Transcriber: Nancy Reeves Reviewer: Annet Johnson On the first day of teaching my English class for college sophomores, I follow standard protocol; we review the schedule, the policies, the course outcomes. When I begin describing the course theme, pop culture skepticism, I explain that we’ll be looking at things like conspiracy theories, ‘puh-seudoscience,’ and cryptozoology. When my students hear ‘puh-seudoscience,’ they look around in confusion at their classmates.
“Did she really just say that? ” I drop the word into the rest of the class period whenever I can, waiting and hoping that someone will ask. But no one ever does.
With five minutes left, I call attention to it. “I’ve been saying ‘puh-seudoscience’ all class. Is that the way it’s pronounced?
” Somewhat sheepish, many in the class will shrug. When asked why they didn’t correct me, they’ll say, “You’re the teacher. We should trust that you know better than us.
” And I tell them, “That’s a problem. ” Too often people are unwilling to question authority or dive into high stakes topics because it makes them feel uncomfortable. It is practically an unspoken rule that you should never talk about politics or religion, especially around people you don’t know very well.
While that is perhaps true in certain cases, I want to share a strategy that I’ve been using for the past decade on how you can more effectively navigate these high stakes conversations by cashing in on the best currency that popular media has to offer: a good conspiracy theory. My premise comes down to what I call creative skepticism. Skepticism as a concept doesn’t always have the best reputation.
Some may even take offense to being called a skeptic. But being a skeptic is not an insult; in fact, it’s aspirational. A skeptic will enter the conversation with a healthy dose of wonder.
Rather than blindly denying or accepting, they seek to understand multiple perspectives before drawing a conclusion. Now that’s great in theory, but a theory can only take you so far. So in practice, I teach this through examining a series of low stakes topics that fit into pop culture skepticism.
In class, we first come to a mutual understanding of what low stakes means; topics like aliens, ghosts, bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, and how Elvis is definitely just hanging out in his pool house drinking pina coladas down in Graceland, are always popular topics. We frame our discussions around contentious topics that have little to no impact on our day-to-day lives. If we were to debate topics like abortion or gay marriage right from the beginning, topics that are highly personal, highly impactful, any willingness to consider differing perspectives will be eradicated.
I steer clear of these topics, initially, because it’s too easy to fall into false consensus bias, especially given the nature of the way we experience information today. If, for example, I were to Google, “Why should I vote for X, Y, Z candidate? ” the algorithmic nature of the Internet will begin populating articles, ads, videos, websites providing only that one-sided perspective, eliminating any chance of me finding out more about an opposing political candidate, perhaps one who even better matches my own personal values.
False consensus bias happens when our opinions are consistently validated by others who think similarly to us. It then morphs into this subconscious belief that our opinion is the right one and that others are wrong. You can see this when we talk about a writer that you love yet someone else dislikes.
I mean, nevermore, who doesn’t spend all of their time reading poetry by Edgar Allan Poe? Or talking about a sports team that is certainly the best — the New England Patriots. This bias — because that’s what this is — leads to an “us versus them” mentality and that’s really hard to shake.
The same is true in my class. If we dive into those high stakes topics early, the willingness to wonder is gone. So we don’t, at least not right away.
The first step is to decide why we need to enter the conversation in the first place. The ‘why’ of what you are saying is nearly as important as ‘what’ you say. When it comes to differing perspectives, acknowledging that the opposing side is a valid option is essential, despite our inherent false consensus bias.
The benefit of practicing this with conspiracy theories lies in the divisive opinions surrounding them. Now, conspiracy theory is a belief that some secret, but influential, organization or person is responsible for an event or a phenomenon. The key word here is ‘belief.
’ The funny thing about conspiracy theories is that these beliefs can’t actually be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, but people do love to try. And in trying, people create so many different, well-researched, and valid perspectives. I will admit some are less than credible, that’s true, but there are plenty out there that are not.
The exercise in finding authoritative sources that offer valid, well-researched points in direct contradiction to each other really hammers home the value in stepping back and thinking, “What do I really think here? ” Though the long game here — over the course of the semester — is dissecting conspiracy theories, ad hoc mental exercises can also give immediate practice to the idea of creative skepticism. One strategy that I’ve employed is a candy bar debate.
Given the false premise that our school is eliminating all but one candy, small groups are assigned a single candy bar to represent. The candy bars vary, but I always make sure to include a handful of the most popular Halloween candies, things like Reese’s and Kit Kats and Skittles, but I also throw in less popular candies like Almond Joy or Payday. Depending on their assigned candy, the students tackle the assignment by creating visuals, finding nostalgic commercials — (Sings) Give me a break, give me a break — acquiring samples to hand out, and thinking of creative ways to one up their opponent.
A key element in their preparation for these presentations is the consideration of the opposing side and how to field questions that might otherwise eliminate their credible points. As the debate begins, groups with the popular candies sometimes rest a little bit on their laurels and assume that the popularity of the candy itself will be enough to sway the audience without much need for evidence. But when an opposing group asks, “Is it true that your candy contains titanium dioxide which was noted by European food regulators as being a cause for cancer and unsafe for human consumption?
” The importance and value of considering what others might ask to invalidate their points is made that much more apparent. Now, what’s really interesting is the folks who are assigned a less popular candy, often are not a big fan of it themselves, and they know they have to work harder to justify why their candy should be selected. Because they were naysayers before they were assigned to the candy themselves, they creatively find valid, persuasive points that they can use to convince the rest of the class.
They field the questions at the end with great ethos and depth of thought. Very rarely, in the ten years that I’ve been doing this, has a popular candy actually won the class vote. In 2022, the reigning champion was Payday.
Another exercise that practices creative skepticism is what I call, “The Court of Hot Takes. ” In Judge Selina’s Court, hot takes might include whether you should put socks on before your pants, whether it's better to shower in the morning or at night, or whether or not you should put pineapple on pizza. The goal of this activity is to debate and sway the class to one side or another, then read the room to determine which side – so the agrees or the disagrees – is going to have the majority.
This is less about pushing for your own agenda and your own perspective and more about understanding the majority opinion and the underlying reasons why. This is direct practice of that false consensus bias. In this, some of the back and forth discussions do end up resulting in logical fallacies or flawed arguments.
If we're talking about pancakes being better than waffles, someone will inevitably bring up French toast. And what does the person who wears gym shorts every day have any insight into fashion, so why does he even care whether he should put his socks on before his pants? But what this does is create an easy bridge to show how easy it is for persuasive arguments to fall into logical fallacies and how they can be used to persuade and convince people who don’t realize that that’s what’s happening.
They don’t know that it’s okay to question what they’re being told. We see this all the time on the political stage. But still, in the grand scheme of what I’m talking about, we’re talking low stakes, right?
So how do Reese’s, Almond Joy, and pineapple pizza actually lead to meaningful discussions about politics and religion? If we jumped right into these high stakes topics, it would require a suspension of emotion, which is not something that’s easily done. By consistently using low stakes topics to make effective conversation, these habits force the recognition of bias and consideration of differing opinions than your own.
And through that, that act of critical thinking becomes second nature. It is the exercise itself, not the content, that uses creative skepticism to build the foundation to be able to navigate these hard topics. And it’s so important to steer into these hard topics once that foundation has been set.
We’ve practiced, we’ve had some laughs, but now it needs to become more personal; because that is what is going to happen when they leave my class. They’re going to have to navigate these difficult topics. So I start by posing the question to them: What is the goal of the Republican and the Democratic Party in the United States?
As I walk around, in their small groups, I hear the expected biased comments. “They want to give free money to everybody. ” “They want to line the pockets of big corporations.
” And far too often, “To ruin the country. ” I push them on that. Because while some statements — not the ones I just shared — may ring more true than others, that’s not the goal.
The goal of each political party is the same. Each party wants to do what is best for America. They want to see the country be the best it can be.
While the execution and the values that drive each party may vary, the underlying goal is unchanged. The wave of realization when we talk about this is palpable. What I said to them on the first day, that failure to question and doubt authority leads to false understanding and a systemic repeat of generational belief, is fully realized.
From here, we have deeper conversations around high stakes topics that do have a direct impact on their lives: abortion, transgender rights, gay marriage, gun control, religious freedom, student debt. Though all students came in with a background colored by their own experience, using the strategies we practiced all term with these low stakes ideas leads to the most incredible and respectful, high-impact conversations. What I see most and what I take the most pride in is their willingness to be skeptical, to question what they know, to consistently check their bias, and consider how their understanding could be changed through new perspectives and compelling evidence, and how it is okay to wonder and to change your mind.
When thinking about how you can apply this to your own life, I challenge you to practice. Find a conspiracy theory or a ridiculous hot take, one that has no direct impact on your life, and talk about it with anybody who will listen. Hear their perspective.
Read the wildest takes you can find in the bowels of the Internet. Consider credible evidence. Find less than credible information and then discredit it yourself, so you know that it shouldn’t be in consideration.
Be willing to change your mind and then do it again. The practice of engaging in low stakes debate will give you all the tools you need to become a creative skeptic, because blind acceptance is what perpetuates stagnation. Don’t be afraid to question authority and to question what you think you know, because that is what we need.
We need people to question so that we can generate innovation and transformation, so that we can build the world we want it to be, not just the world that we know. Create the space to feel confident in challenging something, especially when you know it’s not right. We need creative skepticism.
Because, after all, you never know if somebody might be pulling a ‘puh-seudoscience’ on you. Thank you.
