Being Wrong About the Right Side of History
On the eve of what I hope will eventually be a distant and proud memory of Oregon joining company with many other states on the right side of history, I have been thinking a lot about the what it takes to change one’s mind—what it takes to change a nation’s collective mind.
I must now admit that, although I embraced marriage equality early on, it wasn’t always the case for me. I remember the moment my mind was changed. My argument against “gay marriage” felt more sanctimonious to me because it did not come from the religious or moral universe that produced what I feel are bogus arguments in favor of discrimination. My old argument against “gay marriage” was not against marriage equality at all, but it stemmed from my complete belief in the separation of church and state. My argument did not favor discrimination against marriage for only same-sex couples, but rather it favored discrimination against any state-sanctioned religious institution—for all couples. I argued that the state shouldn’t be involved in anything other than civil unions, regardless of the sex of the couple.
My argument, however, was totally hypocritical because during and beyond the moment that I espoused this belief, I got a spouse—I got married. My argument was also impractical because it wasn’t a winning argument for equality. I was wrong.
Photo courtesy of Stephen Saltzman
To internally see that I was wrong was even harder than it was to externally admit it. I worked hard to challenge myself to see myself as wrong. It required letting wrongness seep into my being and wearing it around for a while. It’s not my favorite outfit. This wrong-testing is an exercise I do frequently and with great self-annoyance. Believe me, when you go looking for proof that you’re right, you find it. That proof is way harder to ignore than the equal or greater proof that you’re wrong. There’s even a name for it: Confirmation Bias. I’m as guilty as any.
Being consistent with our internal beliefs is a huge part of what creates our self-assurance. Remaining publicly consistent is a critical part of creating a brand of ourselves that people who matter to us can rely on. We can actually persuade people when we remind them that by buying what we have to sell, they are being consistent with what they believe or with what they have done in the past. The threat of inconsistency is a powerful motivator to stay consistent. Inconsistency breeds skepticism. We accuse politicians of flip-flopping all the time. We’re skeptical of their agenda when they “claim” to have changed their minds. We’re skeptical of our friends’ agendas when we witness them change their minds. We should be.
I’m a huge fan of skepticism, but I’m a slightly greater fan of challenging myself to see myself as wrong. It’s not generally pleasant, but it is always powerful. In this case it has invited me onto the right side of history.