In a recent article in National Geographic ("Why Do Many Reasonable People Doubt Science"), Joel Achenbach attempted to explain why humans have trouble believing the evidence laid out in scientific research. In the article, he cited a phenomenon called confirmation bias, our tendency to adopt the evidence that fits what we already believe. Now, I am a feeling person by nature. Subconsciously, I make choices in my environment based on my emotional reaction to it. Similarly, I have found that the information I remember most is the information I respond to with strong emotion, whether that emotion is humor, anger, shock, or something else. This is why I believe confirmation bias exists: we respond to facts emotionally.
However, sometimes we learn information that, instead of confirming what we believe, has the opposite effect. We are introduced to facts that shock us out of our complacency. That shock can jar us into questioning long-held beliefs, and even entire worldviews. This can happen instantly, I suppose, and certainly the moment of shock can convince us that our change of heart was an instant one; but more often, I believe, the change happens slowly, after we are exposed over time to information that contradicts what we believe is true--especially so if the author's purpose was not to contradict your belief (perhaps, instead, the author intended simply to explain an idea).
Such an experience happened to C.S. Lewis while he was an atheist in college. At his college, he found himself once sitting on the opposite side of a fire from the most cynical atheist he knew. While there, that atheist explained that he believed the historical evidence in favor of the Gospels was strong"surprisingly good." Lewis was shocked. If this man felt this way about the Gospels, Lewis believed, how could he himself not question his own atheism? Such shock was not alone responsible for Lewis's eventual conversion, however. He had been reading G.K. Chesterton, a Christian author whom Lewis respected apart from the author's faith. Moreover, on the point of his conversion, Lewis explained that he felt that God had been after him, demonstrating that his leap to faith was not instant, but gradual.
I believe the same happens to us. We can believe something easily because it confirms what we already believe; but we can also slowly turn away from those beliefs when confronted with new information over time. In my experience, this turning occurs when we are not threatened by the ideas or facts that contradict our beliefs. I have seen myself stubbornly hold to an opinion in anger when confronted with an opposite view, only later to adopt it once I reason to myself calmly that it is more likely true; and I have seen myself adjust my belief about a controversial topic while learning about that topic in an expository setting--that is, when an idea is being explained, rather than being used to persuade. I do this, I know, because contradictory facts, arguments, and ideas--like weapons--are threats to the mind's defenses of what we believe about ourselves and our world, ideas dear to our identities as both distinct from others and as part of a group of others with the same beliefs. When I feel threatened by that information, the walls rise, and I am likely to oppose it firmly. When the information comes to me as informative instead, I am far more receptive. My response, I know, is a violation of honest judgment, which is why it is so important to be aware of it in the first place.
However, sometimes we learn information that, instead of confirming what we believe, has the opposite effect. We are introduced to facts that shock us out of our complacency. That shock can jar us into questioning long-held beliefs, and even entire worldviews. This can happen instantly, I suppose, and certainly the moment of shock can convince us that our change of heart was an instant one; but more often, I believe, the change happens slowly, after we are exposed over time to information that contradicts what we believe is true--especially so if the author's purpose was not to contradict your belief (perhaps, instead, the author intended simply to explain an idea).
Such an experience happened to C.S. Lewis while he was an atheist in college. At his college, he found himself once sitting on the opposite side of a fire from the most cynical atheist he knew. While there, that atheist explained that he believed the historical evidence in favor of the Gospels was strong"surprisingly good." Lewis was shocked. If this man felt this way about the Gospels, Lewis believed, how could he himself not question his own atheism? Such shock was not alone responsible for Lewis's eventual conversion, however. He had been reading G.K. Chesterton, a Christian author whom Lewis respected apart from the author's faith. Moreover, on the point of his conversion, Lewis explained that he felt that God had been after him, demonstrating that his leap to faith was not instant, but gradual.
I believe the same happens to us. We can believe something easily because it confirms what we already believe; but we can also slowly turn away from those beliefs when confronted with new information over time. In my experience, this turning occurs when we are not threatened by the ideas or facts that contradict our beliefs. I have seen myself stubbornly hold to an opinion in anger when confronted with an opposite view, only later to adopt it once I reason to myself calmly that it is more likely true; and I have seen myself adjust my belief about a controversial topic while learning about that topic in an expository setting--that is, when an idea is being explained, rather than being used to persuade. I do this, I know, because contradictory facts, arguments, and ideas--like weapons--are threats to the mind's defenses of what we believe about ourselves and our world, ideas dear to our identities as both distinct from others and as part of a group of others with the same beliefs. When I feel threatened by that information, the walls rise, and I am likely to oppose it firmly. When the information comes to me as informative instead, I am far more receptive. My response, I know, is a violation of honest judgment, which is why it is so important to be aware of it in the first place.
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