On Being Right March 15, 2008

Even though I have a law degree, I don’t typically have an overwhelming need to be right. You know the type, the person who will argue until they beat the other side into submission. Actually being persuasive often takes a back seat to focusing on the sartorial weaknesses of the opponent, and victory is often confused with bullying the other side into submission. I never wanted to be one of “those” people. So mostly I’m not.

I’m more an empathetic, relative-truth kind of person. There are so many so-called facts out there that when you get right down to it, aren’t really facts at all, but reflections of a person’s — or a group’s — experience at a certain point in time. As became the catchphrase for some of my friends in my political philosophy (that wasn’t its real name, but its real name was particularly fey) major: “truth is that which works.” So truth for me took on a practical, functional nature that allowed me to focus on what was real in my life, as opposed to what people have told us for decades, centuries, etc.

I’ve been a little tested, lately, however. A few things have happened lately which have made me want to pummel the truth into other people until they cry “uncle,” or whatever. Despite the fact I know that doesn’t work, I’ve become impatient waiting for people to see the light. And no matter how I justify it, it doesn’t sit well with me. I like the idea of being a more forceful advocate — there have been times I’ve felt like I just wuss out in order to keep the peace. But it’s a new style for me, and I’m still working through it.

The first incident involves someone I recently met whose political views and employment history could not be more opposite to my own. He commented on that fact, and wanted to “cross swords,” his words, not mine. We discussed doing that over a couple of drinks, which would have made it much more palatable to me, but ended up doing it via e-mail (well, via Facebook messages, but same difference.) I’m always more comfortable writing than speaking, so was up to the challenge, and tossed off some reasonably well-crafted missives. I even got him to agree with me on some things, although that really doesn’t matter so much — it’s highly unlikely to have changed his life.

But in person, I realized I didn’t have much of an interest in continuing the debate. That’s not so surprising — that’s not what I go to a networking event to do. But what was surprising to me is that I engaged in the debate in the first place. I happen to think that most people have pretty immutable views at this stages in their adulthood. (Although that’s ironic, since I’ve been in the issue advocacy biz for most of my career, so is it Washington that’s making me cynical?) Am I getting sucked into more personal debate than I used to? Possibly, but I should probably pick my battles where it matters more.

The next incident: I just finished a book that is just f-in unbelievable. It’s called Good Calories, Bad Calories, by Gary Taubes. I already knew that Taubes was capable of some really good stuff — an article of his back in 2002 convinced me to take a good hard look at the Atkins diet, which helped me lose 65 pounds back in 2003. But I’ve slacked off recently — even knowing that I should be low-carbing has not kept me actually doing so. Taubes’ subtitle is “challenging the conventional wisdom on diet, weight control, and disease,” and boy, does he. Everything you think you know (even me, and I’m pretty well educated on low-carb diets) is picked apart and deconstructed until you get to the source of the metabolic research that has been conducted.

Reading this book is going to make me incorrigible about diet issues, I think. It’ll help to actually use the book’s lessons to take off all the weight I regained in the last couple of years dealing with breakups, divorce, loneliness, and all the other things I was self-medicating using sugar. But people have died not fully appreciating how they spent their lives killing themselves.

My family is a perfect example. My mom is the only survivor among her siblings and spouses. Her mother died of diabetic-related conditions, and was blind and crippled when she died at age 62. She seemed so old when she died, although now that seems so young to die that way. Her sister died of a massive heart attack, after having a toe removed and being on dialysis for the last year of her life. Her two brothers, one older and one younger, are gone as well. Now her 52-year-old nephew is gone, as of last week, after having a foot amputated and a kidney transplant. So now it’s happening to my generation instead of hers.

So when you read a book that basically says that for the last 50 years, the evidence that carbohydrates are the culprit of obesity, diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure, certain cancers, and even Alzheimer’s has been suppressed, what do you do? I’m already a wacky low-carber, but this is different. I look around and see some pretty obese people, including my ex-boyfriend and some other good friends, and just want to hold them down and force them to read the book. But the truth is that most of them won’t. They’ll keep going on diets and starting fitness plans that just won’t work.

It reminds me of the Southern Baptists that I grew up with. I can’t quote it exactly, but the idea is…if you saw a house burning, of course you would do everything you possibly could to warn the residents inside of the danger. So if you see someone who’s going to burn in hell, you’re compelled to witness to them and do everything in their power to ensure that they are saved. Yeah, I know — I hate that stuff, and have decidedly ambivalent ideas about what the hereafter may contain. I’ve even driven off Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses by saying that I won’t talk to anyone who is part of a religion that proselytizes.

So what’s a non-religious person to do, when they’ve read what is in essence the diet bible? I haven’t found a single thing that dissuades me from believing this book is the absolute truth. The only thing I know to do is to be successful myself. I may get a little argumentative on a few blogs, however — I’ve always felt more comfortable doing that.

The third incident happened today: talking with my mother about the presidential candidates. The candidate I support has been the subject of a big smear, that I’m sure is big news on Fox right now (it would make my job so much easier if she would step away from Bill O’Reilly and friends.) Even though the statements in question were not from the candidate, but from someone the candidate associated with, and were almost certainly fed by the rival campaigns, it has still made a big impression.

In this case, I just found the candidate’s statement and sent it to her. I’m not sure she’s persuaded, but the way I see it, the candidates have to be able to respond to the crap that’s being sent their way. I can help, since my parents don’t use the Internet, but I can’t be the truth squad for the entire election. There are people with far more ability and interest to do that than I right now. How well they do that job (and I’ll be doing my share as part of my day job, so I’m including myself in that — it’s just a matter of degree) could determine what happens in November, so there’s a lot at stake.

As you can probably tell, I’m still pretty ambivalent about the whole truth and righteousness thing. But it’s helping me define what’s the most important in my life right now.