Monday, I talked about a healthy and useful kind of skepticism, and why I think it’s not only an important attribute for how we discern the information to use as we create the next chapter, but also why it’s handy to understand the distinction between that and other, less useful types.
So here’s part two on the other main type of skepticism: the not-very-helpful-variety.
I call these people: The Discrediters. This is marked by a persistent (relentless and usually annoying) attitude of disbelief or distrust. We all know these people. These are family or friends who just can’t take anything at face value, who must try to undermine everything and every level of expertise from everyone.
These are very tiresome people to have at parties.
I feel like this type of skepticism, when genuine, is just a stepping stone, or maybe three, to ‘conspiracy theorist’, because it’s really about full distrust of others and their motives. It’s a separation from the world, not a way of understanding it. As a consequence, it must be a sad and lonely existence as a persistent discrediter-skeptic.
I think discrediters really feel like they are helping the rest of us out by putting their suspicions (about everyone and everything) on the table, so we are finally made aware of ‘reality’.1 And a reason why people get sucked into the conspiracy theories - at the far end of this spectrum - is because it makes the discrediters feel important. They believe they have stumbled on insider information about parts of the world that the rest of us have somehow, irrationally overlooked for our whole lives.
However, their view is (of course) no closer to reality than believing everyone’s motives are good and just. One makes you cynical (at best), the other makes you gullible. Most of us live somewhere in the middle.
A more common opinion is that: ‘most people are good, some people have ulterior motives that don’t serve me, and a very few are even bad people’. Veering outside this middle ground might be warranted in some specific cases. But in general, the belief that other people are usually not ‘out to get us’ helps us judge and trust appropriately - or at least in a way that doesn’t make us miserable, lonely, OR get our retirement savings stolen.
The bottom line is this: Our connection to each other and to a life of meaning is that we have a measure of trust and hope - in ourselves, in each other, and in our circumstances. It doesn’t mean we’re naïve or gullible, and it doesn’t mean we believe everything we hear - it means we’re in a relationship with the world around us, and fundamentally this is about building trust, not tearing it down.
Tomorrow, we’ll talk about pretend skeptics, and pull it all together. (Fun, right?!)
I think this is useful to bear in mind when we find ourselves cornered at a party with a full-on discrediter, by the way. While it’s tempting to turn to them and say ‘frankly, you’re a bit of a downer mate, yeah?’, and then hurry off to find spinach and artichoke dip, they are not actually trying to make you feel even worse about the world than you already do. They really believe they have an inside track on ‘the real deal’. But please don’t start talking about the moon landing. You’ll be there all night.
So well said! Ironically I wish I had better words to articulate how much I appreciate this.
...” ‘frankly, you’re a bit of a downer mate, yeah?’,” < THIS will be my new go-to for all kinds of conversations I’d rather not have these days. So true! ☺️