When I was eight I got into a heated discussion with some friends about the existence of Santa. I was thoroughly convinced. I cited evidence.
“My parents say he’s real. Last year, I found muddy footprints on the kitchen floor.”
“I bet they were your dad’s shoes. Did you check if they matched your dad’s boots?”
“There were half eaten carrots on the roof.”
“Did you ask if your parents threw them up there?”
“The milk we set out was half drunk.”
“Maybe your dad drank-”
“Ha! He hates milk.”
Despite my friends best efforts, I went on believing in Santa.
When I was asked to write an opinions piece this week, I struggled. When controversial issues arise I often find myself listening and rarely acting. The idea of taking a stance, especially a strong stance scares me. Frankly, I’m ignorant. I don’t know enough to speak with authority on issues of race or immigration, or any hot topic issue. And even when I’ve done the research and learned about the issue, I find myself reluctant to speak, thinking others know more.
My strongest and most divisive opinions involve comma and semicolon usage.
How can ignorance breed such strong opinions? And how can I have an opinion if I am ignorant?
Often I am lazy and rely on other people to sway my opinions on issues. I look to parents or friends, and knowing what kind of people they are, I trust that they’re opinions are right without bothering to learn the issues myself. This means choosing a side not based on knowledge but on friend groups, convenience, or how cool a movement’s t-shirt is (I owned an Invisible Children t-shirt for years thinking it was a band).
My challenge for myself and others is threefold. First, be wary of speaking authoritatively on matters that you don’t have the knowledge. Second, if something matters to you, pursue knowledge of it relentlessly. Learn all that there is to learn. Don’t be content with vague ideas and slogans, but educate yourself of the issues you’re passionate about. Third, do not consider neutrality a weak stance. It takes great humility and strength to say, “I don’t know.” Listen and learn, and a time will come when you’ll be able to speak.
Years later (far later than I want to admit) I stopped believing Santa was real. I felt childish and foolish that it took me so long to realize, not because I believed in flying reindeer, but because I believed something without examinations. I never pursued the truth for myself. Don’t be eight-year-old Jonan. Check to see if your dad’s boots match Santa’s footprints.