Note: The script below is from the author at Manpollo.org
and other
site (on this second site, the author asks for help translating
the topics to Spanish for DVDs, etc.) The script doesn't correspond
100% to the video and still needs checking over.
This is video is titled “I Hope I’m Wrong,” and is the second
of three prepared just for hard-core climate skeptics in the expansion
pack to the video “How It All Ends.”
I want to show you that I think a lot about the question “What
if I’m wrong?” To be totally frank, my purpose in doing so is
that I hope to inspire you to do the same for your own thinking.
Because, although I hope I’m wrong, I think you’re wrong. How’s
that for clear?
It seems to me that being honest with yourself means being willing
to acknowledge when you’re wrong, and then fixing it, so that
you are less wrong. I’m wrong all the time, and by being conscious
of that, I think I get better and better all the time. So could
I be wrong about this? Let me tell you—I sure hope I am. But I
haven’t been able to escape this conclusion. And as time has gone
on, my assessment has done the same thing as that of the scientists
studying climate change—the picture just gets worse.
I used to get wound up about all sorts of issues, but I don’t
anymore. You know why? Because I’m terrified. It’s become clear
to me that the potential threat is big enough that nothing is
more worth dealing with than this. So in an ironic—and bizarre—sense,
having a fairly deep understanding of climate change has really
mellowed me out. I used to regularly read the letters to the editor
and get all ticked off. Now I never even open to that page. Pretty
much all other concerns have dropped away, because this issue
has the potential to so dominate our—my, my kids’—future. It’s
almost a sense of: nothing else may matter much if we don’t deal
with this.
And if you’ve watched all my videos up to this one, I think you’ll
see that it’s not just a knee-jerk reaction to some sensationalist
magazine article. I’ve done a bit of homework. I teach science.
I have a deep understanding of the basic principles, though I
also try to recognize when my knowledge falls short. My terror
results from my own cold, rational assessment of the science of
climate change and complex, non-linear systems, not from someone’s
scare tactics or appeals to my emotions. They didn’t need to:
I was already paying attention.
A while ago I noticed something that I still haven’t quite been
able to figure out. I realized that when I’m debating climate
change with someone, I’m hoping to change their minds, but at
the same time I sincerely hope that my arguments are wrong. Kind
of odd. And I don’t sense that the other person can say the same
thing about their own arguments. It was a sort of “huh” moment,
though it’s since grown into this sense that there must be some
significance to it, but I can’t figure out what that would be.
I mean, isn’t it a little odd to find yourself arguing vehemently
for a point of view, and you just as vehemently hope you’re wrong?
It’s sort of a strange feeling. An interesting exercise is to
ask yourself: in 20 years, how would I feel if I turned out to
be wrong? Personally, I’d be thrilled. Drinks’ll be on me. I’d
even feel okay about any economic damage that happened as a result
of mistakenly taking action, because I’d feel that I’d done my
best. I haven’t stopped at the first answer that made sense, or
that I liked the sound of. I looked for the rebuttal to that answer,
and then the response to that rebuttal, and then the critique
of that response. I made as thorough and conscientious of an effort
as can be expected of anybody. I tried to be uncomfortably self-critical
so that I could root out my assumptions and unconscious biases,
to be sure that in my research my goal really was to get closer
to the truth, rather than just to retain my beliefs. And after
all that, my evaluation says that the risk of not taking action
is clearly greater than the risk of taking action. I’m certainly
no expert, but I’ve spent literally hundreds of hours researching
and studying. Yeah, it’s exhausting, which is why I don’t do that
for the debate in the chemistry education community over why Mentos
causes Diet Coke to go wild—because it’s just not that important.
But since global climate change can’t be dismissed as “certainly
not a threat,” I think the time is worth it. There are many possible
future worlds. Imagine for a moment you’re in the world where
catastrophic climate change has come to pass, wrecking the economy,
leading to brutal dictatorships, and so on. Now imagine looking
back on this moment, when you had enough information to connect
the dots, but you argued against action because you weren’t sufficiently
convinced it was even possible. You were afraid that it might
hurt the economy, or give the government more power. Looking around
in that future at the economic ruins and draconian governments,
how would that feel? Maybe I’m wrong. What might be the worst
consequences of that? Maybe you’re wrong. What might be the worst
consequences of that? As you probably picked up from watching
the previous videos, I’m pretty big on the idea of trying to be
aware of one’s own biases. I mention it here because I think that’s
often the cause when we turn out to be wrong—a bias we didn’t
know we had, interfering with our judgement about things that
seemed obvious. And the really dangerous part is that these biases
can be so bloody stealthy, so in the moment it doesn’t even occur
to you to ask if you’re being objective, and all the while you’re
carrying an unknown assumption that totally throws off your judgement.
Here’s a graphically personal example. I’m 38 now and don’t exercise,
but I used to be an athlete, and have always been blessed with
a very forgiving metabolism, so my. . . widening. . . process
has been extremely gradual. And—just like all you other humans—I
have a deep psychological need to have a positive view of myself.
As a result, when I happen to see myself in the mirror without
a shirt on, [WARNING: images may be objectionable to some viewers]
I still occasionally catch myself thinking “Hey—not too shabby.
You’ve still got a hint of a six pack.” Six pack??! Those are
rolls of fat!! [Show]. What am I, delusional?? No—just human.
The point is, our desire for something can be so strong that it
totally influences what we think is a simple perception of reality—without
us even realizing it. What does this have to do with climate change?
I’m not saying that if you’re still doubtful about climate change
you must be delusional. Who am I to make that judgement—I’m no
professional. But I am saying: this is a powerful and stealthy
psychological phenomenon. Isn’t it worth taking a step back and
examining it, so you can make yourself confident that it’s NOT
influencing your opinions? I try to do that every so often with
my thoughts about climate change, because the stakes are so high.
I want to end up with the most robust, solid viewpoints I can,
so that I don’t find myself holding on to something flimsy just
because I really like the idea, or I really dislike the alternative.
Along those lines, I had an interesting experience recently. I’d
been having an extensive back-and-forth debate by email with a
climate skeptic who was civil and thoughtful. And fairly far into
the conversation, I was trying to make sense of this long response
of his. I just couldn’t do it. I re-read and re-read, and was
befuddled, thinking: he’s all over the place—I just don’t know
how to respond to this. And then I thought—ahh, maybe that’s a
clue to examine my own thinking. Maybe he’s being perfectly clear,
and I don’t know how to respond because he’s right, and I just
can’t let myself see it. So I approached the text again, this
time able to hear what he had to say, instead of trying to deconstruct
it to form a counterattack. Turns out I didn’t think he was right
after all. But taking the step back did allow me to figure out
that the reason I didn’t know how to respond was that I didn’t
think that I could ever convince him. He was starting from belief
instead of evidence, which is simply impossible to refute. He
finally admitted to something along these lines, writing “I just
don’t like the idea of politicians and an unelected bureaucracy
making decisions based on special interest groups and the prevailing
political wind. Lol! Maybe I should have said that from the get
go!” Like I sa †††††???u?id, a nice guy, but when you start from
belief rather than from evidence, you end up keeping or ignoring
evidence as it fits your belief, which means you will never be
convinced, no matter how compelling the evidence. We all do that
sometimes. I’m just saying, if there was ever a time in our individual
and collective lives to be extraordinarily careful to not make
that mistake, it would be now, with this issue. Still, it was
a good lesson for me, remembering it’s good to be willing to take
a step back and ask myself “Could I be the one who’s wrong here?”
Trying to be as unbiased and intellectually honest as I can is
a service I try to offer my opponents in a discussion, and I like
to ask that they offer it to me in return. We all come out feeling
less angry that way, and hopefully a bit closer to the truth.
Finally, one more personal anecdote in humility. I teach high
school chemistry, and I’m very thoughtful and cautious about safety.
For example: late one night I was testing a demonstration in my
classroom, and I knew I was all alone in the building. The demo
involved big flame and glass, and I asked myself “What’s the worst
that could happen?” Well, I could imagine the glass exploding
while I was sitting right in front of it, and I thought through
the worst-case scenarios. So in addition to the goggles, apron,
gloves, and fire extinguisher, I wrapped cloth towels around my
pressure point so that I couldn’t get a major artery cut and bleed
to death before I could reach the phone to call for help. Extremely
unlikely, but hey—why risk it? Anyway, this last Spring, for one
of my “Patching Holes” videos, I was videotaping a bunch of flashy
demos. [Show video of demos.]
In addition to all these exploding
demos, which went off like I expected them to—shattering glass
and all—I did one that simply oozes. [Show video of oozing.] Now,
like I said, I’m really cautious, and I know what I’m doing. This
one gives off aerosolized concentrated sulfuric acid, so it’s
a good idea not to breathe it in, and I was doing it in the fume
hood. I did three or four takes, each time setting aside the jar
when I was done with it. So I’m done with all the takes, and I’m
standing about 10 feet away from the fume hood, messing with the
video camera, when a gunshot goes off. The jar that I had used
20 minutes before exploded like a bomb, shooting carbon-gooed,
concentrated acid-coated shards of glass the length of my 40 foot
room, including all along my left side. Here’s the aftermath in
the fume hood after I came back the next day. Right after the
explosion, I’d inspected the room to make sure everything was
stable, and then I left to let it air out and let me settle down.
Seemed like a good time to take a break. Now, I’m a pretty smart
guy, and I’ve been doing this for a few years. This is a demo
that oozes and sizzles. It doesn’t explode. If someone had told
me third hand that it had happened to their buddy’s colleague,
I would have been sure that they’d gotten their story mixed up,
because I couldn’t have even come up with an explanation that
would have this demo exploding that violently. I would have judged
it to be impossible. And I would have been wrong. Like we humans
sometimes are. In fact, it was only by being forced by the very
undeniable evidence on my left side to acknowledge it was possible,
that I was able to later construct a feasible explanation for
what had happened, because I simply couldn’t accept the conclusion
“Nope, not possible” when my understanding of the chemistry led
me to that. The reason I’m telling you this is: when it exploded,
I was still wearing all my safety equipment, even though I was
finished with the demos. And boy, was I glad that I tend to play
“better safe than sorry,” rather than going with what’s more convenient,
so that I still had on the gear out of simple habit. Because then
I was protected a bit from my misjudgement—a judgement I wasn’t
even aware I had made, because it was an assumption—by definition,
unconscious. That’s the insidious part. “Assumptions are the things
you don’t know you have.” That is exactly why they can be so dangerous.
Could you be holding any of those in the debate about climate
change? If there’s ever a time to be conscientiously self-critical,
it is now, with this issue. So, I’ve learned it’s in my interest
to be brutally honest with myself and ask “What if I’m wrong?
What would be the consequences then?” I try to employ that thoroughness
and humility in my approach to the debate about what action to
take on global climate change. Please, join me in that. And if
not—still, well. . . . Then I’ll see you in your final video:
“No Holds Barred” [sic].
This
video-article is part of an advanced listening activity for advanced
learners of English. 
The video on Youtube:
