A Paradox of Opinion

Opinions aren’t worth the carbon dioxide they are expelled with – or in the case of this one, the electrons blatting them out of your screen. Even expert opinions are no more than informed prejudice. Differences of opinion, especially religious or political, lead to wars. Unexamined opinions are at the root of racial intolerance, sexual discrimination and just about any phobia you can think of.  (Technically, that last phrase should read: any phobia about which you can think. I point this out for my grammaphobic readers.)

 So why do we have them? Of what use are opinions to us?

The other night I attended a small dinner party with six other women of diverse origins: mainland China, Sri Lanka, India, Canada. Some were seasoned travelers, others had never been outside the borders of continental North America. Some had raised families, others had no interest in children. Our wide array of interests and backgrounds fueled lively conversation and we had a fun time - or at least I did and I assume the others’ smiles and laughter were genuine. We traded snake stories, primarily close encounters of the poisonous kind, and talked about our vacation plans for this year, generating considerable envy in my stuck-at-home breast. But I left the party with the feeling I hadn’t made any new  friends. In retrospect, I think it’s because we were aware of our cultural differences and careful not to express potentially disturbing opinions. As a result, we found no common ground. This isn’t an insurmountable bar to forming a friendship, but it’s pretty damn high. 

My oldest friend, in terms of duration, is Wen. We bonded over the Beatles back in the sixties. Nowadays, we have nothing in common. She’s a Christian, I’m an atheist. She likes Leonard Cohen for his lyrics, I like Dave Koz for his lack of them. She hates knitting and loves to cook. I hate cooking and love to knit. But our early bond of shared pubescent adoration gave us a cornerstone of affection and from this foundation we have learned to accommodate, even treasure, each other’s inexplicable quirks and foibles.

Examining my other friends, I find that same core of shared prejudice beneath surface diversity; my friendships were forged while griping about the boss or comparing hangovers. The human race evolved in small, intensely inter-related communities. We are tribal animals. Agreement on something, anything, gives us a sense of belonging. I belong to the tribe who wanted to Twist and Shout. I belong to the tribe who worked for a boss with his head up his ass. I belong to the tribe who discovered bourbon shooters produced the most awesome hangovers. 

In the modern world, expressing unpopular opinions is increasingly… well, unpopular. The closer we crowd together, the less willing we are to challenge ourselves and those around us with potentially divisive remarks. Which is why I kept my mouth shut last night when the conversation rolled around to the nuclear disaster in Japan, because I disagreed with the seemingly safe majority opinion that it’s a tragedy. I don’t think it’s a tragedy at all. I think it’s the logical outcome of building a nuclear power plant in an area prone to earthquakes; the price humanity chooses to pay for our electron addiction. Of course I’m not the part of humanity paying it, at least not yet.  I’m pretty sure the guys working cleanup at Fukushima, catching 4.9 microsievert an hour in an industry where acceptable exposure is 5000 a year, disagree with me.

That’s the other thing about opinions. They are almost always self-serving and motivated by personal bias. Which makes perfect sense. We all want the same thing: to live safe, comfy lives. Opinions are just differing takes on how to achieve this goal. In the above example, I find it comforting to believe we can learn from our mistakes before my neighbors start popping out two headed babies, which would seriously deplete the niceness of my life. (Note, this hasn’t stopped me slaughtering countless, innocent electrons generated by a nuclear reactor to fill your screen with this drivel.)

The irony here is that our ancient desire to bond over the tribal campfire seeking safety from the wolves prowling out there in the dangerous darkness is what prevents us from working together sensibly to build a sane, peaceful world where all of us could truly live safe, comfortable lives.

In my opinion, it’s time for the human race to grow up. You may think that’s hogwash. Fantastic! Now we both belong to the tribe of people who disagree.