Human beings are meaning-making creatures. We don’t simply experience events, we interpret them. We weave them into stories about who we are, who other people are, and how the world works.

Our brains are constantly asking, What does this mean? That ability helps us navigate a complicated world. It allows us to recognize patterns, anticipate danger, and make decisions quickly. But it also has a downside.

Our minds are not neutral recorders of reality. They are pattern-finders. And when we are afraid, angry, or deeply invested in a particular perspective, they often find patterns that reinforce what we already believe.

Psychologists call this confirmation bias: our tendency to notice, remember, and give greater weight to information that supports our existing beliefs while overlooking or discounting evidence that challenges them.

Once we adopt a story about immigrants, feminists, conservatives, religion, or any other group, or person, our brains begin searching for evidence that confirms it. Every supporting example feels like proof. Contradictory examples are more easily dismissed as exceptions.

The first story our brain tells is not necessarily the truest story. Often, it is simply the most familiar, the most emotionally satisfying, or the one that best fits the narrative we already carry.

Intellectual maturity begins when we learn to question our first interpretation, not because it’s always wrong, but because it’s rarely the whole story. 


If I have learned anything useful in my life, it’s that simple solutions and answers are almost always wrong. Life, people and issues are complex.

Simple slogans can be emotionally satisfying, easy to remember, and easy to deploy—but they often fall short of being an accurate representation of an issue or a particular demographic.

Every political movement, religious community, and social cause can be tempted to compress complicated realities into memorable narratives. The invitation, then, is not to abandon convictions, but to become more intellectually honest about the complexity behind them.

Repeated claims can become more believable simply because they are familiar, regardless of whether they capture the full picture.

  • Simple statements, are easier to remember.
  • The easier it is to remember, the more often it gets repeated.
  • The more often it gets repeated, the more true it feels.
  • But just because something is familiar, doesn’t mean it’s true. 

Rhetorical shortcuts flatten complexity. They replace the harder work of examining concerns, weighing evidence, and evaluating arguments. In the process, they compress people, ideas, and communities into slogans, stereotypes, and caricatures.


Complexity is not the enemy of truth.

Being willing to wrestle with complexity doesn’t require abandoning moral conviction. It’s a commitment to pursuing truth, even when the truth is more complicated than the ideas we’ve inherited.

  • We can recognize that something contains both benefits and harms.
  • We can criticize institutions we also value.
  • We can acknowledge trade-offs.
  • We can revise our beliefs when new evidence appears.
  • In fact, that may be one of the clearest signs of intellectual honesty and maturity.

Our brains gather evidence for the stories we already believe. Before accepting or repeating a tidy talking point, ask yourself:

  • What complexity disappeared?
  • Who is being centered in the story or explanation?
  • Who became invisible?
  • What assumptions am I making?
  • Is there another story that could also be true?
  • What might someone who disagrees say about this?
  • What experiences or perspectives might I be overlooking?
  • Am I responding to someone’s actual argument, or to a simplified version of it?
  • Have I confused a slogan with reality?
  • If I had to explain the strongest version of the other side’s argument, could I?
  • What would someone who has studied this issue for years say I’m missing?
  • Is this statement trying to help me understand—or simply tell me who to blame?

The world is rarely simple. People are even less so. Wisdom isn’t found by compressing complexity into slogans; it’s found by expanding our understanding until we can hold competing truths in tension.


Notes:

Conflict coach and psychology Ph.D. Emily De Schweinitz Taylor offers a short thoughtful reflection, that I think is worth reading and considering.

You might also enjoy her book, Conflict Fluent: Mastering the Five Conflict Approaches.

If you’re a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you might enjoy Both Things Are True by Kate Holbrook.

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