“I’m a reasonable guy. I keep an open mind about things and decide what I believe based on the evidence.” Would you not, if asked, say that that is how you operate? But then ask yourself the same question about other people, particularly those whose views on life are very different from your own, and it is a very different story. So why is it that other people can’t be reasonable and form their opinions based on the evidence in front of them them like you do?
If you have ever asked this question of yourself, you are probably with the great majority of people. But if you have managed to find a good answer, then you are definitely part of a much more select group. As with many such paradoxical issues, the key thing is the manner in which the question is posed; or more specifically the lens through which the issue is viewed.
I set out in a recent Substack post on Identity and Worldview, how what we call our “worldview” is not so much a view of what the world is like as a lens through which we view and interpret our experiences in the world.
The essence of our worldview is in this understanding a model which serves to furnish a coherent explanation of our experiences. This facilitates prediction, which is the basis for our being able to function effectively in the world:
To perform this predictive function, it is necessary that the mind has access to an internal model or map of the world of experience, which it maintains and extends in line with new cognitive inputs and other experiences. Cognitive science has in recent years furnished substantive evidence of how neural processes in the brain (and in the human body more generally) associated with cognition and decision-making work by formulating and testing hypotheses. Fundamentally we make sense of the world by making hypotheses and predictions about it, which we then test by acting on the basis of those predictions.
So, for example, my belonging to a political party is an indication that it is my prediction that the nation, if not also the world, would be a better place if the policies advocated by my party were followed. If that is the prediction that flows from my model of the world, then that model will contain explanatory mechanisms for how these policies will successfully address problems I see as pressing. This then becomes the lens through which all new information or evidence is taken on board and processed.
In accordance with what is called confirmation bias, supporting evidence is readily incorporated into the existing model as corroborating or validating it. However conflicting evidence is given less weight and subjected to challenge on the basis of arguments structured from evidence previously processed and incorporated into our model; one might say a much higher bar is imposed.
Another aspect of weighting of evidence is in relation to what I characterised above as “problems I see as pressing.” As human beings, indeed as conscious living beings, one of the main functions of our cognition and perception is to facilitate the prompt identifying and addressing of potential problems. So it is no surprise that differences of perspective between individuals or groups as to what constitute important problems in society or in their lives will lead to differences at the cognitive level.
Also, we by nature give attention to those things we see as most important or pressing. This means that not only do we pay more attention to evidence relating to issues which resonate with those concerns, we will often go out of our way to find such evidence. Correspondingly, we will be much less likely even to notice evidence of ‘problems’ we have already decided are of lesser significance.
Notice that all the behaviours cited above are entirely consistent with the worldview that the individual has constructed and the purpose it was intended to serve in their life. Returning then to the question of whether our worldview can or should be considered as “balanced”, it becomes clear that the answer to this question hinges on the perspective from which it is asked. With reference to my own experience and consequent judgements, the answer will invariably be “yes”. If my model has been constructed on the basis of it being my best effort to predict the world of my experience, it will ipso facto constitute a balanced ongoing weighing up of the evidence encountered.
However, there is no good reason to expect that what constitutes balance in relation to one person’s model will correspond with the conclusions of someone else operating with a different model based on a different life experience. Given such differences about what constitutes relevant evidence, the interpretation of that evidence and what weight it should be afforded, it is clearly meaningless to talk of a single correct balance point.
Nonetheless, it might be objected, we do often talk of “consensus” on a particular issue. By this is meant that there is widespread agreement within a community or society about a conclusion in relation to some area of dispute or controversy. This might be interpreted in one of two ways.
It may be the outcome of a process such as occurs in political parties where all members, despite their enduring differences in individual perspectives, agree for the sake of harmonious cooperation on a common position as “the party line.” Such a compromise might be viewed as a kind of aggregated balancing of perspective across the party as a whole. But, as anyone who has been involved in politics well knows, it is highly unlikely that any individual will agree with everything in their party’s manifesto; not to mention that things may have been included therein because of their popularity with the electorate rather than their representing party members’ priorities. But even then, the “balance” only relates to those participating in the consensus-building process: members of other parties will almost certainly take very different views on what constitutes a balanced perspective. The same is true between different societies and communities who do not share a common life: the consensus arising out of a shared life in one community will not apply in another community with a quite different shared life experience.
This brings us to the second notion of consensus. This is the situation that occurs when the people coming to an agreement have little or no direct experience in their own lives of what would constitute ‘evidence.’ In that case they must rely on what is presented to them through communication channels as relevant evidence. Although this process is usually implicit, it is the most common way in which consensus is formed. The point to note here is that communication channels are curated: a lens is applied by whoever controls the communication channel to selectively include such evidence as supports their chosen narrative and to interpret it on the same basis. Critics will call this bias, but those so accused will reply that they are only making reasonable choices and interpretations, which will generally be the case from their point of view. So it is that the same story will be told in such a way as to reach quite opposed points of view depending, say, on which newspaper it is reported in. And of course, the readers will be naturally drawn to the conclusion that the curated narrative was designed to support, so engendering a “consensus”.
There is also of course the converse problem that, in applying our own cognitive lens in the selection and prioritisation of possible evidence (by choice of news channel, Substack authors, etc.) we are predisposed to give much greater attention to communication channels which we perceive to be most aligned with our own values and perspectives. In addition social media will usually direct us to more similar content. This compounds the confirmation bias through the establishment of a feedback loop, or ‘echo chamber’. The end result of this is silos within which consensus is able to exist but between which significant differences remain. How then can a wider consensus arise?
This is perhaps the most interesting question. Key to understanding this is recognition of the role played here by meta-narratives. By this I mean narratives about how and why, despite their being dissenting voices, there is an overall agreement about what is a reasonable understanding which can be construed as a society-wide consensus. The construction of such a meta-narrative often involves the discrediting of those expressing dissent, so their views can be discounted. Indeed it might be that in some instances such discrediting is the meta-narrative, since the removal of dissenting voices results in de facto consensus.
Those who exercise control over this meta-narrative are typically referred to as “the establishment.” In the past, this typically meant in practice those who were seen or portrayed as competent and experienced in exercising socio-political control for the benefit of society more widely. It may be that not everyone agreed that those who currently wielded such power were the best choices, but the idea that those who were most competent and experienced should do so was widely accepted.
But interestingly, in the age of social media where people are no longer dependent on large centrally-controlled institutions to form their sense of where social consensus lies, the hegemony exercised by the establishment has become fractured, it has lost its authority for increasing numbers of people and the institutions it previously worked through have come to be seen as captured by ideological perspectives not representative of the thinking, lived experience and worldview of the majority. Various evidence could be cited in support of such a claim in relation to UK society: the precipitous collapse in support for both the major political parties over the last decade, of trust and belief in impartiality and balance in the reporting of the BBC, of confidence in the governance of the education system and of trust in the police, the legal system and immigration control.
The result of all this is that consensus breaks down at the social level and people become increasingly sceptical of establishment narratives to the point where, rather than working with establishment institutions, they look instead to work around them. In political terms, this results in the rise of populist parties (or candidates) which over time can overtake the mainstream established parties. It is not hard to see that something like this is happening not just in the UK but in democratic societies across the European and American continents.
It might be surmised that a correction is likely to occur as the populist parties start to wield influence or even control over the political agenda. But whether ideologically captured institutions accommodate themselves to the emerging new political consensus is another matter. Rebuilding consensus when the previously existing one is lost is harder than maintaining a consensus which has already been established.
