Conviction Overturned

Election etiquette, textbooks, and turkeys (one year update)

We’re entering a new election cycle. Sigh.

Remember the first time you voted? For me, it wasn’t all too long ago. I knew I was entering a turbulent world, but in the decade since, politics have only gotten more heated.

Don’t click away too fast. I’m no political writer.

But I do write cultural reflections. I’ve posted lately about various hazards of our discourse: our impulses to be too nice, to evaluate by appearances, and to be impatient in our disagreements.

Elections bring these dysfunctions and more to the surface—in debates, ads, signs, and sound bites. The duties of the president range from serving as commander in chief to pardoning the Thanksgiving turkey, and we hang our collective sense of wellbeing on them. We take politics passionately, if not seriously.

This run of essays are not overtly related to 2024, yet I find politics a fitting backdrop for these principles about dialoguing with our world. Today is a final entry in this informal series, and then I’ll move on to the next focus.

Just An Opinion

We all think we’re right. Naturally.

And if we’re right—in politics or in any area—we want to spread our rightness. You might say we want to share the truth with others. If you’re less generous, you could say it’s personally advantageous when others share our beliefs.

I defend one’s right to have opinions. We aren’t absolute or impartial. We’re not textbooks, we’re humans.

But when it comes to topics we feel passionately—like politics—the word opinions falls short. It almost sounds offensive. Opinions are personal preferences, like a favorite food or color. What I feel about politics are something more intense.

So we don’t want our political views labeled “just opinions.”

What, then, is the word we’d prefer?

As A Matter of Fact

Around the time I hit voting age, a shift was taking place.

My truth, post-truth, relativism. These were vocal markers of the moment. Everything former was shifting, and our minds were opening to a new paradigm—a paradigm of open-mindedness. Perhaps it was global connection through the internet that ushered in this cultural moment. Whatever the cause, in this new reality, it seemed nothing was certain. Everything open for interpretation.

If you asked me in 2016 to predict the future, I’d have guessed the trend would continue. Our outlook—evidenced by our language—would become more and more relativistic. The movement seemed inevitable.

As it turns out, we took a sharp turn. Today, we have different buzzwords: misinformation, disinformation, fact checking, and trusted sources.

Photo by Giulia May on Unsplash

I don’t think we realize: this is a big shift. From the language of relativism to a verbal fixation on the facts, atomic units of truth. We’re speaking differently, which means we’re thinking differently. It’s easy to miss because we’re no less polarized, but we take quite a different approach to arrive there.

This factual language (even in colloquial use) runs with an implicit assumption: “If we agreed on the facts, you’d agree with me.” We couldn’t live with your truth and my truth forever. We needed a way to persuade others to our side, and facts appeared as the perfect tool.

The problem is that the level of ideas we bring to politics are rarely facts. Hear me out: your political views aren’t facts, but I’m not saying they’re false. I’m saying it’s a category problem. We apply the wrong classification, and as a result, we ineffectively communicating what we believe.

They aren’t just opinions, but that doesn’t mean they’re facts.

Does it Matter?

What many of us describe in the language of facts or opinions are really convictions.

Convictions are strong persuasions. They’re often influenced by our life experiences. At the least, they’re developed slowly over time. We don’t have convictions about everything, but the convictions we have are felt deeply.

Photo by Daniel Fazio on Unsplash

Good convictions account for the facts, but that’s different than saying they are facts. They’re not opinions either, because we feel our convictions matter. Like concentric circles, they’re broader than fact but narrower than opinion.

Let me explain with an example outside of politics.

I grew up in a dry town. Most adults in my life didn’t drink. As we grew older, my brother and I naturally challenged our parents’ stance. They presented their views as a matter of fact, but on that level their arguments were unconvincing.

For my parents’ part, they felt their view mattered. They weren’t trying to pass on an opinion to us, but something they felt deeply.

At one dinner, they presented it—almost accidentally—as a matter of conviction. In an offhand comment, they mentioned loved ones who were hurt by alcoholism.

“That’s when we decided it wasn’t worth messing with,” they recalled. It was the strongest case we’d heard.

Strength of One’s Convictions

When what you have is a conviction, presenting it as fact is a trap. We’re tempted to do so because we want to project certainty. But a strong, certain conviction does not have to strong-arm.

I want to be clear: facts exist. I’m not claiming (like referenced above) that everything is relative and personal.

At the same time, we have more than the two categories—fact and opinion—that we confine ourselves to.

In embracing convictions—understanding them as such and communicating them as such—we embrace a deeply human form of thought. They aren’t printed in textbooks, but they cut to the heart.

Photo by Waldemar on Unsplash

After all, did you get out of bed today because of the position of the sun and its impact on your reticular activating system? or was there some deeper purpose or persuasion for which you awoke? Facts are the most descriptive, but they are not (for better or worse) the most animating.

Perhaps this is all semantics. Convictions, facts, opinions—they are only terms.

Nevertheless, the next eighteen months are certain to be turbulent. As we collectively determine who’ll pardon the next turkey, it’s worth turning over our own convictions. What do I believe? How do I communicate it?

We can all stand to recognize the true nature of our speech; it may be more convincing than you realize.

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One Year🎉

First post in March 2022

One year ago, you crazy people joined me on the journey of starting this newsletter (most of you later along the way).

Thanks so much for being here.

As It Were is a newsletter about reflecting on the ordinary in a new light. I have a crazy goal of adding 100 more subscribers before graduation.

If you know anyone who would enjoy the newsletter, pass it along. Promo is my job, but I’m forever grateful for any help. I’ll be pounding the pavement in FL to spread the word.

Until next time.🫡