A Person is Not Their Opinion
“A person is not their opinion.”
The wise words were spoken to two estranged siblings by a therapist I know who was trying to help them reconcile.
He said them very gently, in the form of a question.*
“Is a person their opinion?” he asked.
The tension between the siblings came about from a difference of opinion on some very controversial topics, including the safety and necessity of COVID-19 vaccines; the authorities’ recommendation to practice universal masking to protect against COVID-19; whether people who vote for Donald Trump were “delusional and idiotic” or intelligent voters who simply feel they were better off economically under Trump because the stock market rose and inflation was less severe during his presidency than Biden’s.
Abortion was another hot-button topic between the siblings.
Both were pro-choice.
But one felt abortion is a very sad thing to do and should only be used as a last resort, and that we need more support for pregnant women so they can access the help they need to raise the baby or to make an adoption plan.
The other felt that abortion is a fundamental human right for all women and that the most important part of the abortion debate was that every woman have easy access to safe and affordable abortions. End of conversation.
A diversity of thought
When my therapist friend told me about his clients’ difficulties, I was fascinated. Not just because I have experienced family estrangement firsthand, and care deeply and often write about vaccine safety and medical freedom, but also because I have friends—close friends—who have a wide variety of opinions on a wide range of topics.
I don’t live in an echo chamber.
Far from it.
For example, I have hippie friends who unapologetically love Trump and hippie friends who despise him so much they teach their children to make derisive trumpeting sounds whenever they see a Trump lawn sign.
In addition, I have talked to black and brown people who feel betrayed by the Democratic Party for a variety of reasons. Some are frustrated by how so many liberals and democrats dismiss that vaccine injury is even possible and at the same time insist that children who aren’t vaccinated against COVID-19, regardless of their religion, color, or creed, should be barred from public places. That attitude has kept people of color and their children from being allowed to enter the YMCA in Berkeley, California and the Illinois Holocaust Museum.
And I also know black and brown people, among many others, who feel that many if not most conservatives, especially Donald Trump, are racist and that anyone who votes for any other candidate besides Kamala Harris is casting a vote for racism, division, and populist hate.
Yes, it’s nice to be around people who share your opinions
Don’t misunderstand me. I know there’s something lovely about being around people who believe what we believe and do things the way we do them.
On a recent visit to my brother’s, I was delighted that his family was eating organic food and also composting, despite having to walk the bucket of kitchen compost to a public bin several streets away.
I believe that ridding the world of toxins as much as we possibly can will promote better human, apiary, and planetary health.
As a houseplant junkie, I am always happy to talk to my friends who love indoor and outdoor plants as much as I do.
But it’s not just good, it’s important to disagree
But just because you agree with your friends and family members on one or several things—like how much fun it is to play tennis, do art, and propagate houseplants—doesn’t mean you’ll agree on everything.
And just because you identify strongly and gratefully with a certain group of people—you’re deeply religious, for example, or really into environmental causes—doesn’t mean you’ll agree with your friends on all or even most of their political opinions.
I’m often surprised by how much I disagree with the opinions, and even the behavior, of intelligent people whom I love and respect.
We humans are complicated creatures. We can have nuanced opinions. We can change our minds. We can defy stereotypes.
Deeply religious Catholics, including the Pope, can still denounce sex abuse perpetrated by priests.
Allopathic doctors can still have home births.
Nature-loving crystal-slinging barefoot hippies who care deeply about ending racism can still like and vote for Donald Trump.
Being in an echo chamber and only talking to people who share your views is safe and comfortable, isn't it?
But it’s also boring AF.
{In case you’re of a certain age, like me, and don’t know what “AF” stands for, it means “as fudge,” except with the cuss word that begins with an “F.” I’m planning to write another primer on teen slang soon, since there’s so much new and interesting slang in circulation, making this one I wrote almost out of date now.}
Disagreement makes life interesting
Learning to listen—really listen—to someone else’s point of view is a sign of real intelligence, and it’s much harder to do than participating in uncritical groupthink.
Agreeing to disagree, understanding a different point of view without getting triggered so much you want to shut down the conversation (or shut up your interlocutor), is a marker of emotional intelligence.
What’s more, what you think today may not be what you think tomorrow. You are still you but your opinion can change.
In his 1841 essay, “Self-Reliance,” Ralph Waldo Emerson insisted that we must be willing to change our minds.
“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds,” Emerson famously wrote.
The entire paragraph is instructive:
“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said today. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.”
A person is not their opinion.
You can love someone—many, many someones—and disagree with their ideas.
And if you’re emotionally intelligent enough to listen and learn, you may actually find yourself changing your mind.
Readers, what do you think? Is a person their opinion or can you be friends with people whose opinions differ from yours?
*Some details have been changed to protect privacy
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About the author: Jennifer Margulis, Ph.D., is an award-winning science writer, editor, and book author. Support independent, thoughtful journalism by becoming a paid subscriber to Vibrant Life.
I remain friends with many people with whom I disagree strongly when it comes to politics and the covid vaccines, but we don't make it personal and so remain friends. I have a cousin through marriage who goes into rages at the mere mention of Trump or the suggestion that covid vaccines are not particularly effective and should be a matter of choice. We cannot discuss any matter on which we disagree because he says things like, "Anybody who likes Trump or who believes Covid vaccines should be a matter of choice is an idiot." To people like that, an opinion that differs from theirs is intolerable. My wife and I get along quite well, yet cancel each other's vote at every election. We laugh about our differences, because it is what is in the heart that matters and how you treat each other. The rest is simply opinion, and who really cares?
If I eat a garlic, am I a garlic? Today I ordered blue cheese with my eggs a la Mexicana. My friend said it would make me stink. I shrugged. She said I have to eat blue cheese with bread and wine. Ok, I said. When?