We’ve all had a loved one – parent, partner, sibling – who other people might charitably describe as stubborn. Perhaps that’s not quite the right word. They’re the family member someone will always warn newcomers to the house about: “If you disagree with anything she says, do yourself a favour and let it go. Auntie Bridget is a steamroller.” “If he brings up immigration/trade unions/birth rates/the British/his soccer glory days, just try to change the subject. My brother would give your behind a headache. We call him ‘Jockrates’ behind his back. But ... don’t tell him I said that.”
Growing up, I had a great aunt who would interrupt anyone who disagreed with her on any subject (however trivial) by scoffing and declaring, in clipped tones, “Don’t tell me. Ask me!” The phrase soured every interaction it featured in. Being unbelievably obnoxious, it would. My great aunt made a fantastic apple tart, nurtured a spectacular, flourishing garden and was a very kind and generous woman, but happened to be wildly unreasonable in the face of any mild challenge or disagreement.
We all know someone whose self-respect rests on winning. Their very identity becomes enmeshed in this brief disagreement about whether Italy has a better hospitality culture than Spain, or whether Bertie Ahern should be resurrected from the political grave to vie for the presidency (please, no), or whether a vegan sponge cake can feasibly pass for ‘a proper one’ made with eggs.
They will die on this hill. It doesn’t matter if their point has been thoroughly counterargued, or if evidence has been presented which makes their position indefensible. There doesn’t even have to be a particularly contentious or important issue under discussion.
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When people engage in the world of ideas in this proprietary, insecure way, they become someone others will no longer talk to like a reasonable adult. Those who need it most are thus often insulated from sincere, good faith debate or even relevant information that might challenge their view. They’re left, socially and intellectually, trapped within a septic tank of confirmation bias and sanctimonious overconfidence.
It doesn’t make for an enjoyable, relaxed Sunday lunch with the family, but it’s not a catastrophe. When their influence is limited to pontificating at your poor, hard-of-hearing granny across a dish of green beans, there’s little harm done apart from a tasty lunch spoiled and a few balled fists concealed under the table. ‘Jockrates’, at it again.
However, this approach to forming and defending beliefs can be harmful when something important is at stake, or when it’s the chosen operating system of someone with actual influence or power over others. We’d prefer our elected public representatives to be open-minded, willing to reconsider when there’s good reason to do so, and to be capable of evolution of their ideological positions as circumstances and times change. We should probably consider those who think at 45 what they thought at age 15 with a good deal of wariness. To live 30 years in the belief that every experience merely confirms what you thought before is stronger evidence of being an ideologue than erudite. It’s a little embarrassing. It’s kind of insane.
[ Cognitive bias can prevent us from knowing when to quitOpens in new window ]
It’s strange, then, that we often by default denigrate people who change their minds. The couple who decide after careful thought that they no longer want kids (hopefully before having them rather than after). The friend who quits their corporate job at 48 to become a yoga teacher and paint watercolours. The Fine Gael voter who switches to Labour, or vice versa. We’ll accuse a politician who changes their position based on conscience of flip-flopping and treat someone who converts to a new religion with patronising suspicion. We’ll view a person who openly admits to thinking they were wrong before as therefore more likely to be wrong now, while someone who sticks intransigently to the same set of ideas with the impermeable resistance of a sea wall is viewed as stalwart and reliable.
Yet changing your mind is surely an inevitable consequence of thinking. Of being more interested in what is true than what is convenient, advantageous or popular. Life experience, education (formal or self-taught) and exposure to new ways of thinking about old ideas should challenge the assumptions we walked in with. A long-standing unexamined belief is indistinguishable from a habit, and no more deserving of respect than a recently adopted one.
We should treasure our most difficult, infuriatingly closed-off and overconfident loved ones as symbols of what happens when we lose interest in being challenged, really listening to other people, or braving judgment or disapproval for changing our view when there’s good reason to. It may be minor comfort, but perhaps Auntie Bridget and ‘Jockrates’ may have something to teach us over the green beans after all.
