| Tuesday, March 2, 2004 |
10:02 - This is why I titled that one post "Macs Suck"
http://www.capitalistlion.com/article.cgi?921
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CapLion has posted an important essay on the nature of the hardest three words for anybody, but particularly any blogger, to say: I was wrong.
Each blogger is the czar of his or her domain, the autocrat of the bits, keeper of the sacred opinion. There are varying degrees, of course, but everyone more or less wants to be right and not just most of the time, all the time. We want to be infallible, offering forth our wisdom on a heady brew of subjects that define who we are as people in this digital bouquet of interests and experiences.
It's worth a read (not least because it arose from a conversation of which I was the other half-- heh), but I'd like to add a thought or two to it.
Not only do we have an innate desire to be right all the time-- we also seem to have an odd presumption that it's better to be right all the time, because that will make us better liked and better respected.
It's been one of the hardest life lessons for me to learn, that this is not the case.
Admitting you're wrong about something not only doesn't generally detract from how well respected a person is; it often makes him better liked. I mean, come on. We all know that one butthole in our social circle who can simply never admit defeat in an argument. What happens over time? Do people get to respect him more, defer more to his opinion, whether he's right or wrong? Or does the guy gradually stop getting invited to parties?
Michael Moore, apparently, has got this problem bad:
At an appearance at Michigan State University in late January, Moore took questions after his two-hour talk. A student asked if rumors about him building on a wetland Up North were true.
Silence. Then: "Don't know what you're talking about."
According to state records, Moore partially filled in a wetland to improve his beach. He quickly fixed the problem and wasn't fined.
Why deny it?
"A pathological need to be right," Hamper said.
We all do it, too. I'm not speaking from some kind of fortress from which I can cast stones, being without sin. Just the other day, in the middle of that now-infamous "Make it stop raining" post, I threw in an oblique reference to the recently-broken story about John Kerry and his history of voting against every important military appropriation since Vietnam. Now, while I fully expected shock and horror from people with a dog in the gay-marriage fight, I was floored to wake up the following morning to a fistful of e-mails-- some rather vicious-- triumphantly brandishing the URL of this Slate story that debunks the Kerry claims. I fended them off, but did I post a retraction or a correction? Noooooo. C'mooon! Why deliberately show off that I'd been wrong?
(The jury's still out on this issue, incidentally, so it may be a bad example-- I'm told that Hugh Hewitt had his own convincing rebuttal to Kaplan's claims recently. But aside from maybe comprising an argument that I could be just waiting for the truth to be fully revealed and agreed-upon before I post the obligatory follow-up, or maybe that I'm really just not interested enough in this issue to care about hounding it to the ground, that's neither here nor there.)
So, yeah. I know how poisonous the seduction of "being right" is. It's so easy to convince oneself that one is infallible, and then the next logical step is to defend that supposition, for the sake of one's own ego, by simply avoiding any information that contradicts one's position.
Knowing that admitting to failure can actually make one better liked by one's peers, and even better respected by one's readers or compatriots, I try. I did, after all, post that "Macs suck" story a few months ago, largely to defuse criticism that I only looked at the good things about Apple and never covered the bad things. And boy, did I get the horrified e-mails from people who had come to expect only sweetness and light from my Mac posts! It sure shook up the joint.
But if we read because we want ice cream, that's hardly going to profit us as much as if we read because we wanted a smorgasbord.
UPDATE: Chris pointed out that if a person admits he's wrong, people might actually pay more attention to what he says-- because they can feel confident that if he says something that turns out to be wrong, he'll set the record straight. Otherwise he just ends up looking really silly, and not very authoritative, when his listeners find out independently that he was wrong.
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