That’s the appeal of it, of course. There isn’t a definitive study. There can’t be.
Even if we created a forty-year-long, double-blind twin study, there’d be room for someone to ask “what about?…”
It doesn’t matter that the peer-reviewed and consistent results we have are clear to those who read them with an open mind.
The attraction of simple stories about complex phenomena is that we get to make them up and imbue them with whatever reassurance, solace or threat we choose. Human beings didn’t evolve to be rational decision makers. We’re creators and consumers of stories, seeking status and affiliation, and prioritizing short-term feelings over long-term evidence.
It’s nice when a story that’s precious to us is reinforced by evidence, but it’s rarely essential. Belief isn’t dependent on facts, that’s why we call it belief instead of facts.
It’s helpful to wonder who benefits from sharing a particular story with us, and what it costs us to believe it.
What does it mean for us to own something?
If we own a piece of land and the rain washes the topsoil downstream, do we go and get the topsoil back?
Do we own our reputation? We have influence over it, but some of it was gifted to us without our knowledge, and other parts are influenced by forces out of our control.
Do we own responsibility? Is it something we take or acquire or accept?
We can try to own our past, but the best we can do is influence our future.
Ownership is a shared understanding, a construct that can shift depending on where we stand. It’s not always up to us, but it often works better if we acknowledge it.
Some vegans don’t eat avocados.
They’re concerned that the bees that are trucked in to pollinate the trees are mistreated, and so they choose to not support this practice.
But we live in community, and someone running a vegan restaurant or serving a meal to vegan friends, concerned that they might offend, doesn’t serve avocado. A few strong opinions change the culture.
And so the cycle continues.
Humans care about status and affiliation, and both are at play in a purity loop.
One can earn more status by caring more about the issue that others are adjacent to. And so the loop gains momentum.
Once a few people make it clear that they’re more orthodox or progressive or concerned or strict or unhypocritical or obedient, others seek to claim the same status. And that becomes a point of affiliation.
Just about every tribe goes through these loops.
Four hundred years ago, neck ruffs became popular among the aristrocracy in Europe. The neck ruff began as a modest collar but evolved into enormous pleated confections that could span two feet across. At their peak, ruffs became so large that special eating utensils with extended handles were invented to allow wearers to get food to their mouths. Some ruffs were so tall and stiff that wearers couldn’t turn their heads and needed help eating.
The instinctual response is to criticize the newest form of purity as absurd. But of course, the absurdity is part of the status on display.
Perhaps it makes more sense to see the loop at work and get back to the work at hand.
“Shut up and drive” is the answer to an argument about what song is playing on the radio. We can tune the radio as we go, but we’re here to drive this thing to where we’re headed.
Enrollment is at the core of the mission. Where are we going and why? If it’s not helping with that, let’s drive and work on it as we go.
Everyone is entitled to their own take. But when we focus on purity and status at the expense of the journey, the distraction costs all of us.
We’re going. Come if you’d like.
Sometimes it pays to accept and celebrate what we get.
And sometimes, we only get something because we settled for it.
It helps to be able to discern the difference between the two.
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