/party) I feel isolated, alone, and like I will never find a community that shares my values and wants to work toward a world that I want to live in. This core feeling of being left out stems from childhood experiences, I'm sure. So as much as political discussions SEEM to me to be about the ideas themselves, the drive is parent to the thought. (And while the particular drives are different with different people, this is not just me; it's universal, though it takes some soul-searching to acknowledge it.) It would be helpful for me to remember that in dealing with people whose life experiences, backgrounds, and hence views are different from mine.
Please don't mistake this for relativism. I'm not claiming that all ways of looking at the world are equally true, or that there is no truth. I believe that collectively, we do have access to universal truth. Clearly, the conspiratorial nonsense spouted by Qanon supporters,for exampe, are objectively false. BUT, it's important to remember that from THEIR SUBJECTIVE PERSPECTIVE, they believe them to be true (or at least some do). And we, too, have all had strong opinions that we later realized were not true. So the question becomes how do we have humility, and even compassion toward folks with differing beliefs, however outlandish? After all, Qanon supporters weren't born into a vacuum; they are living in late capitalism in America. However ridiculous their theories, they stem from a realization that the world, indeed, is falling apart at the seams. The problem is the deluded, unhealthy, and ultimately destructive way that they try to make sense of it all. If you know some conspiracy theorists--who doesn't in today's world?-- is there a way to follow them in their thinking, with empathy and care, and then ask questions that might put some cracks in what they're saying? (Disclaimer: there's only so much patience we can have. Folks that are out there committing or encouraging violence in the name of bogus conspiracy theories, or whatever else, need to be immediately stopped and dealt with. But I still think it's important to understand that they are humans who got to this point through a set of social conditions and individual experiences, not just inherently evil or stupid people destined to be where they ended up.)
All of this is to say that we should be mindful that at any given moment in which we have a strong opinion, we are most likely, in fact I would argue definitely, overconfident. This does NOT mean we should hold them back because we are not 100% sure about them. In fact, I would argue that people have a duty to express their opinions on matters of importance, both so that they can provide new and important perspectives to those around them, and so that they can allow their own views to be challenged. But democratic debate and dialogue that actually seeks to further our understanding of politics, the world, life, this whole being-a-human thing, requires some humility and an understanding, felt deeply within the body and soul, that we don't have all the answers and that our opinions are bound to evolve with time.
*Those who were victims of this know who they are. Please forgive me!
