| On Being Wrong Part II: Adventures in Error |
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“For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don’t believe, no proof is possible.” (Stuart Chase) You can’t entirely let go of an old story until you have a new one to inhabit. This is, after all, the way scientific theory works. Thomas Kuhn, the science philosopher, summarized: “A scientific theory is declared invalid only if an alternate candidate is available to take its place.” Some change is slow. Consider how, at an earlier age, you were adamant about a particular point of view. A dozen years later, you look back, and may even mock your former position. In between, a gradual process of transformation lets go of a belief, to take on a new one. This is the stuff of time-lapse photography: slow and gradual, imperceptible in any moment or month. Our sunk costs in a belief determine how loyal we are to it. The more we invest emotional currency in a belief, the harder to extract ourselves from it. We leave the security of our known stories, and the certainty and predictability of how those stories – and we – will turn out. It feels like a lack of control, so we’re motivated to avoid new information. Especially if we expect bad news. The ultimate mistake is to avoid the truth about ourselves. One woman said to me as her last child was about to depart for college, “If I’m not a parent, then I’m not sure I know who I am.” I heard a man say, “If I don’t believe that every word in the Bible is true, I don’t know what to believe.” (One possibility is that I need some new friends). To embrace change by recognizing the limitations of a belief, or admitting the wrongfulness of a notion, brings with it various emotions. Initially it can feel lost, alone, perhaps scared. Neuroscience teaches us that a fundamental belief is an anatomical reality in our brains; to change it can feel like an amputation, even tampering with our identity. No matter how psychologically minded (or resilient) we are, facing up to mistaken beliefs challenges us. Since the past can’t be changed, restitution involves admitting mistakes to use them to inform a different story. Invincibility bias – that seemingly inextinguishable sense of immortality that crested in adolescence – still has whispers in adulthood. Some adventures in this error:
The challenge is to recognize, own, and assess certain aspects of our own stories:
C.S. Lewis addressed this challenge by saying, “If you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man.” |
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