There have been a few times when someone has told me that I actually persuaded them about something, and my multilayered reaction surprised me. I found myself, in order of appearance:
- Astonished - I'm not at all used to people changing their mind. I assume that, when challenged about anything, even gently, most people just close up and get more stubborn. So I'm always genuinely shocked when anyone says something, like, "Hmm... I never thought about it that way. Maybe you're right."
- Afraid - I also remember suddenly feeling the intestinal-clinching of responsibility. "Oh geez, what if I'm wrong?! I may have just led someone astray! I mean, seriously, what do I know?!" It's like I wasn't taking things as seriously as I should because I assumed no one would ever agree with me, and so there wasn't any real risk.
- Guilty - Guilt is, after all, one of my more usual emotions, so this one's probably no surprise. I remember feeling, "Gosh, what an open-minded and thoughtful person they are, considering evidence and being willing to change their position on something. I don't think I've ever done that. I just more or less believe what I've always believed..." It's like I needed some big change-of-mind somewhere in my past to prove that I was a reasonable, open-minded human being and I didn't have the evidence.
As it happens, though, there IS a thing I have changed my mind about fairly recently. It's not necessarily politics or religion, although for a lot of people, it's pretty much the same thing...
Nutrition!
(No, wait, don't go! I promise not to get all diet zealot on you! For the time being!)
I was remarkably overweight for most of my childhood, all of my teenage years, and well into college. But around my senior year, the Atkins craze hit, and I discovered it was pretty easy for me to lose weight by cutting out buns, fries, and McFlurry(R) simulated dessert substance. I lost a lot of weight. Now it happened that a fair amount of the literature on low-carbohydrate dieting was a little, shall we say, extreme. It wasn't just that low-carb is a safe and healthy alternative for some people to lose weight. It wasn't just that low-carb is a nice short term dieting solution for overweight people who haven't had much luck with other kinds of diets. Oh no. According to some of these books, low-carb was the way humanity had evolved to eat. And I bought a lot of what these books were selling. Grains and sugar were nutritional enemy number 1, as far as I was concerned. We didn't need carbs at all. The Inuit didn't need them. After all, there was no such thing as an "essential" carbohydrate from a nutritional perspective. We could manufacture all the glucose we needed from other stuff. Animal products were vastly more dense and nutritious than vegetable products (provided you ate organ meats, egg yolks, seafood, etc.). So clearly, I hadn't just stumbled upon a workable diet for me personally, I had found the Holy Grail of Nutritional Truth for All Humanity.
Now I knew better than to preach too hard about this stuff. After all, that way lies conflict, and conflict is unpleasant, so better just to smile and nod as you watch your friends slowly murder themselves with "cheez"-flavored gluten pressed into fish shapes.
Occasionally I would run into some yelling person on the internet, making a fuss about all those skinny Asians eating rice, or appealing to the authority of the American Heart Association or some long discredited study, and I would just roll my eyes. People could be so silly.
But then something interesting happened.
Certain guests would show up on low carb podcasts I listened to - nutrition PhD Chris Masterjohn, psychiatrist Emily Deans, diet author Paul Jaminet, a few others perhaps - that weren't exactly low carb. Or, really, low carb at all. They would talk about other things on the podcasts for the most part - areas of agreement with the low carb community, but they themselves either advocated a moderate carb diet or were "macronutrient agnostics." Importantly, however, none of these people tried to make me feel like an idiot for being in the "low carb camp." Not a one of them acted like I was clogging my arteries with bacon. They were always perfectly respectful, thoughtful, and intelligent.
When they cited evidence or studies, they did so without snark or bad faith. They emphasized things that the various diet communities agreed on. Whole foods are good! Avoid added sugars! Saturated fat and cholesterol have been unfairly demonized! Animal products aren't the evil villain of nutrition! But then they would make their case that carbs had been unfairly demonized as well, and while one should not go out and stuff oneself with Hostess brand snack cakes in celebration at the idea, the human body functions better with a certain degree of carbohydrate intake. They would present their various cases, and well, it sounded... kind of correct.
By not attacking me, they made it much easier for me not to respond in defensiveness and anger. Granted, it would have been tempting and easy to mock me, given that I was (as I now believe) in the wrong about things. But they were merciful and gracious, and kept the disagreements to the facts, while emphasizing agreement where they could. So slowly, over time, they converted me.
I find myself naturally attracted to the side of a debate that seems fair, well-reasoned, and willing to credit the other side when you can, because I naturally figure that if you aren't able to behave that way, it's probably because you don't have the evidence on your side, so you have to yell and call names to make up the difference. Or, perhaps, it's because you are motivated by something other than a dispassionate search for the truth.
Certain guests would show up on low carb podcasts I listened to - nutrition PhD Chris Masterjohn, psychiatrist Emily Deans, diet author Paul Jaminet, a few others perhaps - that weren't exactly low carb. Or, really, low carb at all. They would talk about other things on the podcasts for the most part - areas of agreement with the low carb community, but they themselves either advocated a moderate carb diet or were "macronutrient agnostics." Importantly, however, none of these people tried to make me feel like an idiot for being in the "low carb camp." Not a one of them acted like I was clogging my arteries with bacon. They were always perfectly respectful, thoughtful, and intelligent.
When they cited evidence or studies, they did so without snark or bad faith. They emphasized things that the various diet communities agreed on. Whole foods are good! Avoid added sugars! Saturated fat and cholesterol have been unfairly demonized! Animal products aren't the evil villain of nutrition! But then they would make their case that carbs had been unfairly demonized as well, and while one should not go out and stuff oneself with Hostess brand snack cakes in celebration at the idea, the human body functions better with a certain degree of carbohydrate intake. They would present their various cases, and well, it sounded... kind of correct.
By not attacking me, they made it much easier for me not to respond in defensiveness and anger. Granted, it would have been tempting and easy to mock me, given that I was (as I now believe) in the wrong about things. But they were merciful and gracious, and kept the disagreements to the facts, while emphasizing agreement where they could. So slowly, over time, they converted me.
I find myself naturally attracted to the side of a debate that seems fair, well-reasoned, and willing to credit the other side when you can, because I naturally figure that if you aren't able to behave that way, it's probably because you don't have the evidence on your side, so you have to yell and call names to make up the difference. Or, perhaps, it's because you are motivated by something other than a dispassionate search for the truth.
I realize that you may not believe this is possible in today's current very charged political climate, but I really want to assure you:
People can and do change their minds if you engage them respectfully.
It really really does happen. Not as frequently as anyone would like, but it does happen. So please don't give up on civility, respect, finding common ground, seeing things from another person's perspective, and peaceableness, even when it seems like the entire internet has abandoned the concepts. I know they're all massive cliches, but they do have the capacity to get the job done. You may not even realize you've persuaded someone, but a little respect can go a long way even without you knowing it.
So please don't give up on those things!
And, hey, if you don't believe me, believe Paul:
"24 And the Lord’s slave must not engage in heated disputes but be kind toward all, an apt teacher, patient, 25 correcting opponents with gentleness. Perhaps God will grant them repentance and then knowledge of the truth." (2 Timothy 2:24-25)And if you're saying to yourself, "But Chris, it's not the same! People don't take nutrition anywhere near as seriously as they do religion and politics," then all I have to say is this:
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Oh wait, I guess that was kind of snarky and rude, wasn't it? Guess I'm still learning...
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