Tribal Values
Kelly's column is presented here with permission from The Hills Newspaper Group.
Have you ever had someone recommend something--a television show, a hotel, a musician--with a zeal bordering on fanaticism? “You really MUST try this!” “Trust me, you’ll love it!” I like to think that these impassioned testimonials are borne primarily of generosity (i.e. I loved it and you will too!) and just a bit of nostalgia (i.e. I loved it and I want to reminisce about it under the guise of giving you advice). When it’s a restaurant or a band, it hardly matters what the motive is. When it’s something more personal, like a church or a presidential candidate, I suspect we’re trolling for converts for different reasons, validation chief among them. And the need for validation--a need that is as subconscious as it is persistent--sometimes drives us to surround ourselves with people who believe what we believe.
Psychologists call this “confirmation bias” and define it as a tendency to seek out new information in a way that confirms one's preconceptions. Interestingly, even when incoming information doesn’t perfectly support our view, we tend to interpret it as such. Moreover, confirmation bias leads us to avoid information and interpretations that contradict our beliefs. In other words, we might as well all be wearing t-shirts saying: “I already know what I think and I don’t want to change my mind.”
Blame evolution, which says that we look for those who are similar. Our cells are oriented toward recognition. So we sniff and scrutinize one another in an effort to find our pack. Where we once sought the collective for our physical safety, we do it now for much different reasons, namely psychic comfort. It feels good to be sure of things, to know exactly how you feel, to live in a black and white world.
So what am I doing talking to L., a woman I recently sniffed out whose beliefs constantly make me rethink my own? L. has a personal relationship with Jesus and is one of the few people I know who is not throwing Bush under the bus. She works full-time and says she “could never do what I do.” (Although writing this column technically qualifies as “work,” I can tell it’s not what L.’s talking about.) And I haven’t read a single page of the bible nor can I say that I ever had a nice word for Bush. (Among other things, his reputation for surrounding himself with only the like-minded and avoiding debate turns me off.)
So you’d think that there would be no reason for me to go much further with this L., or she with me. The risks are obvious; she could infect me with her crazy thinking. She could hypnotize me when my guard is down. What if I decide to go to church with her family sometime or she sells me on trickle-down economics? As for L., what if I say something that momentarily shakes her faith and the next thing she knows, she’s kicking back on Sunday morning reading The New York Times? What if I make her wish she worked part-time and the boss notices a certain softness in her and that big promotion goes to Gary Grindstone?
But doesn’t that make us just like W.? Aren’t we doing exactly what I accuse him of doing: comforting myself with people who make me feel good about my choices and beliefs?
So, at every tribal meeting [read: cocktail party], I work my way around to L. and we talk about the books we’re reading and the day’s news and Iraq. It’s uncanny, how often we are on different sides of the issue, our opinions cemented by the books we choose to read and the news outlets we subscribe to. But rather than sweep our differences under the rug of disingenuous consensus, we test our ideas with each other, which is sometimes confounding and frustrating but ultimately clarifying, even enriching.
While I can hardly think of a policy position we have in common, I’ve discovered that we share other things – curiosity, optimism, conviction. If L. and I start a new tribe, I guess those can be the similar traits that define it. The sign on our clubhouse would read: if you really believe what you believe, you are welcome here.
Have you ever had someone recommend something--a television show, a hotel, a musician--with a zeal bordering on fanaticism? “You really MUST try this!” “Trust me, you’ll love it!” I like to think that these impassioned testimonials are borne primarily of generosity (i.e. I loved it and you will too!) and just a bit of nostalgia (i.e. I loved it and I want to reminisce about it under the guise of giving you advice). When it’s a restaurant or a band, it hardly matters what the motive is. When it’s something more personal, like a church or a presidential candidate, I suspect we’re trolling for converts for different reasons, validation chief among them. And the need for validation--a need that is as subconscious as it is persistent--sometimes drives us to surround ourselves with people who believe what we believe.
Psychologists call this “confirmation bias” and define it as a tendency to seek out new information in a way that confirms one's preconceptions. Interestingly, even when incoming information doesn’t perfectly support our view, we tend to interpret it as such. Moreover, confirmation bias leads us to avoid information and interpretations that contradict our beliefs. In other words, we might as well all be wearing t-shirts saying: “I already know what I think and I don’t want to change my mind.”
Blame evolution, which says that we look for those who are similar. Our cells are oriented toward recognition. So we sniff and scrutinize one another in an effort to find our pack. Where we once sought the collective for our physical safety, we do it now for much different reasons, namely psychic comfort. It feels good to be sure of things, to know exactly how you feel, to live in a black and white world.
So what am I doing talking to L., a woman I recently sniffed out whose beliefs constantly make me rethink my own? L. has a personal relationship with Jesus and is one of the few people I know who is not throwing Bush under the bus. She works full-time and says she “could never do what I do.” (Although writing this column technically qualifies as “work,” I can tell it’s not what L.’s talking about.) And I haven’t read a single page of the bible nor can I say that I ever had a nice word for Bush. (Among other things, his reputation for surrounding himself with only the like-minded and avoiding debate turns me off.)
So you’d think that there would be no reason for me to go much further with this L., or she with me. The risks are obvious; she could infect me with her crazy thinking. She could hypnotize me when my guard is down. What if I decide to go to church with her family sometime or she sells me on trickle-down economics? As for L., what if I say something that momentarily shakes her faith and the next thing she knows, she’s kicking back on Sunday morning reading The New York Times? What if I make her wish she worked part-time and the boss notices a certain softness in her and that big promotion goes to Gary Grindstone?
But doesn’t that make us just like W.? Aren’t we doing exactly what I accuse him of doing: comforting myself with people who make me feel good about my choices and beliefs?
So, at every tribal meeting [read: cocktail party], I work my way around to L. and we talk about the books we’re reading and the day’s news and Iraq. It’s uncanny, how often we are on different sides of the issue, our opinions cemented by the books we choose to read and the news outlets we subscribe to. But rather than sweep our differences under the rug of disingenuous consensus, we test our ideas with each other, which is sometimes confounding and frustrating but ultimately clarifying, even enriching.
While I can hardly think of a policy position we have in common, I’ve discovered that we share other things – curiosity, optimism, conviction. If L. and I start a new tribe, I guess those can be the similar traits that define it. The sign on our clubhouse would read: if you really believe what you believe, you are welcome here.
Labels: confirmation bias, diversity, groupthink
