You’re Right — Just Ask the Internet

You’ve done it, and I’ve done it.  

You’ve had it done to you, and I’ve had it done to me.

It’s the dreaded “See! I told you so! I was right!!” link bludgeon.

Don’t you love when a friend, to support his side of an argument, sends a link to a “helpful” article, video, or post that unequivocally proves his point with a bunch of data and scientific facts? 

How does it make you feel?

How many times have you done it?

Has anyone ever changed their mind in this scenario?

Never.

But why not?  

These are facts, aren’t they? Why doesn’t she believe the clear set of facts that I sent? Why am I so angry?

How should you handle this?

Here’s a hint: Don’t reply with your own “See! I told you so!” link bludgeon.  

The Internet Agrees With You

Whenever we’re looking for proof of our argument, we naturally ask the internet because the internet has all the facts. 

But this method has a subtle yet fundamental flaw — whatever your assertion of the facts, you’ll find confirmation.

The earth is flat. Here’s proof. The earth is round. Here’s proof.

Global warming is real. Here’s proof. Global warming is fake. Here’s proof.

Masks are useless. Here’s proof. Masks are necessary. Here’s proof.

Donald Trump was the worst president of all time. Here’s proof. Donald Trump was the best president of all time. Here’s proof.

Note: Follow the links above because…well…the internet is fun.  

The sheer volume of available information and data presents both opportunity and challenge: The opportunity to have the facts but the challenge of interpretation.  

The Bible is the OG 

Link bludgeoning isn’t just an internet phenomenon. 

“Because the Bible says so!”  

Does it?

Before the internet, you could ask the Bible. It’s the original gangster of truth litigation. Theologians, church leaders, and laypeople have been using the Bible to prove their point for several thousand years, much like using the internet today.  

God created the earth in seven days.

No, it was seven epochs.

No, that story is a poem, not history.

What does created mean?

Homosexuality is an abhorrent sin.

No, it’s is no worse than any other sin.

No, homosexuality isn’t a sin.

What is sin?

That’s not all, of course. Pick a different topic — gender roles, slavery, war, racism, morality and ethics, politics, property, parenting, dinner parties, business, physics. You can mine the Bible for justification of just about any side of any argument.  


The Quest for Facts vs The Quest for Belonging

belonging

We humans have been arguing about the facts and using experts (scientists, theologians, doctors, etc.) and trusted third-party information (the internet, the Bible, Fox News, etc.) to prove our arguments for thousands of years. 

But most of the time, we’re not interested in knowing the objective facts, especially if they might influence our opinion on a matter. Instead, we interpret facts to fit into the story of a particular social order we find appealing — we’re looking to defend our people. The connection to our people is our shared story.

Sometimes facts and belonging work in concert for us, and a big Kum Ba Ya follows.  

But sometimes, they come into conflict. When they do, belonging wins out because social connection is more helpful to your daily life than the objective truth of a particular argument.

As James Clear has said:

“We don’t always believe things because they are correct. Sometimes we believe things because they make us look good to the people we care about.”

James Clear

Understanding and then attempting to coalesce the stories of our different tribes is what leads to internal cognitive dissonance and external conflict. Therefore, we choose the story that resonates most with the people with whom we want to be associated.  

When we do that, we sometimes ignore the facts.  

Because Science

Our intense desire to belong to a tribe has commandeered the one endeavor committed to the quest for objective facts — science.  

Somehow, the phrase “believe the science” and its evil cousins “the science says” and “because science” has entered our vernacular as if one could choose to believe in science or that science has a view or ontological power.

Scien-tists have a particular view on a matter — not science. Science has no view on anything.   

Science is a term that describes the quest for knowledge, but we now wield it like it’s a religious order.

The quest for facts (i.e., science) requires inductive and deductive reasoning. This process’s core is a hypothesis (i.e., opinion) and then supporting data acquired through observation, experimentation, calculation, and reason. 

The scientific quest results in conclusions, which are theories about the facts. Theories are interpretations of the data, and by definition, an interpretation is informed by the person who makes it. 

Thus, all experts and scientists bring their humanity and perspective to the table when interpreting the data. Scientists, as humans, belong to a tribe, and that tribe has a story. 

Science demands questioning interpretations, and we have a problem when we shut down the debate

You got scientists, and I’ve got scientists. How do we know who’s right?

Discerning and trustworthy scientists know and embrace the questioning, at least to some degree, of what we think we know. 

What is a Scientific Fact?

“A scientific fact is a repeatable careful observation or measurement (by experimentation or other means)In the most basic sense, a scientific fact is an objective and verifiable observation, in contrast with a hypothesis or theory, which is intended to explain or interpret facts.”

  • Wikipedia

Quite frankly, even with a definition, understanding a fact can be difficult.  

It makes perfect sense that we struggle with “what is a fact?” We also struggle with “where are the facts in our story, and how do we interpret them, so they make sense in that story?”  

This is the point at which our tribe and our story enter our process. Consider the following: 

As I write this, I look out the window, beyond my front yard, to the Mennonite dairy farm across the street, presenting its beautiful spring-time patchwork of green and brown pastures. Cows graze lazily in the field about 200 yards from where I sit.  

The dairy farm presents a collection of scientific facts. For example, the farm exists (assuming no simulation). It encompasses a specific land area with a particular number of cows producing a measurable amount of milk and greenhouse gasses. The milk provides food to families, and from the farm’s business, the farmer generates a measurable income and contributes a measurable amount to the local economy.

But with dairy farming, as with most of what we argue about, it’s not the facts that we’re debating. Instead, we get muddled in interpreting the collection of facts to assign meaning based on our story and tribe associations.

For example, is the dairy farm across the street good or bad?

One tribe would say it’s good.  Dairy farming is a noble and useful vocation — an engine for the rural community. Its output is a necessary and efficient means for feeding families and contributing to the local economy. 

Another tribe would hesitate to call it good unless the farmers follow particular practices. Are the farmers using hormones with the animals or pesticides in the field? What is the feed? Are the cows spending enough time in the field? How is the milk processed once it is collected?  

A third tribe would say dairy farming is terrible. Humans should not be consuming meat nor dairy products under any circumstance. Dairy farming is destructive to the animals and the local environment and contributes significantly to global warming.

People from each tribe could rightly argue that “the science says” dairy farming is good, or that dairy farming is good under certain conditions, or that dairy farming is bad.  

Whichever group you belong to, you can ask the internet, and you’ll find evidence that you’re right. I did that to find the links above.  

However, the “goodness” or “badness” of the dairy farm is not a fact. It’s a story. Each tribe takes the same collection of facts and interprets them to align with their story.

Facts Can Change Over Time

No, they can’t. Not actual facts.

What does change, however, is our understanding of the facts.  

As time goes on, our knowledge and perspective progress. Technology, instrumentation, and thought progress, which allow (and sometimes forces) us to re-evaluate what we know to be fact.

Aristotle’s physics was fact until Galileo came along. Galileo’s physics was fact until Newton came along. Newton’s physics was fact until Einstein came along. And so on.

What’s really happening here? Are the facts changing?

Of course not. What’s changing is our understanding and interpretation of the facts.  

We don’t yet know the full set of facts that define the physics of our universe, yet physicists continue to make assertions. Thank God they do. We’d be absolutely nowhere if we only made assertions once we knew the entire set of facts.

That’s how our collective knowledge progresses — making assertions and then testing and debating those assertions. This is the scientific process.  

Assertions coupled with the passage of time and hindsight are powerful fact-finding tools.

Facts Can Depend on Context, Conditions, and Perspective

Understanding the relativity of facts is critical to finding common ground in arguments. 

For example, here on earth, I’m 5′ 9″ tall and weigh 170 pounds. On the moon, I’m still 5′ 9″ tall, but now I weigh 28.1 pounds. My weight is a function of local gravity, but my height is not (ok, ok…there is some relative effect of gravity on height).  

Consider two people sitting across from each other with a just-rolled die between them on the table. Now ask the question, “what number is facing you?” Each person’s answer will be factually correct but different from the other. 

July is mid-summer in Philly but mid-winter in Sydney.

Noon in New York is midnight in Beijing.

Christmas for the Smith family is Santa and reindeer, but it’s Jesus for the Jones family, and for the Wilson family, it’s December 25th.  


Focus on What You Can Control

You can’t control the news, your friends, social media, nor the internet at large. 

You also can’t control the facts. 

You can, however, control how you apply the facts to your thought process and the empathy with which you seek other sides to the story.   

Know What is a Fact  

Are we even talking about a fact?

Is it measurable or directly observable? If I measure it and you measure it, will we get the same value?  

Have we gathered enough data?

Is it relative to a different situation, environment, or context?

Know Thyself (Know Your Story)

Specifically, know your emotional connection to your argument as well as your perspective.  

You want to be right. I also want to be right. And we both want to fit in with our tribes because, let’s face it, we expose ourselves to emotional danger as outsiders.  

Emotions can be conniving, and stories are powerful.  

Be aware of the story you tell yourself and how it intersects with the facts. We will likely find confirmation of our rightness when we search for it on the internet (or Bible). 

Start with a look in the mirror rather than a Google search.

Practice Aggressive Empathy (Know the Other’s Story)

Rigorously seek an understanding of the other person’s story. 

Perspective matters. Personal history and experience matter, as does one’s tribe. 

Diversity of perspective is a critical component of solving problems and assessing an argument, so embrace it rather than shy away from it. 

Do your best to walk in another’s shoes. Argue it from the other side.  

Listen. Don’t just wait for your turn to talk.  

The internet has turned into a paradoxical universe wherein the opinions and perspectives of all sides are readily available. Yet, we continue to focus our consumption more narrowly than ever (i.e., on the voices that agree with us).  

This is partially due to social media algorithms’ insatiable desire for more eyeballs, engagement, and clicks.  

But not all of it. 

We often look specifically for third-party confirmation of what we already believe so that we can use that confirmation as an “I told you so” bludgeon.  

Find the other side’s story, and your empathy will grow.


How to Respond — A Better Way

There are two productive ways for you to respond:

  1. Ignore (i.e., don’t react)
  2. Seek common ground through the intersection of your story and your friend’s story

Don’t overlook the ignore approach because it can be effective and empathic. It’s certainly more effective than returning fire with your own “See! I told you so!” link bludgeon.  

However, if you want to respond, find common ground and start from there. To find that common ground, you will need to know what is a fact, know your story and connection to your tribe, and empathically try to find the other’s story and connection to their tribe.  

I used the dairy farm story purposefully because you’ll find yourself in one of the three tribes.

Which tribe are you?

If you and I were arguing about the “goodness” of a farm, I would start with “what is our common tribe?”

Could we find common ground on the benefits of farming in general, or that farming is a noble vocation? What about the benefits of a local and healthy food supply? Maybe we can agree that chemical companies and pesticides are bad news. It could be as trivial as we both enjoy the beauty of a dairy farm.  

Once you’ve established common ground, you can productively approach discussing the facts that support your side of the deeper argument. And yes, maybe provide a link to a source that has persuaded you. 

The bottom line is that raw facts rarely persuade unless and until you find common ground and develop empathy.  

The facts are the facts (and the science is the science), but the interpretation of those facts into a story supporting a tribe is not that simple. The next time you get the link bludgeon or are tempted to send the link bludgeon, find common ground through empathy and start from there.

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